3 comments/ 18399 views/ 11 favorites Toilet Salve's Discovery Ch. 01 By: TaleTeller4035 I had received an email from Mistress Deborah; it was a list of questions about my fetishes. Answering as truthfully as I dare, I awaited a response. Had I revealed too much? No, I needed her to realize the extent of my submissiveness. Everything seemed aligned. First, her age of fifty, twice my age, and the attached photo of her body only-fit hand in glove with my fantasies.. She stood slightly turned away from the camera, and her body corresponded with my own obsession with woman with experience and thick bottoms. Her chest, a breast-man's heaven, had wide aureola and thick, erect nipples; and her shapely legs led to a full-bodied, bubble bottom. Those globular breasts, large and miraculously suspended, were the photo's focal point and my eyes danced back and forth from them to the crop beneath them that her hands gripped across her slightly curved abdomen, and black leather, mid-knee length boots accentuated her sculptured legs. Over the last three days, awaiting her response, I had jerked off to this photo more than a dozen times. On the morning of the fourth day, it finally came. "Slave, "Print this out. Go to the corner of the room. kneel as you read this, and face the wall. Do not wank for you have already wanked that little twig of yours into oblivion already-I'm sure! "I am Mistress Deborah. I am a new American citizen hailing from the discipline capital of the world, Great Britain. For over twenty years I have guided gimps like you through the maniacal obstacle course of S&M. You are a gimp awaiting a dominant woman like me to grasp hold of your balls and enslave you forever-or until I tire of you! "I'm not a young woman, as the photo reveals, but from your survey answers that suits your tastes. Your profile and survey answers does suit my tastes, so consider this an invitation at least to meet me in person -and, if all goes well, have a session. "Now...your survey answers were imperfect, for you only went so far [in your answers], but far enough for me to know that you crave and need discipline; you need a totally dominant woman to take control of your life, to feed you, to control your pain and pleasure, to push your face into the harsh reality of your complete submissiveness and masochism. "From your answers I know you are a slut, a base whore craving and lusting for sex, humiliation and punishment in almost every form they take. "You describe how you can't walk behind a shapely woman without fantasizing kneeling behind her and stuffing your tongue up her asshole. You are more than an asrse rimmer- I say you are a toilet slave lusting for every fluid and solid coming from my body. In short, you are a shit slave awaiting his Mistress, a toilet slave, a piss slave, an open mouth needing filling! "You say you need disciplined-I say you stared at the crop in the picture and lusted to be cropped violently and severely-a pain slut that will come to beg me to crop you, to have your little twig harden time after time, lusting for the crop or the whip so you may squirt your pathetic cock juice-which I will always make you lick up. "You say you want me to ride your ass with my strap-on-I say you are a cum-slut, secretly lusting for real cock-probably big black cock-to be stuffed up your arse and down your throat [obviously at the same time]; you hope I have other slaves that I will make you service. Well, I do have over twenty other slaves and I have several dozen dominant women who always relish my coming out parties when I procure a new slave. "Once trained to my satisfaction, your coming out party will be a weekend affair with all my friends in attendance-with you the central entertainment, locked into a toilet box for all to use as we party and drink, from six PM Friday until eleven PM Sunday. We will fill your gut with beer piss and party food waste. "Well, if your cock isn't harder than ever before in your life, just reply no to the email and be done with it. But if-as I know-you are maddeningly lusting to wank your little twig-do so immediately and simply reply yes to the email and await further instructions, slave. And don't forget to clean your mess from the floor with your tongue after shooting off. "Yours in complete control, Mistress Deborah" Within a minute my cock shot loops of cum onto the wall before me; my hand still stroked my cock as I bent forward and licked the cum that ran down the wall. Never before in my life had I ever "cum" like that! I stood slowly, somewhat shaken and weak-kneed; the taste of cum and wall in my mouth suddenly making me realize the reality ahead of me. I took a deep breath, staggered to the computer, hit reply to the email, and typed in all caps, "YES." ***** Please let me know in the comments -or email your thoughts-if you want me to finish this story. Toilet Salve's Discovery Ch. 02 Mistress Deborah stood in front of a naked, kneeling slave; I had answered her invitation, coming to her house; her shaved pussy only an inch from my face. Her pussy's feminine aroma "rushed" through my nostrils like Amyl Nitrite [poppers]; it made my head spin; my cock's tumescence provided the best display an average six inch cock could give-but you could drive nails with it! "So I see you like what your eyes take in, slave. Your pathetic little twig stands so upright," she said as she tapped its head with the tip of her crop. She began to increase the rhythm and force of each slap of the crop upon my cock's head as she leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Gimps like you deserve to be punished to the fullest extent of their masochism-in other words punishment for punishment's sake; breaking your spirit and flesh, making you beg for only what I can provide, I will have you cringe upon my approach...and your useless twig will stiffen...and you will fall to your knees and cower before me, begging to lick my boots-every time without fail-or else you will be punished even more than usual." And the crop continued its assault upon my cock. And my cock seemed to stiffen even more, if possible, and rise up to each slap-and, if it had a mouth and speech, would be begging for more slaps, harder slaps. "Look at me. slave: should I stop or continue slapping this useless twig of yours? Answer me!" My entire consciousness centered in the pain my cock felt, holding me in a grip that I had to force myself to speak-"Yes, Mistress, keep slapping it!" I burst out loud. And she took her arm further back and laid five more vicious slaps, and the pain had me fall over into a delirium of submission, pain and a state between consciousness and unconsciousness. I have no recall of how long I laid on my side, but finally from a distance I heard her command me to get up-and I did. "Everything I do has a purpose, slave," she began as my mind focused on her words, and my cock bobbed about as hard as before. I am glad it is dumb, I thought, for I swear it would be begging for more, and I needed to rest it and not have it be slapped. "Slave, your pain threshold is slightly below average, but I will adjust that. Soon you will be able to absorb much more pain," she said as she turned and stepped toward a shelf against the wall. We were in a basement, converted into a dungeon. There were various benches, a St. Andrew's Cross, a wooden toilet box and a wall of toys like ball gags, harnesses, hoods, whips, crops, paddles, chastity devices, cock rings, belts, and others I couldn't make out from where I knelt, but it seemed to have everything necessary to torture a slave. She turned: a leather collar with a metal leash in her hands. She deftly attached it about my neck as she said, "Slave, crawl after me on all fours." And tugging on the chain leash, she led me across the floor to the toilet box. Standing at the end of a flat wooden frame, the toilet box was made of a clear, sturdy plastic with an opening in front that slid up as she pulled upon it: "On your back and get your head inside here, slave." A wooden toilet seat, painted pink topped it as I stared up; she lowered the front and the snapping sound of two small locks sealed my fate. She then attached my wrists to the rear of the box with handcuffs; my feet were strapped down to the frame-and I was now completely and utterly helpless. A strange feeling overcame me as I realized I had no choice but to drink her piss and eat her shit. "So here we are. I will systematically train you to be my toilet paper, my shit slave, my piss mop-if anything coming out of me hits the floor, you will be required to lap it up-understood, shit slave?" "Yes, Mistress," I replied as my cock jumped and twitched as she turned and slowly lowered her divine ass onto the pink seat only inches from my mouth. "If you fail me, slave, let it be known that I have dozens, if not scores, of shit eaters lined up ready to take your place under my ass. They all are like you-you're useless pukes with little twigs that pathetically harden even when I say the word, shit. "Look at your twig -hard as a rock; you mouth salivates in anticipation; your arms, your hands shake in fear of the reality you find yourself in-your head finally beneath the bottom of a dominant woman, a woman whose pussy moistens at the idea of pissing down your throat and filling your mouth with my shit. Years of fantasy about to drop into your mouth, real warm, right from my asshole, and to wash it down-my piss, salty and, also, warm, gushing unrestrained into your mouth and over your face. So you are where you were born to be, shit eater. "From now on I will call you ass-wipe, shit eater, toilet slave, toilet paper, piss mop, cum slut and more. This room is sound proof, so know you will not leave this room alive. You'll serve me until your health fails, and then I will snuff you like a cigarette. "No one will come looking for a shit eater. You'll become just another missing person that will take weeks to be officially registered. In the meantime, I will insert a catheter into you and collect your urine to feed back to you. You will serve all of my friends who visit me daily, and on weekends we have drinking parties with 40-50 guests here who will also use you as a toilet. Your mouth will be busy and filled most of the day. Toilet Salve's Discovery Ch. 03 As I stared upward, her bottom presented moist and pout, and her pussy lips formed a butterfly effect with the labia, inviting cock or mouth to enter and be used for pleasure. The anus, the serious "ring," an opening into the body's equivalent of a spaceship's cargo bay doors {"Open the cargo bay doors, Hal!"} smirked at me as I stared; it pulsed in and out. The thought of them opening and depositing upon me--accelerated my heart beat, my breathing--and, before she spoke, opened my mouth as wide as it could. I knew once I tasted her gifts, I'd never go back--only a future composed of a sequence of pisses and shits would become me --as I became the names she had called me.... "Open wide, Shit Eater," she spoke and temporarily broke the trance I was in. She stood and reached beyond my vision, and suddenly her hand entered the box; a pair of panties was unceremoniously stuffed into my mouth as she went on, "For the last 30 days I have worn these panties for 10 minutes in the morning each day as I did my toiletry --and finally using them to wipe my pussy and ass after each deposit." She continued as she taped my mouth shut with packing tape, "You will come to know my taste in stages--the way I want it, not the way you want it." She left the room, turning off the lights as she exited. In the dark, I could fell my saliva being soaked into the cotton panties; time seemed to stand still--did she return in a minute or an hour? I'd never know, but, nevertheless, the piss and shit stained panties were dripping their own heady brew, mixed with my own juices, down the back of my throat. I concentrated so this would not choke me. I feared choking in the dark, so each moments passing was marked and recorded but not tallied, for she had mesmerized my consciousness, and I was pure victim, a willing participant in my own possible demise. Suddenly, a pure quiver of cold recognition passed through me: I could seriously die here beneath this toilet seat. I gulped and began to lose my erection for a moment, but then the overwhelming tastes passing through me recaptured my consciousness and my erection hardened even harder than before, if possible. All of her tastes permeated my sensory experience; her taste was all I could think of --or feel; the taste of bitterness, of brine and bile, of salty and saltier. Like picking at a slowly healing scab, my tongue and mouth attempted to squeeze out all of the panties contents as i swallowed and gasped and gagged on the bitterness; yet, all I could think of was having the real thing squirting and plopping over my mouth and face. "So now," she said, "you have begun a one-way journey, one you were born to take; you are now a 'shit eater,' a shit slave; there's no coming back--you have become your name, you are what you do--you are shit eater!" And with that she sat and began to piss over my face--none entered my mouth--its warm, acrid feel and smell had me to revel in its shower and silently inside my empty head I heard past voices of all kinds calling me by name, "Shit eater! Shit eater! Shit eater!" She was right, I accepted, there was no coming back as I stared at her pussy, which appeared, at that moment, as a side-way mouth, drooling piss and evilly smiling at the fool beneath it.