As I stared upward, her bottom presented moist and pout, and her pussy lips formed a butterfly effect with the labia, inviting cock or mouth to enter and be used for pleasure.
The anus, the serious “ring,” an opening into the body’s equivalent of a spaceship’s cargo bay doors {“Open the cargo bay doors, Hal!”} smiled at me as I stared; it pulsed in and out. The thought of them opening and depositing upon me–accelerated my heart beat, my breathing–and, before she spoke, opened my mouth as wide as it could. I knew once I tasted her gifts, I’d never go back—only a future composed of a sequence of pisses and shits would become me –as I became the names she had called me….
“Open wide, Shit Eater,” she spoke and temporarily broke the trance I was in. She stood and reached beyond my vision, and Suddenly her hand entered the box; a pair of panties was extremely stuffed into my mouth as she went on,
“For the last 30 days I have defeat these panties for 10 minutesin the morning each day as I did my toiletry –and finally using them to wipe my pussy and ass after each deposit.” She continued as she tapped my mouth shut with packing tape, “You will come to know my taste in stages–the way I want it, not the way you want it.”
She left the room, turning off the lights as she exited. In the dark, I could fall my saliva being soaked into the cotton panties; time seemed to stand Still–did she return in a minute or an hour?
I’d never know, but, nevertheless, the piss and shit stained panties were dripping their own head brew, mixed with my own juices, down the back of my throat. I concentrated so this would not choke me.
I feared choking in the dark, so each moments passing was marked and recorded but not tallied, for she had mesmerized my consciousness, and I was pure victim, a willing participant in my own possible demise. Suddenly, a pure quiver of cold recognition passed through me: I could seriously die here beneath this toiletseat. I gulped and began to lose my erection for a moment, but then the overwhelming tastes passing through me recovered my consciousness and my erection hardened even harder than before, if possible.
All of her tastes permeated my sensing experience; her taste was all I could think of –or feel; the taste of bitterness, of brine and bile, of salty and salttier. Like picking at a slowly healing scab, my tongue and mouth attempted to squeeze out all of the panties contents as i swallowed and gasped and gagged on the bitterness; yet, all I could think of was having the real thing squirting and ploping over my mouth and face.
“So now,” she said, “you have begun a one-way journey, one you were born to take; you are now a ‘shit eater,’ a shit slave; there’s no coming back–you have become your name, you are what you do–you are shit eater!”
And with that she sat and began to piss over my face–none entered my mouth–its warm, acrid feel and smell had me to revel in its show and silently inside my empty head I heard past voices of all kinds calling me by name, “Shit eater! Shit eater! Shit eater!” She was right, I accepted, there was no coming back as I stared at her pussy, which appeared, at that moment, as a side-way mouth, drooling piss and evilly smiling at the fool beneath it.
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