I had a submissive man who simply refused to eat in the way I showed him he’d be consuming bio-product for the next thirty days of his life. He made this decision that my methods were not something he could bring himself to do on the very first day of his one month stay and I proceeded to fret about his well-being every day for the next four weeks. It drove me mad.
Yes, I can lock a submissive in a human cage and do rapid weight loss training for a month – I have done that before.
But now that I’ve twice experienced the effects of hunger for a prolonged duration its something I no longer wish to come face to face with.
Face to face is the best way to describe what happens as later on my visits to the cage become quite confrontational with an interaction the way a zookeeper keeps coming back to monitor a hungry tiger. The first several visits are normal but eventually there’s a visit where the slave no longer paces on its hands and knees, it suddenly charges straight at me, slamming into the bars with its full weight, roaring, talking incoherently and baring its teeth the way a tiger would bare its fangs while trying to squeeze as much of its head through the cage as it can.
To which I just let my arms dangle by my side in exasperation and I’ll say rather calmly “you signed up for this – this is what you asked for.”
“I didn’t sign up to DIE for fuck sakes” comes the usual retort and I’ll just shake my head at the mellow drama “YouTubers last 30 days with no food and water – at least you’re getting fiber vitamins and minerals in the drinks I’m leaving you – and you have 5 tanks of water, enough”
But extreme hunger does cause aggressiveness – especially when well into the 3rd week without food. Actually, it’s more like hostility towards me as if my refusal for it to use a safe word is the crux of the problem.
This is part of my problem when giving submissive men the exact extreme fantasy they say they’ve dreamed about all their lives. The reality doesn’t match the fantasy.
Let me give you an example from a session I did in my tiny iPremium condo at On Nut back in August of 2023. It was one of the last handful of sessions I was able to do before I mentally fell off a cliff and I remember it well. In fact, it is the key precedent I have for what to expect when the client arrives on April 1st with the same request.
The fantasy was – he wanted to “taste my ass” for the very first time and be instructed not to spit. It was the first time he had asked any woman to do this with him but it was a fantasy he had stroked himself to many-a-time in his life. He chose me because at the time I had written a lot of literature on how to coerce submissive men to do things they wouldn’t normally want to do. It’s my specialty, one might say by this metric that I’m the best at the world at doing so.
He comes into my condo where I’m waiting for him by the television, dressed only in my silk bra and my ripped orange panties, a pair that I’d been wearing since my university days and let’s just say that my pussy and ass had no protection from the elements when I wore those.
Shuffling towards me he followed the command of my index finger which was pointing down towards the floor and so he took an immediate kneeling position in front of me. At which point I turned around presenting my holy stained orange panties and ordered him to insert a finger into my unholiest of holes while I bent forward with my hands supporting my weight on my knees.
Into the moist cave his finger ventured, curling left first, then right and proceeding forward until it hit something that was a bit repulsive to him as his finger instinctively pulled back.
“Go deeper,” I whispered, my voice thick with the need to feel him do that which he no longer wanted to do. He obeyed … but at the excruciating crawl of an eighty-year-old grandma white-knuckling her ancient moped up the on-ramp, inching toward the roaring, death-defying freeway above like it might swallow her whole.
Before he knew it, his finger had indeed been swallowed whole and he quickly receded intending to remove his finger entirely. The reality of the situation was quite suddenly not matching the fantasy that had made him rock hard all those nights lying in bed dreaming of this moment.
“No baby – I want you to explore every part of me in there – as deep as you can go.”
This time as he inserted his finger deeper I could see his head drop to his shoulder in a look of absolute disgust and he was wincing his eyes as tightly as he could.
“Now like a good geologist – get a great big sample by curling your finger and scooping as much as you can, then pull your finger out curled.”
As he did he upheaved a pool of bile on my living room floor.
His finger slid out at last, curled and swollen like a bloated brown mushroom freshly yanked from damp soil. He lifted it high, turning it carefully so the thick, yellowish slime pooled on top wouldn’t splatter across my floor. He stared at it with open revulsion, as if the thing might come alive and stare directly into him. His hand shook violently, the finger jittering like a maggot-ridden corpse twitching in the heat of my tiny 35C condo.
I dropped to my knees so we were eye-to-eye, inches apart. The revolting brown mushroom like substance still glistened on his curled finger, heavy and slick. With two fingers I pointed at my own eyes, locking him in place. “Don’t you dare break eye contact with me,” I said, my voice low and steady. “Wet your lips. Open your mouth as wide as you possibly can — but keep those eyes on mine the entire time. I want you to push that whole curled finger straight down into the deepest part of your throat. Clamp your lips and tongue around it as hard as you can… and when it slides back out, I want that finger perfectly clean. Not a trace left. But don’t swallow.”
When the task was completed his eyes were watering, tears began streaming down his cheeks one at a time as he sat there quivering with his first ever mouthful of my ass.
“If you stay, this will go on until you’ve scooped out and digested every last bit that you can find inside my ass. But if you want to leave, don’t use my washroom, just turn now and run out of my condo as fast as you can as if you are running away from this fantasy that is obviously not for you.
He bolted for the door like he was suddenly trying to escape a raging fire, and he didn’t even bother to scoop up his shoes, he left running in his socks down the hallway to the lift. Out on nicety I placed his shoes outside my door.
I tell you about that encounter because quite often, the reality of the situation doesn’t at all match what the fantasy suggested the experience might feel like.
And so, I’ve been thinking about that session – and that maybe it was bit too cruel for me to lead him to his own demise by instructing him what to do with his finger. Instead, I’ve been thinking – what if there was a way to lead a slave to his own demise?
That’s the brilliant idea I came up that I just touched on briefly in my last Scatbook post – but there’s only space for 1,500 characters of thought on the matter – not words, characters : and so – in the ppv portion of this blog post I’m going to elaborate on this idea I have of how to lead a starving slave to his own demise so he only has himself to blame for his actions. That way I remove myself from all his hostilities. I simply present him a way to end his starvation – its up to him if he chooses to accept the challenge or not.
I’ll be showing you the femdom video – the nylon worship , face sitting video that inspired the idea so if you’re happy with what you’ve read that’s great … but just know that every day I have a new story with femdom videos and photos in the Patreon / FanVue pay-per-view portion below posted as close as I can to 8pm … that’s what I aim for though sometimes I come in a bit tardy at closer to 10pm.
Also a reminder that the absolute only way to contact me is via the email address you’ll find at the end of my Human Toilet Slavery book- Under Her that’s how you book a session. It’s the only way you book a session. Ok, on with the story ….
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