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The Road to Becoming a Poz Toilet


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Disclaimer: This is my first piece of erotica, but even so it's not for the faint of heart. So, take a look at the keywords to see if this is your scene. Hope you enjoy. This story starts off with a flowery prologue, romantic-showered events followed by a winding downward spiral into extremely dark ones.

 

Keywords: cheating, Dom/sub, degredation, gear, raunch scat, sensory deprivation

 

 

Prologue
 


Me and my fiance have been engaged for about a year now. We’ve been together for seven years and he proposed in the most romantic setting overseas. We had dined on the most luxurious of fare with the most magnificent of views in our midst. It was special and beautiful, and our lives together are quite happy.

 

But i’m afraid i’m still a slut.

 

 


 

Oaths / The Road to Becoming a Poz Toilet

 

Chapter 1

 

All of the romance and laughter and love can’t make up for the fact that my greedy, gaping holes are insatiable for ripe, smelly, hairy, hung men and their equally enamoring dicks all the time! And since it can’t be helped, as i may as well make it over to my MASTER’s house as instructed.

 

i slowly walked in to HIS unlocked, rather large home and noticed that, directly next to the doorway, my MASTER had prepared a mask on a stool for me where i had been instructed earlier to leave my things by. i quickly undressed as i had been told and got to my knees before putting HIS mask on. As it cloaked my eyes i wondered how many fuckboys had worn this thing. How many other pieces of anonymous trash had HE flippantly used? Needless to say, i was aroused to be one of many used by HIM, just as much as i was aroused by my fiance being one of the many regularly using me.

 

SIR made me wait. Purposefully. My cock couldn’t help but twitch and leak, more and harder with each minute that passed in anticipation. When i heard HIS footsteps approach me, i did cower a little though. HE proceeded to rope my cock and balls, put my hands in restraints behind my back and tugged me behind HIM in the direction of the play room.

 

After MASTER led me to HIS space and uncuffed me, HE told me to, “Turn around,” only to put them right back on front-facing. “On your knees. Lie on your back.” With some of MASTER’S assistance, i lowered myself slowly on my backside. i felt comfortably nestled, since Master must have rested my head on what was a pillow. Then I heard a small “clack” above my head, and the creaking of what sounded like more movement above my face. All of the sudden i was awash with a pungent, fowl smell, an odor i could only assume was MASTER’S unwashed, unwiped anus. So, the Sherlock i was, deduced i was laying underneath a rimseat. my cock twitched.

 

“What are you?” HE said very matter-of-fact, without intonation.

 

With no more than a mere two seconds’ worth of pause – THWACK! I could feel a flog brush along my inner, right thigh.

“Aaah! i’m your boi, SIR.”

 

“Where’s your tongue, boi? And what are you?” HE said with a slightly dry sigh of boredom. THWACK! i could feel it on the left side now, grazing my left testicle. The sting was definitely more noticeable, so i howled. Whatever emotions weren’t being conveyed in HIS Voice were picked up by HIS deliberate, forceful strikes.
 

“AAAH! Sir, Your pig boi, SIR. Nyya thig thoy, Thir!” The last part said as my tongue shakily slithered out to catch the nothingness, like a snake sensing heat.

“What are you!?” Now HE was almost starting to sound impatient with me. THWACK! HE hit the still tender right thigh with the flog again!


“AAAAAH! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, SIR. I’m a naughty, dirty pig, SIR. A boi for your use! You can do whatever You want to me, PLEASE SIR!”


THWACK! THWACK! Pause.

 

i heard creaking again and felt a shadow lift from my face.
 

“Calm down, bitch. Think. Tell me what you ARE.” HE had stood up, so the hypnotizing aroma of HIS Filthy, Foul Asshole dissipated, and I was already missing it, yearning for it, whimpering. HE was making me beg.

 

i suddenly remembered as the wave of white hot addiction to His Man Stinks struck me. I had barely lasted several seconds without it in my nostrils, practically already foaming at the mouth, when i managed to sputter and shout, “i’m a CHEATING, TOILET FAGGOT, SIR!!!” The flying bits of saliva splashed back down on my lips and cheeks.

 

“Theeere we go,” HE muttered to HIMSELF, pleased not at the words that i had uttered, but at the feverish response the faggot’s withdrawing body had as it convulsed for more of what it was hooked on. SIR took delight in the fact that HE had created an impatient junkie, who was leaking absurd amounts of precum during the struggle, pleading for MASTER’s Anus Smells, soiling the rope HE’d strung around my nether regions earlier. “Tell ME again, bitch,” HE said swiftly with a sick, underlying satisfaction. “i’m a cheating, toilet faggot, Sir,” i said with a pronounced erection.

 

These exact words were what i had told HIM in my first message many months ago, after discovering HIS kinky, perverted profile. i was gooning at home, watching nasty porn and cruising seedy profiles in a depraved and poppered up state near the edge of ejaculation, when i messaged HIM and many others in a wide net cast out among those with similar, taboo interests listed, humiliating myself to the masses. “hi, Sir. Cheating toilet faggot here!” “hello, SIR. How are YOU? Please use this cheating, toilet faggot, SIR.” Each iteration may have varied insignificantly, but one, clear message broadly permeated them all.

 

HE brought it up again when my partner left that week, connecting over a call, HIS blocked phone call. HE had blocked it to test me, to see if i was real and also willing to accept an anonymous call, even though most people these days, especially partnered, shouldn’t be giving out their numbers so frivolously and definitely not staying on the line with said sketchy anon calls for extended periods of time. Obviously, i ended up covering that bill, so the partner wouldn’t lay eyes on it. “Tell Me what you are,” was HIS first prompt when i answered the phone that day before HE ordered me through the airwaves to keep digging in my own ass and suck my fingers clean until HE came.

 

i must have been in a stupor over work or some other shit today, in this moment, to allow such an obvious response to a familiar question to go over my head. This was essentially my verbal contract with Him. Binding affirmation that i was to stay in a state of wretchedness and servitude just as the night i reached out to him in that disgusting, pitiful manner.

 

HE lowered HIS Anus over my head again, and i quickly sniffed a hearty breath of musk inside me until my lungs could expand no more to calm my anxious depravity.

 

“Clean Me.” HE said this returning to HIS calm tone.

 

The discordant sounds of squishing spit flooded the space as I slathered my tongue all over HIS Rectal Hole.

 

Ch. 1 – Fin.

 

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