Mistress Elisha's Maid Pt. 02

Jennifer sat in the dark, losing her mind.

With Mrs. Devlin gone and her sister patiently waiting in the next room, she had a moment to herself. A moment at last to process what had happened to her.

So this is what it's like. To go crazy. To melt down. Disconnect and feel yourself fall into the abyss.

Another possibility: There wasn't a whole lot to begin with. Maybe her mind had been a half-formed work in progress. A failed creation, smashed to debris in the time it takes to have a poo...and now she was picking up the pieces. She worked alone, scavenging fragments that had never belonged but now seemed like the most important things. Confusing memories--feelings she couldn't explain--elements that never added up but were now being coerced into something useful.

More specifically, Jennifer sat in the dark, on the toilet, losing her mind. It was a real toilet though--at least if you asked the people at Kohler or American Standard. But really, what did they know?

As she sat, eyes glued to the glowing screen in her hand, she mused on how it had taken just two weeks for her definition of what a toilet was to be completely rewritten--and delightfully so! See, a few weeks ago, going to the bathroom, or having a poo as Mrs. Devlin would say, was an embarrassing little bit of business. Using a toilet, any toilet, was a vulnerable, emphatically unmentionable affair.

But that was before.

That was when she would hunch over with her jeans and panties in a shameful bunch around her ankles. When she would run the water in the sink, or even in the shower to mask the sound of what she was doing in there. Why?

Because girls don't go to the bathroom! No! Girls don't piss and fart and poop! They don't wipe their asses! They don't pull the soiled wad from between their legs and check the color. They don't lift the matted paper to their nose and inhale, closing their eyes and smiling blissfully. They don't lightly touch their tongue to the buttery smear just to feel their insides explode like a bomb was touched off between their hips and...most importantly, they don't sit in the dark, on the toilet, rubbing themself raw thinking about it!

But that was before.

That was before she was forced to expand her definition of 'toilet' to include her beautiful, blonde, twenty-two-year-old sister.

In the next room, Lauren's phone, haphazardly placed on a hanging piece of wall art, transmitted a perfect view of the living receptacle her sister had become.

She looked at Lauren now, tied in a perverse spread-eagle on the screen before her, holding her phone tightly in one hand while feeling the other glide over the well-lubricated flesh between her fanned legs. Her garter belt and fishnets gave her the unique feeling of wearing clothes while being free to do whatever the hell she wanted. To relieve herself--to please herself.

Yes, to do whatever she wanted and...it was dangerous--what she wanted to do.

She stared at the toilet--the fake one. The real one? Well...she stared at her sister.

Lauren definitely fit the definition of a toilet. A toilet is anything you piss and shit into right? Fill it with shitty toilet paper--whatever! Press the handle (or Lauren's soaked cunt) and the toilet makes it go away. That was Lauren! Open up a septic tank? Filled with shit and piss. Cut open Lauren's stomach with a rusty saw? Piss and shit.

Jesus, why did the saw have to be rusty?

Anyway, she was a fucking toilet. She had done everything possible to prove that...but also, still a beautiful woman?

Of course! Because really, who almost cums thinking about using the toilet? Certainly not good girls. Certainly not Jennifer!

Not the old Jennifer

Whatever. This half naked, insane-looking girl masturbating herself on a toilet in the dark was a new Jennifer...and the thing displayed on her phone was no ordinary toilet!

Honestly, if given a choice, who wouldn't prefer Lauren to a cold bowl of fired porcelain? She studied the obscene 'V' created by her sister's legs--powerful, toned legs. Legs that led her to be a team captain in track and field. Legs that won her a scholarship. That had every boy in high school following her around like lost puppies. Those legs Jennifer would have killed for were now lewdly held in check by a pair of black nylon restraints. Who wouldn't take this view over the cold tile of a traditional bathroom? Who wouldn't want to stare down at those hips--those wonderfully wide, child-bearing hips? Who wouldn't want to watch as the glistening folds between those toned legs got wetter and wetter as their toilet 'responded' to its use? Nature's indicator light! Let the user know their toilet loves being a toilet! Who wouldn't prefer shitting in the mouth of a gorgeous, eager girl? Who wouldn't want to trace their finger around that irresistible belly button, to see that perfectly flat, tight midriff expand with load after load of shit until her innie became an outie? To feel her soft tongue on their ass, as she licked it clean?

Fuck, it was like a late-night TV commercial running up in her head. Like a throwback from when she was little, staying up past her bedtime. When you'd turn on the TV and watch...anything? Really? That's what the fuck we did? Insane!

Introducing the Lauren 2000!

Well, The Lauren 2001 if you really wanted to get picky about it...

Jennifer giggled. "I'm going crazy." She murmured in the dark. "This IS what it feels like!" She let her head roll to the side. Her blonde waves hung from her head in messy tendrils and her frilly hairpiece needed adjustment.

Anyway.

Introducing the Lauren 2000!

Nine out of ten dominatrixes agree, the best toilet in the world!

Nine out of ten.

Mrs. Devlin, would be the tenth.

God, she was so pretty. She could totally do commercials! Jennifer sat up.

INTRO: (Upbeat music playing)

Jennifer cocked her head. "What the fuck?"

NARRATOR: On the next episode of Thompson Engineering's breakthrough product showcase...

(Mrs. Devlin smiling, Camera No. 1 snap-zooms to her gleaming teeth, a digital sparkle is added)

MRS. DEVLIN: "I have expensive tastes. I need something more, a real challenge!"

DIRECTOR: Cut to black, and...

Jennifer spun around in the dark. "Seriously, what the fuck?!"

(INTRO JINGLE: Thompson Engineering's Product Unveil)

NARRATOR: ...introducing, the moment you've all been waiting for...

(Crowd anticipates, drums roll)

Jennifer ducked as the camera zoomed over her head, she felt the breeze in her hair as if it had narrowly avoided taking her scalp off. She followed the camera's path, finding herself in a well lit area that looked like a larger, more maddeningly-proportioned version of the bathroom she was actually sitting in. She saw an exact copy of herself strapped to four corners of the floor.

(Cut to camera No. 2, aerial shot)

NARRATOR: The Jennifer!

(Audience erupts into applause)

(Corporate jazz music begins)

(Cut to Camera No. 3, Mrs. Devlin)

DIRECTOR: Roll Camera No. 3, on Mrs. Devlin in 3... 2... 1... action!

Jennifer spun around to find Mrs. Devlin inches away from her, speaking into a camera that was dolly-shotting its way around them both.

MRS. DEVLIN: "Real reluctance, intelligent responses, genuine, undiscovered need to be degraded. Everything I love!"

(Music switches to high-intensity dance track)

NARRATOR: P.S., This bass is amazing!

"Is that you Keegan?" Jennifer called out.

(Jennifer breaks fourth wall in 3...2...1...)

"Sounds Irish. Not impossible!" Jennifer smiled into the camera.

NARRATOR: Presenting the toilet you need to convince to be a toilet!

MRS. DEVLIN: "I can't wait to break you, darling!"

(As the music and excitement build, fade out on Mrs. Devlin sitting on Jennifer's face, smiles, digital sparkle is added)

Jennifer reached out to touch herself but her hands passed through her doppelgänger's body as if it were a warm mist.

DIRECTOR: That's a wrap, people!

Back on the toilet, in the dark, Jennifer became aware of her finger winding itself in tighter and tighter circles on her clitoris. The golden hum she felt included the sensitive nub for sure--what didn't? But the unrestrained ecstasy she felt between her legs was equaled and possibly eclipsed by the hallucinogenic stampede within her stomach.

She could feel the small lump of Mrs. Devlin's shit dissolving inside her, becoming her! If it was true that you are what you eat, she was, at this moment, becoming literal shit! She giggled as she visualized the juices of her stomach consuming the filth. What if the liquid glow she now felt was the tiny lump of human waste rewriting her internal biology, transforming her from within to be a completely functional toilet? Is this how it happens? The hum grew into a dull roar as her stomach and intestines, for the moment anyway, overtook her poor little clitoris to become her dominant sexual organ. Was this how Lauren felt when she swallowed Elisha's shit for the first time? Was it this feeling of molten joy that turned Lauren from a gorgeous college graduate into a filthy shit eating bag? Was this how she felt before gripping Elisha's thighs, sealing her mouth around her puckered hole and begging her to push? Lauren had told her the story. At the time, she didn't get it.

She was getting it now.

She rubbed her stomach, grinning like a lunatic. She had been caressing herself intimately for several minutes with no threat of immediate orgasm but touching her hand to her stomach had pushed her over the edge.

She shook like she'd never shaken before, moaning as a reflex, gasping as a necessity. The eruption came from everywhere--her stomach, her intestines, from the part of the clit that reaches well into the body...

What little light there was in the room faded into nothing as the waves of pleasure reached the top of her spine, starving her brain of the blood and oxygen necessary for coherent thought. Her vision became white static as she lost herself to her felicity.

At this moment she felt herself discharge into the toilet. The real one. Fake one? At this point it didn't really matter.

She had read somewhere that what was called squirting was just women peeing everywhere. She laughed as she came too. Really, who cares? It was still hot as fuck!

A moment later, her cupped hand suddenly found itself between her legs. Which of the broken pieces of herself commanded her to do so, she couldn't say, but the order to 'discharge' into her waiting hand was given.

Her head spun around, half expecting a director to yell, "Action!"

DIRECTOR: Roll on Jennifer in 3... 2... 1...

Jennifer glowered at the director, half glowing, half fading in and out in the corner of the room. "Fuck, you ARE still here!"

DIRECTOR: (Shrugs shoulders)

She felt her cupped hand fill with her own urine. She brought her hand to her mouth, sniffing it lightly before pursing her lips and slurping warm liquid into her mouth.

I'm a piss drinker, she thought.

She swallowed.

The sensation had brought all the same warmth and exhilaration that swallowing Mrs. Devlin's shit had--even more in some ways. Nobody had told her to do it. She just did it for the hell of it, for the love of it.

I'm a piss drinker.

And I'm a shit eater.

(Music begins, gothic pop)

She reached her hand between her legs once again except this time, her hand continued until her trembling fingers waited beneath her own pulsing asshole.

What am I doing? I don't have to do this!

But...

I want to! Because I made up my mind.

(Music intensifies, modulates to the key of C minor)

Jennifer doesn't know what C minor is.

(Music fades to single, sustained chord on piano)

She heard herself mumble, almost singing.

"Jenny made her mind up"

What was that? Was it a song? It was something her mom used to sing to her. She hadn't thought about it in years. A hazy memory of her, as a stubborn child, barely out of diapers, wanting to help bake cookies or some damn thing.

"Jenny made her mind up, when she was three"

(Was that an Ab7? Shit, Elisha probably knows.)

"Go away, we're not doing this. Just let me hum my half-remembered song OK?" Jennifer murmured.

Somehow, she felt as if she was on to a solution for all of this. She narrowed her eyes at the Director, now circling around her head with a handheld Blackmagic Compact Cinema.

She giggled as she clutched her stomach and pushed.

She felt something ooze onto her hand, soft and mushy in places, hard in others. Completely foreign, yet not unpleasant. Surely she didn't just shit onto her own hand, right?

She carefully pulled her hand from between her legs. It was dark, but from the blue glow of her phone (still showing the image of Lauren strapped to the bed) she could see the modest lump of brown resting in her palm.

(Closeup on hand)

I don't have to do this, she thought as she drew the aroma into her nostrils. It smelled of foul death, but she didn't seem to mind.

I don't HAVE to do this.

She was all at once aware of everything--the snug caress of her garter belt on her waist, the imprint of her fishnets on her legs, the itch of her polyester apron against her clenched belly, the cheap plastic headband from her hairpiece digging into her scalp, her mind...not behaving properly. Somehow, the solution to all this seemed to be lewdly waiting in her palm.

She caught the Director's eye and quickly looked down.

DIRECTOR: Action!

She held her hand trembling at the halfway point between her half-opened mouth and the V of her legs. With each passing moment, she felt the will to rid herself of the temptation melt away.

"Jenny made her mind up"

(Music returns, swells)

Her hand flew to her lips, popping the brown lump of waste into her mouth with a fluid motion. She felt a charge now familiar to her, minus the queasiness she had felt earlier in the day. The taste was horrendously bitter, yet, so long as her stomach could manage, she was determined to see this through. Still clutching her phone, her shit-covered hand found its way between her legs. She pressed her messy palm into her flesh, smearing herself with a layer of brown. She may have even pushed a little bit of the filth inside her. She didn't care. She began to pant and shake, working her entire hand against her as she pushed the vile lump against the roof of her mouth with her tongue, forcing herself to experience the full granular texture and the bitter flavor--to fully embrace the filth of it all. She gulped hard, forcing the lump past her uvula. Her orgasm exploded as she felt the lump settle into her stomach.

Her hand spasmed against her exhausted sex as if by reflex. It almost passed without notice that, for the first time, she had cum with shit in her belly, and had no desire to toss it back up again. Now that the taste was gone, she was subjected to an immense feeling of satisfaction. The feeling of uneasiness was just the right amount of wrong, and it sent her insides into an ecstatic furry.

(Music intensifies)

"I'm a fucking toilet." Jennifer smiled.

DIRECTOR: That's a wrap people! For real this time...

The director turned to Jennifer, winked, then vanished.

She was nowhere close to coming down from her high when she heard the connecting door between the hotel rooms open. Lauren, it would seem, had a new customer. And Jennifer, possibly for the first time, felt like herself.

(Musical crescendo, then fade)

--

The next woman was different.

Asian, and clad in a shining black PVC dress with matching boots, she looked like she could be a professional dominatrix. Jennifer knew instantly that there were those who would pay a small fortune to be in Lauren's place. But that was for gross old men, beautiful toilet girls get to ride for free!

As the woman entered, closing the door behind her, Jennifer found herself wishing she was in the room to experience this woman in person rather than through the cold screen of her phone. It wasn't that she wanted to trade places with Lauren. From her restrained position on the bed, she wouldn't be able to appreciate the woman's striking figure, her boots, her serious eyes--warm, brown and almond shaped--intelligent, with decades of experience, sparkling with anticipation for what she was about to do. No, Jennifer wished she could stand next to her, free to press her face into the cleft of her breasts--grapefruit-sized sensual flesh barely covered by her shining faux leather dress. She wished she could run her hand along her long glistening black sleeves, feeling the cool PVC under her fingers as she traced a line along the woman's arm and down her side and to her hemline. She longed to slip her hand underneath and explore.

As she began to speak, Jennifer made note of how atypical her accent was--somewhere between Midwestern and Valley Girl.

"Look at you babe! All tied up for me! So adorable! Are you ready?" Her tone was very sarcastic. "You should be...cause today you get to eat from mommies hot...Asian...ass!" She paused. "MmmHmm. That's right--get excited!" Though her voice was unexpected, it took Jennifer no time at all to decide she quite liked the sound of it.

The sight of the woman climbing on top of Lauren, backing herself up onto her face hit Jennifer like a subsonic wave. She found her insides purring as she thought about this beautiful Asian about to violate her sister. Was it her race? Her experience? Or had the high from eating her own shit gotten her so aroused that anything would seem hot to her? Probably a little bit of it all. As the woman settled in on Lauren's face, pulling up her dress and leaving it bunched around her waist, there was something about the way she flipped her hair--jet black with dirty copper streaks, cut to a long bob--that drove Jennifer wild--and of course--the way she talked.

She imagined being in Lauren's place, under that sinister, PVC-framed ass. "Fuck," she whispered as her hand returned to the warm, moist pit between her legs. She began rubbing up and down as she glued her eyes to her phone.

"Are you ready babe?"

"Mmmm Hmmm." Lauren's reply was soft, but enthusiastic.

"Don't worry babe." She paused to emphatically run her tongue along her whorish red lips. "You're gonna get ALL my sweet shit...enough to fill up your little belly. But I got something else for mommy's little toilet first!" The woman twisted her face into something halfway between a smile and a wince. "Feel that babe?"

It was unclear what she was referring to so Jennifer withdrew her hand from her drenched sex, making sure to thoroughly clean her fingers in her mouth before using them to zoom her phone in on the woman's hips. She noticed something about her pussy as it hovered above Lauren's face. There was a thin off-white string hanging from her puffed lips. She was dangling this cord over Lauren's mouth, brushing it against her face as she slowly moved her hips from side to side. "That's right babe. I got a nice little treat for you, before you get any shit from mommy's hot, Asian ass!"

She reached her hand between her legs and began to tug at the string. She gingerly withdrew two inches of dripping, reddish-brown cotton from her folds, quickly followed by a syrupy flow of red, which she directed into Lauren's gaping mouth.

"That's right babe!" She swung her voice high, opening her eyes and wide as she put on an exaggerated mask of excitement. "Mommys on her period...and you get to drink it all! Aren't you lucky!" Her broad smile made her eyes glisten with elation. "Bet you wish you could rub yourself while you drink my hot goo don't you?" She grinned as she reached her hand (the one that wasn't carelessly swinging her used tampon around) to one of Lauren's erect nipples. Gripping it between her burgundy red nails, she squeezed hard. The unexpected jolt of pain surprised Lauren as she thrashed within her restraints. She jerked her head to one side, causing a thin streak of honeyed red to dash against her cheek.