According to the gossip around the mansion, Mistress Annabella was suffering from terrible constipation. The stench of her trapped feces was wafting through the air, making everyone's head turn as they walked past her chambers. The poor girl looked as though she was in agony, her face contorted and flushed as she tried every possible remedy to no avail. It was clear that something needed to be done before she exploded from the pressure building up inside.
Entering her room, the sight that greeted me made my stomach turn. Mistress Annabella was sitting on the edge of the toilet bowl, her legs spread wide apart, straining with every ounce of strength she had. Her pallid skin glistened with sweat, and her eyes were filled with pain as she clenched her fists tightly. "Please, someone help me," she moaned weakly.
Without hesitation, I sprung into action, recognizing the urgency of the situation. Approaching her from behind, I gently placed my hands on her trembling shoulders and began to massage them soothingly in circles. The warmth of my touch seemed to ease some of her discomfort, and her muscles slowly started to relax. "Breathe with me, Mistress," I murmured softly in her ear, guiding her through some deep breathing exercises.
As she took in deep breaths, I could feel the tension in her body melting away, allowing me to work my way down to her constipated bowels. Gently massaging her stomach and lower abdomen, I tried to coax her stool out, but it was clear she needed more than gentle massages. I looked over at her vanity and spotted a small bottle of laxatives. Popping the cork open, I poured a generous amount into a glass of water and handed it to her.
She gulped down the potion gratefully, closing her eyes tightly and waiting for it to take effect. Minutes ticked by, and still, nothing happened. Her face started to twist in agony again, and I couldn't bear to see her suffering. Looking around, I spotted a household object that could potentially come in handy - a long, sturdy plunger.
Kneeling before her, I positioned the plunger head against her quivering asshole and pushed gently. The resistance was immense, but I persisted, slowly increasing the pressure with each thrust. Her moans turned into screams of pain and desperation, but I knew this was the only way to help her. With one final push, there was a loud sucking sound, and out gushed a river of foul-smelling shit, coating the plunger and filling the room with an unbearable stench.
Exhausted but relieved, Mistress Annabella slumped forward onto the cold floor, panting heavily. Her face was a mess of tears and sweat, but there was a strange sense of gratitude in her eyes as she looked up at me. Without another word, she wordlessly mouthed "Thank you" before collapsing onto her side.
As any good servant would do, I sprung into action once more, grabbing a trash can and quickly discarding the filthy plunger. Glancing around the room, I noticed her poor, cross-dressed slave cowering in the corner, eyes fixed on the floor. He had been her personal toilet slave for months now and would undoubtedly be next in line to clean up this mess. Walking over to him, I unsnapped his pants and pulled them down to his ankles, revealing a perfectly clean asshole.
Scooping up some of the loose feces with my hand, I immediately shoved it into his waiting mouth. He choked and gagged on the disgusting waste, tears streaming down his face as he realized there was no escape. Forcing him to swallow every last bit of shit, I stood back and surveyed my handiwork with a sense of satisfaction. The cross-dressing slave remained in his degraded position as I left the room, satisfied with having saved Mistress Annabella from her torment.
