Mistress Mystique watched with cold eyes as her pet struggled to keep up the pace of ingesting her daily excrement. The slave had already nearly finished the first jar, his face beet red and his stomach heaving with each mouthful.
"Faster, slave," she commanded, her voice a harsh whisper. "I haven't even broken my morning sweat yet and you're already lagging behind."
The slave obeyed, picking up his pace and pouring more of his Mistress' shit into his mouth. He felt like he was choking, but he knew better than to ignore her commands. She was not a woman to be trifled with, and he had seen the punishments firsthand.
"Good boy," Mistress Mystique purred, walking over to check on him. "You're making me proud, slave."
She grabbed a lock of his hair, pulling it hard enough to make him yelp. Then, she ran her thumb along his already saliva-covered lips, tasting the foul mix of her scat and his own saliva.
"Not bad," she mused, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "But your tongue still needs some work."
With that, she reached down and plunged two fingers deep into his mouth, massaging his tongue and coating it with more of her shit. Then, she pulled them out, leaving a trail of filth behind.
"There we go," she said, stepping back. "Now you're ready for the next round."
And with that, she passed him another jar of her freshly made scat, not sparing him even a moment to catch his breath. The slave knew there was no escaping this, no way out of his Goddess's clutches. He was hers, body and soul, and he would do anything to please her.
