Tina
Part 5
I've become a computer hacker and I've joined bbs's to get stories,
see pictures and make contacts. Some of the stories are just
terrible--no style and just crud. Some others are pretty good. A
few are terrific.
I was reading one the other nite entitled "A Brown Gagged Girl."
The bondage seemed excessive, and much too long. Besides, it was
forced, and I don't like that as much as voluntary. But I was
intrigued about the gag. Of course it referred to being gagged
with shit. I had drunk my own urine on a few occasions and I've
had guys piss in my mouth. Naturally, this had led me to think
about shit. Once, I had stuck my finger up my ass and then licked
it. The smell was terrible but the taste wasn't too bad. This put
me off, but I never really gave up on it.
As I read the story of the girl with the brown gag, it occurred to
me getting past the odor was a big part of the battle. Thus, the
most important task was to get the shit in my mouth. But then,
just having it there wouldn't do much, or would it?
Determined to try, I went to the drug store and bought a package of
condoms. It's a mark of the times, I guess, that a girl can go to
the drug store and buy condoms herself. I also bought some cheese
clothe, rubber gloves, a bed pan, a very thin rubber hose, swimmers
goggles, ear plugs and a compound that is designed to make the
stool firmer (read that to mean to make my turds more solid,
usually my shit is pretty runny). I also bought some all bran
cereal at the grocery.
For three days, I ate that all bran and the compound. The first
morning, I notice my shit wasn't so runny, that there was a
tendency to solidify. The second morning, my shit was definitely
more consistent. And the third morning, my turd was a rope. I was
ready. That day I really loaded up on the all bran and the
compound. I wasn't sure how this would work, but I was determined
to try.
The next day, a Friday, I had no classes and Natasha was in labs
all day. I knew she didn't even come home for lunch. I got up and
had some coffee, and ate some more all bran and the compound. I
had a cigarette and then set everything out that I had bought.
When I felt the urge to shit, I peed but held the shit. Then,
naked, I took the rubber hose and inserted into my piss hole. I
thought I could insert my own catheter and drain off my piss so
there'd be no mixing with the shit in the bed pan.
It took some doing but I finally forced that hose into my bladder.
The remaining urine flowed freely--I had to grab a flower vase to
run it into. When the piss stopped flowing, I then sat on the bed
pan and let loose. I felt, with great satisfaction, the long, rope
like turd coming out of my ass-hole. When I had totally evacuated,
I pulled on the rubber gloves and tried the first test: I used a
finger to wipe my ass. One good thing about the all bran and the
compound was that there usually was little to wipe, and this time
was no different. I withdrew my rubber covered finger and starred
at it. No doubt about it, the odor of shit was there, but it
didn't seem as strong. I wasn't sure what to make of this, and
finally decided it was just my excitement.
Next, I took one of the condoms and began to feed the turd into it.
This took a little doing as the turd was not as stiff as a prick
would have been. In the end, I simply pushed the shit into the
condom as best I could. I then tied a knot in the end and then I
washed the shit-filled condom. I removed the rubber gloves and
then I put the condom in my mouth. I'd had condoms in my mouth
before and this tasted about the same--a flavor of latex. I knew
that my mouth was filled with shit, even if it was in a rubber
sack. I put some tape over my mouth to secure the condom and then
I just sat.
I wasn't sure what to think. I'd done what I wanted, but the
sensation was sort of nothing. I knew what I had to do, but I
wondered if, when it came time to do it, if I could. Putting a
shit filled condom in my mouth was one thing. They were supposed
to keep whatever was inside them inside. True, their usual
function was to keep gism in them, but other things too. I know we
often used them as water balloons.
Well, I had to try. I pulled off the tape and removed the condom.
I then lighted a cigarette and pulled the rubber gloves back on.
Then I laid out the cheese clothe. I reasoned I would use four
layers. When I had the four ten inch square pieces together, I
held them up to the light, and decided to add one more layer. I
felt it would be better if there was a very slow moistening than a
too-quick one.
Then I reached into the bed pan and broke off a piece of turd about
the size of a golf ball, and put it on the cheese clothe. Then, I
pulled up the four corners of the cheese clothe pieces. Holding
them with the fingers of my left hand, I began to wrap string
around them, as close to the shit ball as I could. When I'd made
two wraps, I released the bag with my left hand and used it to help
tighten the string. At last, I had a fairly credible ball in the
clothe. I held it, considered it, and then swiftly put it in my
mouth. Continuing my swift movements (I wanted to get this part
done before I chickened out), I put several layers of tape over my
mouth. All this time, my tongue had avoided the intruding bit, and
my saliva had slowed.
Still not sure of myself, I put leg irons on my ankles and
handcuffs on my wrists behind my back. I had left my keys in the
other room, so it would take a few minutes to get there. One way
or another, I had forced myself to accept a shit ball, and it would
take a few minutes to get out.
Tentatively, I forced my tongue to explore the cheese clothe sack.
I distinctly noticed a taste of shit, but it wasn't too strong.
And then it hit me: I hadn't noticed the odor at all. I suppose
this could be partly explained by becoming somewhat used to the
odor of the open bedpan, but I wondered.
My saliva had started to flow. I worried the bag around my mouth
with my tongue. I could tell the bag was getting wet from my
saliva, and I knew the moment of truth would be coming soon. What
would I do? It would take me at least five minutes to get to the
keys, unlock my handcuffs and peel off the tape to spit out the bag
of shit. If I wanted to call this off before this got out of hand,
I'd better start moving to the other room now.
I didn't move.
The first acrid taste became apparent. It was sudden. It wasn't
there, and then it was. I was alarmed. What was I to do? I began
to shuffle to the other room. And then I stopped. I told myself
I had wanted to do this. Now, I owed it to myself to at least give
it an honest try.
I was now swallowing my shitty saliva. Was this healthy? Of
course not. Was it dangerous? I was reasonably certain I had no
diseases of the lower tract and that any parasites living in me
were mine. Hence, the danger was minimal. (Sucking on someone
else's shit balls might be another story.)
My tongue was now rolling the ball around my mouth freely. It was
like sucking on a jaw breaker. Inwardly, I smiled at that
allusion. Then I became bolder. I had gotten this far with
getting sick. It was time to experiment. I squeezed the ball
against the roof of my mouth. This compressed the shit ball, and
forced out more saliva with a heavier volume of shit.
I could deal with it!
I wondered where this might lead me.
Now I began to roll the ball around and press it against my cheeks.
And the ball had become noticeably smaller. There was no choice
for me. I shuffled to the other room and unlocked my handcuffs,
but I left the leg irons on my ankles. Back in the other room, I
began to prepare a bigger shit ball.
When I'd finished with the larger ball, I removed the tape from my
mouth, fished out the now totally used cheese clothe sack of shit,
and inserted the new and larger ball of shit. I did not use tape
this time and I handcuffed my hands in front of me.
I did wait until the bag was wetted, and then I began to press on
it. The shitty flavor was stronger this time, but I was hooked.
It took me a half hour to drain that bag.
When I removed it, I looked in the bed pan. There was only a
little of the nice long rope I had deposited there a while ago. I
reached for it and put it in my mouth, and I began to chew it.
I had an orgasm!
After I took a shower and brushed my teeth, I returned and cleaned
up the mess. I knew I had to think about what I had done. I
slipped into a sweater, levis, socks and my work boots, and went
out for a walk. There was no question that I had entered an
entirely new area. Bondage, even discipline, while not everyday
things, and not for everybody, was at least seen by most as not
harmful. There were a few extremists who felt anything pleasurable
was wrong, and a few others who would say female bondage was
degrading. Eating shit, I was sure, would be on almost everyone's
list of disgusting things. Should I care? In truth I cared only
about Natasha's reaction, and of course I was wise enough that no
one must find out about it.
Having settled it in my mind, I stopped and had a hamburger, and
laughed inwardly about my "appetizer." It suddenly dawned on me I
hadn't eaten that day, not even my all bran. Most importantly, my
stomach wasn't upset in any way. Clearly, I would do this again.
And then I headed home.
Good thing that I did. The apartment smelled like shit. Not
surprising, even though I had cleaned it up. So I sprayed some
lysol around and got a fan going.
I was on a high, so I decided on a little more serious bondage. I
stripped out of my clothes and pulled off the work boots. I put on
a pair of shoe booties that we use just for bondage: they require
I stand on my toes for the heels are ten inches. I can stand in
them, even take small, mincing steps, but after a while my foot
will cramp slightly from the extreme arch. When I reckoned Natasha
would be home in a half hour, I put leather cuffs on my wrists and
ankles. I used a ball gag. Then I locked my ankles together with
one lock and also fixed a foot long piece of chain to that lock,
and laid on the floor. Then I put my hands behind my back and used
another lock to hold the cuffs together. A final padlock secured
the length of chain from my ankles to my wrist cuffs. I was in a
hog-tie.
Apparently, Natasha stopped off on the way home. She was later
than I expected, but I wasn't worried. It just extended my ordeal.
The very thing that makes a hog-tie difficult was what attracted
me: the growing urgency to stretch out my legs; and that un-
requited urgency leads to frustration, and my sexual tension. The
hog-tie is the most difficult, but it is very satisfying for my
bondage purposes.
At last I heard Natasha's key in the lock. The door opened, she
stopped, and then said, "Oh, ho, what have we here?"
I gurgled a bit behind my ball gag (I can make sounds, a few of
which are intelligible but I don't always try; the only really
silent gag is very elaborate and not totally effective).
Natasha dropped something on the table (probably her books) and
came over to squat near my face. She was wearing a blouse with a
sweater draped over her shoulders, a full skirt, stockings (neither
of us wore panty hose, ever), mid-heels and no panties. I knew
that because I could look right into her cunt. She had been in
class all day with no panties on under her skirt. Not remarkable
since I frequently do the same.
"How long have you been here?" she asked.
I managed to gurgle 'about hour.'
"Want to stay a while longer?"
Gurgle: 'up to you.'
"Okay, I'm going to take a shower. Don't go away." With that, she
swatted me on my ass.
Now as you know, I'm into bondage and Natasha is into spanking and
whipping. She does some bondage, especially for a heavy duty
whipping, but the physical is more her thing. I, on the other
hand, am not into the physical. Oh, I've had Natasha spank me and
even whip me but nothing like I've done to her. Anyhow, that
single swat had a curious effect on me: I wanted another! I
gurgled at Natasha, but she must have thought I was making my usual
protest, and didn't come back. So I laid there, fighting the need
to straighten my legs. I was also feeling some discomfort from the
shoes. And my cunt got wetter.
A while later, a nude Natasha returned.
"Phew," she said, "you're really turned on tonite. I could smell
your cunt when I opened the bathroom door. Ready to be freed?"
I gurgled.
"What?" she asked.
I gurgled again, and this time she came down to my face. I tried
to say 'spank me'; but she didn't understand, so I tried again.
This time she must have made something out about what I'd said, and
she said, "I think you said something about spank."
I gurgled twice in encouragement.
"Well, you surely can't spank me in that position, so is it that
you want me to spank you?"
I gurgled twice again.
"Well, well," she said, sitting back on her naked ass, with her
naked cunt inches from my face, "and to what do we owe this
request."
I said nothing.
"You do want me to spank you? You're sure? You're not just
requesting it because you think I might want to do it?"
I managed a 'for me' and smiled at her with my eyes.
"Well, I'll be damned. Hand alone or can I use a paddle?"
This caused me to ponder: a hand spanking was one thing. I knew,
from experience, that I'd feel it; but did I want more -- the
answer was a qualified yes. I managed 'start hand' and then
smiled.
Natasha repeated, bless her, just she was certain what I was saying
through my gag: "You want me to start with my hand? Does that mean
I might have to use something else?"
I gurgled.
"Okay, Tina, it's your ass."
The first thing she had to do was free me from my hog-tie, which
she did by unlocking the chain connecting my leg irons to my
handcuffs.
"I think I'll leave the rest on you," she said, pulling me to my
feet, "but I do want you to lie across my lap to begin." While
saying that, she had turned me, sat on a chair and then had me bend
over her lap. My legs had just enough movement to permit me to get
down on her lap with some dignity.
The spanking began immediately. Natasha is very experienced, and
I felt the slaps from the start, but they weren't punishing. She
maintained a steady cadence, giving me an even number of slaps on
each cheek over 10 slaps but not in order. Sure, I could feel
them, but since I had felt them on few occasions in the past, I
also knew they wouldn't kill me, at least yet. I said nothing, but
occasionally I would moan softly.
The first time I moaned, Natasha laughed, "Are you serious? You
and I both know that's not all that bad."
I received 50 spanks before she stopped for a breath. My bottom
had heated up nicely, and I was feeling a stinging sensation, but
I was a long way from crying uncle. Gently, Natasha pushed me off
her lap and helped me to the floor with dumping me. She then
unlocked my cuffs at ankles and wrists, and lighted a cigarette for
herself. It was up to me to remove my gag if I wanted to smoke
too. I did and so I removed it.
I remained standing, puffing. At last Natasha broke the silence.
"Okay, what's up?"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Well, why did you want me to spank you?"
"Did?"
That stopped her a moment, and then she added, "You still want
more?"
I grinned and nodded.
"So why do want a spanking....and whatever else I decide to give
you?"
"I'm just in the mood," I said.
Snorting, Natasha said, "Well, then Tina, what got you in the
mood?"
"I'm not sure. I tried something new this morning. Then I went
for a walk, and when I returned, I did the hog-tie. Then you came
home. Someplace along the way I sort of came to the conclusion a
spanking would be nice."
End of Part 5
