Vids Comics Studies Misc Links


A Peculiar Case Of Poop Retaining BDSM

Jamie Stroud

"Hold it in!" She scolded, a hot dominatrix. "Please, just let me poop." He begged, a middle-aged successful business man. "You know my rules Mr. Turdsworth, you either get to peepee or you get to poopoo, but you can't be a greedy bastard that demands both." The hot dominatrix with big boobs explained. "But I barely even tinkled, and the only reason I did was because your uber hotness made me nervous." Mr. Turdsworth rationalized, hoping for some leniency. The leather clad dominatrix then started softly singing the most maxim laced song by the Rolling Stones, "You can't always get what you want, no, you can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you might find, you get what you need!" As she sang she force fed Mr. Turdsworth strange items while he sat on the defecation receiving and flushing mechanism. "Why are you doing this to me!?" Mr. Turdsworth screamed. "The more food you stuff down my throat, the more crud there will be to want to expel from my bowels. It's a simple formula that probably even sexually precocious 8 year olds can understand." He added. "Idiot! It's punishment for your weaknesses, follies, and vices! What kind of selfish slut demands the right to both pee and poo!? Only you, that's who... Mr. Turdsworth!" Mistress explained.

"Hey, what's that over there!?" Mr. Turdsworth pointed and exclaimed, trying to briefly distract Mistress so he could pinch one off in one hot second. It didn't work though, just as quickly as Mistress looked away she had looked back to see feces poking its shit stained pizza face out of Mr. Turdsworth's never never lands. Mistress quickly grabbed a butt plug and forced it, without lube, deep into Mr. Turdsworth's forever ever lands. Lube would be superfluous anyhow, as Mr. Turdsworth's slimy, nerdy, and opaque gastrointestinal tract was already synthetically produced enough to slip-and-slide his insides just fine, not unlike the way his emotions would slip-and-slide under the presence of a sexy dominatrix who's sociability could be deemed synthetically produced due to Mr. Turdsworth's cash flow.

With the butt plug in place, Mr. Turdsworth couldn't poop no matter how much his bowels begged and pleaded for it. "Please, Mistress, where's your heart? Haven't you ever wanted to poop so bad before that your entire body would sweat from distress, as if the sweat were tears and it was your body's way of communicating to you, just crying for release! Can you not relate with me here!?!?!" Mr. Turdsworth preached. "Don't expect sympathy from me for your pathetic existence and trivial troubles, you poop slut!" Mistress countered. "Well if you're incapable of sympathy or compassion, can you at least perform niceties as a way of displaying your superiority and power?" Mr. Turdsworth questioned. "Perhaps." Mistress simply answered. "Well, this butt plug is smashing the shit even higher up into my colon, rendering me fearful that my gastrointestinal tract could tear, burst, or possibly even implode considering the weird substances you had me consume earlier. Can I pretty please, with a cherry on top, remove this forsaken butt plug from beneath where the dark side of nature dwells upon our anatomy?" Mr. Turdsworth eloquently begged. "Maybe... but if I grant you this wish, what will you give me in return?" Mistress teasingly asked. "Anything your cruel yet reasonable heart so desires, my love." He desperately permitted. "First off, don't call me your love, fag. Secondly, go ahead and remove your butt plug you pedo wanker, I've got the ultimate trade off for this request." She said as a smirk formed upon her perfect dick sucking lips (DSL).

Mr. Turdsworth removed the butt plug from his raped and gaping hole similarly to the popularly dubbed "hardcore" method of removing a bandage, quickly and painfully but with great relief immediately afterwards. They both stared briefly at the fecal and blood covered butt plug and realized just how serious the situation was. Mr. Turdsworth's insides were going through Hell, but even after seeing this Mistress wanted to keep on going, she wanted to travel as far down nature's Hell hole as she could just to test its limits. "Listen carefully because you're going to do exactly as I say. Now stand on the toilet with your feet and let your arse lower down as far as possible. I call this the frog squat and it's the most efficient way to influence feces to want to flow it's way out of your sexually abused orifice. But you better not, you better keep your slut poop to yourself, I don't want to see that shit! There will be consequences if you fail me on this!" Mistress explained and demanded. So Mr. Turdsworth stood upon the toilet, squatted down, and inhaled his bowels as tightly as he could as he simultaneously opened his mouth to speak wisdom, "Mistress, you've invoked a revelation to occur within me. Keeping my slut poop inside me because you don't want to see that shit seems directly symbolic to an individual that keeps his emotions inside himself because people don't want to see that shit. Some thoughts and feelings are too disturbing, perhaps most people would rather not know humanity so intimately." Mistress stared into nothingness as Mr. Turdsworth spoke, her face contorting into a mixture of anger and disgust. "You shut your mouth, slut!" She scolded. "No, I refuse to be silenced, these things need to be talked about no matter how uncomfortable!" Mr. Turdsworth screamed. His emotional intensity was making it increasingly difficult to retain his poop.


fecal retention

"Can I tell you my deepest, darkest secret, Mistress?" Mr. Turdsworth asked. "No, please don't!" Mistress ironically begged, for the table had turned. Little did she know that this was just the set up for the punch line of a joke. "Well, I'm going to tell you my deepest, darkest secret anyway." Mr. Turdsworth decided, he then ripped the loudest fart his flabby hole was anatomically capable of! Unintentionally, along with his flatulence, out spurted all of the retained feces his body housed for oh so long, and though he didn't mean to urinate as well, it seemed to go hand in hand with the defecation. "You fool, I had told you to shut your mouth for a reason! I don't think you realize how true your symbolism stands!" Mistress screamed. Mr. Turdsworth looked away in fear and confusion. "It's one of the realities of the human condition, we don't like knowing certain aspects of people. We'd rather just know the good or pleasant qualities and ignore whatever else might be bad or discomforting." Mistress explained, her tone gradually calming down. "Mistress, why'd you get into prostitution? You seem like a smart girl, I feel like you could have had a more commendable occupation if you wanted." Mr. Turdsworth asked, seemingly wanting more from her than just a sexual outlet now. He was growing interested in her beyond her sex appeal. "I don't know if you realize this Mr. Turdsworth, but your question has subtle implications. You ask me as if I have a choice in the matter of selling myself to you, but consider how it'd sound if I asked you why you hire me? You imply that I should be able to find other work, but by lack of comment to the converse, you don't consider yourself able to find release through other means. This also begs the question, which is more sickening: a client that has a deplorable sexual attraction that he has no control over or a prostitute that satisfies that sexual attraction just for the money?" Mistress spoke. "But is it wrong of me to have made that assumption? While I don't think I can change what I'm attracted to, can't you change how you make your money?" Mr. Turdsworth questioned, but Mistress avoided his question in preference for further prose of her own, "Why do you think you have this strange attraction to feces, Mr. Turdsworth? Look at all the bodily processes: sneezing, coughing, vomiting, and the rest. Why become fixated on defecating!? You don't even need to tell me, I already know the answer, it's because of the close connection between pooping and the private parts of the body." Mistress explained. Mr. Turdsworth looked stunned, he struggled to open his mouth to confirm, "You're right. I vaguely remember my parents doing a crap job at potty training me. I recall showing them my poop in the toilet and them just calling it disgusting, the same attitude they had towards sexuality in general." He both whimpered and chuckled as he told this story. "It's a very sexually repressive society we live in Mr. Turdsworth. Everyone experiences sexual tragedies, just some worse than others." She comfortingly said.

"So what's your story?" Mr. Turdsworth asked. "None in specific. I've simply been cursed with a unique mind, one that sees the world for what it is. I'm careful not to say I have a brilliant mind, or consider myself smarter than anyone else, I don't think that's the case. It's simply that most people delude themselves, they perceive life similar to but altered from actual reality, one that's modified with added notions of love and active ignorance of natural sexuality. I can't live that way, I have to accept reality as it is. Sexuality is tangled in a big mess of shame and guilt, I don't think it should have to be that way. I don't think I have any more choice over my career as a sex therapist than you do over your sexual orientation. My personality and life experiences have driven me here just as much as yours." She lengthily answered. "It's a sickening world, isn't it?" Mr. Turdsworth asked rhetorically. "Yes, fascinating though. Despite how sickened I am by the intertwined clump of sexuality and all that is sinful, it's the fascination that drives me to my career." She explained. "So, what now?" Mr. Turdsworth questioned. Mistress paused then answered flatly, "...Now it's time for you to die." Mr. Turdsworth slowly stepped backwards to the corner of the bathroom and sunk down, scared and uncertain. "You have an attraction to shit, I have an attraction to murdering shit stains like you. Actually that's a lie, I don't do this out of compulsion, I do this out of principle." She haulted her speech as she grabbed him by the throat and dragged him to the toilet then forced his head into the bowl full of piss and shit. With one hand she kept his head held under, with the other she went into her purse to grab her camcorder and film, "It's a man's world, designed for the pleasures of men. It's unfair, unbalanced, unequal... I'm going to change that." She poetically spoke, though her words sounded blurred to Mr. Turdsworth with his ears clogged full of excrement and fluids. He instinctively opened his mouth to scream, only to have his primal cries gagged by his own waste, resulting in an upchuck of vomit joining the smorgasborg. Mistress then straddled his hips and rubbed her pussy against his dick as he kicked and wiggled. Soon enough his body became motionless. At that point Mistress stuffed his flaccid cock inside her. She continued grinding until she came and ejaculated over his already wasted, messy body. She let out a dominating scream that seemed to mix together and combine with the smells of the room. She panned the camcorder all around the room, as if to capture the noxious and nauseating smells bonded to the scream that was still dimly vibing through the air. She finished with the camcorder focused on his placid, dead body. Just one of her many, and she had many more planned.


female on male murder
Regular Time Octal Time
JS problem JS problem