HOME | DD

Description
You knew what you were meant to do, Taylor had been clear about that. In all your excitement, however, you’d not noticed how utterly opaque she’d been about how you would do it.

She shifted slightly. The open bottomed seat which contained your head also kept it elevated, so her ass dominated your view and pressed against your face, when she wanted. She let out a bored sigh, exaggerated for effect. She knew how you ached to please her. Her disinterest in the moment was more painful than torture.

“Goddess,” you stammered.

“Hmm?”

Nervousness halted your voice, and continued to color it once you found it again.

“May I kiss your ass?”

Taylor’s laughter rang out above you, shaking the seat. You blushed, feeling certain that you’d asked something stupid. She stood up, after collecting herself, and turned around and leaned over you. Wherever the light was coming from, it seemed to get caught in her hair. The golden ringlets that framed her face as she looked down glowed as brilliantly as her smile. You barely even noticed her heels digging in just below your chest.

“You’re the first of my toilet slaves to ever ask that,” she said. You blushed harder, tried to break her gaze, but the blue of her eyes was electric. You felt like you’d gripped a live wire and the shock kept you from moving.

Sensing your apprehension, she explained: “I mean, the others all just went for it. Like animals. Which is fun in a primal, basic way, but…”

She drew a little closer, pursing her lips as she paused for thought.

“…I like that you asked first. That you value your place here and the role I’ve given you.”

Your voice croaked, so you nodded instead.

“A reward,” she said. “Would you like it if I spat in your face?”

You nodded again, fiercely.

A wad of thick, sticky saliva dashed across your nose and trailed around your eye. Another hit your cheek. You rolled your head slightly to the side, wanting to taste her spit, urging it to roll into your open mouth. Taylor had already turned around, and was settling back into the seat. “You may kiss my ass,” she said. “Well, only the hole.”

She brushed her soft, puckered opening across your lips, forcing you to abandon her spit to dry on your face. You didn’t hesitate, kissing back, losing yourself in the taste of her, a flavor that combined her sweat with something so bitter yet profusely sweet. Taylor purred approvingly above you. “Like that, like a lover,” she encouraged, and you pampered her hole with your tongue, massaging it, leaning forward as she seemed to pull away, not ready to part, until suddenly, as you stretched for a taste, you got a different one than you’d expected.

Once she saw your body stiffen, Taylor lowered back into the seat, having risen only slightly while she waited for you to sense what was happening. Now, she felt the feedback of her waste probing its way into your mouth, which trembled as if vibrating. The sharp bitterness of her shit was opposite to the softness of its texture. It was solid, thick, and healthy, the discharge of a woman who ate like a queen. As you swallowed, it left traces in your throat that you knew you’d feel for the rest of your life. Every moment hit like an eternity: the slow, constant feeling of penetration as she relieved herself into you, the eruption of your taste buds, the purring from her throat and the way her body buzzed with excitement as she made yours into her toilet.

Description
You knew what you were meant to do, Taylor had been clear about that. In all your excitement, however, you’d not noticed how utterly opaque she’d been about how you would do it.

She shifted slightly. The open bottomed seat which contained your head also kept it elevated, so her ass dominated your view and pressed against your face, when she wanted. She let out a bored sigh, exaggerated for effect. She knew how you ached to please her. Her disinterest in the moment was more painful than torture.

“Goddess,” you stammered.

“Hmm?”

Nervousness halted your voice, and continued to color it once you found it again.

“May I kiss your ass?”

Taylor’s laughter rang out above you, shaking the seat. You blushed, feeling certain that you’d asked something stupid. She stood up, after collecting herself, and turned around and leaned over you. Wherever the light was coming from, it seemed to get caught in her hair. The golden ringlets that framed her face as she looked down glowed as brilliantly as her smile. You barely even noticed her heels digging in just below your chest.

“You’re the first of my toilet slaves to ever ask that,” she said. You blushed harder, tried to break her gaze, but the blue of her eyes was electric. You felt like you’d gripped a live wire and the shock kept you from moving.

Sensing your apprehension, she explained: “I mean, the others all just went for it. Like animals. Which is fun in a primal, basic way, but…”

She drew a little closer, pursing her lips as she paused for thought.

“…I like that you asked first. That you value your place here and the role I’ve given you.”

Your voice croaked, so you nodded instead.

“A reward,” she said. “Would you like it if I spat in your face?”

You nodded again, fiercely.

A wad of thick, sticky saliva dashed across your nose and trailed around your eye. Another hit your cheek. You rolled your head slightly to the side, wanting to taste her spit, urging it to roll into your open mouth. Taylor had already turned around, and was settling back into the seat. “You may kiss my ass,” she said. “Well, only the hole.”

She brushed her soft, puckered opening across your lips, forcing you to abandon her spit to dry on your face. You didn’t hesitate, kissing back, losing yourself in the taste of her, a flavor that combined her sweat with something so bitter yet profusely sweet. Taylor purred approvingly above you. “Like that, like a lover,” she encouraged, and you pampered her hole with your tongue, massaging it, leaning forward as she seemed to pull away, not ready to part, until suddenly, as you stretched for a taste, you got a different one than you’d expected.

Once she saw your body stiffen, Taylor lowered back into the seat, having risen only slightly while she waited for you to sense what was happening. Now, she felt the feedback of her waste probing its way into your mouth, which trembled as if vibrating. The sharp bitterness of her shit was opposite to the softness of its texture. It was solid, thick, and healthy, the discharge of a woman who ate like a queen. As you swallowed, it left traces in your throat that you knew you’d feel for the rest of your life. Every moment hit like an eternity: the slow, constant feeling of penetration as she relieved herself into you, the eruption of your taste buds, the purring from her throat and the way her body buzzed with excitement as she made yours into her toilet.