As the late afternoon sun poured through the windows of her lavish chambers, Mistress Anna found herself settled in for an enjoyable session of online gaming. Her slave, meanwhile, knelt quietly beneath her throne, head wedged tightly between her plush, velvet-covered legs. The poor wretch knew better than to disturb his mistress during such times – especially when she was in the midst of a particularly challenging level.
For now, his only purpose was to fulfill his master's every whim – even if that meant serving as a human turndown pillow for her furious farts. Each time she let one rip, he dutifully leaned forward to catch the odorous burst of air in his waiting mouth. But today, something felt different. The stench in the air was thicker than usual, and each successive blast seemed to bring with it a wave of nauseating warmth that threatened to wash over him in violent heaves.
Suddenly, Mistress Anna's avatar let out a triumphant cry, signaling her victory over the digital foe. With a contented sigh, she finally relinquished control of the console, allowing it to power down with a soft hum. As she stood up, her robes parted slightly, revealing the telltale evidence of her digestive process.
"Well, well, well," she purred maliciously. "Look what I've been holding in for you." With those words, she reached down between her legs and gave her slave's head a hard shove forward. His face collided with her sweaty folds, filling his nostrils with the acrid scent of ammonia. Before he knew what was happening, warmth began to pool around his tongue – a sign that his mistress was about to release her juicy payload into his waiting mouth.
With a force that could only be described as otherworldly, Mistress Anna unleashed a torrent of hot, steaming shit directly into his gaping orifice. The overwhelming heat threatened to scorch his taste buds, while the acrid tang of undigested food threatened to burn their way down his throat. As the first wave receded, he could feel another one building – this one even bigger than the last.
By the time it finally crested and crashed over him, he was nearing the brink of collapse. His arms trembled with the strain of holding himself upright as wave after wave of scorching shite filled his mouth, pouring down his throat in an endless, seemingly unstoppable torrent. Even as he struggled to breathe through the noxious cloud of shit that now surrounded him, he couldn't help but feel an odd sense of humiliation mixed with arousal.
For this was his fate; his purpose in life was to be used and abused by his cruel mistress until she saw fit to dispose of him. And though the thought filled him with despair, there was something undeniably exciting about knowing that each day might very well be his last.
