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Trigger Warning: This part includes a graphic depiction of toilet/scat play. If this is not something that interests you or you are turned off by, please skip to Part 4 (link coming soon).

Up slave, on your feet,” she spoke as she walked behind her desk and opened a drawer. “Now your real punishment begins.”

She pulled out an odd looking black hood with what looked like swollen red lips. When she pulled it over my head, it didn’t completely blind me like the other one – it seemed to have many tiny holes to allow limited vision. She pulled some laces in the back tightly and added a lock. She also put me in a clear plastic coverall that fit snuggly with elastic around my thighs and biceps. She then led me to a small, dark room that felt like it was a bathroom, but with the vision I had, I couldn’t be sure.

“I am going to leave you now slave,” she held a gag with threading on it in her hand. “But first, this.”

She shoved the gag in mouth and it threaded into the lips of the hood.

“I’m leaving now slave,” she said as she walked out the door. “Please reflect on your transgressions.”

With that, I was completely alone with my thoughts for exactly 24 hours. It was amazing how absolutely quiet things were the entire time. I found out later it was partially due to the fact that she had her office completely soundproofed and homes in South Africa do not have central heating or cooling so there was not even white noise – just silence. I reflected a lot on things, including my current situation and what could be next. Luckily, I also fell asleep for a while, the body can truly be amazing in the way it deals with certain situations.

“Wake up slave, I’ve given you exactly 24 hours to reflect and recover – no more resting,” Mistress April seemed filled with energy as she walked into the small room. “It’s time for you to perform your morning duty.”

Her words cut through me because I knew exactly what she meant by ‘morning duty.’ When I first discovered Mistress April online, I was fascinated by the fact that she had an entire gallery dedicated to what she called kaviar, but what most in the community simply refer to as the taboo – toilet training.

“You had to know this was coming slave, you’ve frequented that section of my website, no,” she feigned asking the question, knowing full well my browsing habits on her site. “Let’s remove that plug and get this in that mouth of yours.”

She inserted a rudimentary funnel, and then reinserted the threaded plug to hold it in place. It was the first time that I had realized that I had spent the last 24 hours on my back, positioned under a toilet seat. Mistress sat down and without hesitation let a stream of piss loose, filling the funnel. I had taken notice of everything that I/MistressAprilZA was wearing, white, crotchless vinyl pants, pink ankle boots and pink shoulder length gloves. She had on no shirt and her gorgeous breasts were perfectly on display. It turned out that the outfit choice was very purposeful.

“Swallow,” she said as she pulled the plug letting the piss stream directly down my throat – even if I wanted to stop it, there was no option. “As I told you slave, I am not turned on by any of this – it is all about your humiliation for me.”

With those words, she pulled a key from the chain around her neck that hung perfectly between her breasts – she reached down and removed the spiked chastity device completely, pulling it out from beneath the clear, plastic coveralls I was wearing.

“See slave, the ultimate humiliation is to be betrayed by your own pathetic cock. We will watch the way it reacts when you’re pushed to the most humiliating places – I have a good feeling, I know how this will go,” she was glowing from the fact she had me in this position. “Now let’s prove my hypothesis.”

With that, I watched her cheeks spread and the first turd drop into the funnel, then the second and it let going. The smell was the first thing that overwhelmed me. There was nothing fake or staged about what was happening, my Mistress had to shit and she was doing it here. When the barrage stopped she leaned down and reached into the funnel with her heavily gloved hand and took some of her shit, squishing it between her fingers. With the other hand, she reached down and lifted the elastic fastening the coverall to my mid thigh. She reached in with the other hand and wiped her squished waste all over my cock and balls; instructing me to ‘jerk’ through the outside of the plastic covering. It did nothing to mask the smell, with each stroke the pungent stench filled my nostrils. To the surprise of only me, my cock throbbed through the entire process, dripping precum most of the time.

“Enough stroking freak,” Mistress April snapped and she reached down and removed the funnel, leaving my mouth fully exposed. “Clean me up. Now!”

I extended my tongue as she pressed her full weigh upon me. Even if I objected, I had no other options. All of my senses had been overwhelmed by Mistress April’s morning routine. The powerfulness of the scent was only matched by the taste that now filled my mouth – dank is the only adjective I can think of to describe it.

“Slave, I want you to bask in my aroma, and while you do, you can continue to stroke that pathetic thing you call a cock,” she stood up, removed her gloves and dropped them on his face. “I am going to have my morning tea. I want your to stroke the entire time I am gone, but do not cum. If you do, I will remove your balls – try me if you want to see if I’m kidding or not.”

She repositioned a wireless webcam on the floor at my waist level and left the room. I continued to stroke and before I knew it, the scent of Mistress April’s waste was pushing me faster and faster to the edge. I wanted to fight it, I didn’t want it to happen, but it did. My cock had betrayed me exactly how she predicted.

“There it is you pathetic idiot, you’re broken,” Mistress April’s tinny voice came through a small speaker on the camera. “Your ultimate pleasure can now only be derived when you’re covered in my shit – you’re welcome slave.”

I had never felt so humiliated, and of course that was the goal of this entire exercise – maximum humiliation. We were now one day into my seven day visit and I quickly learned that everything I had ever seen, read or heard about Mistress April was true. No acting, no special effects. Her beauty and intensity were only matched by her authenticity, and I had no idea what the next week would bring.

To be continued…

NSFW: yes

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