Madame Ellen Expert in scat - Madame Ellen: Latex Shitslave has to eat 3 big portions

The latex slave, dressed in his tight, shiny outfit, kneeled before Madame Ellen, his eyes fixated on the floor. He could feel the warmth of his mistress's gaze, and it sent a shiver down his spine. Madame Ellen was known far and wide as an expert in scat, and the latex slave was determined to prove himself to her.

Madame Ellen leaned down, her lips inches away from the slave's ears. "I have a challenge for you, my little shitslave," she purred. The slave's heart raced with excitement. "I want you to eat three big portions of my caviar. You're so skilled at it, surely you won't have any trouble." She nodded to herself, her silver diamond choker glinting in the candlelight. "But," she added with a sinister smile, "let's just say that you don't quite make it... there will be consequences."

The slave's eyes widened. He knew that Madame Ellen was not one to make empty threats. Still, he was more than willing to accept the challenge. After all, he had trained for this moment for years. He had always been drawn to the thrill of scat play, of pushing boundaries and exploring sensations that others found repulsive.

Without another word, Madame Ellen turned and strode confidently towards the corner of the room. She paused for a moment, then stepped aside to reveal a gleaming golden toilet bowl. The slave could feel his anticipation building as he watched his mistress take her seat upon the gleaming porcelain throne. Without any further instruction, he knelt down between her legs and began to service her, his tongue darting expertly in and out of her tight, muscular asshole.

As Madame Ellen moaned in pleasure, she lowered her loose robes, exposing her round, plump ass to her slave. The latex outfit hugged her curves tightly, showcasing every ripple and undulation of her body as she indulged in her own filth. Slowly, she began to release thick, hot turds into the bowl, each one coated in a thick layer of pale, glistening mucus. The slave's tongue lapped at the juices eagerly, cleaning the rim of the toilet bowl as best he could.

After several minutes, Madame Ellen pushed her slave away gently. "That's enough for now, my dear slave. Go on, eat." She pointed to the golden toilet bowl, now filled with her excrement. The slave's heart thundered in his chest as he leaned over and scooped up a generous portion of the turds, using his latex-gloved hands to form them into a sort of mound. He placed the mound gently into his mouth, and began to chew, taking his time to savor the taste and texture of his mistress's feces. His eyes never left her, ready for any instruction or correction that she might offer.

Madame Ellen watched with barely concealed lust as her slave worked his way through the first portion. She could see the pleasure on his face, even as he struggled to keep up with the pace she had set. "Good, good," she purred. "You're doing well, my shitslave. Not too slow, not too fast. Keep going... keep going..."

The slave chewed and swallowed, then reached for another portion. This time, Madame Ellen pushed him harder, watching as he choked down mouthful after mouthful of her shit. His face turned red, and his eyes watered, but he never once stopped or slowed down. He was determined to please his mistress, no matter the cost.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Madame Ellen gestured for him to stop. The slave gasped for air, tears streaming down his face as he struggled to catch his breath. He had never pushed himself so hard before, and he could feel the ache in his muscles as he waited for his mistress's judgment. "Well done, my little shiteslave," she purred, running her fingers through his sweat-drenched hair. "You have pleased me well."

But then, she leaned in close once more, her hot breath on his ear. "Unfortunately, you did not quite manage to eat all of that large portion... so it looks like there will be consequences after all." She smirked, then stood up and turned away, leaving the slave kneeling in the filth with a sense of nervous anticipation building inside him.

As the latex slave waited for his mistress's next command, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He knew that he had pushed himself to the limit, and he had failed in his task. Whatever fate Madame Ellen had in store for him, he could only hope that he would be strong enough to endure it. After all, he was her shitslave, and he belonged to her, body and soul.