BDSM Library - Story: The Feeder, Chapter: Chapter 1

The Feeder

By OblongMilk

Chapter 1:

“Swallow,” she said.

The young man controlled his gagging and then attempted to swallow a small amount of the urine that filled his mouth. Instead, he choked and spit it out of the side of his mouth. This was going to stain his carpet even more. “I can’t. I just can’t,” he sobbed.

“Open,” she said.

The young man’s gaze shifted from her cold blue eyes, and turned back to the most incredible pussy he had ever seen. He choked back his sobs and opened his mouth again. Another thick stream of piss filled his mouth and then stopped short as his mouth filled.

“Swallow.”

He failed again, spilling it all down the side of his face onto his living room carpet. He coughed and sobbed some more. He was at a loss of what to do.

“Open.”

He opened his mouth. The beautiful woman again filled his mouth with warm piss.

“Swallow.”

He grimaced and gulped hard. The steaming acrid urine burned his throat as it settled into his stomach. He coughed and retched at the feeling. Tears streamed down his face.

“Open.”

He hacked one more cough and then he laid down flat again, opening his mouth. The woman with the greatest body he had ever seen nude filled his mouth again. He swallowed it immediately with a slight cough at the end.

“Open.”

He opened his mouth again to yet another thick stream of piss. He choked on this one and spit it out. She paused to stare at him. He looked up with his mouth wide open. She was completely naked except for her black high heels. She was squatting directly over his mouth, staring down into his eyes. The young man thought it was too good to be true; a woman like this coming back to his apartment with him. He didn’t know what to think now.

“Keep swallowing,” she commanded in an extremely icy tone.

A torrent of urine flowed from her cleanly shaven pussy. It filled his mouth but didn’t stop. Closing his eyes as it now splashed over his face, he gulped heavily and emptied his mouth into his stomach. He instinctively opened his mouth again and was given another mouthful. Two hard swallows later, with urine pooling around his head, he opened his eyes to see her squirt the last of it into his mouth. She stood up.

If any modeling agency, film studio, or strip club was lucky enough; they would have paid top dollar to have her working at their place. None were that lucky. Her whole body had the muscle tone of a twelve year old tri-athlete. Covering her was a golden blemish-free skin so smooth that baby’s bums needed Johnson and Johnson’s Extra Strength Moisturizer to keep up with it. Her strong, extra long legs ascended to a perfectly curved ass. Perfect posture supported her seemingly extra-large breast implants. They were not implants. ‘Cascading chestnut hair with auburn highlights’ read her file at her exclusive stylists. Her deep, some said cold, blue eyes stared down into the young man’s eyes. She was frustrated with his functioning. She turned away from him; her ripe peach of a rear end now looked down upon him.

Turning to look down over her shoulder, she said, “Open. And keep it open.” She then squatted down over his mouth. The young man was engaged in internal warfare. He opened his mouth. She reached both hands back and pulled her ass cheeks apart exposing a pink rosebud of an asshole. Within moments of tensing her entire body, the woman let out a soft groan and a thick log of rich brown shit pushed out. The smell hit his eyes and nostrils making them water, but he kept his mouth open. The firm log entered his open mouth and was pushed into the top of his throat. His mouth was soon filled with the thick paste and the foul bitter flavor was like nothing he had tasted before. Overflowing his mouth, the endless log spiraled out onto his face. Over his nose and down to his chin, a thick pile built itself as the woman slowly raised herself higher to keep from touching the growing stack of feces. The log narrowed and finally stopped. The woman grunted and a final round blob of shit plopped onto the top of the pile, almost as if she was garnishing it with a cherry.

The woman stood up. Using one of his best dress shirts that he had just previously been wearing, she wiped her ass clean. She then tossed the shirt aside and stepped away from him. The young man watched this blurry scene through tear stained eyes. His whole body heaved as he sobbed through his nostrils. Without looking at the young man, she quickly dressed; black satin thong and push up bra, tight mid-thigh length skirt and a tight open toped dark purple blouse. She looked down at the young man and thought, this one is useless. It’s not going to flush. She could tell by the look in his eyes and the shaking of his body. Without a word she walked out of his apartment, closing the door quietly behind her, and was gone. The young man had met her half an hour before and did not know her name. He lay there for two hours with her shit stinking in his mouth and piled on his face. Finally he summoned the courage and the will to finally move. He cleaned himself up and then told no one his entire life about that afternoon.

The woman, Gina Patrick, exited the building, stuck her finger in the air and then entered the first of the two taxis who stopped for her. She gave the driver her office address in a crisp tone and settled back into her seat.

But the voices came as usual: Why are you doing this? Stop please stop! No, it hurts please stop it hurts! It was a voice in her mind; her voice. It was her screaming, crying, begging voice from a different time. She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temples.

Arriving at her office the voices had long since gone away. The door she came through was labeled Patrick Exports. This was her fourth successful business venture. The present one created cash; cash that was big, fast, and easy. It was the easy part that bothered her because too many things were too easy for her. She made goals and she achieved them. She always achieved them.

One of her goals was to never use an inanimate toilet. Her goal was to always use the mouth of a human being for all her bodily waste; preferably male, and preferably able to perform a full flush.

Her male secretary scurried into her office. He laid out the latest price reports for her and then poured out some bottled water into a fresh crystal glass next to her hand. Having done this he hurried out again without a word.

Miss Patrick was naturally fit and thin but this did not keep her from regular exercise and a very healthy diet. Her father had been a Ju-jitsu expert and had trained her extensively. She knew how to take care of her body, and her diet. She took a shit very regularly; every day approximately at 2:30pm PST and she had kept to her goal flawlessly for the last three years. She urinated about three times a day; she held her urine schedule to her goal as well. Although occasionally she would piss into a bottle she carried with her so that it could be consumed by the next mouth that she would make use of. With all her money and success, Miss Patrick found that her goal of exclusively using human toilets was one of the most challenging. This is what made it special to her.

Flipping through the price charts, Miss Patrick analyzed the data quickly. Rome, she thought to herself. Something’s happening in Rome. She ordered her secretary over the intercom to book a week’s trip to Rome. Pulling open the top door of her desk she fingered through a large black book. Under the heading Rome, she found nine entries with three of them marked as Very Functional. She noted their contact information and then went home to prepare for her trip.

Miss Patrick’s secretary came by her penthouse condominium later that evening. He knocked loudly first and then entered. Everything he did around his boss was careful and deliberate. He entered because he could not expect her to take the trouble to open the door for him so he was to go about his business and leave. His name was Gary Dempster and the phonology of his last name had shot him to the top of her candidate list. Miss Patrick regularly mispronounced his name as Gary Dumpster. He was thirty seven years old to her twenty nine but he had a very boyish appearance. He kept himself and the office immaculately clean at all times. Any kind of dirt or smudge on him or anywhere in the office was a serious problem for Miss Patrick. Gary thought this was incredibly ironic but of course kept that only to himself. He moved briskly to her home office and placed her plane tickets and itinerary at the center of her desk and then turned down the hall and walked towards the door.

“Wait,” she ordered from a room down the hall. He turned to see his boss walking very determinedly towards him; she was completely naked. This sight would knock most men to their knees and Greg Dempster fell to his with practiced expertise. He positioned his body at the precise height and opened his mouth. He did it right, exactly right, every time or he knew he would lose his job. He never wanted to lose his job. Miss Patrick strode up to her secretary, spread her outer labia with her fingers and started pissing into his mouth. He was kneeling on a very expensive Persian rug and a single drop of piss on it would mean the termination of his job. Opening his throat, he guzzled the light golden stream. The warm mild piss filled his stomach, hardly staying in his mouth as he kept his throat wide open with practiced expertise. Miss Patrick squirted the last few drops into his mouth and waited. Dempster swallowed the last of it cleaning his mouth the best he could. He then reached out his tongue and with one slow sweep licked all residue of urine from her perfect slit. Miss Patrick turned without saying a word and walked back to continue whatever she was doing.

Dempster got back onto his feet elegantly and left with the calm straight face of an English butler. His face as calm but his heart was pounding through his chest and his cock was raging against his extra tight underwear. He could never show an erection around Miss Patrick so he always wore the strongest tightest underwear he could find. The end cleaning he had just performed was a new privilege. It made him feel like his life was perfect; so perfect, when he was allowed to touch her there even for a moment. He went home and masturbated into the toilet three times thinking about it.

What Miss Patrick had been doing was packing for her trip. Besides what clothes to bring, the next hardest decision to make was what play toys she should bring. After using Dempster, she continued her contemplation. She only used her secretary for convenience now and then because she preferred to use toilets that have not been extensively used. The best toilets, she thought, were those who have never been used; although that variety rarely flushed properly.

Her selection of personal play toys was extensive. She had all the choices; the perfect size, the perfect texture, the perfect shape, the perfect vibration, the perfect movement, the perfect spot, the perfect time. Why would she need a piece of flesh that satisfied none of these choices? Her toys were her men and they never failed her. Simplicity is best for travel, she thought. She chose her current favorite vibrator, a dildo, a butt plug, and two more vibrators for back up. She slithered onto her bed and decided to give them all a trial run. Hours later she slipped into a deep sleep on her luxurious king sized bed with a broad happy smile on her face.

Miss Patrick’s alarm clock began playing soft soothing music at 7:00AM. She woke with a violent jolt, flinging her hands apart. The feeling of being helpless and having her hands bound together quickly left her. Her heart rate recovered. She stood up at the side of her bed and stretched. She immediately felt that the laxative she had taken the night before had done its job. She was flying today for twelve hours and finding a toilet on a long haul flight is not impossible, she knew that, but it can be difficult. Going directly to her phone, she opened the toilet directory on her quick dial. Miss Patrick picked one at random.

Brian Thompson was an assistant bank manager. He was paid good money but he felt that his job was grinding his very soul into dust. Sitting alone at his kitchen table, Brian sipped on a fresh cup of coffee. He jumped as his phone rang. He tended to jump when his cell phone rang and it was not because he thought it might be his boss, or his mother, or even his girlfriend. He jumped because each call could be her. Bringing his mug of coffee down with a bang onto the table some of it leapt from the cup and burned his hand. Cursing himself as he licked it off, he spun around in his chair and drove his left knee into the leg of the table. While clutching at the sharp pain in his knee, he continued to swear violently at himself. He limped across the floor and scrambled to pick up his phone.

“Get over here,” said a very distinctive voice which then immediately hung up.

Brian’s heart raced into overdrive and his whole body seemed to lift up off the ground. He took a cheering bouncing step forward, stepped on the loose tie of his open bath robe, and went sprawling onto the floor sending his cell phone flying. He cursed himself over and over as he got to his feet and then his giddiness returned. Blabbering to himself, he realized he could not go like this; he needed to shower. Brian sprung into action: whipped off his bathrobe, balled it up madly, and then flung it against the wall. Hopping and running, he stripped out of his boxer shorts and t-shirt and then jumped into the shower. He soaped, lathered, and rinsed before the water had a chance to warm up. After diving into his fresh work clothes, he frantically ran a shaver over his face. He was finally sprinting out the door, although he returned moments later to retrieve his car keys. He repeated to himself, I can’t be late, god I can’t be late.

Miss Patrick was sipping her first glass of freshly squeezed orange juice when there was a knock on the door; she continued to enjoy her morning orange juice. Then her bowels started to complain again; the laxative she took was a little bit to aggressive for her tastes. She reluctantly stood up and walked towards the door. The knocking sounded again just before she arrived at the door. She viewed the LCD panel at the side of her door which displayed her security camera footage, and she recognized one of her toilets. Miss Patrick opened the door and exposed her full nudity; Brian cast his eyes down to her feet. Even her feet were spectacular and he now regretted wearing boxer shorts; he was restricted from showing an erection in her presence.

“Hello Brian,” said Miss Patrick. She examined his appearance; he had dressed quickly and his hair was still wet. Still he was clean and well dressed, she nodded to herself in approval. “Are you ready?” she asked politely.

“Yes Ma’am,” he replied. ‘Very ready Ma’am. Thank you Ma’am.” He now looked into her eyes and awaited her instructions. After assessing his current state of mind she came to the conclusion he would not be a problem for her and let him inside. She motioned for him to go to the usual bathroom near the entrance. He moved quickly and she followed him. The presence of her naked body made him shake all over and feel like he was up amongst the clouds and no longer on the blue-green earth.

When Brian began to take off his suit jacket she interrupted him, “Stop. I don’t have time. Lay down.”

“Yes Ma’am,” replied Brian still shaking a little. The large green tiles of the bathroom were heated and warm against his back. He had hoped to get his suit off at least to keep it clean. It was a minor detail. His view of the plain white ceiling was quickly obscured by her pristine ass. She squatted over his mouth facing away from him and shot a river of piss from her perfect pussy, and he guzzled it madly. It was so much and so fast that he was very fortunate that he was not kneeling over an expensive Persian rug. Some of it splashed out on his face and onto the floor. The rush of urine was followed by a stiff breeze of shitty air. Swallowing the last of the piss, he then opened his mouth just in time to catch a steady stream of runny shit. Her shit was almost always perfect; this was the first time he had taken it like this. He had no idea how much there would be so he swallowed quickly and then took more into his mouth. She paused briefly, seemingly to adjust herself, and then the stream continued. Thick fumes not only filled his nostrils but intoxicated the entire room. He was an experienced toilet; a new toilet would have never survived. Still his stomach growled and almost revolted. He used everything he had to maintain his composure while he accepted the last drops from her spread rear end.

She stood up and wiped with a moist towel that had been set out earlier. “There is probably going to be more. Stay,” she said as she walked out of the room without looking back at him. He was silent because he still had shit in his mouth. He played with it a bit with his tongue and then finally sent it down to his stomach. To focus on the taste would be to fail. He focused on the mechanics and who he was serving. A single failure to flush could mean banishment.

After licking and swallowing his mouth clean, he turned over onto his hands and knees and then licked up the bit of piss that had splashed out of his mouth. Taking off his suit jacket, he used a bit of tissue to wipe it and then folded it neatly on the toilet seat. He removed his dress shirt and folded it on top of his jacket. He knew that she rejected ever using porcelain toilets; he was glad of that. Brian then washed his face and washed out his mouth. He knew he was to swallow everything, and he did. There were rules though, like the one that everything needed to be as clean as possible. He wanted a clean toilet for her to use if and when she returned. Brian laid himself back down on the warm tile and waited patiently. There was no where else he would rather be.

After a leisurely breakfast, Miss Patrick took a long hot shower. She then finished her packing and dressed herself. Looking in the mirror she was happy with her appearance. She wore a blue pin striped business suit. The skirt was skin tight and extended three-quarters the way down her thigh. Her white blouse was very tight and open at the top, exposing a very generous amount of cleavage. She had put her hair up in a tight bun and her feet were in a pair of black four-inch closed toe heels. The chauffer arrived exactly on time. He was told to carry her bags down and wait.

Miss Patrick wanted to make sure she had evacuated everything so that she would be perfectly comfortable during her flight. She stepped into the bathroom and found her toilet ready with his mouth open. Pulling down her panties, she took them off and placed them neatly on the counter. She hiked up her skirt above her waist and squatted over Brian’s mouth. She saw that he was holding down his erection with both hands. She released her bladder and pissed a steady stream into his mouth, and then worked to get every drop out. She then began bearing down hard and she pushed a long hard log out. She kept squeezing, looking up at the flowery wall tiles as she did so, until she was finally satisfied that she was empty. Miss Patrick stood up, wiped her ass first with his dress shirt, and then with a wet towel she had laid out on the counter. She walked over to her panties, pulled them on, pulled her skirt down, and then turned towards her toilet.

“Move it. Out. Right now,” she commanded. He still had the last log of shit in his mouth that he was working on as he stood up. Picking up his shirt and suit jacket, he followed her out the front door. He watched bare-chested as she first set her alarm system and then walked away from him without looking back. Brian Thompson put his shirt and jacket on and waited for the next elevator down. Stepping outside, he saw her limo had already left with her inside. Brian took a deep breath and looked around. He was late for work, very late for work. His shit and piss filled stomach grumbled and his knee was hurting him now. Looking at the perfectly tended lawn to either side of him he noticed something: that every blade of grass was a different shade of green. He looked up into the bright blue sky and noticed something: he loved every twist and curl of every cloud he could see. Brian thought to himself, God I feel alive!

Miss Patrick boarded her plane for Rome and settled into her first class seat. Sitting next to her in the aisle seat was a worried older woman. When the older women attempted to make small talk, Miss Patrick simply ignored her. After using her laptop for much of the first part of their journey, Miss Patrick gazed into the blurry Atlantic ocean and fell into a doze.

Trapped between sleep and consciousness, Miss Patrick’s dreams invaded her mind. The images were blurry but the sounds were clear. It was her voice; her young voice was screaming and crying. There was also a great chorus of male voices. The whole crowd of male voices was a wild cacophony of sounds until her screams hit a guttural desperate pitch, then they all cheered in unison. Her hands were bound tightly behind her; the rest of her body was a blur of pain and panic. Her voice raised again into a desperate scream of pain and the male voices again let loose a great cheer, celebrating the event. A new dark shape loomed above her and came closer and closer. In its possession was a metallic device that shot sparks side to side Her voice started screaming and begging, No! No! Please! I’ll do anything you want! Please no!

“No!” shouted Miss Patrick as she jerked upright in her seat. People looked up to see what had happened and the older woman gazed over her horn rimmed glasses. Miss Patrick ignored them and settled back into her seat, relaxing quickly. She now had to piss. The gayer than gay male flight attendant stopped by her seat.

“Everything OK dear? Can I get you anything?” he asked in a great gay lisp. He wanted to advertise his gayness to everyone. Almost challenging them to say something about his sexuality, he exaggerated every fairy nuance to the extreme. Miss Patrick guessed he even took this job just so he could seem more gay. She had her suspicions.

“I’m just fine,” said Miss Patrick. She even put a half smile on her face; her unconscious mind was up to something. Feeling the need to piss even more now, she pushed past the old woman and went to the forward washroom with her purse. Whenever a proper toilet was unavailable, she brought with her a bottle to keep it in. She entered the tiny washroom, hiked up her skirt and pulled her panties to the side. She held the open bottle under her slit and filled it half way. Securing the top she put it back in her purse for later use. Now she was in a double bad mood.

As she turned into the aisle outside the washroom she slammed straight into the gay-boy flight attendant. To break the collision he had raised his left hand which pressed tightly to her right breast. Instantly Miss Patrick’s right arm shot up, pushing his arm away and grabbed his throat. Her left hand grabbed down low; she griped his balls and turned him back into the tiny washroom, pushing him down onto the toilet. She slammed the door behind her. Taking a very tight grip on the front of his shirt she slammed his head into the wall behind him. She was on auto-pilot now.

“You pathetic little worm! I know all about you! You little shit!” She spat into his face. He stared back at her speechless. “What happened? Did coach want to play a new game? Or did that football senior have a few ideas he wanted to try back in the locker room?” The terrified flight attendant stared back at her. “Or maybe it was just on the way home from school? Some local kids made a game of you?” The flight attendant flinched slightly. “And you liked it didn’t you? You liked it because you were too scared to say no? And now you think your gay and you have to tell everyone in the whole world you’re gay? I know gay men, and you’re not gay you pathetic little shit head!” The flight attendant shuddered and tears built up in his eyes.

Grabbing her purse she pulled out the bottle of piss. After opening the bottle she placed it on the sink counter. Using one of the moves her father taught her, she twisted him around and grabbed his nostrils with her left hand, yanking his head back so his face pointed at the ceiling. “You’re not gay you stupid loser! You’re going to love this! Open your mouth! Open it!” She pulled hard on his nostrils and he opened his mouth wide. Picking up the bottle of urine with her right hand she poured the first mouthful in. Setting the bottle down, she then used her hand to close his mouth. “Swallow it!” she commanded. Desperate for breath and at a total loss for anything else to do, he swallowed. She picked up the bottle again and poured in another mouthful when he opened to take a breath. Calming her tone, now that he was complying, “Swallow.” He swallowed again. She repeated the process and he swallowed greedily. Miss Patrick looked down and saw the bulge throbbing in his pants. Holding his head firmly, she slowly poured the rest of it steadily into his mouth. He gulped and swallowed to keep up until it was all gone. Without saying another word, Miss Patrick put the now empty bottle back in her purse and left the washroom. The flight attendant collapsed with his face in his hands. The taste of urine still on his lips, he felt that somewhere deep down he had been lying to himself almost his whole life.

Miss Patrick returned to her seat. The sounds of the engines had hidden the whole episode in the bathroom. Relaxing into the soft comfort of the seat, she slept very peacefully all the way into Rome.

After gliding through customs, she entered into the main terminal. There were people waiting there, some of them with little signs; one of them read Patrick. She recognized his face immediately and nodded her head, ever so slightly, as she walked past him. He turned and followed behind her obediently. At the luggage carousel, she pointed and he leapt forward to pick up her bags. Struggling to keep up with her long strides, he led her to the parked the limousine. Almost at a run in his excitement and his desire to please her, he arrived just in time to open the rear door for her. Still without having said a word to him she elegantly stepped into the back of the long black limousine. He closed the door behind her and stored the baggage in the trunk. Turning the corner towards the driver’s seat, he was stopped when the rear door opened. He looked inside and saw her sitting there waiting. He climbed into the back and closed the door.

Miss Patrick glanced at the floor and looked impatiently at him. The man quickly laid down on the floor. Many women find it awkward squatting down; Miss Patrick, like almost everything else, did it with complete grace. Facing away from his feet, she squatted over his mouth, pulled her panties aside, and pissed into his open mouth. It was a dark yellow stream that filled his mouth six times and he swallowed it all down easily. Shifting forward slightly, she positioned her asshole over his mouth and deposited a single thin log directly into his mouth. Shifting forward again, she lifted his head with her left hand and wiped her ass over the top of his head.

Miss Patrick stood up, adjusted her panties and her skirt, and sat back down. She looked out the window with a look of impatience to get going. Still no words had been exchanged. The man got quickly to his feet, exited the car and hurried to the driver’s seat. He drove carefully to Miss Patrick’s five-star hotel in downtown Rome while still savoring the taste in his mouth.