Chapter 1:  Prelude (from Beka’s perspective)

Their wedding was a grand affair.  Rebecca—Beka to her friends—invited every member of her large family and all of her friends.  Everyone was envious of her good fortune.  Beka herself was still amazed with all of the fanfare following her three-month whirlwind romance with Fred!  Everything was perfect, from the music, to the vows, to the reception—and she could barely wait for the private celebration for just the her and Fred after all the relatives and friends had gone home.  He transformed her life for her, from the humdrum of school to the soon-to-be completeness of wedded bliss.

At first, her parents weren’t sure that she should get married, or that she would be happy.  She was young, just turned nineteen, and had only completed her first year of college.  They thought Beka too young and inexperienced to be married, especially to a man like Fred almost a decade her senior.  She was gorgeous, and would have plenty of suitors to pursue her.  After her parents met him, though, they were well pleased.  He was thoroughly charming, with all of the education, wit, stability, and wealth that her parents could hope with all of the romance, fun, and excitement that she wanted.

Beka did find some things about Fred a little bit tedious.  For instance, he told her and her parents that he definitely wanted her to continue getting an education.  Once they were married, she figured she could convince him otherwise.  After all, what was the point of marrying a rich husband if you had to go through the torture of school afterward!  She was sure she would change his mind after they went to bed together.

That he had refused to sleep with her before their wedding night was the one thing she found odd about their courtship.  She would gladly have gone to bed with him after the first date, given how special and gallant and different Fred had been from all the other boyfriends that she had over the years.  He was just a tad old fashioned, insisting that it just wouldn’t work if they made love first.  He also wanted her assurances that she was completely virgin.  Beka puzzled a bit at “completely” but attributed it to his conservatism.  Happily, she could give him her truthful answer that she was a virgin.  Until he came along, none of the others that she dated had seemed right enough to go to bed with.  He said that he wanted their wedding and marriage to be something like a storybook fantasy, and that meant keeping themselves for their wedding night.

As far as she was concerned, only two things marred their storybook relationship.  One was that she would have to leave her family to go to Europe to live.  He had been born in the United States and went to school here, but he lived in a chateau in the French Alps due to his business concerns throughout Europe.  That’s where they would live once they were married.  On hearing this, her parents had wondered if he was some con artist, spinning a fantasy for her, but a quickly arranged long weekend trip to his estate for Beka and her parents at his invitation had cleared up all doubts once and for all.

The other misfortune was that Fred had so little family of his own.  His three sisters were all he had left of family in the world.  They would be bridesmaids for her.  They were as beautiful as she was, and with her red hair and their blond, brunet, and black tresses, they made a wonderful matched set.  They were both a bit uncomfortable in all of the finery to be worn for the wedding, and they were uncharacteristically shy about exposing their bodies for such stunning women, but none of that was even worth comment.  No matter that they both arrived at her parents’ house fully dressed in their bride’s maids gowns while all of the other women in the wedding party were meeting there to get dressed.  Beka was marrying him, so who cared if they had some hang-ups!

Following the wedding, Fred and Beka had to rush off to catch their plane to France.  His sisters, who also lived in Europe, were on the same flight.  He couldn’t be away from his businesses for too long, and needed to get back.  He did promise her that business wouldn’t interfere with their honeymoon.  He just needed to be close so he could check on things.  He would take a whole month off just to devote himself to her.  Besides, Beka really couldn’t object to having her honeymoon in France, even if it would be her home for years to come.

When they finally arrived in Paris, a limousine whisked Beka and Fred from the airport to the hotel where they would begin their honeymoon.  His sisters had disappeared as soon as they had disembarked, hurrying off with intent purpose.  Now she would truly have him to herself.  Here at last was her opportunity to prove to him that she was willing to give herself completely to him and satisfy him in any way he could conceive.  He was unusually reticent as they rode the elevator to the penthouse suite where they would be spending the night.  Once off the elevator, he dismissed the bellboy with a tip.  He then went and opened the door to their darkened rooms.

Turning to her, Fred grasped Beka firmly by her shoulders and her legs and lifted her from the floor.  She cooed with joy and surprise as he lightly stepped over the threshold to their rooms.  He set her down, and went to turn on a lamp. 

As the room lit up, Beka gasped in surprise to see three naked women kneeling on the floor before her.  They were kneeling with their thighs spread far apart, their shoulders thrown back and huge breasts thrust forward, and their eyes lowered.  Each also had her arms behind her back, displaying their breasts to even greater advantage.  She registered that the women were her husband’s sisters just as it dawned on her that each had a small metal hoop piercing each of their nipples and that both women had completely shaved pubic regions.  Each woman also wore a wide leather collar around her throat.  Beka turned to her husband Fred with shock.  So great was her surprise that she didn’t protest when Fred seized her by the shoulders and forced her to the floor.

She began to cry out “Stop!  Please stop!” as his “sisters” came forward to hold her on the floor while he ripped her skirt and panties from her.  How suddenly her dream had become a nightmare!  He freed his penis from his trousers.  She realized that rape was her fate even as she fearfully watched the huge member—the cock that she had never seen or felt but which she had such wonderful fantasies about—grow erect.  Simultaneously, she felt her vagina betray her as it moistened in anticipation as she gazed at his male organ.

Beka began to struggle to free herself from the nude women holding her, but they were too strong for her.  Sobbing and horrified, she futilely resisted as Fred’s strong arms forced her legs apart.  He carefully adjusted his body so that the head of his pulsing nine-inch manhood was at the entrance to her pussy.  With great care, he drove his penis with a single virile thrust completely into her cunt.  Fred’s care to enter her in one smooth stroke could almost be called loving were her deflowerment not so cruelly thorough and callously completed.  She fainted from the shock of her torn hymen as her vagina, virgin only a breath before, was stretched by the thrust of his huge granite-hard member.

Chapter Two:  Toilet Training (written from the Master’s perspective)

Two years later . . .

When her time was almost up, I turned off the electricity to all of the devices attached or inserted in my slave’s body.  I switched all of them from turning on and off at random time intervals to all of them being powered full on.  As the electricity running into her cunt, asshole, and both nipples at the same time must have been really entertaining for her—the desperate shrieks and thrashing sounds from the confinement box started immediately and went on for the entire 5 minutes that I left the power on.

I turned the power off and unlatched the coffin-like box that she was imprisoned in.  Opening the lid, I gazed down at my slave.  I noticed that she had drank all of the water and eaten all of the thin oatmeal that I had left in the pet feeders that had been dangling in front of her face.  The whole confinement box stank of her piss from when she had to relieve herself.  She was lying in a puddle of it.   She looked terrible.  I had never seen her normally well-combed red hair that she took such pride in so tangled.  She obviously had not had a restful night!  I knelt down and undid the padlocks that held her wrist and ankle manacles to the eyebolts in the confinement box.  Then I helped her to stand and step out of the box.

I said, “It’s been 24 hours, slave.  Let’s get you ready for punishments levels 4 and 5.” 

Then I unclamped her tongue from the device that had let her eat and drink but kept her from swallowing her tongue during her long night.

She looked confused for a few moments before she said, “Don’t I get to try again, Master?  Please, I’ll suck and eat your asshole just like you ordered!” 

The words came out garbled.  Her tongue needed time to work right again and her throat was raw from screaming.

I replied, “Maybe, maybe not slave.  This time, we’re not cutting any corners.  I want you ready for level 4 so we can go directly into punishment if you fail this next time.  Right after level 4, we’ll make another attempt.  If you fail again, we’ll do level 5 immediately.  Two hours from now, you’ll either have started your new life as a toilet slave, or you’ll be a dying piece of meat impaled on a spike.”

She simply nodded.  She was still too dazed and confused to realize that I couldn’t attempt to feed her my shit, punish her, and then immediately take another dump right away to trigger level 5 if she failed.  That was good.  I wanted her dazed, confused, and very scared.  Maybe this way, we could overcome any inhibitions she still seemed to be having problems with in her toilet training.

She moaned, gasped, and squirmed as I pulled each of the six needles that I had inserted into her anal ring out slowly.  Then I tugged the butt plug from her asshole.  The anus was swollen tight around the plug from her 24 hours of penetration and the electricity.  A little liquefied shit mixed with blood trickled from her anus, down her inner buttock, and down her leg.  I ignored the smell.  After all, turning her into a slave toilet was a messy business.  Based on that shit-blood trickle, with the butt-fucking I had given her yesterday, the needles, and the 24 hours of intermittent electricity, her rectum was a bit stressed.  I unclipped the electrodes from her nipples and cunt lips, and pulled the needles from her breasts.  She had mild chemical burns on her lips, her labia, and every bit of skin on her breasts where I had applied the pepper sauce.  The whip marks on her breasts, buttocks, and inner thighs all glowed an angry red.  Her breasts and cunt lips were swollen up from the electricity.  If she managed to accept her life as a toilet slave, she was going to need some time to rest and recover, that was for sure!  But I wasn’t about to let her have a moment’s peace until she did succeed.

Beka was the fourth of my original set of slaves that I had toilet trained, although I had taken her personal name from her long ago and I simply addressed her as “slave”.  None of the other three had struggled as much with satisfying me as much as she was.  Beka was so good in lots of other areas, superior to her fellow slaves in pleasing me.  In eating my shit, though, she was really having difficulty.

I began by wrapping the base of each of her breasts with a tight nylon cord.  Her breasts immediately started to become purple with the blood trapped inside of them.  I said, “I’m tying off your breasts, slave, so that I can amputate them without having you bleed to death if you earn level 4 punishment.  Let me demonstrate.”

I led her over to a manikin that I had set up in one corner of the room.  The front of the manikin was tight against a table with a thick wooden top.  It was the sort of table that might be used in a workshop.  I had attached a D-cup bra to the front of the manikin and filled the bra with silicone gel.  They gave a credible presentation as D-cup breasts.

I picked up an axe that I had just sharpened.  I took a practice swing to get my aim with the axe, then swung up and over my head and brought the axe down with a vicious chop.  One of the cups of the bra separated from the manikin and the silicone gel plopped all over the table.  I swung the axe again and chopped the second cup off the manikin.  My slave had turned white and was moaning with fear.  She looked unsteady on her feet.

This was all over-the-top melodramatic.  If we really did get to level 4 punishment, I would actually use a sharp, heavy heated knife to trim off her breasts.  The axe was great for dramatic effect, but was too imprecise to do a good job with the amputation.  She didn’t know that, of course.

Next, I put her ankles on a three-foot spreader bar.  I applied to set of heavy clamps to her pussy lips to make them stand out from her body.  I also had her stick out her tongue so I could apply a clamp to it as well.  Then I showed her the wicked little paring knife that I would use to remove her labia, clit, and tongue.

That would be her level 4 punishment—removal of her breasts, labia, clit, and tongue.  Next, I started to explain level 5 to her.

I showed her the chain that would clip to the back of her slave collar.  I said, “I’ll put this clip and the attached chain on the back of your collar.  Then I’ll use this winch of here to gently lift you off the floor by your neck.  I’ll be ever so gentle—I don’t want to break your lovely neck!”  Then I fastened the clip to her collar.

I went over to the winch and cranked it until the slack was off of the chain around her neck.  Then I cranked it until she was forced to stand on her tip-toes with her legs still on the spreader bar if she wanted to breathe.  I could tell that she was ready to beg to do anything, but didn’t dare because her ability to breathe was limited.

I swung her around so she faced a 5-foot-tall metal spike that jutted up from a wooden tripod base that I had set up on the floor.  I said, “Once I hoist you off the ground, you’ll be slowly strangling on your slave collar.  I’ll lift you high enough that your pussy or asshole is over the spike and then I’ll lower you onto it.  The pain of strangling will ease off as I lower you on the spike and you start to be impaled.  I’ll try to keep you in balance between the two—too much spike and you’ll impale quickly, but too much tension on your neck and you’ll strangle.”

I gave the winch another half crank.  Now she could scrape the floor with her toes, but not support any weight.  She couldn’t breathe.  I said, “If you make me punish you at level 5, I’ll make sure you descend down that spike as slowly as I can.”

She’d been up in the air maybe 15 seconds.  I thought seriously about moving her over onto the spike right now and impaling her.  Just the thought of her going down on that spike gave me a throbbing hard-on.  With her refusal to eat my shit so far, she certainly had earned it.  Of my original four slaves, she was the last one remaining.  I hadn’t put any of her predecessors to death, but simply retired them when I had used them up.  Maybe I should make her the first slave I punished with death.  I had added extensively to my slave harem since I first enslaved the three before Beka and then Beka herself, and I had kept her because she was so good.  Making an example from her would both entertaining for me and give an excellent example for the other, newer slaves.  I had to think carefully about whether a few hours of entertainment letting the weight of her body slowly push the spike up into her while I kept her on the edge of strangulation was worth the loss a good slave who I hoped to make into my toilet.  I could just imagine the terror in her eyes, soon followed by pain that grew and grew as the spike worked deeper into her.

I decided to let her down.  I’d rather have a toilet slave, for now.  Besides, she was in bad shape and wouldn’t last too long being impaled.  If I was going to put her to death that way, I wanted her execution to last a long, long time and be witnessed by all the other slaves.  That meant I needed to get her rested and healthy again. 

Hopefully the fifteen seconds starting to slowly strangle to death had made my point.  I released the catch on the winch and lowered her back to the ground.

I stood next to her and undid the chain from her collar.  Then I released the clamp from her tongue.

I gripped her chin hard and looked into her eyes, “Are you ready to start your life as my toilet slave?”

She lowered her eyes from my gaze.  I could feel her try to nod through my grip on her chin.  Her whole body was trembling.

With the spreader bar on her legs, she would have difficulty getting on the ground.  I helped her down, then I knelt above her face.  I was facing towards her feet and my butt was directly above her face.

I said, “You know the drill by now, slave.  Spread my asscheeks with your hands.  Probe my anus with your tongue until the shit starts to flow.  Eat it all.  Chew if you need to.  When I’m done, clean my rectum with your tongue.”

I felt her hands grasp and spread my buttocks.  I could feel her hands shaking.  I leaned back more to bring my butt-hole in close proximity to her mouth.  Then her tongue started to gently feather across my anal sphincter.  So far, so good—but she was a veteran of rimming my asshole many times.

Just like my slave had spent the last 24 hours being punished in her confinement box, I’d spent the last 24 hours without defecating.  I had a sizable load saved up for her.  I’d also made sure I ate right during that 24 hours.  I had eaten plenty of fiber to make sure I had an easy bowel movement.  I had also eaten some nice seafood to give her some really horrendous taste.  And last, some food that did not digest well, like whole kernel corn, to give her a nice chunky texture in her mouth.

Now I just had to keep my bowels under control so that I didn’t dump the whole load in her mouth in one huge shit-log.  I wanted her to take it one mouthful at a time to get the real experience.  After all, this was the first day of the rest of her life as a toilet.

As she was pressing her tongue against my asshole, I let loose a long, slow fart.  It billowed out of my anus, directly into her mouth and nose.  For her, it must have had an odor of pure shit. 

I could hear her choke and gag for a moment, but then her tongue resumed its motion against my anal sphincter.  Good for her.  Now for the real test.

With a slow, steady pressure, I started forcing out a hard, heavy turd.  I reflected that it was a little strange, since to give her a good feeding of feces I had to practically impale my own asshole on a column of shit by not relieving myself.  Just the price of being the dominant—holding your own bowel movement to make sure your slave ate well.

She started to gag as the turd-steak began filling her mouth.  So far, though, she hadn’t removed her lips where they were pressing around my anus.  Through her lips and the clenching of her hands holding my ass cheeks apart, I could feel the retching that she was desperately trying to keep under control.

My body’s natural inclination was to force out all of the shit from my rectum in one big, satisfying dump.  But I knew that the load I had was more than her mouth could hold or that she could swallow quickly.  I wanted her to chew and swallow, to be forced to get used to the flavor and texture of my feces in her mouth.  I had to maintain tight bowel control, as unnatural as that felt, clenching my rectal muscles to feed her mouth-sized morsels at a steady pace.  Forcing her to consume shit at the speed that I wanted to dump, like a real toilet, would come with practice—lots of practice!  I was looking forward to it.

Her lips closed and I knew that she had closed her teeth to bite off that first mouthful of shit.  This first mouthful would determine everything.  Either she would chew, and swallow, and come back for more, with each mouthful easier than the one before until eating shit became the most natural thing in the world, or she would lose control and she would continue her descent into slave-hell.

I reached my hands back behind and held her head in my hands.  I could feel her jaw working as she chewed.  Then she swallowed.  A moment later, her lips were pressed around my anus. 

I didn’t let my delight show as she swallowed, but I was now the proud owner of my fourth toilet slave.  Eventually, my whole slave harem would demonstrate their submissiveness and loyalty by joining in the toilet sisterhood.

We continued for almost twenty minutes more, mouthful by mouthful of almost black chunky, heavy shit.  Once she’d worked her way through the first few flavorful mouthfuls of my solid, heavy shit that had compacted at the bottom of my rectum from the weight of the turd-column filling my lower intestine, her chewing became easier.  I could tell as the shit she was swallowing became lighter, since she could chew and swallow more rapidly.  The last bits of shit must have been almost creamy in texture, since she seemed to be able to swallow them without coming up for air for more than a second or two.

At last, I could force nothing more from my rectum.  I turned around and, still kneeling above her body, presented my cock to her lips.  She obediently opened her mouth as I gushed a thick stream of steaming piss into her mouth.  I could see that her teeth were caked in feces and that traces of my shit was clinging to the back of her throat and tongue.  I washed them off as best as I could with my stream of urine.  As her mouth began to fill, I brought my bladder under control and let her swallow before giving her another mouthful.  Between the feces and the urine, the smell rising from her open mouth was horrendous.  A toothbrush was cheap.  Her services as a toilet were invaluable.  Except for situations in public where I couldn’t use her this way, I would never again use anything other than her mouth for my needs.  I grinned when I thought about demonstrating my new toilet-on-legs to all of my other, newer slaves.  Every one of them would understand that toilet training was now in their future, too. 

I stood up and walked away from my newest toilet slave.  I walked over to a wireless intercom mounted on the wall and toggled it on.  I said, “Two slaves and a stretcher to the east tower.”

A few minutes later, two slaves came running into the room.  When they say me, they pressed their foreheads against the stone floor.

I said, “Put this slave on the stretcher.  I want her bathed and her injuries seen to.  Then put her to bed.  Other than chaining her collar to the bed, I don’t want her restrained.  When she wakes up, feed her well.”

The two slaves hurried to obey and I forgot about them.  When Beka had rested, I’d give her another round of toilet training.  In the meantime, it was time to sink my cock into some slave’s mushy twat.  I turned to order one of the two slaves caring for Beka to present herself, but they had already hurried off.  No matter, there was always some cunt around.  I picked up a pair of handcuffs and went to look for some.