Leather Skin Biker

With my human toilet securely collared and tethered to the rimseat, I could take a hit of poppers and relax. I lubed up my cock, since I like to stroke while a hungry bottom eater sucks and licks my hole. One thing that shit eaters know is that the more quickly they relax the dom top feeder, the sooner they will be eating. So leatherscatpig worked my hole over really good. His warm, wet tongue was probing up into my guts. I sensed him trying to coax the log down, which is definitely doable. A dom top feeder never really knows for sure what the consistency is going to be like until the process is about to begin. I was hopeful that the log would be firm and solid, not soft or wet. I could feel the log coming down, and did have to work a bit to focus on both moving it along and enjoying leatherscatpig’s tongue foreplay. Before I sat on the rimseat, leatherscatpig had reminded me that I set the pace, and that if I felt he was going too slow to suit me, then I could “move him along.” It goes without saying that while I was humiliating this faggot in one of the most intense ways possible, that I would be verbally abusing him as well. If he were to eat too slowly, then I would intensify the verbal jabs and simultaneously torture his nips, cock, and balls, which were all within easy reach. It’s nice to think of a faggot like him eating my shit, and at the same time hearing me degrade him verbally, and on top of that, slap his balls, twist his cock, and pinch his nips as hard as I can. Sensory overload is what I call that.

At last I felt that my log was just about to pop out of my hole, and I had one hungry shit eating pig waiting on the other side. leatherscatpig eased off a bit from the licking, sucking, and probing, as it was time to get down to business. In order to get the log moving, I had to concentrate on how much I wanted this fucking pig to eat my shit. This had to happen. I had waited a lifetime for this moment. And that hungry pig underneath me was, as I had mentioned, literally starved for shit. I wanted to feed that pig. I took another hit of poppers, and with just a small push, the tip of my log was in his mouth. leatherscatpig started to make sounds of glee. Carrying the pig metaphor a step further, he was squealing with pleasure. My head began to spin when I contemplated exactly what was happening. There I sat with another man under my ass, and that man was chewing on my shit, and swallowing it. I have to admit, there is nothing else quite like that headspace. Another hit of poppers, more lube on my cock, and the feeding continued.

One thing that I was not prepared for was the smell. That was a bit overwhelming for me. I had not previously experienced anything like it, and felt a bit distracted by it. But I wasn’t going to let that stop me from enjoying this moment. I learned quickly how to pace leatherscatpig. Sometimes I would speed up, squeezing the log out more quickly, and then slow down a bit to let him catch up. I could tell by the pace, and the sounds that the faggot was making that it was not easy to accomplish his vile task. It is work. Every swallow seemed to require some effort. What really amazed me was how big my log was. It just seemed to go on forever. And the faggot had said that he intended to eat every bit of it, no matter how large. His plan was to eat all of my shit, and then get me squeaky clean afterward. Now that is total service, soup to nuts.

I was pleased with my accomplishment, after all those years of anticipation. I was degrading and dehumanizing leatherscatpig and it felt great. I felt superior and incredibly dominant. It was a sort of mental high. The faggot was doing an impressive job, so I confirmed my satisfaction by calling him things like, “faggot,” “shit eating pussy,” “shit eating cunt,” “shit slave,” and “shit pig.” These are terms of endearment to a pig like him. Sometimes I would taunt him by expressing impatience with his pace, insisting that he eat faster, giving his balls a nice firm slap. Then I could listen to him respond without speaking, but respond nonetheless. I was duly impressed by leatherscatpig’s skill. He was generally able to keep up with the pace I set. Occasionally he would choke a bit on my turds, but he would recover and continue. I have to say that he did request a break once or twice during the feeding, but I don’t hold that against him. This is the one area in which I break my general rule for torture or punishment. My rule is that I never dish out more than I could bear myself. I have to say that this would be the exception. I enjoy feeding a shit eating pig slave, but I won’t eat another man’s shit.

Of course, with all of that going through my mind, and with the amazing sensations I felt since arriving at leatherscatpig’s place the previous night, my then five day load was making my balls ache. I had been stroking pretty much the entire time of the feeding. Just to give you some idea, I would estimate the feeding time at about 30 minutes. If you think that is a long time, try being the pig doing the eating. The log I produced was amazingly large. I don’t know whether it was wishful thinking that helped me make such a large log, but it seemed like one for the record books. And leatherscatpig ate every last bit of it. I was impressed. By the time that he finished eating and began to clean up my ass with his tongue, I was very close to shooting my five day load. Before he finished cleaning me, while his tongue was inside me again, making sure my sphincter was squeaky clean, I shot a heavy sticky load of cum all over his stomach, crotch, and onto the floor. What a fucking relief to finally lose that load. And shortly thereafter, the faggot really did have my hole clean as a whistle.

When I tried to get up off the rimseat, I had some difficulty, because my legs had long ago gone to sleep. I had to sit back down on the rimseat and stretch my legs out to get the blood circulating into them again. Once I was able to stand, I got up, and then promptly unchained leatherscatpig from the rimseat. I told him to go get himself cleaned up. I didn’t want to look at my shit smeared all over his mouth and chin. Remember, I was still a newbie at that time, and the sight (and smell) of that didn’t do much for me.

By that time it was nearly noon on Saturday. What a way to spending the fucking morning. I needed some time to process what had just happened. My initial thoughts were overwhelmingly positive. My head was still spinning. And leatherscatpig had some processing of his own to do. I didn’t envy him that task, but then, I’m not a shit slave. I walked over to see how the storm was doing. The snow was still falling. I wondered how deep it was by that time.

To be continued.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, April 8th, 2008 at 6:36 am and is filed under Dehumanization, Dominance, Humiliation, Leather, Master/slave, Power Imbalance, Scat, Submission.