This is a story involving light to moderate domination, spanking and scat play between adult males. All characters depicted in any sexual situation are eighteen years old or over, and all acts are wholly consensual. If this isn't your sort of thing or it is illegal for you to view it wherever you are, please leave now. This story and its characters are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual individuals is coincidental.
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Exploring Raffe's Perversions
Part Eight
Standing over Raffe, I flexed the cane between my hands. I was high on power again. He was helpless, bent naked over the sofa with his bottom up into the air so that his peachy round cheeks were perfectly presented for severe punishment. Eight distinct welts were neatly spaced out across them, the highest just below the top of his crack and two vicious low ones over the join with his thighs, the skin between them reddened and bruised and tenderised. He was breathing hard, and though he hadn't started to yelp yet I still reckoned I might get a cry out of him with the last couple of strokes. He fidgeted uncomfortably over the sofa, his sore bottom filled out for a moment and a little hiss of gas emanated from his crack. The smell diffused slowly out from him, really thick and rich, the kind of aroma he made when he was full and busting for a shit. I put the cane down for a moment, came up behind him and pulled his cheeks apart, feeling the raised tramlines beneath my fingers. His bumhole was still clenched tight, with no sign of a turtle's head emerging. He was standing on a plastic sheet just in case, but it looked as if he'd make it to the end of his beating with his bowels still full. Only then would he be allowed to use the toilet. Then I stepped back and picked up the cane again.
I laid on the last two strokes with savage force. The first cracked down at an angle, crossing the welts from previous lashes and drawing a strangled grunt from him, and then a beaten moan as he squirmed in agony and sank back down over the sofa. He was shaking a little as he waited for the final stroke, and when I tap-tapped the cane on his tormented bum and raised it for the last time he tensed up hard.
`CRACK!'
`Unf!' he grunted, writhing his hips painfully.
`That will do. You can get up now.'
I stood back and watched him stand up, his hands going to his bottom. I always loved that first few moments when a beating was over and the shocked lad stood in front of me, squirming uncomfortably and clutching his burning cheeks. Raffe fingered them, feeling the welts, then closed his hands around them and tried to massage away the pain. In front his dick was standing up like a lighthouse, just like mine had been since he'd first stripped and bent over. For a space he stood there, rubbing his bum meekly. But then he took a deep breath and composed himself, his face became serious, and he looked round at me coolly. All of a sudden the dynamic was reversed.
`I need to go to the toilet,' he said calmly.
I followed him through to the bathroom with my eyes fixated on his arse. He'd endured the pain I'd inflicted upon it and now it was my turn to submit, and to lie still underneath it while he emptied his bowels onto my face. I was about to become his toilet, and I felt like I was about to cum just from the anticipation. The rimseat was already set up, its legs adjusted so the seat was as high off the floor as it would go. Next to it, on the side of the bath, was a toilet roll, and with that were a pair of swimming goggles. He turned round and watched, fingering his erection, as I put them on and then got down on the floor and slid in underneath so that I was looking up through the toilet seat at him towering above me. Suddenly he seemed awesomely manly and dominant.
Then he stepped forward and straddled me, and sat slowly down. I watched with my heart pounding madly as his bruised backside came nearer, and then heard his sharp intake of breath as he settled it on the seat and his welts throbbed. His crack was wide open, displaying his tight, wrinkled bumhole that hovered menacingly right above my face. He let it relax a little way, farted softly, and then clenched up again. His smell descended on my and I whimpered, and in my mind I submitted to him totally. Right then, if he'd wanted me to beg him for his excrement I'd have done so willingly. Then he settled completely, leaned his body forwards and rested his elbows above his knees in the classic position for a man to take a dump.
`Uh...' he grunted.
Above me his red-lined cheeks heaved, his hole twitched and started to pucker open, and the tip of his turd peeped out. It stopped for a moment, but then he grunted again and opened wider, and began doing a chunky log. I lay helpless and watched its thick, rounded end descend towards me, and started up the lumpy, glistening length beyond, with the slimy crackling sound ringing in my ears and his stink blasting up my nose. My dick was throbbing and bobbing and dribbling on my tummy. Then his turd pulled slowly apart, and a big fat curl fell on me. Its end landed on the right lens of my goggles, and it toppled forward and fell right across my face, leaving me reeling from the blow and revelling in the amazing foulness of it. Above me his bottom was still squelching and another lumpy column was descending from it. That too fell, hit my nose and slid down my cheek to the floor, and seconds later a third big turd hit me full in the face and landed across my nose and mouth. Far above me his dirty hole pinched up again, and he let out a grunt of satisfaction.
In the silence that followed I waited. I was half-blinded and half-buried under his filth and the stench made me want to gag. The sheer degradation of it was unbelievable. Yet I loved him for what he was doing to me, and I'd never felt more perfect submission than I did then, lying underneath him as he sat having his post-caning shit. Dimly I saw his bumhole pucker again and he farted, adding more gas to the thick air. It pinched in again for a moment, but then he pushed it wider with a grunt, and another big turd squelched and hissed from his bowels. Almost at once the first heavy lump dropped on me, and then another and another, stickier than before so they piled up on my face and rolled heavily down my cheeks leaving big brown smears behind. I was overwhelmed, struggling to breathe, having to force myself to lie still even as another lump fell across my eyes and blinded me completely and shit piled up over my mouth. Finally it ended, and a second later I heard his hole click and he farted again, squeakily this time.
That's it, I've finished,' he said softly. Now, lie still while I wipe.'
I heard him folding up paper, and then he stood up and started wiping his bum. Even though I felt sick I lay still and let him do it, and thanked him in my heart for the wads of used paper he dropped through the seat. His hole must have been filthy because he used a load of it. Every time I thought he was done I'd hear him pulling off more from the roll, folding it and rubbing at himself again, more quickly as he got clean. Finally it ended, and he lifted the rimseat off me.
Make yourself cum now,' he said gently. Wanna see my toilet cum all over himself.'
We both started wanking together, and almost at once the orgasm started to rise inside me. Far above in the darkness he was tugging hard at his cock, and as I reached the point of no return he speeded up, and his grunts grew frantic. We came together, me spunking all over myself so hard it spurted all over my shit-covered face even as his hot spunk rained down on it.
After that we went through a phase of him going to the toilet on my face. For me it was the ultimate act of service to my beautiful playmate, a submission more total than being beaten and a thrill like nothing else on earth. As I slid in under the seat and looked up through it my dick would go crazy and my heart would start to thump uncontrollably, and when he sat down and I was looking up through my goggles at his parted cheeks and little pink bumhole I'd almost feel sick with anticipation. Then when he gave me what I was craving I'd thank him from the bottom of my heart for it, and worship him as he sat grunting and squelching, blinding me and burying me under his dense, slimy brown piles, gassing me and making me retch with the smell.
I love doing it to you,' he confided in me once. I mean, it's not a power thing, not like it is for you. It's ... like I'm saying `thank you' to you. Does that make sense? It's like I'm giving you a present, in exchange for all the things you do to me.'
Then he did it on my cock. We moved the rimseat further back so I could prop myself up against the wall, and look down onto my pulsating erection. When he let go I was glad he was doing it there and not onto my face. His sharp -smelling farts hard warned me that he might have a touch of the shits, and sure enough he did a mushy brown pile that enveloped my cock and slid down my balls, hot and gooey and deliciously foul. He was still farting gassily and curling out glistening lumps when I lost control and came into the mess.
I beat him for his nasty shit at the weekend, just as he asked me to. He came over on the Saturday afternoon, already looking tense and nervous, with his gear in the holdall he was clutching. When I showed him the arrangements I'd made he swallowed nervously before he nodded his agreement. I sent him off to empty his bladder and get changed, and while he was gone I went and lifted one of the birch rods from the bucket at the side of the room. It was actually birch, not hazel, and it was lighter than the ones he'd watched Jimmy use to inflict such agony on me. My arm wasn't as strong as his either, but a dozen would still hurt like hell. I'd once seen some letter by an old public school veteran that a caning was to a birching like a little brick chapel next to a cathedral. I knew that well, and I was going to enjoy helping Raffe to make that discovery! The sense of power as I hefted the rod was even better than when I was flexing my best cane. Quickly I put it back in the bucket as I heard him flush the toilet.
When he returned he was in his smart black trousers and white shirt, complete with tie, his polished shoes clumping on the floor. He looked deliciously wholesome and boyish, and he had the air about him of an errant schoolboy on his way to face severe punishment. Once again I'd pulled the old sofa out, and I got him to stand behind and take down his trousers and pants, and bend bare-bottomed over the back of it. I didn't tie him up: like schoolboys of old he'd have to try his best to keep still and take his birching like a man. I pulled the tail of his shirt well up, exposing a swathe of his back and his smooth, fleshy cheeks. The air crackled with tension whilst I rolled up my sleeves, and then brought over the bucket and lifted the first of the birch rods again. It made a fearful `swoosh' as I swung it a couple of times to shake the water off it. Then I stepped forward took up position, and held the birch to his waiting bottom. For a good few seconds I made him wait, before I lifted it back, high in the air, and swung with all my force.
THWACK!
Raffe showed no reaction to the first stroke that laid a broad splay of red lines across his upper arse, nor to the second that lashed down lower, so that a couple of twigs made their mark on the very top of his thighs. He told me afterwards that those first two strokes tingled rather than hurt, but they sensitised his whole bottom so that when the third one lashed down his buttocks seemed to catch fire. All of a sudden he understood how painful the birching was going to be, and he clutched the sofa tight and clenched his teeth to hold back his yelps for as long as he could.
THWACK! .... THWACK!
Bits of birch whizzed past him and pattered on the floor. With each stroke the mass of thin raised lines across his cheeks spread and grew denser, and his whole bottom reddened. After six strokes I threw the used rod aside and picked up the other one, taking my time over shaking the water off it to spin out his pain and helplessness. He tensed up all over when I turned to him and held it across his bottom.
THWACK!
I gave him the second instalment as methodically as the first, administering the strokes at fifteen second intervals, and moving them up and down to spread them as evenly as I could, spreading a dense spray of little welts all over his backside. As the twigs bit into his skin, the white-hot, stinging pain that I knew all too well made him flinch and gasp and yelp, and by the end he was struggling to keep himself in position. After the last savage cut I threw the second rod to one side, and he slumped over the sofa breathing hard and mumbling `ow, ow...' I told him to get up then, and he straightened up slowly with his hands already coming round behind him. He treated me to the most pathetic display of bottom-rubbing, standing with his pants on the floor, squirming and clutching his tormented buttocks.
They still smarted in the morning when he gave me his shit. Once again I got in under the rimseat with my heart racing and my dick throbbing and bouncing uncontrollably, and stared up through my goggles and the toilet seat as he stepped forward and stood across me. Then he lowered himself down, his sore cheeks parting as he settled himself on the seat so that I was looking up at his bumhole. At once it puckered like a kiss and he farted, and as the dense smell descended on me I let out a helpless whimper of desire. He drew his feet in a bit and fidgeted, and then when he settled again his hole started to pucker again straight away.
`Uh, here it comes...' he breathed as the tip of his turd emerged.
He began laying a thick, glistening brown cable. I lay and watched it descend on me, sliding slowly out with his anus rippling and squeezing around it. Closer and closer it came, its smell gassing me, until it touched down by the bridge of my nose and started to slide down my cheek. Then it broke suddenly and fell right across my face, a lump broke away from it and slithered onto the floor, and even as I was trying to take that in the next lumpy log was sliding out of him. When that fell it dropped right across my mouth, just under my nose so that I could hardly breathe and the smell made my stomach heave. Another one fell on top and its tip flopped onto my chin, and above me his dirty hole squeezed shut. Half-buried under his hot, heavy turds, I lay moaning and dribbling cum onto my stomach as I waited for him to finish his dump.
For what seemed like an age he sat there, his hole flaring and squeezing rhythmically, as calm and unhurried as if he was sitting on the toilet at home. Then, quite suddenly, he grunted and his brown ringpiece flared wider, and he curled out a smooth, crackling snake. Lumps started to fall from it at once, covering my face and dropping over my goggles so I was half-blind, and covering my nose so that I was breathing almost nothing but his stink. It was disgusting, mind-blowing, and I started to moan as the orgasm rose inside me.
Yeah!' he hissed, tugging at his cock. Cum all over yourself. Cum all over your tummy while I'm still having a poo!'
I began to edge hard as the shit kept coming, and then, even before he'd finished, something snapped inside me and I came. My spunk shot right up between his legs and spattered across my chest and neck, onto my shitted face, and a spurt of it hit his dangling balls while the last little curl was still oozing from his anus. My submission to him was complete.
He still had a sore bottom when he came over on the Tuesday for his morning poo. His cheeks were fading back to their normal colour, but the skin was pockmarked and and corrugated all over, and he told me they still tingled, and that it hurt when he sat down. Sure enough, he lowered himself more gingerly than usual onto the rimseat, with me kneeling behind him, my trousers round my knees and my cock in my hand. He hitched his top up a little, exposing the base of his spine, and I looked up the long curve of his back to his thick hair, which shone where the light fell on it. Then I ran my eyes back down to his cheeks, which filled out on the seat as he grunted and gave a gentle strain.
His anus flared slowly open, and in the middle of it a lumpy turd nosed out, like a brown butt-plug. For a moment it paused, but then he grunted and a solid turd shot out and thudded to the floor. Behind it came a lumpy brown column that grew four or five six inches down from his bum, and then a string of sinuous, glistening curls. They fell into a ragged heap underneath him, making little squelches that I could hear over the slimy crackle of his arse. He emptied himself out in one long surge, ending in a couple of slim ropes, and a final lump he had to push out, grunting softly and spurting piss on the floor. As always, the obscene spectacle of sweet young Raffe having a poo drove me wild, and I knelt and wanked and sniffed at the thick fug gathering round me. It was really rich and fruity that day, like a heady red wine of which I drank deeply, and wanked harder.
`Ooh, Raffe, that's a good smell! And what a pile!'
Of course I wiped his bottom for him afterwards. He grunted gratefully as I probed well into his hole and cleaned away the sticky brown residue with slow, deep wipes, and then when the paper came away less stained I rubbed harder and he chuckled with pleasure. We'd had sex -- sweet, vanilla male sex -- together a few times by then, and every time he'd loved having his bottom played with. Until now that had felt like something different from having it wiped after a shit, but now he started to pant like he did when I was about to fuck him, teasing his waiting hole with slippery lubed fingers.
`Kneel down...' I told him as I dropped the last screw of paper into the toilet.
I moved the rimseat aside, and he got down on all fours with his bottom in the air, hovering over his beautiful pile as thought he was about to add to it. Instead I got down and fingered him, tickling and tweaking his tight, wrinkled little bumhole and sniffing again at the smell of what had just come out of it. He began to pant and moan again, as intensely as he'd done when one of my first and sweetest fantasies had come true, and I'd given him his first rimming. We both started to wank, clumsily in his awkward position, and with me using my left hand whilst I pleasured him with my right. Just before the ascent to the final precipice began, he grunted and looked round. His eyes were smouldering.
`Jamie ... I want you to fuck me when I've just done a poo.'
`Ooh, you serious?! You really want me to do that?'
Yeah!' he breathed, nodding slowly. I want you in me when I've just done it, before you've even wiped my bottom!'
`Okay, I'll do it!' I smiled back.
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