Damian 2

By 1Gratiano.

Read Damian Part 1 Here.


Part 2…

I began to service Mrs. M. with my mouth, kneeling regularly. There was no question of me penetrating her.

“You’d just come right away. Little dick guys like you always do. But I’m going to help you. I’m going to get you used to being with a woman. Then you won’t be so overexcited.” So she let me go down on her, and after she was finished–she would usually wipe her cunt on my face when she was done–I was allowed to jerk off wearing a rubber while I looked at her pussy.

After a week of this, she thought I should kiss her asshole when I jerked off wearing the rubber. She was on her back, with her legs up. That way, I had my nose in her pussy, and could enjoy its wonderful smell, while my mouth was on her ass. She didn’t want me “bothering” her cunt after she came, but she did like me softly kissing her asshole. It was an act of homage,

After a few times, she asked me to lick it, which I did with great excitement. Finally, I was putting my tongue into her asshole, rimming her, licking it deeply, and penetrating it with my tongue. I could sometimes taste her shit a little. We both knew it, but we never talked about it at first.

Then she started to have me lick her asshole when she was on all fours. Having her face away from me and having her reach back to pull my face into her ass was very degrading. She began making me beg her to be allowed to lick her ass. To tell her out loud that I was her ass licker. I had to tell her I loved tasting her shit. That I wanted to be her toilet, it was very, very exciting.

She told me she was training me to be a toilet slave. That I would learn to love her asshole even more than her cunt. Because that was where I belonged and what I deserved.

I kept my face very closely shaven, shaving three times each morning, with the grain, across it, and finally against it, to be sure my face stayed very smooth all the time. My face belonged between her legs, and I always had to be ready to serve her.

One day she had a surprise for me: a rubber pussy, a latex fleshlight sculpted at one end, so it had labia. She told me she would train me not to cum prematurely by humping my “training pussy.” After I serviced her with my mouth, I had to spread a towel on the carpeted floor, lubricate my training pussy with KY, and hump it, holding it in place under me. She treated me just like a pet. “Go get your pussy toy! Good boy! Now get it ready! Now hump your little pussy toy. Hump it well! You love your little pussy toy, don’t you? Good boy. Make your little mess in the pussy toy. A rubber training pussy doesn’t care how small your little thing is. It’s just right for you, just what you deserve, and it’s all you deserve. Good boy!”

Although the supposed intention of this training was to make me not such a premature ejaculator, I found it exciting. The shame of having to hump my pussy toy naked on the floor in front of Mrs. M. fully clothed made me cum even faster.

It became a kind of wonderful punishment. If I were too assertive in conversation, she would say, “I think you need to make your little mess. Go get your training pussy like a good boy; you need to hump that maleness out of you.” I always had to show her my “little stiffy” first, and she would always laugh at how small it was.

The ultimate effect of this training was to make me so ashamed of my tiny thing I couldn’t even get hard for my pussy toy. I finally wept, trying to get hard for it. Mrs. M. was very consoling.

“That’s good. I finally broke you. You know you can’t do what a male does. You’re not a male to me. You never were. When you accepted that you had to use the training pussy, you admitted that your little thing was useless to anyone. Jerking off in a rubber is as close as you’ll ever come to fucking. The pussy toy helped you fully transition to the rubber, which is all you get from now on. It’s time we started training you to be the girl you should have been. Time for you to earn your panties.”

From then on, I wore a skirt when I did the housework and a bra with breast forms. When I didn’t have to do work that had me on my knees, like scrubbing the bathroom, I wore pantyhose and heels. I learned to put on makeup.

“We need to beat all that maleness out of you,” said Mrs. M. She had a leather paddle she used on my ass. I would have to stand in front of a mirror and lift my skirt. She would yank my panties and tell me, “hide your little mistake. No one needs to see that.” I covered my little thing and bent over so she could paddle me. She instructed me to look at myself in the mirror. “That’s what a hole looks like when she’s being punished. You need to understand you are now a submissive girl being paddled by the superior female who owns her. Say thank you at every stroke. Good girl!”

Mrs. M. bought a Stand To Pee device, a realistic latex penis through which she could urinate standing up. She trained me to kneel and accept her piss–to swallow it. I was now always tucked and usually wore a panty girdle over my panties to be sure I had a nice flat front. It was a lot less trouble than taping and had the advantage of guaranteeing that I couldn’t play with myself. Male chastity devices are easy to slip out of, but pulling down your jeans and peeling down a panty girdle is a lot of work. It was bad enough I had to go through it all to piss.

So I would be, kneeling, neutered by my panty girdle, drinking Mrs. M’s piss “like a good girl.”

“This is the only cock in this house. See to it you remember that, toilet girl.”

My boy’s name, Damian, didn’t make much sense now, so she called me Diana, usually “Toilet Slave Diana.” And that’s what I was. A dominant woman’s housemaid and toilet slave. I drank her piss whenever she wished and licked her ass several times daily. Either to show my gratitude after paddling or after she had used the bathroom as her bidet. She was always very clean, and there was no question of me serving as a toilet, but I did lick her there, and the faint bitter taste I sometimes experienced was quite enough to make it clear what I was. She never kissed me on the lips now. Sometimes she made me kneel in the bathroom with my face in the bowl for half an hour, looking into the white porcelain I was so used to scrubbing, to learn “by heart” that I was her toilet slave.

I felt my status as a dominant woman’s toilet most poignantly when I pissed (sitting down, of course.) After using me, my own piss smelled like hers, not mine. I knew then I had become an actual toilet.


Part 3…

The final phase in my reduction to a submissive hole was the strap-on. Mrs. M. had a flexible, high-grade latex strap-on that was quite realistic. She taught me to take it down my throat, fucking my face slowly and deeply for a long time, till my blouse was wet with slobber and my tears made mascara raccoon marks down my cheeks. She would take her strap-on from my mouth and slap my face, making me thank her. Then she would continue penetrating my throat, alternating slaps and face-fucking, for a long time. I had to learn that her cock was there to punish me. She liked seeing the fear in my face when she strapped it on.

I learned to prepare myself for penetration by wearing a butt plug for an hour before I was used. I was always fucked from behind, “like a bitch.” I was rarely allowed to touch myself while I was screwed, though sometimes she liked me to cum with her cock in me, begging her to “fuck me good.”

“My strap-on is like my paddle: it’s to lower you and degrade, so you know you’re nothing but a cunt. Toilet Slave Diana, that’s who you are, and that’s all you are. I should get you a dog collar with that engraved on the tag.”

She had a nickname for her strap-on: “The Humbler.”

The way I was most often allowed to cum was licking her ass. I kneeled behind her. She would be on the bed on all fours. That was better. The training pussy had made me so ashamed of my little “figure flaw” I didn’t want her to see it–and she certainly had no interest in it. Sometimes she would have me masturbate into my panties, tuck myself, and wear them wet like the hole I was.

And I was. Not just a hole, a toilet hole. When I licked her asshole, I dreamed that maybe one day she would bring me into the bathroom with her, make me kneel in front of her while she went, and then turn around to let me clean her asshole with my tongue. To be a real toilet slave. Of course, she never would: only a disgusting toilet slave like me would want that. But I did. It made my little thing squirt pathetically into my panties to think of being degraded so utterly. To know that whenever she looked at me, she would see Toilet Slave Diana, the shit-eating whore.

That’s what I thought about while I held my stiff tongue deep as I could in her asshole, as I came in my panties, using my tongue like the dick I no longer had.

Early on, Mrs. M. decided I didn’t need to have any male underwear.

“It’s not like you need a pouch for your tiny little pee-wee. I’ll tear up all three of your y-fronts and use them for rags. Your one jock-strap you can cut up with scissors in front of me. That would show you understand things like that aren’t for you. I don’t know how you ever came to think you needed one. It’s panties for you from now on, nothing but panties. From now on, you’re only allowed to pee sitting down, like a real girl, and you can stare down at your panties and think about what a pussy you are. I’m going to help you pick out some nice feminine ones.”

I often wear pantyhose and heels now. Sometimes Mrs. M. likes to see me dressed like a secretary, with a white blouse and a pencil skirt. She wears jeans and a t-shirt. She wears pants. I make sure I have my paddle with me in whatever room I am working, so I can offer it to her to be punished.

“Show me your hole, cunt,” she tells me. My ass must be well presented, held high, my back arched. “You like showing your hole, don’t you?” she asks as she paddles me.

“Are you a girl who needs to feel a woman’s strap-on in her slut hole?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good girl, you know what you are. I don’t have time to dick you, so this paddling will have to hold you. What a nice pink your ass is turning. It is your color. Pink for a pussy, don’t you think?”

Mrs. M. came up with a new humiliation for me. When I knelt to lick her or for her to piss in my mouth with her Stand To Pee cock, I removed my panties and tucked myself back, so between my legs, I had just a hairy triangle that did look like a cunt.

“Show me your pussy. Look at it. You do have a hairy little pussy. You are a girl. The kind of girl that likes to lick a woman’s cunt. Tell me what you are.”

“I’m the kind of girl who likes to lick a woman’s cunt.”

“And you’re a toilet slave too, aren’t you, Diana? A girl who wants to drink other women’s piss? And lick their asses. Tell me.”

” I’m a toilet slave who licks other women’s asses.”

“Yes, you are, Diana. You’re a shit-eating whore.” Mrs. M. gave my face a good slap at each word to ensure it sunk in.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I deserve that.”

Then I would lick her pussy till she came in my mouth, and she would stand to piss in my mouth.

“A pussy licking isn’t complete unless the girl drinks the woman’s piss too. And you’re such a good toilet. No, don’t bother to lick me clean. Give me your panties.”

I handed them over, and she wiped herself with them.

“Cover your pussy with the panties I used for you. Good girl. Now you can smell like what you are–a toilet and a cunt.”

At this point, I would always ask, “Please, madam, may I thank you by licking your ass?”

“That is how a toilet would show her gratitude. Go ahead, Diana, clean it for me with your tongue. What a well-trained girl you’ve become.”

When I was allowed to cum, about once a week, it was always humiliating. Sometimes I would have to sit on an eight-inch dildo, on a chair in front of Mrs. M., in my bra, heels, garter belt, and stockings, so I looked like a whore. It was challenging to take that big penis; Mrs. M. would stand in front of me and push down on my shoulders.

“That’s my girl. Take the cock. Girls like you like to be penetrated. Show me what a whore you are. Show me how it excites you to take a big dick like that.”

My little four-inch dick would get very, very hard at this.

“Put on a rubber now, sissy. Too bad they don’t make rubbers in an extra small. Look how cute your little dick is. You can feel how big a real cock is now, can’t you? Rub your little clit for me, make your little mess in the rubber, and take your hand off before you cum so I can watch you squirt. It’s so funny. Good girl, make yourself cum with a cock in your hole like the whore you are.”

I would take my hand off my tiny dick when I came. Mrs. M. laughed to watch the little pulses fill the end of my rubber.

“It doesn’t do much. Now take off your rubber and swallow your mess. Good girl. Like that the way that tastes? Now put your panties and skirt back on and clean the kitchen. With a stretched hole and the taste of sperm in your mouth, you know you wear the skirt in this house. You’re a perfect little wife. And to think you were just a panty-wearer when I found you. I couldn’t have made my domination more complete if I had castrated you. I thought about it. Taking you to a lady vet and having you fixed. I’ll tell you. It’s tempting. The idea that you’d never cum again, that your only sexual release would be feeling my cum in your mouth. And think how nicely your panties would fit! Just your little shrunken weenie to tuck back. But I couldn’t bring myself to do that to you or finish the job. What I enjoy is humiliating a male. Knowing it’s a boy, I have on his knees in a bra and panties, licking my cunt, scrubbing my floors.

“To put it a little differently, I want to castrate you, and I will, but I will do so exquisitely over a period of years.”

I settled into my role as a housemaid and toilet. I cooked and cleaned and knelt to service her pussy with my mouth. I was paddled till I was soft if ever I got hard without permission, so eventually, hard-ons were trained out of me. I received her piss, on my knees, through her stand-to-pee cock. Then I licked her ass to show my gratitude.

I was sometimes required to cum, on my knees, in my bra and panties, with my face in the toilet.

“Look at that, Diana. That’s just like a mirror for you. The toilet hole that takes my pee. That’s just what you are. Soak your panties thinking about what we both know you are.”


The End.


*This story has been edited to fix spelling, punctuation, & basic grammar, but the narrative and plot have remained the same. Remember, even with limited editing. It doesn’t mean any possible major flaws in this story were fixed. The opinions/views expressed in this story (and in any comments) are those of the author and do not represent this site. We support freedom of speech.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Translate »

You cannot copy content of this page