The Sit-on-my-Face Toilet Slave
This is one of my favourite ways to treat a toilet slave. It's such a delicious mixture of complete humiliation and total intimacy, the slave with his face pressed to mistress's most private places, her shit squelching into his face, its smell and texture rubbed into him, yet unable to lap it up like he wants to. It's especially good for a novice toilet slave, who isn't quite sure yet whether this is what he wants or whether he is really disgusted at himself and the whole thing - but it's pretty good for just about any slave. As always there are lots of ways to vary the details, according to the mood I'm in and what I know about the slave. I've chosen to tell you about one session with one of my slaves
He'd arrived two or three hours earlier. In the meantime he'd done all the usual chores and humiliating exercises that I keep for my slaves. This one isn't into a lot of pain, but he is a good toilet slave and he loves being humiliated and made to do all kinds of revolting things, and he likes bondage, especially anything involving rubber. When I opened the door he was standing in the street dressed according to my instructions, with his normal clothes in a carrier bag. He was covered from head to toe in heavy black rubber, only his mouth visible, tiny eye holes just barely letting him see. Ankle boots with six-inch heels completed the outfit. If he was following my orders - and I was sure he was - he also had a thick butt plug and a rather uncomfortable restraint on his cock and balls. I closed the door again, leaving him outside for a while. I was wearing a pair of black tights, my favourite pair of peep-toe black high heels, and a short black rubber dress that just decently covered my bottom. I don't normally wear tights, at least not ones that are intact like these, they just get in the way. But this evening I had a good reason, as you'll see. When I let him in he followed me upstairs to my flat and into the bathroom, where my morning shit was waiting in a bowl, rotting in a puddle of dirty piss. "Eat two mouthfuls, and drink the yummy sauce", I told him. "We'll use the rest later". He took two mouthfuls of the stinking pile and swallowed them with difficulty, then picked up the bowl and drank the muddy brown liquid just like a delicious soup. I pushed my right toe into the pile, peeping out from the leather of my shoe, savouring the lovely feeling of shit oozing into my black tights and between my toes. I sat down on the toilet (it does have some uses!) and let him suck the filth from my shoe and my stockinged foot. I love that feeling, a slave's lips and tongue caressing my skin through the roughly slippery nylon as he tries to remove every last trace of shit. Once he'd had this little treat to get him started, I gave him his orders for the evening and sat down to watch one of my favourite films. It's a real luxury in life to sit idly while a slave in bondage and rubber totters round in his heels, cleaning the place up, hampered in various quite unnecessary ways so that he has to struggle. I'd given him a ball gag, after making sure that the inside of his mouth was well smeared in shit including some choice hard and lumpy stuff. A ball gag makes it very hard to swallow and if it's pulled in really tight - as naturally it was - swallowing is impossible. So his shitty drool was running down inside and outside his hood, adding to his discomfort and self-disgust. To make it worse, I'd also pushed shit up his nose, blocking his nostrils completely. I'd thought about giving him a shit gag - a sock or something filled with shit and strapped into his mouth. It's really the ultimate shit humiliation, perfect for that awkward slave, but I decided I wanted to keep him fresh for what I had planned later.
By the time my film had finished and I'd made myself a nice cup of tea, he had finished his chores, as much as he ever would. I made him follow me round on his knees while I inspected his work. He had left plenty of messes - smears, and corners not wiped or dusted and so on. Even though he's not into a lot of pain, he has to be disciplined. The price was five strokes of a thick leather flogger for every mistake. This works well even through layers of rubber, unlike canes and whips. After 45 hard strokes he was sobbing like a baby and begging me to stop and be merciful. I love to see a grown man crying like that so I gave him a dozen extra that he hadn't earned. Then he was ready for the main treat that I'd been planning for him.
First I led him downstairs to the abandoned shop under my flat. In the back it has a huge table, I've no idea what it was originally for. Over the years I've lived there I've gradually turned it into the most wonderful, versatile bondage table. I made him climb up and lay down on his back, then strapped him tightly and very firmly in place. His legs were spread wide apart and strapped down at the ankles, knees and at the tops of the thighs. His body was strapped down around the waist and again at the neck. The neck strap was tight enough to be uncomfortable but not enough to be a real restriction to his breathing. He couldn't raise his head more than a tiny bit. I wasn't sure what to do with his arms, but in the end I pulled them up beyond his head and strapped them down at full stretch behind him. This would keep them well out of my way later. I snipped some bigger holes in his hood - it was only a cheap moulded one - so that his mouth and nose were completely exposed. I cut crosses for his eyes, which did little to improve his vision but was useful for later. Then I climbed up on the table with him, and kneeling over his body pushed my bottom onto his face. I sat like that for a long time, reading a book that I'd taken down with me and waiting for my insides to be ready for the next stage. Sometimes I pressed myself down hard on him, sometimes I raised myself a little bit to tease him. Once he tried to kiss me through my tights, but I wasn't going to permit that (although it would have been quite pleasant) so I gave him a few strokes with the flogger on his belly, until he got the message. A couple of times I needed to fart. I pushed myself hard down onto him then let it out, surrounding him with my personal, intimate stink.
Finally my guts were ready. I could feel an explosion waiting to happen in my bowels. I lifted myself up, well clear of his face. With a gentle push the shit came rushing out, filling the tights. I love that feeling, shit spreading round my bottom, warm and soft and smelly. It's the only good reason for wearing tights - at least, intact ones with the crotch still in place. I waited, teasing him with my shitty tights a few inches above his face, where the neck strap stopped him even trying to reach me. Then I gave another push, and what came this time was quite liquid and runny, flowing down to my cunt and all round my bottom, dripping through the nylon onto his face. I saw his cock harden at the sudden smell of me, and gave him some gentle circular rubs with my hand to get him really excited. Then I dropped back down onto his face, smothering him with my shit-filled tights, spreading it over his face. The tights do quite a good job of holding shit inside them (whereas piss just flows straight through them), but some runny stuff oozes through the nylon. I wiggled my bottom around to make sure he was really smothered, pushing it through the crosses I'd cut earlier around his eyes, and up his nose and into his mouth. I could feel my shit slithering around, trapped between the rough nylon and my tender little bottom, oozing between my cheeks and round into the slit of my cunt. He couldn't breathe while I was doing this. It felt so good I didn't stop until he started really squirming and wriggling. I lifted up for a couple of seconds, hearing and feeling the squelch as it came off his face. He breathed desperately, sucking the taste of my shit into his mouth and belly, but before he had recovered I squished back down onto him again. We went through this a dozen times, his cock rock-hard through the layers of rubber. By now the shit had spread around so much that it didn't completely stop him breathing even when I put my full weight down on him, so I could relax. I was really turned on by now. I put my hand down into my tights, pulling the tight rubber dress up over my tummy first, and gave myself a little rub. The shit hadn't quite worked its way up to my clit but I helped it a bit and rubbed through its slipperiness until I was ready to come. I decided to save myself for later, so I slipped my finger back out and sucked it clean so as not to mess up my book. It tasted good, and just turned me on some more.
I settled down now and started reading my book again to keep myself calm. I was extremely comfortable, the slave's face providing a nice comfy support for my cunt and bottom, the slithery shit contrasting with the roughness of the nylon and his nose pushing up into me. I let my arousal build up slowly, wriggling round on top of him a little bit from time time. His cock softened a bit, but I kept giving him little rubs through the rubber to keep him hard and make sure his attention didn't wander. I sat there for a long time, enough to read several dozen pages, keeping myself gently aroused, giving myself a little rub from time to time through the nylon. Then I needed to piss, squirting. It squirted out, mixing with the partly-liquefied shit and swilling down over his face. I felt him drink some of it, his jaws moving under me. But by now I was getting a bit uncomfortable, so it was time for the next stage of my plan. I'd been saving up the last of my shit, turned on by the slight discomfort of a shit that wants to get out, so without changing position I gave a little push, feeling the swelling inside the tights and pushing myself down hard on his nose and face. I lifted myself off his face, stretching my knees which by now had got a bit stiff, and flipped the tights down over my bottom, emptying their contents over his face, a mixture of runny stuff and the little hard turd from that last push. I turned around over him and gathered up the smelly mixture, pushing it into his mouth and up his nose. He gagged a couple of times but managed to swallow. I kept sliding the stuff into his mouth until there was nothing really substantial left, just brown traces over his rubber suit. Then I turned around again, sat down over him, and told him to lick me clean. I felt his tongue go to work on me, first around my anus, slipping inside me deliciously, then I moved backwards so he could reach my cunt and my clit. When I was nearly ready to come I started rubbing his hard cock, round and round, harder and harder so that he came at just the same time as I did. Through my own pleasure I felt his spasms as he squirted inside the layers of rubber, and heard his cries. I stayed sitting over his face for a while. I know that this is always a man's weak moment, when he has just come and he starts to relax. For a while there is no arousal to balance his self-disgust. He feels sick and revolted and ashamed of himself, and he wants to clean up and become normal again but I don't allow that. I let a last little flood of piss run over him. Weakly he tried to object, so I just pushed myself down onto his face again and farted. It wasn't long before he was betrayed by his cock, stirring under the layers of rubber. I decided it was time to leave him alone. I went back upstairs to my warm flat for a couple of hours, eating some nice messy stuff for my dinner and pottering about.
Downstairs in the old shop, it was chilly and dark. He couldn't move, not even a couple of inches, and I'm sure he was getting pretty uncomfortable. When it was time for me to go to bed, I went back down again. I'd put the remains of my morning shit, liquid and stinking, into a thick rubber hood, which I slipped over his head and the thin hood he was already wearing. I zipped it up at the back and tied it around his neck, then told him that he'd be there all night. I know that he loves this kind of tight restraint, struggling against his bonds and the cramp that comes and goes during the night, tasting the shit in the hood and in his belly. The breathing tube has a convenient funnel on the end, which I held up to my pussy as I pissed, giving him a good-night drink. I rubbed his cock until it was nice and hard, and a bit longer until he started to thrust and squirm, then I went back upstairs and to bed.
I had a lovely night's sleep. I didn't wake up at all during the night. It was light when I awoke, a nice summer morning and just perfect timing to go and see to my slave downstairs. I crept down quietly so he wouldn't hear me, so the first he knew I was there was when I rubbed his cock. It was disappointingly soft, and he yelped when I touched him. His whole body tensed and I'd say that he jumped except that he could only move by a few millimetres. Inside the suit he'd pissed himself copiously. I felt his cock harden through the liquids swilling around inside, and again I brought him to the very edge of coming before emptying my full bladder into the funnel. He choked at first, and I was worried for a moment, but he soon got himself under control and swallowed it, his movements visible through the rubber. I unzipped the heavy overnight hood, exposing his mouth and nose, and this time I just crouched over him and dumped everything onto his face. There was lots of it, making swirls into his open mouth and drooping down across his face and neck. I told him to swallow as much as he could. I'm sure his own guts must have been giving him trouble, after all he hadn't been able to shit for nearly 24 hours with the plug inside him. As he swallowed, I saw his belly spasm. I could imagine his pain as his bowels tried desperately to push the plug out and empty themselves. Anna has done the same thing to me quite a few times. It's a delicious mixture of erotic pleasure and real discomfort - I've been reduced to weeping in pain, but the sadistic bitch gives me no relief even though she kisses me and rubs my clit and tells me she loves me. So I knew what he was going through. When he'd swallowed most of my shit, including what I'd gathered up from around him and pushed into his mouth, I undid the straps and told him to stand up. He was a bit unsteady but he managed. I told him to take all the rubber off, take a shit in the potty, and clean himself up.
Meanwhile I had my breakfast, I forget exactly what but certainly nothing you'd see on a television advert. When I went back downstairs he was standing naked, wet and cold in a puddle under the improvised shower - he had no towel and no permission to dry himself. I inspected the potty. It was absolutely full of a huge shit, as you'd expect. I told him to take it and smear it over himself. He started to protest but quickly saw this would be a bad idea. Soon he was covered, everywhere he could reach, and stinking. I told him to take the last of it and give himself a shit-wank. In no time he was rock hard, his hand pumping up and down, his cock covered in shit splashing about as he wanked. It wasn't long before he came, spurting cum mixed with shit over the floor. I made him thank me, then had him kneel down and lick up his cum and the gobs of shit that had splashed down there.
I abandoned him after that. I left him to clean himself up one more time, dress himself in his street clothes, and let himself out. He'll be back.