1 comments/ 14949 views/ 0 favorites Yellow By: Redhipple Sunlight is yellow. Autumn leaves are yellow and sometimes so is gold. All these things are beautiful but Rebekah is the most precious. She has hair like wheat, her eyes like burnished gold, and her skin is tawny. I paint her monochromatic, only hinting at all the shades of yellow that color her. She becomes simply yellow, like smiling suns and cheery fires. It seems a bright happy color, a children’s color, and so full of innocence and light. It is this innocence and light that I want to capture. This is Rebekah’s essence. Here is one where she is arrayed like a child, gussied up like some plaything. She is a Victorian doll that stood on her bookshelf, with her ruffles and butter cream lace. Flowing ribbons tie under her chin in a large bow, securing the bonnet. Her silk stockings and leather shoes are clearly visible as one small hand lifts her skirts. There, you can see each detail, each golden curl of her sex and the illusion of lingering moisture. When I see this, when I paint this, there is an intimacy that I never felt, even when I held her. There are other portraits in this series. This is Rebekah as a ballerina stretching at the bar, the light just catching the curve of her ass beneath the stiff skirt. See the way her hair falls from the tight bun? Pieces of it curl around her neck and she looks at you from the corner of her eye, a half smile on her lips. She knows she is being watched. Is she merely stretching there before she dances or is she already performing for her audience of one? This one is Rebekah as a daisy with her yellow skirts the petals and her ass the center. It is a bit of springtime whimsy that came to me after too much time at the park with her. We laid in a field cluttered with daisies and she wove a chain to wear about her neck. I couldn’t resist painting her as the flower. I only hope that she never fades as those daisies did. I hope she never feels the tough of winter. My masterpiece though is this one, Rebekah as the morning star. She’s floating bright in the middle of a sunrise sky with arms stretched above her head and her hair fanning behind her like a halo. An exultant expression graces her face, a smile on her lips in this transformation from woman to light. Her body and face are suffused with a glow and eldritch sparkles. She is long and lean and smooth with Art Deco lines. Looking at this painting I can see the swirls and scatters of yellow that become her face and skin. In my mind this is how I have always seen her, as a beautiful, ethereal woman cloaked in all the shades of yellow starlight. With these pristine lines and perfect Euclidean curves I liken her to the pinnacle of womanhood. When I touch her I see her as I will paint her. In the thick grass of the park she became my daisy. Floating in the pool all I can see are her breasts and face and belly. For this scene she will be the fallen sky lord’s daughter floating in drops of liquid fire. When she laughs and dances in a circle next to the camp fire with the embers moving around her ankles and calves I will give her life in a swirl of hair and with fireflies rising up to the backdrop of the lantern moon. I can see so clearly the light that blazes in her soul. Its pure and flickering like strong candlelight. I want to touch it when I make love to her. When the tip of my cock presses into her I dream myself plunging into that pool of light and stirring its depths. I want to taste this essence when my tongue invades her mouth. I’d lap it up like cinnamon fire from the folds of her sex. I want it, but it’s a fleeting ephemeral thing that spreads away when the waves of her orgasms finally subside. I must capture it with palette and brush; try to recall the exact color. I want the world to see her as I do. It is therefore, truly a shame that I have never been able to find that perfect shade of yellow for these paintings of her that cluster on the walls of my mind. Yellow "This porch is really big," I said aloud to no one. I was sitting on the edge of my seat, a white plastic back yard chair that you could buy from any store in any town, anywhere. My arms rested on the railing of the big upstairs wrap around porch. My back was comfortably slouched, as I lay my head on my folded arms. In my hands was a huge tumbler glass full of ice water. The sun was setting, and the glare from its brightness was going directly into my eyes. Everything had a yellowish tint to it, making it seem like the world, at that precise moment, was as perfect as it looked. "I used to come out here a lot when I was young too," Dad said from behind me. I look up from my arms, feeling groggy, and turned to watch as him walk from the sliding glass door, to the space next to me. Dad, who I had always seen as the perfect picture to what a man should be, was starting to seem hollow to me. It was odd watching him in this setting, in this house where he had grown up. I had seen him here a million times; I guess the odd part was we both knew that Grandma and Grandpa were not going to come out any second and demand quality time from us. They wouldn't ever be here to do that again. "It's nice," I commented then looked more closely at him, he was ageing before my eyes, and it scared me. I quickly looked away and back down to my hands. My water rushed around in its cup making the ice tinkle against the edges. I tried to concentrate on that sound, not wanting to brake down in front of Dad. "How are you holding up?" "Well, besides the urge to knock the shit out of Wes, as well as can be expected," he nodded. We were a nodding family, Mom, Dad, Wes, and I. I don't really know where it came from, but we seemed to always be nodding at everything. He moved his huge dark brown eyes down over the railing. "When did they get a pool?" "Mom didn't know about it either, so it can't be more then a year old, because she was out here last June," I said but I was not sure if he was even listening. I felt helpless all of a sudden. Like there was something, I should be saying or doing but I was in the dark about what that was. I was in the dark about a lot things most of the time. I was the baby, so it is a feeling you get use to. People constantly trying to keep things from you so you do not get hurt, it was kind of nice sometimes, knowing that your family cared about your feelings that much, but other times it just plain sucked. "Hmm," he supplied finally. He patted my back before returning inside. My gaze followed him as he walked through the sliding glass door again. His tall thin frame was slouched, his eyes glued to the ground. I had never seen him look so defeated before, so utterly torn apart, but then again, this was the first time someone in his life had died. I wish there was something more I could do, but I knew there wasn't. The sun was hidden, almost completely now, behind the mountains bringing the world into twilight. A cool breeze pushed my hair over my eyes, irritating me. I stood and looked over the railing, lifted my glass, and poured it into the pooled water below. I followed Dad's sign of goodbye and patted the old wood that made up the porch before returning into the house, and shutting the glass door. ******* Home. I love that word. It fills me with total worth and love from old memories of growing up in a home, not a house. I had been out in the country for the last week with my parents and my older brother, Wes, trying to help them with the after affects of Dad's parents dieing. It had been hard for me to look at their house, knowing they weren't in it. Wes had been everyone's strong hold though. He had taken over the preparations of the funeral for Mom. He had sat with Dad for hours, just waiting for him finally get everything in his head to a point where he could cry, or scream, or talk. For me though, Wes had pushed me around. He'd bullied me, yelled at me, and argued with me until I couldn't take it anymore and broke down. Somehow, Wes had always known how to take care of me, and everyone else in our now smaller family. Even though sometimes his tactics seemed horrible. I had been close to my grandparents, even as I got older. I had had a phone date with them every Thursday night sense I had been old enough to use a telephone by myself. I hardly ever got to see them because I didn't know how to drive, to tell you the truth learning how to drive scared the shit out of me. I always saw them on holidays though, and sometimes when Wes went up to visit, I would tag along. It was a huge surprise when we got the call from the police, saying they had flipped their RV on the I-15 Freeway twenty miles from Las Vegas, Nevada. Mom had called me, her voice tight and high, I could hear the tears as they fell. She didn't give me all the detail as to why they'd been all the way out there; I was still in shock that they were gone at that point. I remembered later the phone call I'd shared with Grandpa last Thursday. "I'm taking your Granny to Vegas to renew our wedding vows Sport." He always called me Sport; mainly I think to make fun of me. The only sport I had ever been involved in, beside the football and soccer games I played with friends, was the swim team. Grandpa said swimming wasn't a sport, and the only reason to exercise the skill was so you didn't drowned. This from the man who loved to watch figure shaking; though I highly doubt that had been for the sport of it. "Las Vegas huh? I'm sure she'd love it there, it's a desert." Grandma despised the country. She'd always complain about the snow, the leaves, the rain, and the sun. She was the one who taught me all the bad words I knew. "Exactly, I have it all booked, just need to get the old bird in the car." I loved the old sayings Grandpa had always said. When I was younger, hearing him call Grandma a bird used to send me into a fit of giggles. I'm really going to miss those talks. I know it's horrible of me, but the whole week I'd been out there in their house, all I'd wanted was to go home. I wanted to be alone. Now I was home, a small studio apartment I shared with all my belongings. I missed my family thought. I wished I hadn't of left so quickly, leaving them to pack up Grandma's cloths, and Grandpa's books. I dropped my bags in the living room and sat heavily on the huge blue couch I couldn't get ride of, the couch I mean, I loved laying on it. I'd had it sense I had been born I think. I know most kids had stuff animals or blankets that they carry with them through out their lives but I had a couch. It'd been in my nursery when my parents brought me home. Mom had tried the rocking chair thing with Wes when he was a baby, but she always ended up on the living room couch rocking him, and her-self, back to sleep. I think in her head, it'd been easier to just get one and put it in the room, so she didn't have to go down the stairs at night. In any case, it'd stayed in my room, until I turned seventeen and moved out, taking it with me. I'd had my first kiss, given my first blowjob, and came inches away from having sex for the first time on it. It was part of me. I sighed, picking the cordless phone from its cradle on the side table, and dialed Tim's number. Tim and I had been seeing each other for three months. He'd been great to me so far, and all my weirdness. Even thought I left the country to be alone, I really didn't want to be, I needed someone around right then, I just hoped Tim was free. "Mm hello?" someone that wasn't Tim asked. I pulled the phone away from my ear, checking the caller I.D. just to make sure I had the right phone number, I did. "Hi, can I speck to Tim please," I said. I'm too polite, I should have been demanding to know who the fuck this guy was. "He's kind of busy," the guy said and giggled. "Busy doing what?" I growled. Not another one. Tim was my third boyfriend that year; the other two had been cheating on me. Tim had seemed so different then the other guys I'd dated and I knew I was falling for him. Please God not Tim. "Sucking my dick, what the fuck is it to you?" the guy screamed into the phone. I heard the phone drop, more giggles, and then Tim came on the phone giving a horse hello. "I'm sorry," I said, I always started apologizing when things go wrong, even when they weren't my fault. "Oh my god, Reed, um--you see, that is," he stammered along like that for a few more seconds. "It's okay, bye." I said as I hung up. I set the phone on the floor in front of the blue couch and pushed my back against the huge cushions. My vision started to tint with gray, making everything look foggy. Like it was about to start raining right there in my living room. Seriously. There had to be something wrong with me. Why did everyone that I care about have to leave me? Or use me? Or only stick around because they were obligated by blood? Note to self: get over the love thing it never ends well. ******* When I opened my eyes the next morning everything was still gray. The walls, the blue couch, even my own skin. It singled a horrible day ahead, but I felt ready for it. After a very long shower, and breakfast of corn Chex, I pulled my jacket on and walked the three blocks to my office building. I worked for a newer company. I had only meant for it to be a temporary thing, a favor for a friend of a friend of a friend, or something along those lines. The owner, who was only a few years older then me, need some major help in the ways of a secretary, and the temp agencies weren't cutting it. I was between jobs, having left my old job because they couldn't handle my gayness, and was living off my savings. So I agreed, thinking I would only be there until he, the owner, found someone else. That was three years ago, seems he never got around to placing that ad. Wes teased me about having a crush on my boss, Seth Myers, because in all honesty there wasn't any other reason for my staying there so long. The pay was crap and I felt like I was carrying a workload that needed four more people. I loved it though, I felt needed, so I stayed. "I'm here," I called out when I entered the small office. "Reed, great, finally," I heard Seth yell. He came out of his small office, looking worried. His blonde hair was hanging in his eyes, like always, and he was dressed in slacks and a polo shirt. Beautiful as always. "I got a call from Tim last night, are you alright?" Did I mention that Seth is the one that hooked Tim and me up? Well he did, Tim was his best friend. "Oh?" I really didn't want to talk about this with Seth. Okay so I was harboring a tinny crush on him, well not tinny... more like huge, and I had always felt somewhat weird talking about my love life with him. Not that that fact ever stopped me. The moment he would ask about someone I was seeing, it would all come right out. "Yeah, he was really upset," Seth sat at the end of my desk, one leg hitched up, making the cloth covering his thigh tighten. Note to self: do not stare at bosses thighs, or fantasize about them naked. "Well, I guess being interrupted in the middle of giving someone head does that to a person." I took off my coat and hung it over a hock on the wall. Seth had put it there for me once he realized I had been stuffing all my coats under my desk as storage. Seth was like Wes in a lot ways, taking care of me in small ways that all added up into a hugeness that made up my life, a life in which I obviously can't take care of myself. Okay, I needed to stop the pity party now. "Yes I'm sure... Wait, you mean he was giving you head when you hung up on him?" He had to be shocked, I mean who ever wants to find out that their best friend was a cheating asshole? "No, I called him after I got back home, and I hung up on him after I realized he was in the middle of giving someone a blow job." All this talk about oral sex had me thinking about Seth's thighs again. "Could we not talk about this? It happened, it's sad, but we move on. I just wish he would have waited a little longer to start doing that shit, I mean, my Grandparents just passed away, and I didn't need this on top of that." "I'm sorry Reed, Tim truly isn't like that normally, I swear. I don't know what came over him. Maybe he was just drunk?" I waved his words away. I knew what got into Tim, and it wasn't alcohol. I knew he had a slight problem with my wanting to keep my virginity for love, but I had thought he would wait for me to be ready. That's what he'd told me at least. I booted up the computer on my desk and sat down. Seth stood and turned to me. He knew of the guys in my past, that all of them had cheated on me. He knew the only reason I allowed him to set me up with Tim in the first place, was because it was his friend, and I trusted Seth more then anyone I've ever known. He was more then a boss to me, he was probably my best friend, seeing as how I only ever talk to him outside of my family members. I lost all my friends when I came out in high school. "Reed, I feel so responsible, can I do anything to make it up to you?" I looked up into his dark green eyes and smiled. The only thing I wanted from him was never going to happen. I shook my head and returned my gaze to the computer screen. ******* It had been two weeks since my return but I was still working at catching up on everything, while trying to maintain the new stuff that came in also. It was extremely easy for me to lose myself in work. Between half my family being gone, the other half still in the country, and that bull shit with Tim. He still wouldn't stop calling me; I think Seth told him to try the "drunk" card with me. "Come on Reed, I'll buy you a beer," Seth said startling me out of my daze. I stood and stretched before nodding, a beer sounded good. He held out my coat, helping me into it before we exited the office. There was a bar half way between my apartment and the office that quickly became our favorite a year back. After we had been sitting in a booth for a while, drinks in hand, I noticed Seth staring at me more then normal. He had always stared at me, but I'd chalked that up to him thinking I was crazy a long time ago. "Do I have something on my face?" I asked and whipped at my cheeks with my sleeve. "No," he said laughing. When he didn't start to explain why he had been staring at me, I shrugged and scanned the room. It was full with the usually people you can find at any good bar. The wrinkly old bicker chick playing pool by herself. The old American Indian looking guy sitting in the last booth staring off into space. The college kid crowd. The businessmen all in the same suit, same hair, and all talking about porn. I smoothed my hand over the glossy wood table sitting between Seth and me. It had burn marks from cigarettes, names scratched into it, a few "fuck you"s writing in magic makers. I brought the bottle in my hand to my lips; it was so cold I could almost taste the frost of it. "Reed, I need to ask you a question," Seth said. I set my beer down and gave him my full attention. "Why have you and I never dated?" If I had still been drinking, I would have spit my beer all over the table. "Excuse me?" My head was reeling. "Honestly, why haven't we ever tried it?" Honestly huh? "Um, I'm sorry, you never asked," was all I could get out. That was true he hadn't ever asked me out, but I also always assumed that I wasn't his type, reason number one I hadn't ever asked him out either. Most of the guys I saw him with before had been tall and manly, like he was. I was five foot ten to his six foot two and I could never see myself as the macho type. I didn't act girly though either, I was just me. "Well, do you want to go out sometime?" Seth asked a huge smile played across his lips. I ducked my head and looked down at my beer bottle nodding. "Great," he finished simply then stood. I looked up, watching, as he leaned over and place a kiss on my cheek. "See you tomorrow," his voice had slipped into a more horse sexy tone. I shivered slightly and, again, nodded. I watched him walk to the door as I finished the beer left in my bottle in one swallow; his ass was perfect in those slacks. After going through the death of both my grandparents and then that evil Tim shit, I was scared things where going to keep turning black. My vission had grown steadily darker as the weeks went on, ever sense the night that Tim turned into a monster in my head. The last time that happened was back in high school when my secret got out, yeah I had kept my homosexuality secret, and one by one everyone I held dear for my entire school career distanced themselves from me. I had woken up one morning and I couldn't see anything but black. It was like I was in a very dark room, or like I couldn't get my eyes to open. It went away after a while, when I realized that even thought my friends were gone, I still had my family. Mom, Dad, Wes, Grandpa and Grandma had known about my gayness sense I hit puberty. I laid a few bills on the bar as I past it to leave. Seth had already paid for the drinks, but I liked to leave large tips. I had waited tables for about a year and the tips really were what you lived on. I remember having to pay rent one time with a huge wade of one-dollar bills. The manager had just laughed, but I had been so embarrassed I made sure I had a check for him every time after that. I walked the block and a half to my apartment and slipped in after punching in my code for the door. I unlocked my front door and came face to face with my blue couch, it was brighter, and I couldn't help the smile on my face. Seth Myers wanted to date me! After three years of pinning for him, I had a shot. I never thought that it would happen; had never even considered it possible. It wasn't as if I had been waiting for it though you know. I had gone out with Tim, and about seven other guys sense I had started working for Seth, but there was always that hope in the back of my mind. That maybe one day he would find something about me that he liked, and maybe I would get to be with him, even for a little while. I dropped my keys on the kitchen's counter and opened up the frig. Grabbing a bottle of water, I made my way to the blue couch and turned on the TV. I'm not a big television watcher but it was Friday night and some stations plays stand up comedians around that time. I love stand up, ever sense my Dad took me to a show on our trip to Las Vegas ten years back. Picking up the phone, I dialed Wes's cell number. I had called him the night before, and he'd informed me that he'd be back into the City around noon. Mom and Dad would be coming home that weekend. I was happy Wes was back, I missed him. "What's up little bro?" There was music in the background so I know he was in his car. "Just called to talk," I said and smiled, knowing that he was probably on his way over here. "Mmhm," he murmured and I heard the faint sound of his blinker clicking. "So you are coming to see me right?" I asked and laughed. Even if I hadn't been right, that maybe he was on his way somewhere else, I knew he would come here now. Wes is a very odd person, he changes a lot, but he's always the same with me. I remember when we were young my father had yelled at him to "make up your mind about one thing in your fucking life" and Wes simple said, "The only constant thing in life is change Dad, get over it". From that, point on he was my hero. That had been one of the few times Dad had yelled at either one of us, and it's been about the millionth time Wes had talked back. "Yeah, yeah," he griped. "I'll be there in a few minutes. Want me to pick up something to eat?" "China food please," he mumbled an okay and hung up. He mumbled a lot when he's on the phone, almost any other time he's right in your face load. ******* Yellow "So you have a date with Seth? That's great Reed I'm glad for you," Wes said after I told him what happened. "Do you think maybe it's too soon though? You and Tim just ended a few weeks ago." "I think its fine timing. You know my rules about sex; we were barley making it to second base. I have to fully trust someone before I take that step." I'd always told my family that I wasn't going to have sex with someone I didn't trust, my reasoning for still being a virgin at twenty-four, Wes lost his virginity at eleven. But the real reason, the only thing that was holding me back, was that I wanted to be in love when it happened. The truth of the matter? I'd never loved any of the guy's I dated. I don't even think I liked them very much. I hated being alone though. Tim had been the only guy so far who'd come close to getting my heart. "Bro, have you ever trusted any one of your boyfriends?" I shack my head no, wanting to change the subject. It wasn't as if I had lied to them, not really, you have to fully trust someone to be in love with them, at least in most cases right? I knew Wes would see it as a lie though, and I hadn't ever told him an outright lie before. I felt bad, but I was always too embarrassed to fess up to it. "Well you can trust Seth, right? You have known him for a long time, and he knows your all about serious relationships. I don't think he would have asked you out if he didn't intend to stick around." I smile happily at him maybe his words had truth. I did trust Seth. I'd never let myself think about weather or not I loved him though. Maybe after he and I had been together for a little while I'd decided if it was love or just infatuation. "Maybe," I agreed then looked around to see if there was any more food left, there wasn't. I started to clear off the coffee table, where we had eaten it, of its' food containers, chopsticks, and fortune cookie wrappers. "So when's the big day?" Wes stood and went to the frig for a beer. "Big day?" "Yeah, the date? When are you going out with him?" I stuffed everything from the table into the trash and then looked at him. "Um, he didn't really tell me a day," I squeaked out. Wes hiss slightly, but I wasn't sure it was from my words or the beer being cold. "Is that a bad sign?" I asked hurriedly. Wes had been dating sense he was five years old, he knew the ins and outs of relationships better then anyone I'd ever heard of. Also explains why he's still single. "Well, normally yes, but you do see him everyday, so he might have just wanted to wait till he could look at his day planner. He is a busy man you know." "Yeah, okay, that makes sense." We watched a movie on HBO before he left, telling me not to worry, and that he loved me. Later that night, laying in bed, I willed myself not to think about anything at all. My mind kept rushing thoughts around though. Thoughts about how easily I knew I could fall in love with Seth, a man who had been such a great friend to me for so long. And thoughts about how it was also extremely possible that I'd made the whole thing up in my head. It wouldn't be completely crazy, knowing myself, but it would suck a lot more then I could say. ******* "I'm here." "Hello Reed, how was your night?" Seth called from his office. Usually when I got there he would come and meet me at the door, refill his coffee cup and offer me some, even thought he knew I hated coffee. However, that day, he didn't come out. First time in three years. "Good, Wes came over for a while, watched Mall Rats." I was so nervous, that maybe he'd forgotten about asking me out or something, but I walked over to his open office door anyway. He looked up when he saw me standing there. Seth suddenly felt like a different person to me. Like now, somehow, it was okay for me to imagine what his wavy blonde hair would feel like to touch. "How is Wes?" Seth had become like a member our family long ago. Mom would call him every few weeks, and invite him to major holidays. He didn't always go but it was nice when he did. "Good." So when are you going to set a day for our date, I thought. He got up and looked at me smiling. This is it, I bubbled happily to myself, smiling back. He walked right past me and over to the small corner table, just out side his office that held the coffee maker and refilled his mug. "Could you send those files from yesterday to my computer please?" he gestured toward my computer. I nodded. "Thanks." With that, he moved back to his office. Okay maybe that wasn't it. Maybe he wanted to wait until the end of the day, like on the way out or something. Maybe he's going to invite me out to lunch with him that would be nice. Lunch came and went; he didn't leave his office once. When five o'clock rolled around, I heard him moving around his office, as I too got ready to leave. I usually wait until he leaves and lock up after I make sure he shut his computer down, sense he forgot to do that sometimes. "Have a good night Reed," was all he said when he rushed out the door and on to the street. A fuzzy gray tint set in to objects as I moved to close his office door. "Too good to be true I guess," I said to the now locked front door. Yellow and Brown This might be a true story; it's sick and it involves scat; so if this might offend you please read no more. * Goodness knows why I have this fetish, but I do have it, so I have to live with it. What is it? Well it's the desire to eat shit. It must be from a dominant female mistress and maybe it's more to do with being totally submissive than it is to do with the actual eating. I think this desire has been with me for a very long time and now I would like to tell you, how I turned desire into reality. I thought it wasn't possible to realise my desire until whilst browsing through a contact magazine I saw a mistress advertising Hard Sports. Up until now I thought I was the only person in the world weird enough to have this fantasy but this was obviously not the case if these adverts were appearing openly. I contacted the lady in question and explained that I wanted to be dominated and humiliated and that my ultimate desire was to be used as a human toilet. Mistress A confirmed that it was all possible and that I just needed to set the time and date. Time passed and a few weeks later I felt that I was ready to make the call to Mistress A. I was ready to set in motion the events that would see me being used as a human toilet. No point in wasting any more time; I called her and arranged an appointment for the following Thursday when I would be in London. The days passed and I was in a state of heightened tension; on the one hand longing for the event to happen and on the other hand just plain frightened. Would I be able to go through with it? Would it make me ill? Would I catch some awful disease? Finally Thursday came and my depraved desire overcame my fear and I was ready. I made my trip to London and attended to my business throughout the morning leaving me free for the 2 pm meeting with fate. I hurried across to Earls Court and soon found my self knocking on the door of the basement apartment. My heart was pounding and I was shaking as though I had a fever. The door was answered and I was ushered in without much chance to glimpse Mistress A but as she followed me into the front room I caught my first sight of her. What excuses I would have made if she had been unacceptable as my donor I don't know, but joy of joys she was impressive; a dark skinned lady in her early thirties with a harsh but attractive face. We had discussed my requirements briefly on the phone but I now laid out in detail what I hoped for. I felt it was appropriate to kneel in front of her and drop my gaze to the floor before speaking. As I recall this was my plea. "Mistress I want to be your slave, I want to be abused, humiliated and used but above all I want to be a toilet to be used by you." Mistress A seemed satisfied by this and an appropriate fee was handed over. I was ordered to strip and throw my clothes in to a plastic dustbin at the side of the room. I accomplished this without leaving my knees and then crawled back over to her whereupon she pushed my head back so that I was looking at her, she slapped me twice across the face and then she spat twice onto my face and said, "You are my fucking slave; you are mine to do with as I please; as I walk round the room you will crawl round behind me and every time I stop you will kiss my ass." Mistress wore a black corset, black lacy panties, high heels and black stockings. I crawled as fast as my little knees would allow me and kissed that ass every time I got a chance. After five minutes of this Mistress attached a slave collar to me and then dragged me into the back room where all sorts of BDSM items were arrayed round the room. She made me kneel in the corner with my ass up high in the air, then she proceeded, with the aid of some cream, to see how many fingers she could insert into my anus. One finger, two fingers, three fingers; nearly four. "What a disappointment you are slave," she said. "I was hoping to get my whole fist up." She crouched down and whispered in my ear, "Next time slave I want to get my fist in, so before you come back next time get working on that ass to open it up; do you understand slave?" I managed a reply, saying that I would work hard to get my ass opened wide enough so that next time I called she would be able to insert her whole hand. Next I was dragged to a whipping bench and strapped in place. I dutifully counted each of the twelve strokes she administered with the cane and thanked her for each one. She confided in me that caning was her favourite activity. I wanted to take another dozen strokes, to keep her happy, but had to keep the marking to a minimum so that the wife wouldn't discover my secret. Mistress now sat down on a seat, removed her panties and splayed her legs wide. I was made to kneel before her so I could gaze on the wondrous sight of her fully exposed pussy. She leant forward, tilted my head back and spat into each eye; the spit dribbled down my face. "Now slave beg me to carry on with your training; make it clear and concise so I know exactly what is required." I responded by saying "Mistress I want you to use me as your toilet. I want to drink your pee, I want to eat your shit and I want you to use my mouth as you please. I beg you to use me. Please use me. Please, please, I want to be your human toilet." This seemed to please her and Mistress led me across to the other side of the room where her toilet box was. It was just a wooden box with a hole in the top and a toilet seat in place; on the front wall there was a place for me to put my head through and on each side of the box were manacles. Sitting in the base of the toilet box was a shallow tray. I lay on my back and edged my head into the opening so that my head was resting on the tray. Mistress attached my wrists to the manacles so that I couldn't escape. I had an extreme hard on and my level of excitement was sky high. I was about to achieve my number one fantasy; I was about to eat shit, I was about to be humiliated in the most extreme way, I was about to take up a role in life that I had always been destined for; I was to become a toilet; a human toilet. Mistress placed a condom on my rampant prick and then lowered herself down onto the toilet seat. Now, sitting six inches above me, in all its glory was my mistress's ass. "Slave," she said. "Lot's of men come here and want to do what you are going to do; lots of men think they can do it but when they get the first taste they bottle out. What about you slave, can you do it, can you be my toilet? If you want to back out say it now!" I was totally convinced I could do it so replied as convincingly as I could, "Mistress I wan to do it. This is it; no more talking or stalling; I am here where I should be, ready to eat shit." Mistress leaned forward so that her pee hole was over my mouth and after a minute she released a stream of pee; it was a mess of pee and I ardently drank as much as I could. It came in such a gush that some spilled over the side of my mouth and into the tray so that the back of my head now rested in a pool of piss. I've drunk urine before and always enjoy it. I like the taste of lady pee; it's sweet, it's lovely. Finally the stream reduced to a trickle and then came to an end; the pee was finished. Now Mistress leaned back so that her asshole was above my face. I was fascinated by her ass, I watched as it puckered and strained, a little spot of brown appeared in the centre, it grew in size and started to come out into the world, then it disappeared back in again as mistress relaxed. Again the same thing happened but this time the brown spot got bigger till it finally began to emerge as a turd. Frustration! It popped back in again. I so desperately wanted to eat shit. Another appearance was made, this time the brown log kept coming till it reached that non returnable point. I got the full smell now and it was vile, just as shit should be. I strained to make sure my mouth was open as wide as possible. The turd hung there getting bigger and bigger but not letting go of its owner. It was hovering just above my lips. Then with a grunt and a squeeze Mistress let it drop. It was thick, it was about four inches long; it was brown and putrid and it was in my mouth. I was a toilet at last. It tasted just as bad as shit should; it smelled worse than shit should and it fitted snugly into my mouth. I closed my lips around it. I was wondering what to do when Mistress commanded, "Hold it there slave, don't chew it, don't suck it, and don't be sick." Minutes passed by. It was so strange to have that shit just sitting in my mouth with the taste invading every sense; taste and smell were all attacked by the pervasive chemistry of her Faeces. "Ok slave," she whispered, "You may chew now; don't swallow, just chew." As ordered I chewed; I started to wretch, I wanted to be sick. The Mistress looked down at me and ordered, "Don't be sick slave; fight it. You don't have permission to be sick. Chew it! Taste your Mistress's shit; enjoy it; savour it. Don't swallow just yet. Keep chewing." Minutes later, "Now you may swallow." I swallowed. All my life I had been waiting for this moment; a thousand times I had masturbated and dreamed of this moment; I had plotted it; I had planned it. Now here I was eating lady shit. I was a toilet! The texture was not as I expected, my tongue picked out the shape and form of partially digested food; the shit seemed to stick to my teeth and tongue just like the most sticky piece of toffee. I swallowed and then sucked pieces from between my teeth and swallowed those tiny morsels as well. Was there more to come I wondered. Oh yes; after a couple of stinking farts Mistress began to deliver turd number two. It was beautiful to watch her sphincter working; expanding and contracting and delivering shit to my mouth. Number two I swallowed whole, numbers three, four and five were all chewed and enjoyed to their fullest extent. Don't get me wrong I didn't enjoy the taste; I hated it, but I enjoyed being a toilet for womankind. I was in a place where I should have been all my life, where I should be for the rest of my life. Mistress now wiped her ass and popped the paper into my mouth for me to eat. Now she surprised me by asking if I wanted a blow job; I declined but she insisted and immediately went to work on my cock. With her expert manipulations it wasn't long before I succumbed and shot my load into the condom. Now, of course, common sense returned and the depravity of my position hit me. I started to wretch and struggle. "STOP," came the command from Mistress A. "Now it's time to really appreciate what it's like to be my toilet." Having said that she removed the condom from my cock and emptied the contents into my mouth, and then she turned it inside out and made me suck it clean. Next she leaned over me and started to dribble spit into my mouth, several globs were forthcoming and she managed to cough up a bit extra for me. Now it began to get interesting, she knelt beside me and dipped into the tray under my head. I remembered that during the time I was eating shit some of it had missed and slid down the side of my face. It was these bits that Mistress A now retrieved. She popped each bit into my mouth and without the incentive of a hard cock ruling my head I had to eat the wretched stuff. After that was done I had to lick all the shit of her fingers. Having done this the mistress turned on her heel and left the room, saying as she left, "Have an hour to reflect on what it's like to be a well used toilet." So for a full hour I had to live with the taste of the shit; I had to live with the putrid smell and I had to live with the knowledge that I was truly a toilet. After fifteen minutes my cock was hard again and common sense had once again left me. I hoped there might be more toilet duties to come. Another forty five minutes passed and Mistress returned. She unlocked my arms and pulled me out from the toilet. To be honest I was ready to be used again but I guess that wasn't part of the deal. However I was allowed to drink the remains of the pee from the tray before Mistress showed me to the real toilet. She said I had to be washed down before I could use her bathroom. She got me in front of the toilet bowl and pushed my head down inside; the loo was then flushed twice to wash most of the shit off. I was then allowed to use the bathroom to clean up. I left shortly thereafter and hoped that a handful of extra strong mints was enough to disguise the smell of shit while I made it to some nearby washrooms. Mistress A was fantastic in her dealings with me; it's not easy to interact with a pervert such as myself but she kept her dignity at all times. Of course I preserved no dignity which is what I deserved. I suffered no illness in the following days and did not catch any nasty diseases but I think I got lucky. I would not recommend anyone to eat shit as I am sure it can be dangerous. Just keep it as a fantasy and let fools like me go out into the real world and try it. The End Yellow, Blue, White I walk with my shoes clicking down the hall. My pastel pink blouse hangs loose over my petite chest; I am acutely aware of its cold silken texture against the top of my breast. My slacks are black and tight, cupping my firm behind. I turn the corner to the right on the way to my office and see a familiar sight at the end of the hallway. There is a large window overlooking the city, which currently looks like a gothic town surrounded by fog. There, illuminated by the bleak window, sits a bright yellow cart on wheels. The characteristic wooden mop jutting out at an angle. All that's missing is the blue and white. I smile to myself. He's begun. He'll make his way over to my office eventually. The morning drags on as usual. I look forward to every coffee break, every mundane conversation with Linda or Soo-Yung or Tina or whats-her-face, who seem to believe that musicians and buskers are the hottest men alive. Except for Soo-Young, who is married and doesn't like to get involved in these discussions. I beg to differ. I need a strong man who can also be gentle. My workplace is full of tiny squares. I walk past the same cold hallways everyday. Sometimes I take the straight lines and trace a large rectangle on the way back to my office. Other times I cut through the middle and zig-zag my way. Today I decided to zigzag. I reach my office. The yellow cart is closer now. Soon. I'm speaking to Andrew, our manager, on the phone about an order. He's young and I've always thought that he was attractive. He has black hair, bright blue eyes, and a gorgeous smile. He is tall - about 5'9" - which makes my knees melt. Unfortunately he's married, but I can't help but get nervous before I say anything to him. Andrew asks me to fax off the order so I take a walk to the photocopier on the other end of the floor, this time walking the rectangular path. Something about him being married and so committed makes me want him so bad, but I know that if Andrew ever reciprocated any sexual feelings I'd immediately stop crushing on him. Funny how that works. I turn the corner. 'Good morning.' I stop in my tracks. The yellow cart is ahead of me, to my right. There's a man about my height in a blue uniform, wooden mop in hand, eyes on the floor as he scrubs away. His hair is grey, almost white, but his blue eyes scream like a 20-year-old. His face resembles that of a puppy, big eyes and round cheeks. I continue ahead of him. 'Good morning,' I say with a smile, turning my head to the right. His gaze meets mine for a millisecond before returning to the task at hand. My shoes click down the hall and I feel warm on the back of my neck, as if someone were pointing lasers at me. I reach the fax machine in the main office and I see Chris, the building technician opening the trays. He is a big burly guy with no indoor voice. 'What's going on Chris?' I inquire, one hand on my hip. 'I'M FIXIN IT HUN,' he says in a patronizing tone coupled with a wink. I hope you fix your attitude while you're at it, I think. 'GET ME SOME EXTRA PAPER WOULD YA.' Politeness is a foreign concept to Chris. 'Just a second,' I mutter, walking back to the storage room. Oh well, maybe I'll run into him again - that might make the trip worth it. I turn the corner. No yellow or blue or white. Just cold beige hallways. I sigh. What a waste. I pull open the heavy storage room door and walk inside. I grab the extra paper and curse Chris for making me do his menial tasks. Opening the storage room door is difficult for a petite girl like me, and I always have to jiggle the handle and push against the door simultaneously to get out. 'For a second I thought you were locked inside.' I hear from my periphery. I look up to the left to see him again: the whitish hair is dashingly handsome against his ocean blue clothes. This time his puppy dog face is twisted into a smile, revealing a slight dimple. How have I never seen that before? This time I notice his forearms. The watch on his right wrist accentuates his strong hand, clutching the wooden mop handle, his muscles visibly flexing to move it back and forth. A tattooed cross peeks out from underneath his bicep-length blue sleeve. How can someone so much older be so cute-looking? I smile back, slightly embarrassed. 'It's a heavy door!' I exclaim, letting the it close behind me. 'That's true.' He agrees, eyes bright with amusement. He returns his gaze to the floor, working the handle, showing off those forearm muscles. It is so wrong to feel the hots for him. Not only is he probably at least 30 years older than me, I would upset the entire office hierarchy if I slept with the cleaning staff. They would think I'm a slut. But he's so cute, I whine. I walk past him, clicking with the extra paper in my hand. For a split second - or maybe I had imagined it - I saw him turn his face towards the side to check out my ass. I've seen it before and I don't blame him. My ass looks particularly divine in these slacks. I keep walking, hoping he's still staring at my ass. My pussy starts to get wet thinking of his rough hands and strong forearms groping my tiny bottom. I bet he has an erection when he watches me leave, my behind swaying down the hall - nobody would know underneath his uniform. I return to the office and I finally get to send my damn fax and finish my last tasks of the day. I make my way one last time to my office. I see two men in uniform, one on either side of the hallway, having a conversation. The blue and white cutie is on the left side and another dude in blue is on the right. I want to tease the cutie but make it seem innocent. I walk in between the two of them, glancing at the random guy in blue first. They continue talking. As I turn my head, I lock eyes with the white-haired devil and I smile. He stops mid-sentence and smiles back, dimple and everything. His cross is peeking out, biceps flexed against the wall. 'See ya.' He chimes quickly, continuing his conversation. I will, I think. I feel so powerful in that moment. If my smile has the ability to stop him mid-conversation I wonder how I can tease him even more.