Chapter 1

By Emdamania

She knelt at his feet. Looking up at him fully clothed but with his semi flaccid penis hanging outside of his open trousers, her nerves crackled with excitement. This was not to be some ordinary blowjob, although at 36 she still enjoyed a tremendous thrill from the thought of eagerly and joyfully providing oral pleasure for a man knowing that the only reciprocal stimulation for her was purely cerebral. This was the mutually decided upon first step toward a new beginning for her. This was a special arrangement that could have been said to have taken the 20 years she had wanted to do this for or the eight months of apprehensive but anticipatory Internet correspondence they had just concluded. Their meeting had been accidental, their conversations unprecedented, their plans meticulous, their desires, in tandem...

In that moment frozen in time at his feet, her heart beating a bruise into her chest from the inside, she reflected on all that they had discussed. All that she had always wanted, all that she had fantasized about continually and thus unconsciously had prepared her entire life for. The service, the submission, the ritual torture and sexual abuse, the training and abject humiliation. All voluntary. All completely willingly. The possible long term damage, the probable eventual modifications both deliberate and incidental... Was she passed it? She had always said that when she failed to give herself to a Dominant man she had come into contact with when she was 22, she would probably never belong to another. But here she was. Well-preserved and not bad to look at when dressed in her usual conservative attire. Her stretching, diet, exercise and Yoga had really paid off since she began that regimen so many years ago.

She would have a new regimen now.

Aside from a few stretch marks on her thighs and hips, she could have passed for 28 had it not been for her sizable but somewhat sagging breasts, and that, she told herself, was mostly due to genetics. (How that condition might now be accelerated far beyond what nature intended now with the binding and suspensions they had discussed set in as she tucked her right heel under her padded alabaster thigh and opened her mouth to prepare for the first taste of her new life.) She thought of herself as an object now. The most logical evolution for her. She was to become an object of lust. Of sex, suffering and denial. An object of torment and humiliation. There to be used and tortured for another persons enjoyment as they saw fit to use her. And at just that very moment, when she felt the chill of a viscous and transparent dollop of her own vaginal mucosa that had been hanging in the air until then touch her right ankle, did she take him into her mouth for the first time.

He did not make her wait long, but long enough for her to contemplate the act she was about to perform. Looking back down into her nervous gaze, he released his bladder and began to urinate directly into her mouth. She was at once consumed with shame and yet there was relief as her feelings of sexual excitement blend with her deep humiliation and together swell into a symphony of intense long awaited sensation. She swallows. It wasn't much. It is hot. That much she can tell. As her mouth fills again, the taste buds at the sides of her tongue are activated and she feels more than tastes the acidic content of his piss. She instinctively grimaces, for it is a strong and bitter taste. It occurs to her that she is probably fighting some primordial human instinct by ingesting the liquid waste of another. She swallows again. It is coming faster now. Her mouth and throat rebel and contract, but she is a woman of great will and has often fought against instinctual nature and deliberately set about to cause herself severe sexual discomfort. Her mouth is flooded and she swallows again. Her olfactory sensed are lit up and alive with this peculiar and new sensation. It is as if she had been "plugged in" somewhere and now every fiber of her body, every sense were now amplified, only this was better then any experimental XTC trip she had taken at the trance clubs in the city. She swallowed again. It was all happening so quickly, and yet her mind slowed everything down, as if to dissect, examine and preserve every nanosecond for future access. She was bordering on the verge of an involuntary gag response.

This was foreign to her. She had long since lost her gag reflex during her bouts with Bulimia in middle school. That was all behind her now. There were far more interesting ways to be self destructive, and she had flirted with many of them. She fought the urge to choke, steeled herself and then swallowed again. Now settling into a rhythm, she believed she had it under control. It would not be easy, but she was determined to persevere. Gulping now in timed sequence with the contractions of his urethra, she drank of him and drained him and took him into herself a most intimate and unusual manner. Her mouth and throat burned from the bitterness. She thought she might have detected coffee or even wine. Breathing through her nose to keep up with him had opened yet another dimension. Her nostrils filled with the scent of urine. Male urine. Nothing she had commonly been this close to before.

It made her think of what she was doing, what she was really doing, and what she was becoming. She continued to drink and drink, each swallow becoming more effortless then the last, but still her mouth kept filling until it was no longer a matter of suppressing ones revulsion at the execution of this deed. It was now becoming a simple fact of physics. Her stomach was becoming full. Just as this new concern was beginning to turn to alarm, she felt him subside a little and his flow slowed to a trickle. She distantly heard herself moaning and making throaty sounds. They were ecstasy sounds. Sex sounds. Love making sounds. Was she so turned on by this? The dangling string of lubrication was now a small puddle that moistened her thigh and leg. Although sexually unrelieved and technically not satiated in the conventional sense, her eyes were glazed over and she felt sleepy. A dreamy feeling came over her and she felt at peace. She held his penis between her lips within the wet nest of her cheeks. No orgasm could ever have felt that good. This was where she belonged.

Chapter 2

By Hungry Guy

Tensing his pelvic muscles, he squeezed out that last squirt of piss into her mouth while her lips still clung to his shaft like a tight rubber ring. He had written many erotic stories about this sort of activity, and had accumulated a small following of fans, both male and female, but had never truly expected a woman to offer herself to him thusly--to be his slave, to literally own her body, to user her mouth as his toilet whenever the need came upon him.

"Stand now, Emdamania," he said.

She stood. He could see the melodrama going on in her eyes--the thrill of giving into her fetish to be a human toilet and of becoming his slave--and the terror of giving total ownership of her body to, basically, a total stranger.

"Follow me," he said as he led her upstairs to his bedroom.

"You will sleep on that mat on the floor next to my bed."

"Yes, Master," she said.

"I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night to piss. So..."

"Yes, Master?" she said with a little more excitement in her voice.

"So--when I wake up and say 'Toilet!' you will sit up immediately, lean forward, and open your mouth so that I can use you as my urinal. "

"Yes, Master!" she said.

"That way, I don't have to walk all the way out of my room to the bathroom to pee."

"Yes, Master. This is exactly my purpose in life."

"For now, remove your clothes. You will never need them again."

"Are you going to fuck me now, Master?"

"No. I don't fuck toilets. But toilets don't need to wear clothes. So, c'mon!"

Emdamania removed her clothes, and stood there naked in front of him. She then lay down on the mat he placed on the floor next to his bed, pulled the thin blanked over her body, and rested her head.

At that, he showered and got in bed a little later.

Indeed, once or twice, he climbed out of bed in the darkness of the night and spoke, "Toilet!"

Sleepily, she sat up and leaned forward, with her mouth agape.

He stepped up to her and inserted his soft member into her oral cavity come his urinal.

His pee flowed freely as she gulped it down. She was still new at this, so she struggled to swallow it fast enough not to dribble on her bedding.

The next day, before leaving for work, he instructed her to stand in the middle of the floor in his spare room. As she stood there, he shackled her wrists behind her back. Then he tied a cotton rope tightly, but not too painfully, around one of her breasts. He threaded the rope through an eye-hook screwed securely into the ceiling and into a beam above the ceiling paneling.

Taking the free end of the rope, he tied it to her other breast. Then he got ready and left for work.

The hours passed. As long as she stood motionless, the rope didn't hurt so badly. But it was exhausting to just stand there. Bending her knees, even slightly, caused the rope to pull on her breasts. Removing any of her weight off her feet would just transfer her weight to her breasts, as if she was hanging by her breasts.

The hours dragged by so slowly as the discomfort and exhaustion increased with each passing second.

Finally, he arrived home from work and released her.

"I have something for you," he said.

Chapter 3

By Emdamania

She stared at the 24-ounce bottle. It was filled to the lid with piss he had collected and saved for her during his time away from home today. It was dark orange yellow and a little bit cloudy. It was disgusting. It was his piss, and she was going to have to drink it.

"Well! What are you staring at? Go on now drink it!" he gestures to the bottle of fluid, now room temperature.

She is reminded of the bottles she has seen on the Thruway exits of motorists who could not wait. The thought to her is repellent. He gives the black bulb in his hand a squeeze and the inflatable rubber dildo inside of her pussy increases in diameter. She flinches.

"Drink my piss, you wretched cow!" and he pumps again.

"Wait! Wait! I'm sorry! You're stretching me. I can't." This was different than from his training, still in its early stages when he would pee directly into her mouth in short measured spurts to allow her to keep up with him. She was actually face-to-face with this cursed and paradoxical act. Confronted with what she was doing. He raised the bulb.

"Ok, Ok. Please don't stretch me anymore. I will do it." She lifts the bottle from the table. Her face contorts and grimaces the bottle comes under her nose. Usually she is spared the indignity of smelling the stuff. Usually it passes over her tongue and straight into her belly one reluctant swallow at a time. She takes a small mouth full. Her chin quivers and she gags, but she swallows it.

"You knew you would have to do this when you agreed to come here. Tell me you like it when I make you drink piss." He gave the bulb another squeeze.

"I like it! I like it! Please! Please! Please, no more stretching!" She took a big mouthful and swallowed very quickly, making a face like she sucked a lemon after. She deserved this, but she was not adept enough at the task and feared what another pump might do to her already throbbing pussy. She took the bottle in both hands and tilted in into her mouth and began gulping. She screwed her eyes closed and curled her toes but continued to swallow.

He watched her throat move as her head tilted back. When she had finished, she released a long belch unbecoming of the well-preserved, conservative, and classy woman that arrived a few short weeks ago, but suitable of the dog-fucking human toilet she was there to become.

"Say it!" he said, holding the bulb.

"I like it when you make me drink your piss. I am a piss whore. It turns me on to be your toilet. This is my calling. Thank you."

"Do you want more?"

Tears welled up in her eyes and her face turned red and her chin started quivering with fear again.

"Lay down." He points to a low padded table. He attaches the suction cylinders to her nipples and flicks on the machine. The dreaded hissing sound begins again. She is producing.

"There we go. I can feel where they are swollen, full and heavier than yesterday. We will suck them dry." He then placed a wire metal frame over her face and dropped a large clear plastic funnel into it. This held it upright, over her mouth. He connected a clear plastic tube from the end of the funnel and placed the other end into her mouth.

"Tell me you want this."

"Please! I'm so full."

"Tell me you want this!"

"I am your urinal. It turns me on when you piss into my mouth. Please use me."

He released the valve and slid the dildo out and whistled for the dog who pranced in and immediately stuck his snout in between her legs and started licking. Moving back to the head of the table, he unzipped and pointed his penis into the clear plastic funnel and said, "Look! Watch it come out of me. This is my piss. You are my urinal. Don't you forget it! I want you to watch yourself drink. Next week we start filming.'

The dog licked, the suction hoses hissed and drew milk and he began to fill the container inches above her face directly in front of her eyes.

"You are a toilet. You must get used to this." His urine filled the funnel and her hips ground in ecstasy. He was training any thought of normal sex out of her, and it was happening quickly. He increased the suction as he finished pissing and sat down in a comfortable chair to watch her drink leisurely as she was milked.

Chapter 4

By Hungry Guy

He had just taken a shit one afternoon.

"Emdamania!" he called out. "Come here!"

His slave girl came running up the stairs and into the bathroom. "Yes, Master?"

"I just took a shit." He leaned over, putting his palms on the edge of the bathtub, pointing his ass at her.

"Lick my ass clean."

"Master! Please! Please don't make me do that!"

"Do it!" he ordered.

"Yes, Master," she squeaked and knelt behind him.

He felt her part his ass cheeks with her fingers. A moment later, he felt the warm wetness of her tongue sliding up over his shitty sphincter.

After a few seconds, when he had felt she had done a reasonable job, he said, "Good enough." He paused for a moment and asked, "How do you like being my slave so far? Do you wish to continue?"

Chapter 5

By Emdamania

Emdamania thought for a few moments, then answered, "I think I would like to be shackled to the low bench in preparation for a more permanent station."

"Well..." he started to say.

"I have this image of me laying on my back, maybe in a bed or a low laying bench and [you] walking over to me and standing over my head from behind. You tell me to open my mouth and when I do you point your flaccid dick into it. I imagine your cock head being only a few inches at most away from my lips. You can feel my breath on your cock it is so close. Then you start pissing and my mouth fills up. When it is full part way you tell me to hold it. I have to breathe through my nose and I can smell the piss in my mouth. Then you tell me to gargle and then close my mouth. You tell me to swish it around so that I can taste it. You call me a disgusting whore and tell me to swallow. I do but I gag because it is so gross. Then I lay my head back and open up my mouth again and look at you standing above me, your dick pointing at my face only inches away. You ask me if I want more. i tell you I want to be your urinal and i want to learn to drink your piss. I tell you I am ready for more. Again you fill my mouth partially. The sound of the liquid filling the hollows of my cheeks causes my pussy to drip at the thought of how nasty I am being. You tell me to swallow. I do. You say, 'What do you say?'. I tell you, 'Thank you.' You tell me that you are turning me into a piss-drinking whore. I smile and open my mouth and request more. You say I am improving but that it will get worse before it gets better. I tell you I want to suffer and be degraded."

Chapter 6

By Hungry Guy

"Very well," he said. "Come with me, piss whore."

A moment later, they were standing before his "special" closet that was secured with a padlock. With key in hand, he removed the lock and opened the door.

"What do you see in there?" he asked, pointing into the open closet.

"Three big trunks, leather straps, and a pile of BDSM toys. What is that thing that looks like a metal mouth?"

"Oh, that? That's a mouth spreader. Dentists use it during oral surgery." He laughed and said, "I use it for OTHER things."

"Oh!" she said.

"Do you know what is in the trunks?"

"No, Master. What is it?"

"Your new home! For the rest of your life! Help me remove the trunks."

Together they slid the heavy trunks out of the closet set them down. He opened each of them, revealing their contents.

"Oh my god!" she gasped. "Really fantastic! Wow!"

With the tools within, he assembled the device: a long padded bench with a wooden toilet at one end and assorted belts, shackles, and stockades at various locations.

He flipped the toilet open at a horizontal seam in the wood and said, "Lie down."

"Yes, Master."

She lay in the device, placing her head in the bottom half of the open toilet seat, and placing her wrists and ankles in the open stockades.

He closed the toilet over her head, and closed the stockades over her wrists and ankles. Then he strapped her across her chest, stomach, thighs, and lower legs. He attached numerous padlocks to the toilet box and stockades.

"I know this is what I want; and it is what I deserve, but I'm a little scared, Master."

"Well, you'll get used to it. You had better! You'll never be out of this thing again for the rest of your life. From this moment on, you are a human septic system."

The last thing he did was pick up one of two objects made from PVC drain pipe. One was a section of pipe with a 45-degree angle piece at one end; that was for a male toilet; the angle piece went over the toilet's penis. The other was a straight section of pipe capped at the end with a narrow oblong cut near one end of the pipe; that was for a female toilet; the oblong cut faced the toilet's vagina and clitoris.

At that, he closed the toilet lid onto her face and left the room, closing the light and the door as he left.

Later that night, he returned to the spare bedroom. Opening the lid, he stood there, slid his penis out of his BVD's and pissed on her face as any male would use any toilet. She was plunged into darkness immediately after.

She spent a restless night. It was uncomfortable, to say the least, to spend the night on her back, strapped and shackled in one position, with her head held rigidly in place.

He peed once or twice during the night.

But when he came to her in the morning, he looked down at her and said, "Open your mouth."

She did as instructed, and he sat on her face with his anus directly over her mouth. He was about to give his slave her first taste of solid waste--shit.

He felt the pressure of his shit in his bowels--the need to have a bowel movement. He sucked in a breath and pushed. The feeling of his shit sliding past his sphincter always felt good. He had to press a little stronger since he was shitting into a sealed container: her mouth. His 200-plus pounds pressing down on her lips made for quite an airtight seal. Even if she resisted it, his abdominal muscles were ten times stronger than her throat muscles.

She had been holding her breath for about 20 seconds already--an eternity for someone to hold her breath. He knew that she was feeling abject terror at that moment. How much longer is he going to make her hold her breath? What if he doesn't keep count of the seconds that he sits on her face and lets the minutes go by? She is shackled in place, completely immobile, and she will suffocate and die in only a matter of minutes! But that is much of the thrill and the rush of being a toilet slave--to be at the complete mercy of another person of the opposite gender while they use your body as a "thing" without caring about your safety or comfort.

Her body was now bucking wildly and straining against her shackles in futility. In time, she'll learn that will just use her air up faster.

She had now been holding her breath for nearly 60 seconds. And her next breath won't be for another two minutes--at least. He pushed another lump of shit out of his asshole into her mouth.

Unbeknownst to her, though, he was keeping careful watch of the seconds on his watch. He'd never tell her this, but he cherished her, maybe even loved her, though he will use her as nothing more than a sewage system from this day forward. He would never, under any circumstances, let any genuine harm come to her.

He felt his bowels empty with that last lump of shit, so he told her to lick his asshole clean before he stands. He knew she was in agony, and would take heroic effort to do as instructed. He was pleased when she made the effort. He felt her tongue brush against his quivering anus in her attempt to lick it clean.

He stood and let her let out an explosive exhale. She lay in his contraption gasping, the scent of shit emerging from her mouth, and filling the room. He left the room to leave her in her misery while he went downstairs to have breakfast.

Emdamania had been his full-time toilet slave for about a week. She had been locked in his toilet slave bed almost non-stop during that time. Has had had nothing to eat or drink during that week except for his excrement and a daily multi-vitamin pill.

It had been comical the first time she puked up his shit. During her second day of being his full-service toilet, a brown geyser shot up out of her mouth after he had taken a shit, and made a filthy mess of his toilet slave bed. That had been the only time he had released her: so that she could wash the toilet-bed and then wash herself.

He came into her room one day carrying two tripods and several cameras. He opened the toilet lid to reveal her face, grinned, and said, "It's show time!"

"Yes, Master."

He spent the rest of the afternoon pissing and shitting into her mouth. With a full pot of coffee on the warmer, another on the stove, and a big glass of wine, he intended to keep her chugging.

Sometimes, he would stand and piss onto her like any guy would use a toilet. Other times, he would sit on her face and slide his member into her mouth and watch his piss overflow past her lips.

He had had a big meal at Outback Steakhouse the night before. A big juicy T-bone steak and steak fries always gives him the shits the following day.

He put Black Sabbath in the CD player to set the appropriate dark and mystical mood for the movie. Then he started all the cameras going.

The first time he shit, he sat on her face and shit directly into her mouth like he usually does, but that doesn't show anything to the camera except to catch her chewing and swallowing a turd of shit after he had finished.

The next time he shit, he squatted over her face. "Catch my shit with your mouth as it drops out of my asshole," he told her.

"Yes, Master," she said.

The two cameras got a good show from that, showing lumps of shit falling from between his legs into her mouth as she chewed and swallowed the solid sewage while Hard Road played in the background.

The day continued like that until evening when he packed up his cameras and left her in the darkened room.

He spent the following day editing the scenes and producing a Toilet Slave movie on DVD to sell copies on e-Bay.

Chapter 7

BY EMDAMANIA

Saturday morning, he sits up in bed at 10 am. Sleeping in a cage Friday evenings after sessions has become routine for her. He wakes and stands and walks over to the cage. He opens it and reaches in, fumbling for a fist full of her hair.

Dragging her out lazily, she emerges from the cage and drops to her knees, spreading them to their appropriate position, sitting up on her heels to the proper height for this Saturday morning service. Holding a fist full of her hair with his left hand, he smacks her full on the face with his right hand with a pop. She tilts her head back and opens her mouth. Reaching into his boxers with his right hand still holding a fistful of her hair, he points his flaccid penis into her open mouth. A trickle of urine soon turns to a stream as his piss noisily fills the hollows of her cheeks. He stops when her mouth is full.

"Swallow," he commands. She does. "How does that taste?" he asks.

"It tastes like piss," she replies.

"Why is that?" he says.

"Because it is piss."

"How is it?"

"It is very strong."

"Drink more." She opens her mouth and he again fills it to capacity. When he stops, her head is tilted back, mouth open and full. He has her hold it a moment.

"Close."

Her mouth closes.

"Swallow a little."

She does.

"Gargle."

She does.

"Finish."

She swallows.

"How is it?"

"It's disgusting."

"Would you like more?"

"Yes, please."

She again opens her mouth. He fills it for a third time.

"Drink," he says.

She swallows.

"Do you enjoy being my urinal?"

"Yes."

"Would you like more?"

"Yes. Please give me more."

"How do you ask?"

"It is my privilege to serve as your urinal. Please piss in my mouth."

"Very well. Open."

He places his now semi-erect penis into her mouth about half way. Her lips close around it.

"Are you ready?"

She nods and hums "Mmhmm" in agreement. He releases the remaining contents of his bladder into her mouth. It is a lot. Breathing through her nose she paces her breathing and swallows in time with his flow. Although she has never refused his offerings nor spilled any, it has not been easy for her and it has taken time to get her to this point. During training she would have signaled if she could no longer keep up and the remaining urine would have been drank from a glass they have designated as her piss glass. (He was thinking of surprising her by giving her a new one for Christmas that says, "Slave's Urine Chalice" on it.) When he has finished, he reached down and smacks the side of her left breast.

"What do you say?"

"Thank you, sir."

He turns and exits the room and goes to the bathroom to shower leaving her there on the bedroom floor naked and on her knees in front of her cage at the foot of his bed with a belly full of his morning urine. She remains there kneeling for a while, reflecting on this. She burps a little, smiles and stands, closes the cage door and straightens his bed.

Chapter 8

Normally, on weekdays when he left for work, he would lock her either into her cage or into the toilet-slave machine. But being a Saturday, he had plans for the day.

He knew that her fetish was to be a toilet slave, and nothing else; and that pleased him. But she had to learn that being a slave wasn't about what pleased her or satisfied her fetish--being his slave meant that she had to serve him in whatever capacity he needed. His house needed a good cleaning, so he set her to work. Being a guy, he didn't have some pansy-ass Hoover or Bissell; no, he had a 12HP ShopVac that would rip the curtains right off their rods in one quick suck if he wasn't careful. So he settled down and watched the game while his slave vacuumed his house.

The vacuum had been silence for a while before the game was over. The two beers he had wanted out the worst way.

He ambled upstairs and into his bedroom. "Where are you, you fucking slut?" he bellowed.

"I'm here, Master," she spoke as she hurried into the room.

He slapped her across the face for making him wait. "I have to piss, then we're going out! Get your ass into the toilet machine, bitch!"

She lay in the machine and he closed the toilet box over her head.

"Are you thirsty?" he asked.

"Yes, Master! I want to drink your piss."

"Then you have better open your mouth wide and catch it." Standing in front of the toilet, he dropped his jeans and pissed onto her face aiming for her gaping mouth, but also drenching her face and soaking her hair with his waste.