Chapter 9: Nataly's Turn
In the continuation of the Scat Princes's mini-series, the dominant female figure, Nataly, was eager to partake in the training of the toilet slave. With a wicked grin on her face, she made her way towards the bow-legged man awaiting his next task.
As the slave's heart raced in anticipation of what was about to come, Nataly sauntered up to him, her hips swaying seductively. She positioned herself directly in front of him, towering over him as she leaned down, her mouth inches away from his ear.
"Are you ready for your next task, my toilet slave?" she purred softly, her warm breath tickling his ear. The slave trembled beneath her, unable to tear his eyes away from the glint of excitement in her eyes.
"Yes, Mistress Nataly," he managed to squeak out, nodding vigorously. He noticed the delectable aroma of her morning cup of coffee mixed with her natural scent, sending his senses reeling.
"Good," she replied, straightening up to her full height. "I want you to open your mouth wide," she commanded, her voice taking on a sterner tone. Obeying without question, the slave parted his lips, revealing the inner workings of his throat.
Mistress Nataly gazed down at him coolly, her eyes gleaming with mischief. She reached over to the nearest table, her fingers wrapping around an object wrapped in paper. Pulling it free, she revealed a freshly baked cinnamon bun, still steaming hot from the oven.
"Now, slave," she instructed, her voice dripping with promise. "Swallow this entire pastry, without chewing. If you choke or fail in any way, you will be punished severely." With that, she leaned back to watch as he struggled to obey her command.
The slave hesitated for a moment before taking a massive bite of the cinnamon bun, feeling it stretch his cheeks uncomfortably. He tried to swallow it down, but the soft, gooey filling resisted, threatening to choke him. With a gagging sound, he managed to force it past his throat, feeling the warmth spread through his chest.
Nataly watched him calmly, her eyes studying his every move. She nodded in approval when she saw that he'd managed to swallow the entire bun. With a predatory grin, she moved in for the kill.
"Now, get on your knees," she ordered, her voice thick with anticipation. The slave slowly sank to his knees, looking up at her expectantly. She reached down, her hand grazing his cheek before sinking into his hair, tugging him forward.
"Open wide and prepare yourself," she warned, her eyes glinting with an otherworldly glow. The slave obeyed, his mouth gaping open in anticipation of what was to come. As his lips parted further, he felt the unmistakable heat and pressure against them.
"Here it comes, slave," Nataly whispered sweetly, her breath tickling his lips. With that, she released a stream of hot, steamy feces into his waiting mouth. The fresh poop slipped past his resistance, filling his mouth and coating his tongue. As he struggled to breathe through his nose, the warmth slowly spread through his body.
Feeling the slave's discomfort, Nataly reached down and grabbed the toilet brush, dipping it into the waste. She then brought it up to his mouth, pushing the brush between his lips and teeth. The bristles scraped against his sensitive gums as she cleaned the excess waste from his mouth.
Finally, she removed the brush, watching as he swallowed the remaining poop in his mouth. With a satisfied smile, she stepped back, admiring her handiwork. The slave felt drained, both physically and emotionally. But he knew there was more to come, that he had to keep going.
"Good job, slave," Nataly praised, her tone almost gentle. "Now, clean yourself up. You know what to do."
With a nod, the slave slowly rose to his feet, his knees wobbling slightly. He walked over to the nearby toilet, positioning himself over it. With slow, deliberate movements, he freed his cock from his restraints, aiming it towards the bowl. With a mighty push, he released his load of semen into the toilet, feeling a sense of relief wash over him.
As he turned to face Nataly again, he felt her eyes on him, evaluating his performance. He waited, bracing himself for whatever punishment or task she had next in store for him. This was their twisted version of love, and he was hers to control.
