Toilet Slaves Scatology - Brown Ribbons!

In a serene, white room, the dominatrix stood immaculately dressed in a sexy lingerie outfit, black high heels making an imposing impact on the scene. Her gaze fell upon the trembling toilet slave, anxiously waiting for his mistress's command. She smirked, knowing he had no idea what was in store for him today. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she slowly squatted down onto the bowl - her soft, fragrant rosebud anus taunting him from behind. His gaze drifted down to see her shapely legs spread wide, revealing a pink, puckered asshole that glistened with anticipation. She'd been indulging in dairy products to soften up her turds especially for this magnificent occasion.

In one swift movement, she lifted her glossy black thong and slid it to the side, giving him an unobstructed view of her steaming bowels. The pungent aroma wafting from between her cheeks hit him like a wave, making his own asshole grip and twitch in response. Their eyes met - hers full of playful mischief, his plastered with terror. She chuckled darkly before positioning herself over his face, her perky tits rubbing against his chin and neck seductively. The slave's nose was filled with the musky scent of her sweat and armpits as she leaned back, taking a deep breath and releasing a long series of nasty farts onto his face.

Loud, staccato bursts of rancid air assaulted his senses as she grinned devilishly, taking pleasure in making him squirm under her onslaught. Finally, she lowered herself onto his face and began shooting out light brown ribbons of shit directly into his awaiting mouth. The warm, soft fecal strands melted onto his tongue like velvety taffy, coating every inch of his mouth and leaving a disgusting film on his teeth. Every so often, she'd pause and smear the gooey excrement over his lips, making it impossible to miss any of the sweet taste of her sickening treats.

Her foul stool stuck to his taste buds, mixing with the dairy to form a revolting concoction that still managed to ignite some strange mix of pleasure and pain deep within him. As she grunted and strained to empty her bowels, the toilet slave struggled against his binds - but it was all for naught. The cling-wrap cocoon held him firmly in place, leaving him at the mercy of his horny Mistress. And mercy was something she seemed to have forgotten as she went to work on her next creation.

Using her bare hands, she played with the soft, warm turds, molding them into shapes and designs that she found amusing. Her fingers left a trail of smears and streaks of shit across his cheeks and nose, making him look like a filthy, shit-covered mess by the time she was done. To add insult to injury, she placed her dirty, shit-caked hands on his helpless cock and began stroking him roughly, eliciting both pleasure and disgust as he felt himself growing hard under her touch.

Finally satisfied with her artwork, she stepped back for a moment to admire her handiwork. The struggling slave was nothing more than a brown, smelly mess with a growing erection that threatened to burst out of his trousers. Grinning wickedly, she spun around and placed one foot on either side of his head, balancing herself expertly while keeping him under her full view. Slowly, inexorably, she began to grind her heel into his face - relishing in the feel of her sweaty skin against his, dirtied by the remnants of her shit. She paused occasionally to wiggle her toes into his open mouth, feeling his tongue dance around them as he attempted to cleanse himself from her filth.

After what seemed like an eternity, she withdrew her heavy foot from his face and moved down to his chest. She trailed dirty, grimy toes up and down his body, drawing patterns of shit in her wake. It was almost as if she was painting him with her filth, marking him as her own personal plaything. Her chuckles echoed through the room as the slave whimpered and begged for mercy, not daring to look at his degraded form. This was what it meant to be her toilet slave, and he no longer held any illusions that it would ever be any different. With a final, sinister grin, she clapped her hands together and left the room - her captive left alone to stew in a mix of shame and arousal.

The mistress would return later, but for now, she needed some time alone to process this latest exhibition of power and control over her poor toilet slave. He'd been trained well - too well in fact - and she relished every minute of it. Brown ribbons coated his body; by now, he was as much her art piece as he was her toilet.