****** The Master's Parties by sf_pup ******
===============================================================================

The Master's Parties


sf_pup@hotmail.com

The master had parties every weekend, and men came from all over the world to
attend them. A demonstration of some form of SM technique was usually involved,
but sometimes the Master would simply have a few friends over for cigars and
drinks. And to work over some lucky or unlucky slaves, depending on your point
of view. There were many duties to be performed by His slaves. What duty a
slave was assigned had as much to do with how well he had served the Master in
the previous week as it did with the Master's cruel whim. Tending towards
surliness, I rarely saw the more lightweight duties such as bar duty, kitchen
duty or even humidor duty. More often I found myself on something more like
Welcome Mat duty, also known as Boot Scraper duty.

As the Welcome Mat slave, I was the first to greet the Master's guests. If I
spoke, however, I was liable to be kicked in the head. I was in no position to
defend myself with only my head appearing above the floorboards of the front
porch. My ankles were bound with a rod between them, and my wrists were
shackled together behind my back, and attached with a chain to the bondage rod
between my ankles. A two-sided trap door fit over my head with a hole big
enough for my neck. The hole was lined with padded leather since the slave's
head was shoved around quite a bit throughout the greeting process. The Welcome
Mat slave had to clean the boots of the Master's guests as they arrived for the
party. I was to do a thorough job, loosening, licking up and swallowing any and
all the filth from their boot treads. If I took too long, however, and a line
to the front door formed, I was severely punished for it later.Often, the men
were in enough of a hurry to get inside that they would simply give a cursory
wipe of their boots on my tongue on their way in. But sometimes a guest would
have either extremely filthy bootsoles, or an affinity for shoving his boots in
a slave's face. In these cases I was forced to really work my tongue between
the lugs of the man's boot soles, prying out whatever had accumulated there.
Gravel, dirt, gum, whatever. Once I saw a hot looking man coming up the walk in
a motorcycle cop's uniform. As I was thinking about how lucky I was to have the
honor of licking this man's boot soles, I became aware of the smell of dog
shit. That was a split second before the offending matter was shoved in my
face, smeared all over the bottom of the cop's boot. I learned a lot about
speed and accuracy that night, lapping the shit from the man's boot as quickly
as possible to get the job over with and trying not to puke. The cop helped out
by vigorously wiping his boot on my tongue. The Master must have been pleased
with my work because after all the men were inside, he sent another slave out
to piss in my mouth and wash the remaining dog shit residue down my throat. As
disgusted and humiliated as I was, I still considered myself lucky, because for
the most part, my duties were over with, while the trials of the night ahead
were just beginning for the rest of the slaves.

Another common punishment the Master would inflict upon me was urinal duty.
This may sound easy enough, and maybe even fun. But you must stop to consider
that I could be serving urinal duty for up to 30 men at some of the more lavish
of the Master's affairs. Then you must consider the amount of liquid the men
consume at these parties. The Master's parties tend to work up a man's thirst,
whether it's for liquor, beer or just plain water. If it were a large party,
the Master would be inclined to put two or more slaves on urinal duty. When the
Master wished to punish me, however, he would make me the sole urinal for the
entire party. There would be a line of men waiting to use me all night, and by
the time it was a man's turn, his piss could go on forever and ever. And there
I'd be, expected to gulp it all down.

When I first came to serve the Master, I would perform urinal duty all in
rubber and a piss hood with a funnel attached. If you don't know what that is,
picture a rubber hood that fits snugly over the head. A hose is attached where
the slave's mouth is. At the other end of the hose is a funnel, which is
strapped to the slave's head so that it remains upright. Any urine pissed into
the funnel has nowhere to go but directly into the slave's mouth and
consequently into his gut. So there I'd be all night, kneeling on the concrete
with a drain in the floor between my knees to catch my piss as it leaked out
the bottom of the rubber gear I was wearing. I would be nearly constantly
pissing myself all night because of the massive quantities of piss I was
swallowing from my Master and his guests.

When the Master changed the format of urinal duty, I was almost fooled into
thinking it was meant as a kindness to us slaves. We would no longer have to
kneel on the concrete for hours, drinking load after load from the funnel.
Instead, the Master had purchased a porcelain urinal, which he mounted on a
partition wall in the dungeon. A hole was cut into this wall under the urinal
for the slave's head to go through. A hose then lead from the urinal drain to
the rubber hood of the slave on urinal duty. The Master explained the change in
format was to keep the slave hidden as much as possible. So that in no way
could he feel as though he were a participant in the party. So that he would
more clearly know his place: urinal and scum drain.

A difference that those of us on urinal duty noticed right away was although
the Master cautioned the men never to toss cigar and cigarette butts into the
urinal, they were encouraged to use it as an ashtray. So I would be lying there
on the floor all night consuming untold quantities of cigar ash and piss. This
did not prevent me from sassing off to the Master about how much preferable it
was to lie on ones back (even if shackled to the floor) than to kneel all
night, and that looking up at the men pissing (when lucky enough to have a hood
with eye holes) with my head between their boots was most enjoyable. Boy was I
ever made to pay for that one! The next party, the Master put me on urinal
duty. There I was, shackled in position, gazing up at the underside of the
urinal and getting an erection thinking about the first pair of boots that was
going to feed me his hot piss. The master had the crowd of 15 men or so gather
around the urinal. He explained that this would be a demonstration on how to
punish a sass-mouth slave who thought it was such fun to perform urinal duty.
And then, to my horror, he backed his bare ass up to the urinal. I heard him
fart a couple of times, grunt and then there was a moment of silence. I
couldn't see it, but having seen the Master's shit logs in the past, I knew it
would be a substantial one. The Master then told the assembled audience that if
I was smart, I was lying there hoping the men would have to piss a lot tonight,
because whatever was left undissolved of the shitlog at the end of the night
was to be eaten by me right out of the urinal. And with that, he came around
the other side of the wall and kicked me in the nuts with his boot before
rejoining the party. The men in fact did piss quite a lot that night, and I
swallowed pissload after pissload flavored with my Master's shit. There was so
much piss, and such a strong flavor of shit, indeed with little chunks as big
as the trap in the urinal would allow through, that I was fairly confident
there would be little or no shit left to eat at the end of the night. I
couldn't have been more wrong. When I was unshackled and led around the
partition to the urinal, I was shocked to see that a huge amount of dense
shitmeat was left for me in the urinal, sloppy and awash in urine. The Master
made me kneel in front of the urinal and immediately his meaty hand was on the
back of my head, pushing my face into the partially disintegrated pile of shit.
He held my head there as I noisily gulped down the rancid pile of crap, crying
hot tears of humiliation. When I had consumed the pile of shit (with no small
difficulty), the Master made me thoroughly wash the urinal down with my tongue,
which was almost like summer vacation compared to swallowing his thick
crapload. I never thought of urinal duty as fun ever again. The Master repeated
his urinal-shitting every time it was me under the urinal, and encouraged the
other men to replenish the shitpile in there if seemed like there wouldn't be
enough for me to eat at the end of the night.

In retrospect, I probably should have seen it coming. But it had become
increasingly difficult to focus on anything beyond pleasing the Master. It was
impossible to gauge the passage of hours, days, weeks while I was in my
Master's house. I don't know how long I had been performing urinal duty before
the Master instituted a new duty especially for me. Toilet duty, and it was
designed to finally break my spirit once and for all. One Friday afternoon as
two other slaves and I were dutifully polishing the Master's many boots, He
pulled me away from my work. He tied an old bandana smelling of stale poppers
over my eyes and congratulated me for making it through an entire year of
service to Him. It was my year anniversary and I hadn't even known it. He
seemed almost kind when he told me he had a surprise for me. I should have
known right then that cruelty was all that awaited me, but I was too carried
away by the feel of the Master's big, strong hands on me, and his smell of
leather and tobacco. He pulled me to him and rubbed his beard stubble across my
forehead as though planting a kiss there. I was thinking that everything was
going to be okay and I didn't have to be afraid anymore. He led me blindfold
through the dungeon and into a new room that had been constructed by moving
around a few partitions. I was laid down on my back and strapped to a backboard
as if going into an ambulance. A ball stretcher/spreader was put on my balls
and I was then slid into the box like a loaf going into the oven. There must
have been a hole in the lid over my crotch, because I could feel the master
attaching something to the d-ring on the underside of the ball stretcher.
Suddenly light struck my face as a lid was lifted above it. The Master yanked
off the blindfold and I knew instantly where I was. The Master's laughing face
was towering over me as I gazed at it from beneath the rim of the toilet seat.
There was a pull chain hanging there like in an old fashioned WC, and when the
Master pulled on it, I realized that by way of a couple of pulleys, the chain
was attached to my nuts. A good yank on the chain was to be the "flush" signal.
The Master informed me that I had all afternoon to lie there and think about
what I was. His guests weren't due to start arriving for another four hours.
And with that, he yanked once more on the chain and closed the lid on the
toilet.

Hours later I could hear the sounds of the party somewhere else in the dungeon.
From the sound of it, the Master was demonstrating fisting techniques on a
slave far luckier than I was. As my anxiety was peaking, wondering when the
Master was going to point out the toilet to the men, I heard boot steps
approaching. The steps went around the box, and I could tell the man was
checking out the Master's handiwork. When the boot steps came back around to
the end of the box where my head was, the lid over my face was flung back.
Standing there was one of the meanest looking men I had ever seen, aside from
my Master.

He was huge and hairy, with bulging thighs encased in skin-tight leather chaps.
He put a foot up on the edge of the toilet seat and I could see his high, black
leather boot. He wore a leather harness, which accentuated his massive, hairy
chest. The man looked down at me, chuckling, with the stub of a cigar in the
corner of his mouth, clenched in his teeth. The color drained from my face, and
the man could tell I was so terrified that I was almost crapping myself inside
the box. I had already pissed myself as I lay there during the afternoon. He
told me my Master was one mean son of a bitch (as if I had to be told), and
asked me if it was my first night on Toilet Duty. Afraid to speak, or even nod,
I just looked back at him with wide eyes. He nodded and told me that he would
help me get used to it. He had that look that men get when they know they're
getting a virgin, no matter what kind. He slowly turned around, presenting his
huge, hairy ass, which he then lowered to the seat. My nose went right into his
moist, hairy crack. I started to lick his shithole and he barked at me to get
my tongue back in my mouth. He then ordered me to just smell it. He instructed
me to get my nose directly on his asshole and to breathe deep. He knew that his
ass was just filthy and I'm sure was pleased to hear me gag a couple of times
just from smelling his ass. He patiently allowed me to get used to the stench
of his hairy shithole, all the while breathing deeply through my nose. Without
warning he cut a loud fart. My head jerked, but it was impossible to move it
anywhere away from his ass. "Get your mouth on my hole, no tongue," he
demanded. I moved quickly to comply, and no sooner were my lips wrapped around
his hole, when he blasted another huge fart, this time directly into my mouth.
"That's right, eat my farts boy," he rumbled, and cut another fart into my
mouth, this one absolutely filling my head with the smell and flavor of the
shit that was surely up his hole, waiting for my tongue.

He stood up and I saw him pour some poppers into a cloth, which he then shoved
in my face, instructing me to breathe deep. He put his ass back down on the
toilet and farted once more as he settled into position. "Lick my shitter boy,"
he said. Flying on the poppers, my tongue obeyed his voice without the
participation of my brain. I had to force my tongue through a forest of coarse
hair, with pieces of yesterday's shit stuck in clumps all throughout. His
shithole felt both slimy and gritty at the same time, coated as it was in a
shitty residue. He instructed that I not stick my tongue inside yet, but just
enjoy "yesterday's leftovers" for now. I worked my tongue up and down his
crack, softening up the leftover shit clumps and swabbing the slime from the
hole. I seemed to be getting used to the taste of his ass, because I had
stopped gagging. Maybe it was the poppers.

When he had determined that I had gotten through this stage of my toilet duty,
he shoved the popper cloth between his legs and between his ass and my face. I
took a deep hit, and he asked if I was ready to get my tongue up his shitter. I
poked the tip of my tongue cautiously into his shithole and immediately I felt
his hole strain outwards as he began to shit. "Get that tongue up my hole
toilet," he shouted, and I buried my tongue as far as it would go. Deep in his
ass, the tip of my tongue came in contact with the end of a substantial log of
shit. I pulled my tongue back into my mouth to test the flavor and found that
it came back covered in a layer of shit. Before I could even register the
flavor, the shitlog was at the gate. He shouted at me to get my mouth on his
hole, and I pressed my lips around his shitter as the fat turd emerged,
scraping past my teeth and into my mouth. I made an involuntary noise when the
incredibly thick turd hit the back of my throat. "Bite it off boy," he
instructed. So much for being broken in slowly. But by now I was too far-gone
to care. I was truly a toilet, and the feeling of surrender and humiliation is
impossible to describe. I bit through the shitlog and the strong, bitter flavor
of his shit flooded my mouth. He kept his ass firmly on my face and encouraged
me to chew slowly and swallow a little at a time, but to get it all down.

It took a while to choke down his first mouthful. The shit was chewy, like clay
and had unidentifiable nuggets in it. Shit was getting stuck in my teeth and
stuck to the roof of my mouth. All I could do was chew, chew, chew and swallow.
If I started to think about the fact that I was actually chewing up a huge
shitlog, directly out of a man's ass, I'd start to gag and choke. This was
infinitely more foul and difficult than to suck down the turd remainder from
the urinal. That shit never required chewing, and could be vacuumed down almost
before the taste was registered.

As I was finishing up he told me to get my mouth back on his shithole when I
was ready for another mouthful. When I didn't immediately respond, he yanked
the chain to see what would happen. My mouth opened to scream, and he instantly
filled it to the brim with another steaming crap load. This mouthful was softer
and far less chewy, but with more complex shit flavors. It was at once sweeter
and bitterer. I began to silently cry because I had a mouthful of rancid shit
that I really didn't want to swallow. I was glad that the man's ass was
covering my face so he couldn't see my shame. He was getting impatient and
yanked on the chain again to hasten my devouring of his shit. I swallowed the
last bit just in time to receive a final mouthful of the foulest shit yet.
Fortunately this load was soft enough to simply gulp down without really
chewing. "Good boy," he said, and stood.

He turned around and aimed his cock at my brown-stained mouth. "Enjoy the rinse
out boy," he told me, "you won't usually get one." He began a strong stream of
hot, yellow piss into my mouth, which I gulped gratefully, attempting to wash
the shit out of my teeth. When he was done, he sat back down to be wiped.
"Clean up my hole the best you can with that tongue, shit mouth," he demanded.
I lapped up the remaining shit from his hairy hole and swallowed it down with
little difficulty. I was strangely at peace, knowing I was a toilet, and hoping
the Master would be satisfied.

The man got up and left without another word, leaving the lid up. Shortly after
that, the Master strolled in. He walked up to the toilet, spit in my face, and
walked away. I could tell he was pleased.

This story is part of White_Shadow's_Nasty_Stories.
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