Dirty Maryan - Morning in the life of a Human Toilet (French speaking)
Dirty Maryan - Morning in the life of a Human Toilet (French speaking) / Toilet Slavery
Opening my eerie and seductive gaze, I step out of the dark shadows of the bedroom. My breath practically a whisper as the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafts through the air; it's going to be one of those mornings where all corners of the room are covered in an aroma that can only be described as utterly filthy. I make my way towards the bathroom, my stocky white thighs rubbing against each other in a hypnotic rhythm that sends shivers down my spine. Upon reaching the door, I pause for a second, taking in the intoxicating blend of scents that fill the room. I can practically taste it on my tongue – like a wall of filth that's ready to smother me in its stickiness. With a deep breath, I push open the door and step inside, immediately being hit by a wave of nauseating putridity that almost takes my breath away. My human toilet, Frenchie, is still fast asleep under my trone, the crusted remnants of our previous encounter scattered across the cold, hard surface of the ceramic basin. Grinning, I walk over to him, leaning down so my ruined lip grazes against his ear. "Time to wake up, sleepyhead," I purred softly, relishing in the tremble that ran through his body at my touch. With a theatrical flourish, I reached out and slapped him hard across the face, watching as the harsh reality of his situation dawned upon him. His eyes fluttered open, darting around the room in confusion before settling on me, his mistress. A slow smile spread across my face as I watched the fear and anticipation grow in his eyes. "I just woke up with the urge to shit," I declared with a sense of triumph, "and who do I have but you to take care of it?" I purred, my voice a low growl that sent shivers down his spine. Without hesitation, I lowered myself down onto the cold porcelain of the toilet, feeling the rough edges digging into my flesh as I slowly lowered my underwear and spread my thick ass cheeks wide open for him. As I took in the sight of my asshole gleaming in the early morning light, ready to be filled to the brim with his filth, I felt a sudden rush of excitement course through my veins. This was what I lived for – the power, the filth, the disgusting satisfaction of having someone worship at your feet while you shat all over them. "I'm so ready for you, my little toilet," I whispered, my voice dripping with anticipation. He didn't answer – just stared back at me with a mixture of terror and arousal that made my heart sing. With that, I leaned forward, planting my palms firmly on the cool tile of the wall as I lowered myself down onto his tongue. The feeling of his tongue against my asshole, probing and exploring every inch of my anal cavity, is unlike anything else in the world. It's an intimate dance between pleasure and pain, between dominance and submission. As I begin to push the first load of shit out, I can feel every muscle in his body tense, almost as if he were holding his breath in anticipation of what was about to come. And then it hits him – a torrent of hot putrid filth cascading down his throat, filling his mouth until he can barely breathe. I watch with a sense of accomplishment as his face contorts in disgust, his eyes rolling back in his head as he struggles not to choke on the sheer volume of feces. The first load is always the worst – rough and jagged, tearing at his insides until all that's left is a smooth, glistening tunnel of feces leading straight to my anus. And then, slowly but surely, it begins to flow. Soft, disgusting stinky shit comes spilling out of me, covering his face in a thick layer of filth. I let out a contented sigh, slowly leaning back against the cold porcelain of the wall. The movement pulls some of the shit away from his face, revealing his eyes, pleading with me for mercy. But there is none to be had here – this is my domain, and he is my plaything. As more and more shit pours out of me, I can't help but feel a twisted sense of pride. I am a goddess, creating life with my feces, molding him into the perfect vessel for my pleasure. And he – my poor, unsuspecting toilet – is powerless against me. And then it's over. With one final push, the last of the shit pours out of me, leaving a thick, gooey residue coating his face and body. I don't even bother wiping myself – instead, I let the crumpled toilet paper fall from his face, covering him in a sticky blanket of filth. With a slow, deliberate step, I stand up, dusting off my hands in satisfaction. He stares up at me, eyes wide with disbelief at the amount I've just emptied into him. "Well?" I demand, my voice dripping with anticipation. "What do you think, toilet? Are you ready for more?" His reply is a surprising mix of fear and arousal, and I can't help but giggle as I kneel down beside him. Leaning in close, so close that our breaths mingle together in the filthy little room, I whisper in his ear words that send shivers down my spine. "You're going to be my personal feces disposal system, Frenchie. And you're going to love every minute of it." And with that, I stand up, casting one last glance over my shoulder before walking out of the room, leaving him there – my human toilet – to clean up the mess I've made.
Category: Toilet Slavery
Length: 7min.
Video Info: 1920x1080 Pixel @ 3719 kb/s
Audio Info: 2 Channels @ 150 kb/s
Format: mp4
Size: 188 MB