As I woke up this morning, I had a seemingly innocuous task in mind for my slave: to clean the bathroom. But little did he know that this day would be anything but ordinary. I led him into the bathroom and handed him a large brush, instructing him to scrub the tiles from top to bottom. As he knelt down, his face level with the toilet bowl, an idea began to form in my twisted mind. I filled the toilet with warm water and unflushed, adding a generous helping of pasta mixed with my fresh shit. Pleased with myself, I grinned wickedly as I watched him gag at the sight.
"What's this, Mistress?" he asked hesitantly.
"This is breakfast," I replied coldly. "Now clean it up."
Reluctantly, he leaned over the toilet and started lapping at the mess with his tongue. His eyes grew wide in horror as he realized what he was doing, but he couldn't disobey me. I stood above him, enjoying the power I held over him as he licked every last bit of my shit off the bowl's rim. When he finally finished and looked up at me, I saw the sheer terror in his eyes. It was exhilarating.
"Today's breakfast has been quite filling," I continued, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Why don't you take a break and have some lunch?"
He nodded, unable to find any words. I sat him down at the dining table and placed a fresh plate of pasta in front of him, this time mixed with my husband's used condoms and toilet paper. His face turned pale as he took a spoonful, but he quickly realized he had no choice but to eat it. As he forced down each mouthful, I watched him grimace and shudder, taking twisted pleasure in his discomfort.
"What's wrong, my dear slave?" I asked, feigning concern. "Don't you like it?"
"Yes, Mistress, it's... delicious," he managed to say between heaves.
I couldn't help but chuckle maliciously. If only he knew what was coming next.
After lunch, I pulled out my biggest strap-on dildo and sat on the toilet seat, positioning it at the entrance to my anus. "Now," I said, my voice demanding obedience. "Get on your knees and take this."
He hesitated for only a moment before lowering his head towards me, his eyes fixed on the enormous object. With shaking hands, he slowly inserted the first inch, wincing at the exquisite pain. I steadied him with one hand on his head, savoring the power I held over him. I wanted to stretch him out, make him ready for my husband when he returned home.
Slowly but surely, inch by agonizing inch, I forced the strap-on deeper into his ass, feeling his insides resist until there was no more room left. He groaned loudly, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. It was almost time for our grand finale.
"Now," I announced triumphantly, "it's time for dessert."
I led him back to the bathroom and made him kneel before the toilet again. This time, I handed him a glass of my undiluted urine. He gagged at the strong smell, but didn't refuse. With eager anticipation, I watched as he tipped it back and swallowed everything down. And then I motioned towards the toilet bowl, filled to the brim with my freshest shit from earlier.
"Drink it, all of it," I commanded.
He closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath before tilting his head back, taking a gulp from the bowl. His face contorted in disgust, but he complied. No matter how much he struggled, he would never be free from his duties as my personal shit-eating slave.
I propelled him forward into the toilet, sitting on the edge until he was completely submerged in my filth. His protests were muffled by the water, but I knew he was trying to resist as I pulled him out and held him upright once more. His body trembled in my grip as I pushed the strap-on as deep into his throat as it would go, choking on the mix of shit and semen now filling his mouth.
When I finally pulled it out, he retched violently, but didn't spill a drop. I stepped back, surveying my work with cold satisfaction. My shit-eater looked up at me, tears streaming down his face, fear and submission in his eyes. And suddenly, it was as though a wave of hot fire ran through me. He was perfect.
"Eat all the shit they feed you," I whispered to him quietly, but firmly. And with that, he returned to his humbled place on all fours, waiting for his next meal. The symbol of our twisted bond was complete.
