It was one of my most anticipated occasions; Mistress Mystique was finally going to visit Toronto. I had been her submissive for over a decade now, and the thought of serving her in person sent shivers down my spine. But little did I know that things were about to take an unexpected turn.
Mistress Mystique arrived at the airport after flying in from the Dominican Republic, where she had been enjoying some delicious Haitian rice & peas. She had held her shit for three whole days just for this trip, and the anticipation was clear on her face. As she stepped off the plane, she could already feel the pressure building up inside her – an epic load was about to be released.
Upon reaching the baggage claim area, she found me waiting with flowers and a sign that read "My Long Time Toilet." Her eyes scanned over me swiftly before settling on my nervous expression. She approached me, her heels clicking against the linoleum floor, and traced her finger down the center of my chest.
"You know your place," she whispered, her breath ghosting against my skin. She pulled me close, her body firm against mine, and pressed her hand flat against my stomach. "You've been holding it for me all this time, haven't you?"
I nodded weakly, my heart racing. She lowered her hand slowly, feeling the tremors that ran through me as her fingers grazed my belt loop. "Good boy," she murmured, stepping away from me. "Now take me to our room, and be quick about it."
We made our way to the hotel, and as soon as she stepped inside her suite, she hurried towards the bathroom – I could tell she needed to relieve herself immediately. The sound of running water filled the room while I waited, my stomach churning with anxiety. When she finally emerged, she stood before me with a look of triumph in her eyes.
"Well," she purred, running her fingers through her slicked-back hair. "I hope you've been practicing your clapping."
Before I could say anything, she kicked off her heels and unzipped her skirt, revealing a pair of lacy black cotton panties that were already soaked through. She stepped out of them slowly, her hips swaying enticingly, then turned around to show me her bare ass.
"Now let's see if you're any good at this," she challenged, narrowing her eyes.
With trembling hands, I approached her and placed one hand on her slender waist. Without warning, a powerful surge of diarrhea hit me, sending warm liquid streaming down my hand and into the toilet bowl. I gripped the edge of the toilet as another wave came, forcing more of my mistress's waste from my body.
When I finally managed to stand up, I looked over at Mistress Mystique, who was standing by the window, watching me with a smirk on her lips. She turned around slowly, letting her wet panties swing between her legs, and placed her hands on her hips.
"Well done," she said, walking towards me. "But there's more to it than just getting rid of my shit. Show me what else you can do."
Without waiting for my response, she turned around again, wiggling her ass enticingly. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and then let out a loud clap. The sound echoed through the room, accompanied by the slapping of flesh against flesh. Mistress Mystique laughed could barely contain her delight.
"That's more like it," she purred, walking back towards me. She grabbed my cock through my pants and gave it a firm tug. "Now let's see what else you can do with those hands."
And so began our night of debauchery, filled with toilet humiliation and power play. As I looked back on that moment, sitting on the cold tile floor of the bathroom, covered in my mistress's waste, I realized that this was where I belonged – at her feet, cleansing her with my own hands. It was an honor that brought me both shame and arousal in equal measure.
