It was a warm summer evening, and Sarah and I were enjoying the view from the terrace of a luxurious hotel. Our stomachs were full of rich food, and we knew we had to find an appropriate place to relieve ourselves. As luck would have it, we spotted an empty human toilet right by the poolside.
Excitedly, we approached the prone figure lying face down on the ground, their eyes closed in rest. They had been hired to serve as a toilet for those who wanted to indulge in their darkest fantasies. With eager anticipation, we undressed them gently and removed their collar before pushing them on their back.
"You two are such naughty ones," the toilet said, their eyes fluttering open as they realized what was about to happen. "You know this isn't sanitary, right?"
Sarah rolled her eyes, a smirk forming on her lips. "Don't worry about that," she said softly. "Just try to enjoy it."
We took turns urinating, the warm liquid splashing onto the toilet's body. It was invigorating, the feeling of freedom as we relieved ourselves without restraint. When we were done, we took turns having a bowel movement. My friend's dump was light brown, with a faint scent of vanilla, while mine was dark and rich, tingling with anticipation.
We smeared the shit all over the toilet's body, painting it on their breasts, legs, and face. They whimpered softly as we stuffed a plastic dildo covered in shit into their mouth and tied it around their head, forcing them to taste their own excrement. It was both repulsive and erotic, our hearts pounding with adrenaline as we pushed the boundaries of our darkest desires.
Finally, we were satisfied. We wiped our hands on the dirty carpet and stood up, casting one last glance at the filthy mess we had left behind. The toilet remained lying there, motionless except for the gentle rise and fall of their chest, their mind fading into oblivion as they succumbed to their role. We gathered our clothes and walked away, leaving them behind in a state of humiliation and degradation.
As we headed back inside, we couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of pride at what we had just done. It was taboo, depraved, but it was our secret – a bond that we shared between us, a reminder of how far we were willing to go to satisfy our desires. We knew that we would never be caught, for who would believe such a thing? And even if they did, who would dare tell the story of Miss Infinity's Toilet Fetish Clips?
