Samantha sat on the throne-like wooden toilet, her delicate frame hardly able to support the weight of the heavy object in front of her. The thick ceramic rock bowl seemed to beckon to her, an unyielding challenge towering over her petite form. She glanced down, taking in the sight of the slave kneeling before her, his gaze fixed upon her with desperation and fear.
"Samantha, please, you don't have to do this," the man pleaded, his voice barely audible over the sound of rushing water from nearby plumbing fixtures. "You can stop now."
The Scat-Princess raised an eyebrow, noticing the tremor in his voice as he spoke. A smile sparkled across her lips, her piercing blue eyes dancing playfully in amusement.
"Oh but I do," she replied lightly, her thumb drifting idly over the edge of the bowl.
With a deep breath, Samantha lowered herself onto the rock, feeling its cold hardness against her soft flesh. She winced slightly as she shifted her weight, her delicate backside cradled by the solid surface beneath her. The slave watched in horror as she slowly began to move, grunting slightly as the weight pushed against him once more.
"You must swallow everything," she ordered, a hint of authority ringing in her voice. "If you cannot do it fast enough, I will stop—and you won't like what happens next."
The slave nodded anxiously, trying to hide his terror beneath a mask of submission. He reached up, gripping the edges of the bowl tightly as Samantha began to lower herself closer towards him. His heart raced as he felt the warmth seeping through the thin fabric separating them, the scent of her body filling his nostrils.
Despite his fear, the slave managed to force down the first mouthful of steaming feces, choking back a scream as it slid past his lips. He watched as Samantha continued to move, pushing the half-digested food further down his throat with each passing moment. The Scat-Princess's face was etched with concentration, her brow furrowed as she focused all her energy on maintaining her position on the heavy throne.
Time seemed to stand still for both of them, an agonizing eternity filled with the sounds of grunts and moans and the stench of excrement. The slave could feel his stomach churning, threatening to rebel against the onslaught of filth being forced into his mouth. But he refused to give in, his determination burning bright in spite of the overwhelming discomfort.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Samantha shifted her weight again, slowly lifting herself away from the bowl. The slave collapsed backwards, gasping for air as he tried to expel the foul taste from his mouth. His eyes met hers once more, filled with raw emotion he couldn't begin to understand.
"Good boy," Samantha whispered softly, reaching down to stroke his hair tenderly. And with that, she stood up, leaving the slave alone in the corner of the room, wracked by cries of despair and the echoes of her amused laughter.
