As I began the shoot, something felt off. Maybe it was the pounding headache that had been plaguing me all day. Or perhaps it was the overwhelming stench of my shit that seemed to permeate everything around me. Whatever it was, it put me in a foul mood from the very start.
Setting up my camera on the tripod, I instructed my submissive, whose name I couldn't remember at that moment, to lie down before me with his face buried in a pillow. He hesitated for a moment before obeying, and even then, there was fear and revulsion etched into his features.
I could see what he was thinking - he couldn't possibly understand why I was making him do this. Why I had forced him into such a disgusting position. Why I wanted him to consume my shit like some kind of animal.
But that's exactly why I loved this kind of power trip - the sheer, twisted satisfaction I derived from stripping away his dignity and reducing him to nothing more than a blob of human filth.
With a sickening grin, I leaned down and pulled the pillow from his face, revealing his quivering mouth and terrified eyes. It was time for him to experience the full extent of my humiliation.
"Please, Mistress," he whimpered, his voice trembling with fear. "I will do anything you want, just please don't make me do this."
I chuckled darkly, savoring the moment. "Oh, but you will, won't you?" I replied, my voice dripping with cruel mockery. "Because if you don't, well, let's just say that things could get a lot worse for you."
With that, I took a deep breath and let loose an earsplitting fart into his face, followed by a stream of putrid shit that cascaded down his throat. He gagged and choked, eyes bulging and face contorting in a mix of disgust and despair as he helplessly swallowed my foul offering.
I remained seated on his face for several minutes, grimacing at the revolting taste of my own shit as it filled my mouth. But I didn't move. Not until he started to beg for mercy again.
"Please, Mistress," he stammered, voice hoarse and ragged from trying to breathe through the putrid mess in his throat. "I can't take any more... I'll do anything you want, just please..."
I pulled away slowly, enjoying the look of both relief and abject terror on his face as the stench from my shit enveloped him once again. Rising to my feet, I towered over him, taking in the sight of my spunk collared slave - face smeared with my feces, body trembling with fear and anticipation.
"Now," I said, my voice like ice, "it's time for you to show your gratitude."
With that, I motioned for him to kneel before me, his face still buried in my shit. As he knelt there, head bowed and eyes closed tight, I felt a wave of sadistic euphoria wash over me. I had complete control over this pathetic creature - every aspect of his humiliation was by my design, every drop of filth that coated his face and filled his mouth was at my command.
And so I let him lick my shit clean, his tongue darting out tentatively at first before plunging deeper into the pile of feces that had once been part of me. He lapped it up eagerly, desperate for any semblance of pleasure in this twisted ordeal.
Finally, when I judged that he had cleaned enough, I lifted him to his feet and wiped my ass with his face before instructing him to start over again with a new load of shit. Round and round we went like this - me on my throne, commanding him to clean my excremental offerings from my body, all while I filmed the entire sickening spectacle for my eager audience.
As the hours dragged on, the exhaustion and disgust etched deep into my submissive's features, I felt a strange sense of satisfaction. This was what power felt like - reducing another person to their absolute lowest state, stripping away their dignity and humanity until all that remained was a shell of the person they once were.
But still, there was something else lurking beneath the surface - a sense of emptiness and hollowness that I couldn't seem to shake off. Perhaps it was the realization that despite all my efforts to control and dominate, I too was trapped in this endless cycle of degradation and humiliation. Or maybe it was the nagging thought that even in my darkest fantasies, I could never truly escape the stench of my own foul desires.
Whatever it was, I decided to keep it hidden away deep inside, buried beneath the layers of feces and filth that had become my twisted reality. Because if anyone ever saw the truth, if they ever discovered the brokenness that lay beneath my facade of dominance, they would have all the power. And I couldn't let that happen.
