As mistress Isabella stood over her naked submissive, she couldn't help but feel the power course through her veins. She watched as he eagerly readied himself for her next command, his eyes wide with anticipation and fear. With a satisfied smile curling her lips, she approached him, a large cigar in her hand.
"Now then," she purred, "you've been such a good little slave lately. I think it's time for a reward." She grabbed his chin and forced his head up, exposing his open mouth. Slowly, she brought the cigar closer to his face until it hovered just above his lips. His breath hitched as he recognized the scent; it was unmistakably human feces.
"Suck on that," she commanded, her voice dripping with cruelty. The submissive hesitated, his tongue darting out to taste the cigar tentatively. It was an unexpected response, and mistress Isabella smirked.
"Come now," she said, slapping his face lightly. "Do you want your reward or not?" She moved the cigar closer to his lips again, and this time, he couldn't resist. He opened his mouth wider, and the cigar slipped inside. He gagged slightly as it brushed against his taste buds, tasting the combination of tobacco and feces.
Mistress Isabella watched, a slight twinge of arousal curling in her stomach. This was one of her favorite games to play with her subs: human scatology. She enjoyed the way they squirmed under her control, their lives revolving around the most humiliating and degrading acts she could dream up.
As he struggled to hold the cigar in his mouth, mistress Isabella walked around him, examining her handiwork. She ran her hands down his chest, stopping to pinch a nipple between her fingers. He moaned, his eyes pleading with her to stop the pain. She chuckled darkly, her mind already spinning with the next act of humiliation.
"Now," she said, returning to stand in front of him, "you need to finished your cigar. All of it." She grabbed a bucket containing a small mountain of fresh feces and held it out in front of him, dangling it just out of reach. He immediately recognized his task: he was to consume every bit of the cigar, including the feces that it was wrapped in.
With a deep breath, mistress Isabella watched as he lowered his head, closing his eyes tightly as he forced the cigar deeper into his mouth. He could feel the warmth of the feces against his tongue, the taste of it coating his mouth. But he didn't stop. He knew that if he refused, mistress Isabella would find a new, more humiliating punishment for him.
As he swallowed the last of the cigar, mistress Isabella applauded him. She knelt down in front of him, her eyes boring into his soul. "Good boy," she purred, running her fingers through the mess that was now on his face. "Now clean yourself up. We have more work to do."
The submissive couldn't believe what he had just done. But he knew that this was his life now: a life of humiliation, shame, and degradation. A life lived to please mistress Isabella, no matter how depraved the act. And he knew that he would do it again, and again, and again.
