You begged to be her toilet slave, Imagine yourself here, begging her to feed you.
You cowered beneath Chrissy’s stauesque, Amazonian frame, the acidic stench of her excrement potent in your nostrils. Your pleas fell upon deaf ears as she ground her ass against your face, defiling you with each brutal press of her toilet seat against your lips.
“Please, Mistress,” you whimpered, the reeking orifice hovering inches from your mouth, “let me taste it. I’ll drink the urine too, anything to serve you. Even the farts – suck them up through my nose if you desire.”
Chrissy’s laughter boomed through the dank, piss-stained dungeon, sending tremors through the stone floor beneath you. “You’re really something, aren’t you? Begging to be used like the toilet slave you are.”
She paused, her grip tightening on your hair as she raised her meaty thigh, the crimson, puckered hole of her anus glistening with a fresh, viscous deposit. The air filled with the auditory splat as she unceremoniously dumped her load onto your tongue, the molten diarrhea burning a path down your throat.
Fresh tears streamed down your face as you swallowed, gagging on the acrid taste, only for Chrissy to follow up with a stream of pungent urine, forcing you to drink it greedily from the source of her crotch.
SPUTTERING, you managed to gasp, “Th-there’s more, Mistress. Please, let me savor it all!”
Chrissy’s eyes glinted with sadistic delight as she began to churn up another bowel movement. You braced yourself, waiting for the avalanche of putrid flesh and waste to befoul your face and mouth anew.
But just as her anus puckered for the prodigious discharge, a sudden knock at the dungeon door shattered the tense atmosphere. Chrissy’s face contorted with anger, her massive buttocks clenching in her agitation.
“What do you want?!” she bellowed, her voice resounding through the damp, musty chamber.
The muffled voice on the other side of the heavy door remained steady, even as Chrissy’s grip on your hair turned bruising. “Mistress Chrissy, the underlord requests an audience regarding the prison uprising.”
Chrissy’s response was immediate and volcanic. “You think I care about that insurrection when my precious toilet slave is right here?! I’m keeping him occupied.”
She jammed her writhing asshole back into your face, her fingers digging painfully into your scalp as she began to thrust her hips in a brutal, unrelenting rhythm. The pungent aroma of her intestinal byproducts filled your nostrils, making your head spin.
You could only moan around the invader, drooling as the turbulent diarrhea poured further down your gullet, the corroding substance threatening to scald your esophagus on its passage. Chrissy’s dominance over you was absolute, and you knew that as long as you remained her toilet slave, you would never be free from the degrading sufferings she inflicted. You’re Welcome.
Pay tribute and beg Chrissy at X 614