The House of Lesslie Ch. 03

V.

"I can't wait, Mistress!" said my almost transformed pet a few weeks later, happily anticipating the events of the night that she had helped to prepare. Caroline jumped off my bed and raised her head, proudly. "To be a part of such a historic event!"

"It sure hasn't happened in about a generation," I told her, on my way to the bedroom's en-suite bathroom. "Such a gathering, it is most rare, darling, and we simply must be at our very best."

"Our very worst," Caroline exclaimed.

"The same," I said.

I opened the door to the bathroom. Like the rest of the mansion I had made sure it was according to my taste, and while the fixtures were still more or less the same, the bathroom itself had been re-done in the whitest of white, resembling now a sterile, pure, almost hospital-like environment. Filth, my darlings, worked best against a pure, white backdrop, remember that.

The shower was made to look like a steel cage, chrome and iron, with white tiling on the floor and the ability to chain a slave to the wall, where two big chains had been put into the wall, the shackles hanging down as a silent threat to anybody who dared to enter.

The basins were laced with gold, the mirrors above them simple ovals, with a harsh, brutal light bringing out a harsh reflection of anybody standing before them. There were not toiletries here, no make-up, none of the things that a normal bathroom would house. I had rooms for all these things.

No, this bathroom was made only for cleansing the body and soul.

It featured a special throne, made from steel and tiled in white, three steps that would take you from the floor to its oval opening, perfectly shaped to fit my bottom. It had to have been made that way in order to work, for inside the elevation, at this moment already chained inside it for the entire night, was a man, his head providing the bottom of the toilet. A white rubberized face, a mask that had been perfectly sculpted around his head, leaving only eyes, nose and mouth open.

His breaths were ragged, his eyes frantically and gleefully looking up as he could see me sitting down on the seat on top of him. I did not know his name, nor did I care to learn it. Or did you ask how your toilet would like to be named?

Instead, I continued to talk to dear Caroline, while my round bottom filled my toilet's world, was all he would see and soon both smell and taste.

"Do you think they will all be here, Mistress?" she asked.

"All twelve Houses?"

"Yes."

"I wouldn't expect anything less, really," I said. "The Baroness has quite an influence over the lesser ones, if she is the one to call, they will be here. "

"To see you."

"To see how far I will go."

Inside my belly, something moved and pressed, wanted to be free. It wasn't quite a cramp, more of a feeling of fullness that spread through the rest of me, wandering down.

"She thinks you won't go far enough, doesn't she?" Caroline asked.

"She has only ever known me as a child, dear," I said. "A weak child at that. In her mind, I will be never more than that. When you are her age, change no longer comes to you, it is something that -"

I grunted and stopped myself from speaking, knowing that fullness would leave me soon, and there was a part of me that didn't want to let go of it, knowing that I would have to. After all, what is the use of a toilet whore, if they have nothing to feed on? And the poor boy had been waiting, hoping all night to watch this.

My asshole opened up, started to unfold from its tight ring to a full flower of flesh, its muscles stretching out to reveal its inner beauty to a worshipping tongue underneath it. It lapped at the flower, made it wet, finding its way inside me like a bee, buzzing around, waiting for it to come.

I wasn't one to disappoint.

With another grunt I let out a soft, wet turd that gathered on my toilet's tongue, two, three inches, before I could feel teeth scraping on my ass, before the turd was in my toilet's mouth, chewing down on my wicked waste.

"It's like what?" asked Caroline from the door.

She watched me. She loved watching me. The feeling was mutual. There were no secrets between us, or so she thought. She was still young. So beautifully young. There are always secrets, even between, no, especially between lovers.

"It's something that passes quickly," I said to her.

I let my toilet wash the most of my dirt from between my ass cheeks, wonderful, little touches of tongue that was both wet and warm, so much softer than the softest toilet paper, so much more thorough, too.

"Are you nervous?"

I rose from the porcelain altar that I had been worshipped at. Behind me, the toilet whore struggled to eat it all. I could hear his breath, ragged and coming in spasms, interrupted by the sound of eating.

"A little bit," I said. "Excited, too."

Caroline smiled. It was a more animalistic smile, almost splitting her face and exposing her teeth to me. A feral grin that looked like it could expose fangs. Oh, how far she had come. Soon. Very soon, the transformation, the corruption would be complete. The thought made me giddy.

"You should loosen up, then," she said, waiting a moment before adding, "Mistress."

"I should," I replied.

I passed her by. Or tried to, at the very least. But her arm had risen, blocking the doorway to the bedroom. Her eyes had darkened. Her grin had become playful.

"No," she said. "You should really loosen up."

In her other hand, hidden behind her back so far, was one of my gifts. It was long, dark and leathery. Fifteen inches that only in the loosest sense could be called a cock or dildo. It looked like an alien monstrosity, made specifically to my demands by one of London's finest toymakers.

Fifteen inches that had metal studs placed all around it, its bulbous head reflecting the light in its cruel steel tip, ending in a base that then split into two, smaller, but nonetheless harsh and pleasurable smaller tails, both made to slip into both cunt and asshole of those who chose to wear it.

Caroline licked her lips. Leaned into me.

And whispered.

"Let me loosen you up."

V.

Several weeks before, she had not been this demanding. Had not experienced and thrived on the decay, the rot of her soul as much as now. She had been a work in progress, had been nothing but clay to mold. Had barely been more than -

"- a pet," said the Baroness of Mann. "How, wait, how would you English say? Oh, yes, how...droll. I cannot recall asking you to bring me one."

"It is not a gift, Herrin Elsa."

"It isn't?" The Baroness of Mann wrinkled her nose. "What a disappointment."

"Life is full of them," I said.

"Gifts?"

"Disappointments."

Herrin Elsa, the Baroness of Mann had never been one for disappointments. The oldest of the Mistresses of the Twelve Houses, she had been old already when I had still been a boy. Not that you would have noticed it, for there was no sign of aging in her cold, stone face that looked like it was sculpted out of granite, with thin, almost purple lips and eyebrows that were shaped to reflect perpetual cruelty.

Only her hair was that of an older woman, or so it would appear. It was the brightest white, like an early winter's evening fog it rose from her scalp, slicked back on the sides and rising up a full foot from the back of her head in a knotted tail that resisted the pull of gravity as much as her titanic German tits resisted it. The hair-tail looked like the stinger of an albino scorpion, ready to be unleashed without a moment's notice.

"Tsk," she admonished me, wagging a thin, spidery finger at me from across the hotel's dining room. "It appears your mother has not taken the time to teach you proper manners, mein Schatz."

"My mother taught me enough," I said.

"Not enough to know that you should always bring a gift for your elders."

"My presence here is my gift, Baroness."

"Is that so, mein Schatz?"

She looked at Caroline standing next to me. Seized her up. Smiled.

"Has she told you?" she asked my Irish girl. "What we are?"

Caroline looked at me. I nodded to give her permission to answer.

"She has told me that you are twelve, Herrin Elsa."

"We are the Twelve, mein Schatz, yes" Elsa nodded. "We are who rule you"

"Yes, Herrin Elsa."

"And I am the one who rules the Twelve." She snarled an old laughter that come from the depths of a young body. "For there is always somebody who is more powerful, yes?"

"Yes, Herrin Elsa," said Caroline.

"And so know this, meine Liebe," Elsa said to Caroline. "If I wished you to be my pet, then you would be. Just like all my other pets."

Her pets were on the tiled floor all around her, in their rightful place. Caroline had noticed them of course, with a mixture of repulsion and excitement. Careful, I thought, knowing the power that such open perversion did have on those who had just begun their own journey.

The pets were in full rubber suits, were on all fours, their asses stuck up in the air, showing off thick, black bushes of hair. They weren't pony tails, but resembled more the long and lustrous tail of the purest bred dogs, and the rubber suits had been constructed to give them that appearance. There were four of them, clawing with rubber-covered hands against the tiles.

Their bodies and faces no longer showing an inch of human skin, their faces an unknown mass that were reduced to the barest minimums, skulls only, with alien-shaped gas masks that elongated their jaws, long tubes the only means for them to breathe, but outfitted with filters that made it hard for them to get any air, so each breath had to be earned.

Whenever one of them inhaled, the tube's inner mechanics would release the filter for merely the briefest amount of time, allowing a fresh moment of life to enter their rubber-bodied prisons, with a clicking sound.

While we were talking, the clicking sounds of her four rubber dogs provided a rhythm of threats and the music of tantalizing thoughts. All four of them had been leashed, and the Baroness of Mann held their lives, their fates in her hands, having come back from a stroll through London's streets. She loved to show off.

"Do you like them?" she asked me.

"Your dogs?"

"Yes. I cannot help to notice your... appreciation."

"They are marvelous creatures," I said. Caroline gasped next to me.

"I made them myself," Elsa said. "It was a spur of the moment."

"Bored, were you?"

"Always, meine Liebe. My country has become so... civilized."

The rubber gods were no longer male or female, were no longer even completely human. Unable to speak, the only sound coming from them was that clicking of controlled breathing. All of them, though, proudly displayed thick, rubber cocks that were stiff and rose up from their crotches, although it was impossible to know whether those were wrapping human cocks or whether they were completely artificial. They had been spiked, their mushroomed heads an angry black, topped with steel.

Yes, I would have to get me one of those.

"I let them mount me," Elsa said, "from time to time. Even pets must be allowed to have fun, yes?" Another glance at Caroline. "It makes them so much more, oh, what is the English phrase? Domesticated?"

"Docile," I said.

"Yes. Docile."

She gave a thin smile to Caroline, asking, "has she allowed you to mount her already? Or is she still the same selfish brat she was when she was still a boy?"

VI.

It hurt.

Just a few weeks later.

"Don't hold back," I screamed at Caroline, before another wave of blinding pain rushed through my ass and made its way through my bowels, finding both my girl cock and my mind in the process to explode there. "Harder, bitch!"

And for a moment, my mind flashed back to that moment in London, knowing that the Baroness had been right. Had known this for a much longer time than me, that way of treating yourself and your pets to the best.

Caroline rushed her hips forward, the alien monstrosity of a rubber and metal cock, sliding past my ring of muscles, each stud giving a fiery cold flash of steel to my accepting ass cunt.

My body stretched around this welcome invasion, nurtured and loved the hurt that rushed through my body, while my shit cunt juices made Caroline's rubber cock slick and wet.

"Give me your demon cock," I shouted as I raised myself higher to meet my pet's thrusts, my loving pet who wanted nothing more than relax her mistress, to take the edge of, to get my mind off what needed to be done in this day to come.

"I'm breeding you," gasped Caroline.

"Milk me," I gasped. "Milk my fucking girl cock like a whore."

"You are going to show them, "Caroline said, with each word thrusting the metal and rubber monstrosity deeper into me, making the studs run along my prostate. "All of them. Aren't you?"

"Yes!" I shouted. My mind being engulfed by the fire that had been ignited and would not, could not ever be stopped, raging through my ass cunt and flaming through me. "Yes! We! Are!"

"You and me, Mistress!"

"Fuck!" I shouted. It was a command. An answer. A plea. "Fuck, yes!"

"We are going to give them a show, aren't we?"

"Yes!"

"That they have never seen!"

I roared. It had to be careful. I roared a dragon's roar as my lover, my companion, my pet, my greatest work in progress lifted me up from our bed, pulling me onto her hips and holding me tightly from behind, her magnificent artificial cock ripping through me. There was so much strength now, in her body, so much that if she hadn't been in a frenzy of lust herself, my sweet Caroline would have noticed it, how much more strength she had built up in those weeks, now being capable of so much more than she had been before.

And with strength came the cruelty.

And with the cruelty the violence.

Her claws ripped against my pierced nipples, twisting them harshly as she bit down against the back of my neck. Teeth that had become sharper now, just as my own. And a tongue that snaked out between them that was rougher now, just as my own.

And from that bite, from that rush inside my shit cunt, it exploded down into my belly, rushed past it and into my hardened cock, a constant flow of thick, creamy milk that didn't stop as we both growled like monsters.

As we both lost ourselves in each other.

And my seed spilled out with a final, deafening roar, before Caroline let me down gently, her rubber cock still buried inside me, my body never wanting to let it out, never wanting to let it go, sucking it in, with each cum, with each gush of my own seed gushing through the air.

"Nnnngh!" Caroline managed to gasp out behind me.

"Leave it in," I begged. "Leave it in, darling."

And I allowed her to collapse on my body, allowed her hands, no longer mere claws, her fingernails no longer mere talons, to roam freely, to touch me, to caress me as she planted small kisses on my neck, wonderfully sore from the earlier bite.

"God," panted Caroline.

"God isn't here," I said. "And if he were, he wouldn't have fucked me like this."

"Says you," Caroline said with a smirk. "Have you loosened up now?"

And with one, quick, painful pull she ripped that wonderful cock from me, strong enough, fast enough that my back went stiff, that I arched back and screamed in a final, harsh voice as my girl cock erupted in violence.

"Aaaaargh!" I screamed.

My cock was uncontrollable. Pumping out the last cum of this glorious morning. My sweet, sweet Caroline looked at what she done to me, what she had achieved. My shit cunt, beautifully loose now, gaping for fresh air that rushed into it, passed the open flower that was now big enough to fit a man's hand inside, shivering and pulsating in anticipation of what was about to come.

"Yeah," Caroline said. "You are loosened up."

I laughed. And pressed the red, gashing opening that leaked shit juices against her already opened mouth.

And let her drink from it.