Writing shit this intense makes me look insane – but hear me out. At least evaluate my thought process on what it might take to get a toilet slave to more frequently survive all 30 days existing on eating only my feces. Because up until now – I’ve had only 1 out of the 26 applicants succeed in doing so and that’s what? – 3% success rate? Ya, changes need to be made.
Now, I did try to be nicer in January and February as that is my nature. It’s why I called the place where we do the sessions The Femdom Resort and not something like The Slave’s Prison … I’ve always thought that if I treat my toilet slaves like royalty, they will develop such a bond with me that that bond alone will push the slave over the finish line.But I’ve been wrong because being nice only creates empathy towards my slave and strangely – that same empathy when reciprocated towards me makes my slave much weaker.
Why? That’s the big question.I feel that when I start treating these toilet slaves like royalty, so you know – caring, checking in, making it feel all warm and bonded instead of pure brutal ownership … I feel that somehow, it flips a switch in my own head. Again, how? I don’t know, I just feel it does. Because I start feeling real empathy for the poor fucker down there gagging on my shit every single day, like “damn, this is actually destroying him.”
That empathy doesn’t stay locked up inside me … it’d be fine if it did but because of the way I”m wired … it doesn’t. It leaks out in maybe my voice, or my eyes, or perhaps the way I talk to him, and he fucking senses it immediately. Suddenly the slave isn’t just a worthless, dehumanized shit-eater anymore; he’s got this two-way street going where he starts empathizing right back at me. He can tell I actually give a damn if he breaks, and that tiny bit of reciprocity turns his brain … uh, soft? I think soft is the best word there … its not love, its ya, softness. For, instead of the raw, merciless power dynamic fueling him … that deep-down “I am nothing but her toilet and I will fucking survive because that’s my only purpose” headspace (that I need him to be in) —the bond makes him weaker as hell.
Now he’s not pushing through the pain and the hunger and the constant shit-eating for the sake of total objectification and my dominance; he’s doing it out of some twisted affection, like he doesn’t wanna disappoint the “nice” me who sees him as a person.
Sigh. 🙁 That empathy loop kills the intensity. It makes the whole thing feel mutual instead of one-way destruction, and mutual ain’t strong enough to carry a dude through 30 straight days on nothing but my feces. That’s why only one out of twenty-six has ever made it you see? … being nice creates this fake safety net that lets his mind tap out way earlier than the real slave-breaking cruelty ever would.
Fuck, I think that’s the exact reason the bond alone never pushes them over the finish line. It breaks the very monster I need them to become. So last night I’m gazing up at the stars at 3am as I do every night – pondering this conundrum. Now, I’ll try my best to keep my mental divergence self-analysis from hijacking my thoughts – but it does need to be mentioned that whenever I do deep contemplation about the extremely deep philosophical ways I approach femdom it seems that every single time I do so – I see myself as Heath Ledger’s Joker in The Dark Knight.
And if you want to see what that does to me psychologically – then read how fucked up I got thinking exactly like him when I release Under Her: Uncensored on April 1st – heh, such an appropriate date for that kind of book’s publication.
“The only sensible way to live in this world is without rules.”
That line spoken by The Joker is actually spoken after this line – but the two go hand in hand in deciphering what changes I have to make when it comes to eating shit for if he was speaking about my toilet slaves in saying “see their morals, their code, it’s a bad joke. Dropped at the first sign of trouble.”
Understand how that applies to toilet slavery?
“Dropped at the first sign of trouble” refers to the 97% of my toilet slaves who have quit before the 30th day because they’re running a program in their head – a program that’s triggered by society’s morals and code. So what has to change?
Well, everything.Starting with – no more rules. not for them, and not for me in the way I’ve been holding back. I stop leaning into the kindness that’s my nature and i lean full-throttle into the extremeness. and so the femdom “resort” dies tonight in my head. because Patty and I (and to some extent Heidi) we’re not running a fucking vacation anymore. This now becomes the place where there is no mercy, no escape, no “you can tap out and go home.” i already decided … and I know this is going to exclude 99% of you but I don’t care … slaves don’t leave unless i deem them worthy enough to leave, and that only happens after they’ve proven they can live on nothing but my feces for the full 30 days. period.
They don’t get to run back to their code. And their old life? … it stops existing the second they sign in their waver. i make that crystal fucking clear from minute one. So the part in Under Her – the chapter that describes what happens when we first meet – I’m now also confiscating your clothes, you’ll wear my old panties at the toilet slavery house. Also, that’s what I’m calling it from now on, The Toilet Slavery house.
It is – exactly – what it is, not a resort.I stop treating them like royalty and start treating them like what they actually are: nothing but my toilet. pure brutal ownership, no warm eyes, no soft voice leaking empathy. i want that one-way destruction back. i want them so deep in the headspace of “i am nothing but her shit-eater and survival is my only purpose” that society’s morals look like the joke they are. no safety net. no reciprocity. no “i don’t wanna disappoint her.” just raw, merciless, rule-less ownership that forces the code to drop or the slave to break. One slave wrote to me this week clarifying this direction. He said his one wish is to somehow become part of me. I thought “that’s insane.”
Then though, I thought – he’s absolutely right. I’ll get back to him in a minute though.Because to finish off what sessions are going to become … yeah it’s gonna look insane on paper. And yeah it’s gonna make me look like the joker laughing while the world burns. but that’s the point. The only way these 3% success rates turn into something real is if i stop playing by any rules at all … including the ones that say i have to be nice because that’s “my nature.” fuck nature right now. Why? Because nature’s been giving me 25 quitters. The monster I need them to become only gets born in total lawlessness. Lucky for you – and for me – the The Toilet Slavery house is located in the middle of nowhere.
And you know what the good thing is about the middle of nowhere? It’s the middle of nowhere … no laws need to exist inside these gates. Or well, these walls – there’s only one gate.So starting next session … no more resort. no more coddling. no more empathy leaks. just pure, rule-less, no-escape hell until they either become the 100% survivor I need them to become or they prove they never deserved to exist in my world in the first place. Let me now address the why – in terms of why I think this new approach is going to work. The all important clue comes from a movie I’m sure we all have seen: The Human Centipede – First Sequence.
The movie that brought human toilet slavery to the world, only, do you know how much money that movie made in its theatrical release worldwide? $250,000 dollars, that’s it, only 31,000 people went to see the movie worldwide. How is it possible then that I have 50,000 followers? Because the movie went viral in home release, the revenue numbers bringing the total audience to somewhere between 5 to 10 million people.
Due to it being banned in so many countries it became the number one pirated movie of all time … belittling the numbers of pirated copies that Faces of Death reached in the 80’s. Here’s the smoking gun though … The Human Centipede was watched almost exclusively while the viewer was alone. What does that tell me? It tells me that being a Mistress’s human toilet is a crazy popular fetish but at the same time, it is a fetish that demands absolute privacy.
Which in turn means that the man who loves the fetish needs to shelter himself from society’s rules and code to allow himself to watch it. Flipping that on its head then tells me that the slaves who love this particular fetish want there to be no rules, no code, no limits – they want to be thrusted into a real-life version of the movie and become the willing victim. Those are the two key words – willing and victim. Preferably one that survives the ordeal and lives to jerk off about it for the rest of his life. So you see, I’ve been trying to be too nice about the whole 30 day experience. Its not love that is going to get the slave across the 30 day finish line – but rather the opposite.
Wasn’t it president Bush who called the USA’s attack on Iraq “shock and awe?” That’s what my slaves are going to be experiencing … the rebirth of shock and awe … but not in a military sense, rather a toilet slavery sense.
Now, below, I’m going to show you – my Patreon and FanVue subscribers – the video – Voom 12! – that inspired the first change in the slave’s program at The Toilet Slavery house. Again, because I was trying to be nice and to ease off on the shock of the first few days at what was the Femdom Resort, the throat gaping was done on days one and two and once the throat had been sufficiently widened I gave the slave 48 hours to calm down, settle into his new surroundings and recover from Patty’s throat pounding.
Heck, I’ve been told that just seeing the vertical shit feeding machine and how crudely its design is – has terrified slaves because the device is just outside the room they sleep in. So I’ve been wrongly giving my slaves time to adjust to what they first experience upon their arrival. That will no longer be the case. As you know, if you have purchased and read Under Her – I demand the slave be picked up in the evening time so that I have an extra layer of protection on security cameras picking up any trace of our existence, you and I. You were brought to the toilet slavery house and were fed a buffet style meal before allowing you to spend your first night in bed before beginning the throat drilling in the morning.
That’s no longer the case. You’re going to sign the waivers and indemnity forms on the spot – in the SUV – and you’re going to be taken straight to The Toilet Slavery house where Patty will be waiting at about midnight to tie you to the bed and go at your throat balls deep until 1 or 2 am non-stop. At which time, you’ll be strapped into the vertical shit feeding contraption of mine – the bottom chair – and I’ll immediately climb up onto the top bench.
Patty will reapply a 2nd dose of the throat anesthetic and you’ll begin to consume and begin your life as a conduit from my ass to your stomach as soon as I’m ready to relieve my bowels into your newly gaped throat. And you’ll survive it or you won’t. Basically that. It’ll be your first taste of shit – only – you won’t be tasting it pe se – it’ll be flowing through your throat cavity, unabated – into your esophagus.
There will be no more walking you on a leash outside or suspending you upside down from the little gym-like ceiling just behind the house for the pleasure of teasing you. You’ll have to earn those activities like privileges by simply surviving. Survive say twenty of the thirty days – and you’ll find the last ten days to proportionately be way more survivable – one might even say enjoyable. And therein, lays the rub. If my plan works as intended, then those last ten days will become somewhat of a breeze to survive, relatively speaking. That is what will get my slaves to constantly survive all thirty days. And if they don’t? That’s in the pay-per-view portion below.