Let me be raw- notes from a scat scene

Let me be raw, unedited.Desire and debauchery are not always pretty.I can not glamorize the scene Strider and I did.There is no pretty way to say fuck you bitch down on your knees my head encased in shit my stomach opened up and raw as bits of food excape my body, wihs i could have escaped, stuck in this moment of raw. There is no warm up for scat play. It hits you between the eyes, forces you down, breaks the will... at least it does for me.I don't like scat.I don't do this stuff.But I look in the mirror and there my face is, caked in brown, drooling with the hope that if I just breathe through my mouth and continuously spit out the flecks that make it into that orafice I can make myself stop wanting to vomit... but it's up in my nose, rubbed into my hair, and he just won't stop. He just won't stop.A mutual friend of ours introduced Strider and I to one another saying that "I was the kinkiest person she knew"... He has ever since tried to prove me wrong. I am not into raunch. It's not what I do. But I do it. I feel compelled. Train wreck. I am a train wreck.I have diverse desires, I do everything. He does what he does and does it well. He delves deeper- I merely dabble in every pool.My tongue is up in his ass. I know what is coming, can't stop it, have to stop it, a screech echoes out of my mouth and is stopped by his body as he forces his way into me and I just can't escape can't escape, and I have to spit it out can't spit it out am consumed from the inside out. I fall, broken, brown beneath me, on me, caked in my lap as handful at a time he scoops me up in his whims and makes me into his Shitake Princess, his beast of labour. His labour of love. I become what he wants, and I take the back seat and watch on in horror at the face in the mirror.Once shit is under your nose... it won't go away. I've bathed and it still won't come off. I smell him everywhere. Eventually he tries to bathe me, but water and soap and scat get up my nose and I freak out, I scream, I flail. Dancer is convinced the cops will get called. I apparently clawed him, almost beat him. It had to stop, didn't stop, I cry and drool... drool keeping my mouth from swallowing- can not close my mouth, I'll end up swallowing.I enjoyed washing my mouth out with soap, had to make it stop. I collapse, unable to move, in a puddle of shower wash-off, recycled rice and vegetables, his body wastes and my fear. I am a mess. I am a thing. My brain is gone, I try to let my brain go, have to let my brain go so I don't intellectualize, and as I start to intellectualize it hits me how cold and miserable and broken I feel, how I can still feel him under my nose.Somewhere in there I had an asthma attack. Somewhere in there my ankles popped. Somewhere in there I screamed, I fought, I broke down, I became something someone other than me. In the mirror she points at me, covered in filth, a hood of shit. I blink, lost, not in my skin.Somewhere in there he stands me up and helps me finish washing off. Somewhere in there I regain my words.I am raw. Raw nerve. Raw bones. Raw heart exposed and defecated on. I am his precious thing. I will never be his French Slave Toilet, his Chienne Mary- but he speaks of it, speaks of transforming me, as I try so hard to claw my way back into being B. He calls me his princess. He calls me his girl. He tells me daddy loves me. He tells me all this and I just smile and blink.I transform, become, and try to find myself. I wear masks, wear faces, try and explore that in hope I will find bits of myself scattered amongst the mirrors of eyes that face back at me.I am raw. I sit here now in the office after we've spent the evening sharing porn and stories. Dancer sleeps on. I can taste his cum in my belly after a long blowjob with every bone in my body aching. And I have tomorrow open now too...Blood, sweat, tears, scat, and my little finger severed at the joint. He whispers in my ears and I want to cry, I cry, but need to listen on. Addiction. Hope to understand. Hope to venture down to hades and come back... come back.Can I come back? What have I what do I become in the reflection of debasement that I become?Rune insisted I am a slave, his words echoing as the cuts in my back dig in and I reidentify identity. Rune stating that its what I need to be, long to be. Strider speaking of what I could do, what I could be, as we dream and speak of slavery, servitude, and Masters degree programs.But what do I need to be? I don't know. Don't know.I need a voice to connect to, a line of hematite and silver ribbon through space... and no voice echoes back. But I am strong, I am patient, and I wait for my Owner.