Goddess was in an especially playful mood today, her electric blue eyes gleaming with mischief as she surveyed her toilet slave. The poor wretch was already kneeling before her, head bowed in submission, waiting for his mistress's next command. She couldn't resist pushing him further into humiliation. With a smirk, she pulled a roll of toilet paper from its holder and tore off a long strip, using it to bind his eyes tightly shut.
"Today," she purred, her breath warm against his ear, "I want to write on your body with my shit." Her voice was low and sultry, causing shivers to run down his spine despite the heat of embarrassment that flooded him. Goddess knew this was the most degrading act she could subject him to, and she enjoyed it all the more for that.
She ordered him to strip naked and to remain still while she prepared herself. He complied without question, eager to be of service despite the discomfort it brought him. She giggled softly at the sight of him, completely at her mercy, then turned her attention back to preparing herself for what she had in store.
Goddess consumed a hearty meal last night, knowing full well that it would give her ample material for her artwork on her toilet slave. She drank a generous glass of piss to top off her feast, then pushed him forward until he was pressed against her body. Her fingers were cold against his skin as she untied the knot holding his blindfold in place.
"Open your mouth," she commanded, her voice now laced with an undercurrent of menace. He parted his lips obediently, feeling the warmth of her breath on his tongue as she leaned in close. It wasn't until he felt cold, slimy fingers pressing against his tonsils that he realized what was happening. Fear froze him in place as he felt her warm, gooey feces slipping down his throat, filling him up with disgusting filth.
He forced himself to swallow, choking back bile as he did so. The taste was putrid, overpowering, and he wondered how he could ever have found this degrading act arousing in the past. Perhaps it was because he had no choice in the matter - he was hers, body and soul.
Goddess grabbed a handful of fresh feces from his toilet bowl and worked it into a putty-like consistency. She then reached out to claim her writing utensil: a large, sharp blade she used to slice up meats and vegetables. The sight of it made him tremble with anticipation and horror as she picked up a fresh glob of her shit and began tracing words across his body.
The first word she wrote was "SLAVE". It stretched from his right shoulder to his left hip, covering his chest and stomach in a grotesque tribute to his status as her property. She giggled and clapped her hands in delight as she admired her handiwork. "Perfect," she murmured, her breath a warm caress against his skin.
She continued to write words of humiliation and degradation across his body, each one more twisted and sickening than the last. By the time she was finished, he was covered in a thick layer of her feces-based artwork. It was a testament to his complete and utter submission to her will.
Finally, sated with her work, Goddess ordered him to clean himself up. He struggled to stand, his muscles protesting against the strain of being hunched over for so long. As he cleaned himself, he tried not to cry out as the disgusting mixture of feces and piss stung his wounds and scraped against his skin.
When he was finally clean, he knelt before her once again, waiting for her next command with a mixture of fear and anticipation. She smiled, her eyes glimmering with mischief, and gestured for him to follow her into the next room. There, she'd set up a video camera to capture their next act of depravity.
"We're going to make a movie," she purred, her voice dripping with anticipation. And so the cycle continued, each day bringing new humiliations and perversions for her toy to endure. But despite it all, he loved her, loved being her toilet slave, loved being used and abused by his Goddess.
