Date: Mon, 28 Dec 2009 12:33:02 -0800
From: eurotenor@gmail.com
Subject: Serving Master R (scat)

I found Master R's profile at Manscat.com.  I spent several days
vacillating as to whether or not to send him a note.  I was terribly
conflicted and really uncertain about my ability to eat a man's shit.  I
had played with my own ever since I was old enough to get an erection.  I
had even had it in my mouth, but not for long and I never had swallowed or
even chewed it.  There were 3 long days of clicking on his profile and
feeling the ache in my testicles each time I read "seeking inferior toilet
to come to my house, crawl under my rimchair, accept verbal abuse and take
my entire dump.  I specialize in training beginners" There was a picture if
him kneeling on the edge of a bed with his back arched, his big balls
swinging between his beautiful legs and a blonde boy's lips attached
directly to his shitter.  God, how I envied that boy.  I knew it was where
I belonged and needed to face it, come what may.

I couldn't take it any longer.  My hunger won out over my fear.  I sent him
a note humbly introducing myself as a beginner.  When I opened my email and
saw his response, I was so excited I had to catch my breath.  He sent me a
long list of detailed questions about my experience and requested pictures
of me.  I gratefully complied.  He was pleased.  I was honored.

Before we could actually meet, Master R and I corresponded several times
via email. He sent me a list of guidelines and disclaimers. He informed me
that henceforth, I would be known only as "faggot."  He was very clear with
me about the differences between an alpha male and a faggot.  For example;
a real man's anus is referred to as "shithole, shitter or maybe asshole"
because that's what it's for.  Nothing goes in; it's the place where he
relieves himself of his stinking excrement. Whereas, a faggot's anus is a
"little faggot pussy-hole or boy-pussy" to be kept shaved, clean and
accessible to the alpha male at all times for use as a cum dump: again, to
relieve himself.

Master R also warned me that serving him would not be easy.  Aside from his
sadistic need to inflict physical pain, he loved to humiliate little
faggots like me and that the verbal, psychological abuse that he craved was
brutal.  It would also be an important duty as his faggot to learn how to
exult him verbally.  He loved to hear a faggot genuinely grovel before or
beneath him and it was my responsibility to keep his alpha ego stroked and
happy.  He had no patience for laziness and demanded an enthusiastic,
genuine demonstration of my eagerness to please him.

But most importantly, Master R warned me that taking his shitload would be
no easy task.  He was a man, a real man.  He ate like a real man and shit
like one.  He told me that his dumps were always massive: never less than
two giant 8x6 inch beer can logs and sometimes more. Very few faggots had
been able to accommodate the intense volume of his waste and had left him
disappointed.  I would be expected to consume every last bit of it or face
severe and relentless genital torture.  It was clear to me that his
enormous bowel movements were a source of great pride for him.  His well
deserved arrogance pushed every submissive button that I have and made me
want to serve him all the more.  I had no idea how I could accomplish this
task but was determined not to disappoint him.


It was settled.  I stated very clearly to him that I understood and wished
to continue.  He set a date for the following Sunday(one week later) at his
home and forbid me to touch my little faggot penis before then, except to
shave it, and my pussy-hole bald the day before our meeting.  Only real men
have pubic hair.  I wasn't even allowed to touch it to urinate.  I was to
sit on the toilet like a girl.  I was also to fast for 24 hours prior to
our appointment, drinking only water.  He wanted me empty and hungry.

When Sunday came I set off for his house.  My mind raced with an
intoxicating combination of fear, excitement and anticipation.  It was the
sunniest, most beautiful April day I had ever seen. I arrived at about
noon.  He greeted me at the door.  Master R was about 38 years old, 6 feet
tall with a stocky build, brown hair and warm brown eyes. He was cordial
and had a gentle, polite demeanor.  He invited me out to his beautiful
garden for a beverage and an ice-breaker chat.  As we sat in the warm sun
he told me that he was quite pleased with what he saw; that is that I
actually looked like my pictures.  I found him to be quite beautiful but I
was a bit confused.  It was hard for me to believe that this gentle, polite
man had been the arrogant, self-entitled dom I had been corresponding with.
That's what a faggot gets for second guessing his superiors: confused.

After about 10 minutes I began to relax. His tone began to darken, "Follow
me".  Master R lead me down a flight of stairs to his basement.  It was dim
and smelled dank with mildew.  There was a wooden construction horse,
chains suspended from the ceiling, a workbench with various whips, paddles,
canes and straps.  It was amazing and I felt honored to be allowed there.
In the far corner sat my master's throne.  It caught my eye and I had to
catch my breath.  His rimseat sat there beckoning to me.  It was the first
moment that I realized that there would be no turning back.  This was the
moment that I had dreamed about and masturbated over for my entire life.  I
was going to be this man's toilet.  I would have the privilege of lying
under the nastiest, filthiest part of his body while he relaxed and enjoyed
the most personal moment a man can have.  He was going to take a shit right
into my mouth and it was my agreed duty to eat it.  I was trembling.

"Strip and kneel faggot", he ordered.  "Yes, Sir", I hurried to comply.  He
stood in front of me; very close with the bulging crotch of his Wranglers
right in front of my nose.  He took me by the chin and said "look at me".
He sneered down at me and said open your fuckin' mouth.  I complied.  With
that he hocked a big wad of phlegm from his throat and, leaning down he
forcefully blew it into my mouth.  "Swallow it, faggot."  I ingested the
thick, slimy wad with one loud gulp and thanked him.

"You hungry, faggot?" Looking up into his cold gaze, "Oh, yes, Sir.  I'm
starving."  He let out a quiet chuckle. "I hope so.  I've been waiting all
morning; holding it for you, faggot.  It's getting kind of uncomfortable.
I need some fuckin' relief.  Do you understand?"  "Yes, Sir. I understand."

Releasing my chin, he walked over to his well stocked worktable and, after
a moment of silent deliberation, selected a black, leather riding crop.
Crossing back to me he asked calmly, "What was our agreement, faggot?" "I
agreed to eat your entire dump, sir."  Caressing my freshly shaved,
vulnerable genitals with the tip of the crop "And, what happens if you
disappoint me, faggot?"  "You will punish my little faggot genitals,
Master."  "That's right, faggot.  I think you are going to need some
help,,, some motivation."  His tone was taunting. "Would you like some help
now?"  I knew that it would really please him to use his crop on me.  So,
in my kneeling position, I thrust my hips forward as far as I could,
exposing my sensitive scrotum and pathetic little erect penis.  I pleaded
"please, Master, help me to be your toilet."  He exhaled a guttural groan
and cracked the tip of my penis.  The pain shot through me.  I winced and
drew back.  "Come on, stick it out."  Once again I offered it to him.  He
swatted me again with great force, and knowing it would please him, I cried
out "Thank You, Master, please teach me to eat your shit."  He began to
paddle my sore little testicles.  The pain was mind numbing but knowing how
much he enjoyed it somehow overrode my reflex to pull away.  I wanted so
much to please him, the more he beat them, the further out I thrust them.
Tears streamed down my cheeks.  He stopped and said sarcastically "Does
that help, faggot?"  "Yes, Master.  Thank You, Sir.  I understand the
consequences of disappointing you, Master.  Thank You."

Replacing the instrument on the table, he returned, stood with his back to
me, undid his belt and waste button, pulled down his zipper, slid his jeans
about 2/3 of the way down to expose his beautiful, hairy man-ass, bent over
slightly, and spoke the words that I had waited my whole life to hear.
"Kiss my fuckin' ass, faggot!"  I leaned forward, letting out a sigh of
ecstasy and planted the sweetest, most adoring kiss right in the middle of
his perfect right asscheek.  The humiliation was so sweet I almost
ejaculated.  "Ah, yeah, that's it pussy-boy, kiss my big, dirty, fuckin'
ass and beg for your breakfast.  With every ounce of devotion I could
muster I began kissing it like it had oxygen and I was drowning.  between
each smooch I pleaded desperately, "Please" (kiss), "Master" (kiss), "I'm
so hungry" (kiss).  "Please, Sir" (kiss), "please feed me your shit"
(kiss). "I need to serve you" (kiss).

Standing up straight and pulling up his jeans, he walked over to the
rimchair which was surrounded on 3 sides by full length mirrors.  He sat on
the chair and ordered me to remove his boots.  I am sure at one point the
old, hole-in-the-toe, beat up gym socks that awaited me were white.  The
stink of his cheesy feet hit me immediately almost causing me to wretch.
"What's the matter, faggot?  Never smelled a man's feet before?"  "No,
Sir,, not like yours, Master."  Well maybe, just maybe, if your a good
little toilet-fag and eat your whole breakfast, I'll let you sniff 'em
while you beat off... Maybe"...  "Oh, God,, Thank You, Master.  I would
love that." "Yeah, I bet you would you little fucking pig.  Now I'm tired
of holdin' this gutful.  So, get that fuckin' mouth of yours under my
shitter where it belongs."

With that, he stood up, lifted the rimchair and pointed to the place where
I was to lay.  I immediately laid down.  "No, not the way stupid, the other
way.  He wanted me with my feet pointing out behind him, away from the
mirror.  This way he could be closer to the mirrors: to watch himself
defecate in my mouth, and with my head in that position he could also look
down between his legs, right into my eyes.  He was going to savor every
last sensory experience of humiliating me.

With the seat in place over my face, he removed his Wranglers, straddled
the seat and asked "you ready, faggot?"  My heart pounded in my chest and
having to fight every impulse to run, I uttered "Yes, Master, I'm ready."
He began his decsent.  The globes of his furry ass began to part as he
squatted, revealing what was to become the center of my universe; his
dirty, crusty, unwiped shithole.  With his full weight was resting
comfortably on the seat, his cheeks naturally spread for service, his nasty
shitter just inches from my nose, he said in an enirely new, contemptuous
tone "look at me, faggot."  I peered up past his beautiful bull-nuts to see
his hand gently stroking his fat, man sized cock.  I met his intense,
abusive gaze.  "Sniff my fuckin' shithole."  I inhaled and immediately
choked and coughed.  "How's it smell, faggot?"  "Oh, God it stinks, Master.
Your shithole is so dirty, Sir.  It stinks like You, Master: like a real
man, Sir.  It stinks like Your shit."  My head reeled with the aroma.  It
was intense and pungent, but almost has a sweet overtone.  My loins tingled
with pleasure at the absolute degradation of having this arrogant,
narcissistic alpha male squat the filthiest, most disgusting part of is
body right onto my nose.  It was almost enough to make me ejaculate hands
free!

My eyes rolled back into my head as I continued to inhale his vile stink.
He barked "LOOK AT ME, FAGGOT!"  Again, I met his angry gaze, "now put your
little faggot lips where they belong. Kiss my nasty, fuckin' shithole."
Without losing eye contact, I placed my clean, virgin lips on his rancid
anus.  As I pressed into his warm, slimey pucker, he grinned and said "and
here's a kiss for you, faggot."  And with that he expelled an enormous
pocket of stinking gas.  His man sized fart was loud, and wet and rattled
against my now sticky lips.  It made me whimper like a lost little boy.
Glaring into my eyes he asked coldly "You see, Faggot? That's what I think
of you.  That's why your down there; so I can show you just what I think of
you.  Do you understand what an inferior, disgusting, asshole kissing,
worthless piece of shit you really are and why I derserve to be right here
farting on your fucking nasty, brown little lips?  Do you, faggot? Do you
get it?"

His stunning narcissism pushed me right over the edge.  It was the most
beautiful, freeing thing I had ever felt.  I was drawn into the absolute
bliss of complete surrender.  My new Master had degraded my entire being;
body, mind and soul into complete humility.  I knew who I was, and loved
who he was.  I was, for the first time ever, completely safe.

With a groan of primal ecstacy I melted into his powerful eyes and replied
"yes, Master.  I understand.  Thank You, Sir,, I understand!"

"Good. Now open your fuckin' faggot mouth.  I'm gonna take a shit, and
you're gonna eat it: all of it. Right, faggot?"  "Yes, Master.  Please feed
me , Sir."

I lowered my head from its ass kissing position and opened my mouth.
Master R lifted his huge ball sac to get a better view, looked at the
receptacle and shaking his head he said, playfully "oh, no faggot, that
will never do.  Open wider, as far as you can.  I WANT MY FUCKING TOILET!"
I strained my jaw to the limit.  With one hand holding his hairy nuts he
stuck two of his finger into his newfound, personal porta potty and gently
caressed my tounge.  "Mmmmmm," he groaned, "that's muuuuuch better."

Removing his strong fingers, he sat up, looked away from me into the mirror
in front of him and said "Eat my fuckin' shit, faggot."  I looked up at his
beautiful asshole.  It began to open.  He grunted.  I whimpered.  It
dilated more.  He pushed.  I braced myself.  It dilated even further.  My
master's tight, perfect shithole was stretched to an incredible six inches
in diameter.  He was pushing the dark brow, beer can sized, knotty end of
his giant log right into my mouth.  As I watched the massive wall of shit
emerging from his bowels, I could sense the pace of his cock stroking
increasing.  My jaw strained to accommodate his enormous horse turd.  The
circumference of the dry, hard end pressed against my lips, forcing its way
toward my tongue.  I felt it.  It was firm and slimy.  He watched as his
9x6 inch, oversized waste filled, and overfilled its victim.  As I laid
there, impaled "Fuck you, you fuckin' faggot. Suck my fuckin' shit.  Taste
good, Faggot? Huh?"  He gave one last satisfying push to relive his bowels.
The final section of it emerged in tact.  It was softer and rancid having
come from the deepest, dirtiest part of his gut. I laid there with six
inches of it poking out of my violated mouth.

It did, indeed tatse good.  It stunk beyond anything I could have imagied.
It was strong and bitter. An although it took every ounce of self control
not to react as my body coughed and wretched, it tasted so good.  It was
him.

Swallow it, Pig or I'll beat your ugly little testicles into mush.  SWALLOW
IT, NOW!

Drawing on what my Master had taught me while whipping my testicles, I was
overwhelmed with the need to serve him.  And just as it had overridden my
reflex to recoil my tender scrotum, so did it override my gag and vomit
reflex.  Thrilled to be able to please him, I used my tongue to begin
scooping his waste into my esophagus.  I drew it to the back of my throat
and swallowed it gratefully.  I wanted to chew, but knew that it would
disturb the protruding portion and I didn't want to risk dropping it.  With
perfect balance, I continued to execute my duty.  Scoop, swallow.  Scoop,
swallow.  I could feel the mass of his waste work its way down to where it
belonged: in my stomach.  The more of his bulk I ingested, the easier it
went down.  He watched and stroked in amazement as worked to accomplish my
task.  I swallowed the last of his excrement with pride.

He went insane, pounding furiously on his big, beautiful cock..  "Holy
shit, faggot!  You did it!"  The highest praise I could recieve.  He stood,
turned around on the toilet seat to face me, looked down at me and said,
"Show it to me!  Show me my fucking toilet."  I opened my mouth and stuck
out my slimy, shit-stained tongue.  He squatted backwards over my face,
aimed his angry, throbbing cock-head at my mouth and beating it wildly he
said, "I'm gonna cum in my toilet bowl now, faggot, AARRGGHH, suck my cum
you fuckin' shit eating queer, AARRGGHH.  And with that I had the privilege
of watching my Master use me to relieve himself again.

I now have the honor of serving Master R with grateful toilet duty every
Sunday morning.  It is the ultimate privilege and I am new faggot each
time.