The Taming of the Shithead

More adventures of Brenda, the God-fearing twenty-six-year-old dental assistant who figures in my stories "God and the Cum Dump" and "The Rent-A-Slave." No, you don't have to read those things to make sense of this: it explains itself. But think twice before you go on, because this story is filthy and disgusting: full of pee, scat, enemas, vomit, straight and lesbian sex, gangbangs, and a whole lot of people with really poor impulse control. Length: ca. 17,000 words (short novella).

*****

1. An afternoon snack

"Just shut the fuck up and eat me," said Mo.

Mo was in her thirties and had bright red hair and that perfect skin that redheads sometimes have: her ass cheeks were this luscious white, her face, shoulders, and tits were freckled, and her pussy and asshole were a pale pink that made me break out in a sweat. So did her bushy red pubic hair and the thin spray of red hair in her crack. Mo thought women that shaved their pussies and cracks were idiots.

Right now she was lying on her stomach on a towel out by Betsy's pool, and I was working on that asshole, slurping at it wetly, and meanwhile wondering what she was going to do to me: make me sniff her farts, drink her piss, eat her shit, or something else that I hadn't dreamed of yet.

Mo was Betsy's house slave, and Betsy was this rich lesbian dominatrix that scared shit out of me and made me wet. But so did Mo, who had a filthy mouth and was always in a rotten mood. She totally dominated me, but she was submissive with Betsy, even though she told her to go fuck herself like every time she talked to her. It was hard to figure out how Mo got away with that, and how she managed to be submissive and bossy too, but when I tried to ask her about those things she just told me I was a fucking moron.

And I guess she was right about that. I barely managed to get through high school and a few vocational courses, and the only way I was able to hold onto my job as a dental assistant was to let my boss Dr. Rosenberg fuck and degrade me however he wanted. He was kind of a pervert and mean as spit too. He used me like a sex doll or toilet and hardly ever talked to me, except to like tell me to suck his cock or call me a stupid cunt. I lived in a little upstairs room in his big house, and he told people I was his maid, but really I was just there to fuck him.

He was a complete shithead, a sorry excuse for a human being, and I was crazy about him.

I know what you're thinking. If I was like in love with Dr. Rosenberg, what was I doing here in Betsy's backyard, eating Mo's ass?

Well, I didn't say I was in love with him, I said I was crazy about him. There's a difference, you know. When you're crazy about a man, you have to fuck him. When you're in love you never want to fuck anybody else - isn't that how it works?

I figured I couldn't be in love, because I wanted to fuck just about everybody I saw, and when I say that I don't mean I just kinda sorta wanted them. I mean if I found myself in a room alone with a man, I'd be on my knees sucking his cock within five minutes. I couldn't help myself.

I'd been out of control for like two weeks, ever since my boyfriend Lester face-fucked me, made me puke, and stormed out of my life in a rage, leaving me more turned on than I'd ever been in my whole life. That very night I fucked eight men outside Mickey's Tap, and within two days the whole town knew I had turned into a slut.

The Reverend Jonathan Edwards, the pastor at my church, helped me think through these changes in my life. He explained that it was God's will that I should be a cum dump and do all kinds of unspeakably filthy things so He could manifest His glory by forgiving me over and over again. I had loved Jesus all my life, but knowing this made me love Him even more, and I was determined to do His will.

Today was my first day off since I moved in with Dr. Rosenberg, and I wasn't due back at his house till Friday after work. Betsy had invited me over to be fucked and degraded, and I was more than happy to go.

And that's why my face was planted between Mo's perfect ass cheeks, and why my heart gave a leap when Betsy appeared at the edge of my vision, completely naked and carrying what looked like two big onions.

Betsy naked is an awe-inspiring sight. She's really old, like in her sixties, with short gray hair, and hugely fat, and there's something about her that makes you totally want to do anything she says, and that makes her really hot. If I wasn't already wet from servicing Mo's body, I'd definitely be getting wet now.

"Up, girls!" said Betsy cheerfully. "Time for a snack."

"You and your fucking enemas," said Mo.

"Now don't be grumpy, Mo," said Betsy. "You'll be getting today, not giving."

"You lose, babe," said Mo to me.

I saw now that what I'd thought were onions were actually bulb syringes. I got queasy and my nipples perked up.

"Have you ever given an enema?" asked Betsy.

"No," I said.

"Then Mo can go first."

"Thanks, fuckhead," said Mo.

Ignoring her, Betsy said, "This is a milk-and-molasses enema. It's non-toxic, it works fast, and the effects can be spectacular. Ass up, Mo."

Mo scowled, but got on her elbows and knees so her ass was high.

Betsy handed me one of the syringes and said, "The tip's already lubricated, and I see you've been lubricating Mo. So just ease it in and squeeze it in."

Mo heaved a big sigh of martyred patience. She didn't say anything as I inserted the tip into her asshole and slowly squeezed the fluid into her.

"Well done," said Betsy.

"Yeah," said Mo. "When Rosenberg fires her, she can work here giving us enemas."

"Good idea," said Betsy.

"Naw, she'd find some way to fuck it up," said Mo. "Dumbest cow I ever saw." Her bowels rumbled.

"I'll bet she can do the next part, though," said Betsy. "Do you like warm milk, Brenda?"

"Not much," I said.

"Molasses?"

"Yuck."

"Well, you can spit it out if you want."

"Long as you agree to hose down the fucking deck," Mo added.

"Okay," I said. This didn't sound like a lot of fun. I'd watched videos of girls squirting milk from their asses into each other's mouths, and I wasn't impressed. I mean, milk is milk, even if it has been in somebody's ass. I wished it was beer instead.

Mo's bowels gave a loud growl, and she flinched and said, "Why the fuck couldn't you use something gentler?"

"I like cramps," said Betsy complacently.

"Fuck!" Mo groaned, and Betsy said, "I think Mo needs some rimming to distract her."

Mo's gut gurgled, and I looked at her ass dubiously.

"That'd be your job, Brenda," said Betsy.

Stomach fluttering, I leaned towards Mo's asshole. She rumbled again. The idea of the milk and molasses churning inside her was repulsive, but her cheeks were so smooth and fair, her hole so tight and such a perfect pink . . . I kissed it, and it was warm and sweet.

"Aaaahh!" Mo cried, and erupted into my mouth, filling me up to overflowing in a second.

Instantly my stomach heaved, and I realized that this wasn't an enema like the ones you see girls drinking from each other's asses in videos - all white and clean. This was a real-world enema, a mix of shit and milk and molasses, and it was bitter and sickly-sweet.

I knew a good bit about shit. Dr. Rosenberg loved to shit in my mouth and make me swallow it, and I'd had it soft and sticky, firm and hard, and nearly liquid; I'd had it dark and light - but this nasty mix was way worse than shit. I vomited into Mo's crack before I could back away.

"You cunt!" she yelled, but the last word trailed into a moan, and another geyser of tan liquid jetted into my face, thick and stinky.

Now her perfect crack was wet with my puke and Mo's liquid shit, which was running down over her pussy lips and dripping onto her towel.

"Oh, excellent!" Betsy said, and shoved my face into the mess. I spluttered and tried to pull away, but Betsy pushed me harder and at the same moment clapped a hand over my pussy and rubbed my clit.

I breathed in the smell of vomit and shit mixed with the cloying sweetness of the molasses, my stomach lurched, and my pussy was like on fire, I was so hot. I opened my lips around Mo's asshole just as she moaned "Oh, fuck!" and expelled another jet of shitty enema into my mouth.

This time I swallowed it, and it instantly backfired. My vomit splattered my face since Betsy was still holding my head in Mo's crack and there was no place else for it to go.

Mo said "Oh, fuck!" again, a kind of sigh now as the warm mix ran down her crack and over her open vag. She pushed back against my face, her gut gave a low growl, and she squirted again.

This time I was way turned on and waiting for it with open mouth. A turd - just a little one - shot from Mo's ass along with the jet of shitty milk and flew straight into me. I gagged on it and fought to get control but couldn't, and I puked again.

Laughing, Betsy grabbed a handful of my hair, pulled my head back, scooped up the turd from where it had fallen on the towel, and popped it into my mouth before shoving my face back into Mo's crack.

I chewed the turd while I waited. Shit is bitter and disgusting, and it just makes you feel like these amazing feelings to eat it and realize while you're doing it that it doesn't get any better than this or any worse, and you're as turned on as you're ever likely to get.

I swallowed Mo's shit little by little, and I had about half of it down when she cried "Aaaahhh!" on a rising note that ended in a shriek, and her asshole pushed out and a huge turd fired out of her like a cannonball, followed by a torrent of brownish glop. It all flew into my mouth with the force of a firehose, and when I was full it splashed and coated my face like somebody'd hit me with a creampie.

I watched Mo's asshole twitch and little streams of brown goo ooze out of it. I took stock of myself. I had a long turd in my mouth, one end sticking out a couple inches, and shitty glop was running out of me around it. My stomach was convulsing, but it was nearly empty and I wasn't throwing up. Betsy was still rubbing my pussy and I was rubbing my right tit. My face was drenched, and I was like drowning in the shit and vomit smell.

Then Betsy clapped a hand over my mouth, still holding the back of my head, and mashed the shit into me. My cheeks puffed out with it, and I coughed behind her hand, blowing foul air through my nose.

I sat back on my heels, and Mo sat up and turned around to watch me gag.

"Swallow it, Brenda!" Betsy ordered, and I worked on forcing it down. Mo crawled over to me, reached between my legs, and massaged my pussy while I swallowed her shit, hiccuping and doing my best to suppress little gushes of puke as I did.

It took a while to get it all down, and meanwhile Betsy still had a hand over my mouth to make sure I didn't cheat and spit some out. By the time it was almost gone, it had turned to a thin paste, and Mo was rubbing me so hard it was almost painful.

My stomach was jumping and my arousal soaring. My mouth was full of bitter saliva. I made myself swallow it, emptying my mouth at last, and that's when I came, arching my back and screaming as Betsy took her hand away.

Panting, I looked at Mo, then at Betsy.

"What do you think, Mo?" said Betsy. "She eats shit well, don't you think?"

"Just another stupid cunt," Mo snapped.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Why do you say that, Mo?" asked Betsy.

"She's living with that shithead Rosenberg."

"You think all men are shitheads," said Betsy.

"That's because all men are shitheads," said Mo. "And the women that fuck them are idiots."

"There you have it, Brenda," said Betsy: "Mo's verdict on your sex life."

"I don't think all men are shitheads," I said, "but Dr. Rosenberg definitely is. That's what I like about him."

"That's what Mo likes about me, too," Betsy commented.

"Asshole," said Mo.

"Speaking of assholes," said Betsy, picking up the other bulb syringe, "I haven't taken a shit in at least thirty-six hours. I need some help." She handed me the syringe and said, "Would you do the honors, Brenda?"

She got on all fours with her ass towards me. It was huge, pale and mottled, and her asshole was brown and dangerous looking.

I turned aside and vomited a thick torrent onto the deck. Then I put my face in Betsy's wide crack and went to work.

2. Dr. Rosenberg objects

I spent the night at my place with my best friend Casey, who was teaching me to turn my promiscuity into cash. The next morning when I went to work, Dr. Rosenberg growled, "Go clean the bathrooms and come to my office at noon."

You've got to keep the toilets in a dentist's office super clean, and I guess cleaning the bathrooms wasn't really supposed to be a job for a dental assistant, but I kind of liked it. I was developing a special relationship with toilets.

After I was done with that, Marsha the office manager gave me a stack of papers to copy and some insurance forms to file. Everybody was doing their best to keep me out of the treatment rooms: I was always handing the doctor the wrong things, and any time I had to work with him on a filling or a crown, he'd end the appointment in a foul temper. Copying and filing were boring, but it was nice to do a job where I wasn't being yelled at all the time.

At noon I went to Dr. Rosenberg's office. I knocked and let myself in.

"Lock the door behind you," he said. I did that, turned towards him, and waited. He looked pissed off, but that wasn't unusual.

"What did you do yesterday?" he demanded.

"I went to see Betsy and Mo."

"Did you fuck them?"

I smiled. "Of course I did! It was so cool. Betsy had these enemas . . ."

"And then what did you do?"

"I spent the night with Casey."

"And I suppose you fucked her too."

"Dr. Rosenberg," I said, "Me and Casey always fuck!"

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"It was my day off, Dr. Rosenberg. I get to do what I want."

His face was dark with anger. He came around his desk, grabbed me by the lapel of my white jacket, and flung me face down across his desk.

"No, you don't get to do whatever you fucking want," he said, lifting my skirt and pulling down my panties. "I fucking own you."

I loved it when he threw me on the desk that way, and I liked him angry - which he usually was. He was real classy, living in this great big house in the best part of town and married to this super rich beauty that had just left him. He wasn't supposed to want a slutty girl from the wrong side of the tracks, especially one like me that was kind of pear shaped, with a big butt, little boobs, thick features and big teeth. But he couldn't help wanting to fuck me, and that totally pissed him off - and got me off too.

Still, this idea about him owning me was kind of disturbing. That wasn't what I had in mind when I agreed to be his sex slave if he doubled my pay.

He thrust into my pussy and hammered me, saying, "You're done fucking Betsy, and you're done fucking Mo. No more Casey. Forget that kid at the cable store. I bought you and paid for you."

He rammed me extra hard and growled "Stay out of Mickey's Tap. You fuck the whole place every time you go."

Dr. Rosenberg was right about that, but he didn't mention that Mickey's Tap was the first place he ever fucked me, two weeks before when he'd joined a gangbang in progress.

He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. "Tell that pervert Randy you're busy. And stay away from my fucking wife."

It's true Randy was a pervert, but he was married, and I wasn't going to like run off with him, so what was the harm? And I couldn't figure out why he didn't want me to fuck his wife, since he didn't want her any more than she wanted him, being a lesbian and all. I said, "But Dr. Rosenberg . . . ow!"

His cock was pressing into my ass. Jesus, but it hurt! The wetness from my pussy wasn't enough lubrication, and he was too pissed off to care. It felt like he was splitting me in two. I grabbed the edge of the desktop, clutched it tight, and worked hard on not screaming.

"You'll fuck me and only me," he snarled, banging me hard. "If you do anyone else, it'll be because I told you to. Understand?"

"Fuck!" I whined. It felt like he was holding a blowtorch to my ass.

He grabbed me under the chin, pulled my head up, and snarled into my ear. "Do you understand, Brenda?"

"Ow ow ow!" I cried. "Okay, Dr. Rosenberg!"

He hauled me off the desk, spun me around, shoved me to the floor, and fucked my face till he came. He was so pissed off, I thought it was the best load of cum I'd ever tasted.

"Go get lunch, and be home on time," he said. He turned to his desk and pretended I wasn't there.

I had a quick sandwich and spent the next couple hours copying and filing insurance forms. We closed at three, and I dragged out of the office feeling depressed about not being allowed to fuck around any more.

I went to Dr. Rosenberg's house. He was in the cavernous living room, reading a newspaper. He didn't look up when I came in. I went upstairs to my little room and turned on the TV I'd bought to keep me company.

Me and Dr. Rosenberg didn't eat together, but there was a kitchenette upstairs, and I heated up a frozen lasagna there and carried it back to the TV.

I was about halfway through Shark Tank when Mo called. She got right to business.

"Betsy wants you to come over next Thursday," she said. "She has friends visiting from out of town, and she needs somebody for them to fuck."

"I'm sorry, Mo," I said, "but Dr. Rosenberg says I have to be monogamous from now on."

"What?"

"Monogamous. That means I'm not allowed to fuck anybody but him."

"I know what monogamous means, nitwit. I meant . . . oh, never mind. Hang on a second."

After a minute Betsy came on the line. "What's this about you being monogamous?" she said.

"Dr. Rosenberg insists. He says he bought and paid for me, and now I have to do what he says."

"That's ridiculous. He may as well say he owns Main Street, and nobody else is allowed to drive on it."

My nips tingled. "Gee, Betsy, that's such a cool thing to say."

"A girl like you, with just the right combination of sluttiness, perversion, and stupidity, comes along maybe every other generation. You're a treasure, Brenda - a public resource."

"That is so hot." Somehow my hand had gotten under my dress and I was playing with my clit.

I heard Mo say something indistinct in the background. Betsy said, "Mo is saying you should leave the motherfucker."

"I don't think I can do that, Betsy," I said. "It's just too awesome, the way he hatefucks me. I'm just going to have to stop fucking around."

"We'll see about that," said Betsy, and ended the call.

I gave myself an orgasm and went back to watching TV, but Shark Tank was almost over.

At a little after ten Dr. Rosenberg came into my room without knocking, as usual. He was naked, and he already had an erection. He didn't say anything, but came to my chair, turned me over, ass-fucked me, and came in my mouth.

It all took maybe fifteen minutes. I was disappointed, because we usually do a lot more than that. Just two days before, he'd spent like all evening with me, face-fucking me in the dining room, pissing on me in the kitchen, dragging me to the upstairs bathroom to shit in my mouth, ass-fucking me over the toilet, and on and on for more than two hours, till I was fucked silly and covered with shit, piss, puke and cum.

Tonight, though, I had to settle for a quickie. When he was done, he said, "Remember, you belong to me."

"Yes, Dr. Rosenberg," I said meekly. "I'll be good, I promise." Then he left.

I tried to call Casey, but she didn't answer the phone. I guessed she was out whoring somewhere. I wished I was too.