Wild Side of a Perky Ass Ch. 02

The breakfast meeting with my business associates scheduled for this morning had just started. Tea first, before we'd go ahead to have sandwiches, while we casually peruse withdrawing from an alliance that we think no longer serves us any good.

It's one of those bright mornings that has the sun smiling down at you from the sky, graciously showering you with warm rays and energy.

On all fronts, business is going on well for me and I'm more than grateful for a productive life. But I have this new thing going on in my life that threatens to take the front seat.

This girl. This strangely bold, uncouth, rude, nasty, disrespectful girl, whose name I don't even know yet, but has done to me what no one else has ever done, and has taken ownership of me.

The Mexican lady serving our table stood beside me, and gently called, "Sir," the third time before I heard. I was lost in thought, thinking about her, because this meeting reminded me of how I met her, it was just like this, after a business meeting. The forceful girl taking control of me.

A call came in, but I couldn't pick up.

I turned to the Mexican waitress. "Yes, pardon me."

"Would you like some more sugar?"

"No, thank you," I politely declined.

It took just a minute for my phone to buzz again, and it's a text message from an unknown number. "Hey, old fool, where the fuck are you? I called but you didn't pick!"

On that first meet we had, she got my number from me before she sent me out of her house. It was done so rudely that I couldn't ask for her number in return before hurrying out, with my tails between my legs. She told me to fuck off and I had to do just that. I fucked off.

The tone of this text message sounds like her and surely, there's no one in my life that talks to me this way. No one. I knew it has to be her.

The call came in again and I had to excuse myself from the table. "Hello..."

"Hey, old fool. Why didn't you pick my call on the first ring?"

From the voice and the tone, now I was sure it's her. "I'm sorry, I'm at a breakfast meeting with my business associates."

"Breakfast? I hope you haven't eaten anything already?"

"No, Mistress," I managed to use the honorific, after having looked in the direction of our table and seeing that no one's eyes were on me, even though the little distance I ensured shouldn't make me bother much.

"Don't eat anything!"

There was distance between us at this moment, but I could feel her claws clamping on me. The feeling is strange. This feeling of being harshly dominated and controlled by such a young girl. I can swear I've never met anyone as bold and daring.

My age does not scare her. My achievements do not. Nothing about what I am and what I have makes her have any sort of regard for me. It's a unique treatment I'm getting from her, and it's very, very fascinating. "Yes, Mistress, I won't eat anything. But may I ask why?"

"The first thing you will eat today is my poop. I'm waiting for you. I'm giving you one hour to get here!"

I swallowed and wanted to explain why one hour would not be enough for me to get to her house, but she didn't even let me start before she abruptly ended the call. I whiffed. What a nasty young lady this is.

One of my colleagues looked in my direction now, but I wasn't about to hurry back to that table. Not without calling back and letting my Mistress know why I can't show up in one hour. Punishment is not something I want to get so soon, so I dialled her number, now that I have it.

She picked my call as soon as it rang. "What is it, old fool?"

This was strange, but I had to get used to it if I want to be with her, in the capacity she chose for me though, which is the only way I can be with her. "The meeting just started, and should last about two hours."

"Don't annoy me, silly old man," she scowled, "I want to poop, and I can't wait for two hours."

I tried to talk her into managing to cope with my timing, but she wasn't going to concede at all.

"You are my toilet slave. Your duty is to eat my poop. You either do it or get the fuck out of my life!"

Now she was yelling at me. "Don't call me again. It's either you get here in an hour or fuck you!"

With that, she abruptly ended the call once more.

Sweat precipitated on my forehead and I walked back to the table. I didn't realize how tense I was until I got back to the table and had my associates asking what the problem is. My fingers were jittery and I couldn't still them.

"Mr Cole?"

I puffed and slanted my head at Johnson. "I'm fine. It's an emergency I need to attend to."

"Family?"

I nodded. "Yes, family."

"I'll suggest you attend to that, right away. I'll update later on how we move forward from here."

I forced a smile, nervously. "Thanks. I can still spare some fifteen minutes though," I said, trying to pull myself together.

"Seriously, it's okay. You should go now. Godspeed."

I calmed myself down and shook hands with everyone at the table and then left. God forbid they, through some supernatural means, see the real reason why I'm leaving. My shame would know no bounds.

If I had waited some fifteen minutes or even twenty, I'd still be able to reach her in an hour, but since I'd been affectionately released, I got into the car and hit the road.

My mind was rowdy throughout the drive, thinking about how fast this is happening, this girl and me, this dark path she's leading me through, and how I'm following her without any resistance.

Out of nowhere, some sense of reverence for her overshadowed me. As I reached her house and stepped out of the car, I became more tense, self-conscious and considerably afraid of her. Not that she'd hurt me, but I grew weary of pissing her off. She's mean and sassy, but I want to stay in her life, and I'm ready to play by her rules. All I need is submission, and my place with her would be secured.

I knocked on her door and waited. In less than a minute, the door opened on me.

"Bitch. It's not an hour yet and you're here already. That's good," she sniffed and glanced at the screen of her phone and swiped up.

I pursed my lips, staring at her as she stared into her phone. She was standing in front of me but her attention was on that smart device in her hands. "I had to leave the meeting."

"That's good. Go on your knees, poop-eating papa, and crawl in."

I wheezed and went down, not sparing some little bit of dissatisfaction in my body language. She was too busy to even notice me. "Move it, dog!" she scowled and kicked my ass, prodding me to not be sluggish, and then she shut the door.

"Mistress, I..."

"Shut up!" she cut me off immediately. "I want to poop in your mouth. When you're done eating my poop, you can go ahead and say whatever it is you want to say."

I hate to admit it, but there was some swelling beneath my fly. Her dominance is strangely arousing.

Waiting on all fours, I assumed it would be the same position she used me in, the first time. But it wouldn't be.

"Lie on the floor, old man, face up and open your toilet mouth." Her voice came at me sternly, and she threw a pillow at me. "That will help. Put it under your head."

She glanced at me and stood over my head, her legs on both sides. She was bottomless and wore only a tank top.

She came down on me and straddled my mouth with her pussy, and the next thing that happened was yellow liquid gushing into my mouth. She flooded my throat with her piss without any warning, then stood up and turned around.

I was blessed with a beautiful rearview of her young and tight body. Rearview because she stood facing my feet. And then she came down on my face, sitting on my chest first and afterwards sliding backwards until her bumhole tucked into my mouth.

The pillow helped to have my head raised to meet her bumhole, and that made this convenient for me.

"I shouldn't have to tell you again, bitch. You're not a dumb businessman."

I knew what she meant--to seal my lips around her anus.

A series of nasty outbursts of wind from her asshole stormed my mouth. Dry, nasty farts with crackling sounds.

She chuckled and did a voice note with whoever she was chatting with, and then her asshole flared.

She moaned as she pushed out a solid mass of shit into my mouth. It was dry, hard and rough on my tongue.

The taste of her shit was rough and vitriolic, but it was my problem, not hers.

She got so relaxed on my face that I felt her weight more. Her ass cheeks choked my face and breathing became more strenuous.

Playfully, she reached downwards and unzipped my pants. Her hand wandered into my briefs and she pulled out my dick. I grew hard in her hands. "You are quite well-stuffed, old man."

While squeezing out another massive lump of shit into my mouth, she pinched the tip of my dick and forced it back into my pants and zipped up. Eating her poop is not a palatable experience, but at least, I got a good dick rating.

Her asshole widened and she pushed out the last load. Because she was resting her full weight on me now, it went straight to the back of my mouth and stuffed into my throat. I manned up and swallowed it.

"Wait, slave."

She got off my face and fetched a cup of water and poured some water into my mouth. "Rinse your tongue, slave, you need to clean me up."

She poured water into my mouth two more times and sat back on my face, and I launched my tongue at her asshole, licking and sucking every trace of shit away.

And then she stayed in position, busy with the phone. Twenty minutes passed and she was still on my face. I got tired.

"Keep your tongue in my bumhole, fucker!"

My tongue was weak and weary now, but I did as commanded.

After another twenty minutes, she ripped a fart in my mouth and tapped my stomach. "Yeah, you wanted to say something earlier."

Oh, that? I've forgotten. But I have a question. "What is your name, Mistress?"

I had to mutter my question, because her asshole was still in my mouth, even though she leaned forward a bit so I could talk.

"My name is Lily," she replied and relaxed on my face again.

How can the talk time end so fast? She was more interested in her phone than she was in me. I hummed, signalling to her that I wanted to talk, but she ignored me.

Time dragged like forever and my face grew pale. The part of me that suffered the most was my tongue which I had to keep in her asshole.

Finally, she stood off my face and told me to get up. I had to do that slowly, having to wait for feeling to get back to my face.

"I'm going out with my friends," she said to me, "you can leave now, until when next I need your mouth."

She is a mystery I can't comprehend yet, this lady. She halted while scurrying around and collecting some of the things she needs to prepare for her outing, "Bitch, I know you want to spend some time with me. Not now. I'm busy now," she said and walked away.

I remained on the same spot trying to process all of this, trying to decrypt this sensational young lady.

She went into her bathroom and took a quick bath, and when she walked out, with a white towel wrapped around her, she was surprised to see me.

She closed the distance between us and cocked her head at me. "Goat, what are you still doing here?"

"Mistress," I said humbly, quietly, "you don't know my name yet."

She hissed and grinned, and then spat on my face.

"Your name is toilet. Now leave, we'll see later. I'll call you."