As day three of Madame Ellen's "locked up and bottled" special came to a close, she prepared the final portion of her evening meal. It would be the eighth time in as many days that her devoted servant had swallowed copious amounts of her excrement, washed down with generous helpings of her warm, pungent urine.
Taking a large serving spoon, Madame Ellen scooped out two large portions of her fresh KV sausages. These were not the typical type found in most German households; they were homemade from a blend of high-quality meats and her own fecal matter. The process was time-consuming but well worth it—the unique flavor enhanced the experience for both herself and her willing subject.
With a sly smile, she carried the spoonful of sausage and its accompanying mound of steaming feces over to her awaiting submissive. The man, known simply as "the swallower," was eagerly anticipating his next feeding. His chastity device prevented him from releasing any build-up of ejaculate, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of arousal at the thought of imminent consumption by his Mistress.
Madame Ellen took great pleasure in seeing her swallower in such a state of anticipation. She leaned down, her lips close to his ear, and whispered, "Open wide, my little piggy." Her words sent shivers down the man's spine, and he opened his mouth as wide as he could.
With a satisfied smirk, Madame Ellen positioned herself behind the swallower. Using her free hand, she grabbed hold of his chin and forced his head back further, exposing the tender inner walls of his throat. She pressed the spoon against his lips, coaxing his tongue out to taste the delicacy that awaited him.
Slowly, she began to feed him, savoring the sight of the strange concoction disappearing into his wide-open mouth. As he struggled to swallow, Madame Ellen felt a twinge of satisfaction at his helplessness. She continued feeding him until the last morsel had been consumed, then stood back to admire her handiwork.
The swallower, now almost giddy from the psychological and physical sensations, tried to catch his breath. Madame Ellen reached down and gently stroked his hair, a subtle gesture that she knew he would find both soothing and arousing.
"That was a good, solid performance," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm looking forward to the next time I lock you up and bottle you." With that, she turned and walked away, leaving the swallower to contemplate his fate—and plan his next act of submission.
