Instagram Photoshoot

Their hair is always dyed a different color or cut in a different manner and they own their own vintage clothing business so their style is like a picturebook. They seamlessly switch between looks and seasons, never giving into cliche. They are, of course, hotter than the sun.

They must spend hours doing their makeup and taking care of their body, I cannot find anything wrong with it, even their spill stains, though asymmetrical, blend in with their attire. When they do their makeup, each day is a new work of art— sparkling, blending, highlighting, blaspheming, parodying. If only I could be their lipstick or cotton swab that takes off their makeup each night. 

I’ve had a low-key crush on them for years, but I left it at that because they are out of my league. 

Until— a few weeks back. I was at some party and my friend and I were smoking cigarettes and having a raunchy conversation. They happened to be there and came up to bum a smoke from me as the conversation was becoming increasingly lascivious. I was just drunk enough to continue, enraptured on my perverted soapbox, and even still smooth enough to light their cigarette for them, making them smile and look at me twice.

I continued as if they weren’t there, talking about a sexual escapade that ended with a punchline I could only do justice in the moment. In sum, I went out for a late-night hook-up with someone I just met on Grindr and instead I found myself subbing until the sun came up. I didn’t tell every last detail but I said enough.

When I looked at them, expecting a disgusted or shocked expression, instead I saw a sly smile and a quiet scheming mind, like a cat plotting their next move on already weakened prey.

They blew smoke in my face and said thanks for the butt and left. 

A few days later I was in their dm’s, where I stayed. I’d message them about this and that, and once they invited me to a party that they never showed up at.

Spring turned to Summer, and I was meditating on which symbols might reach them, while they were off doing god knows what, snippets of which I could only gather through their posts and stories. They’d respond with one or two words or leave my messages on read and then return days or weeks later, asking about how I’ve been, and then ghost me again. 

Amidst this cycle, they asked me about the story I told at the party and my whole body became hot with embarrassment.

What do you like most about it?

That I was under someone else’s control and they could do anything they wanted to me.

Anything?

Yeah, pretty much, as long as it won’t send me to the hospital or make me super sick, I’m down.

Silence as the dog days of summer ushered in that familiar chill.

I am now at my rope’s end since I’ve been seeing them post more and more with this drop-dead gorgeous girl. I may have to go my own way and change my aesthetic, move to a new state, or change who I am because I don’t know what I’ll do faced with this rejection from Them. I decide to try one last time.

Hey do you wanna hang this weekend?

I press send, throw my phone deep in my backpack, and bike to work. I promise myself I won’t check my phone til my break, but I show up fifteen minutes early, stomach too twisted to eat, so I go out back, smoke, and listen to Björk.

When I pull out my phone to press play, I see their message: 

Sure, what are you doing Saturday?

I’m shocked and a tad giddy but I remind myself they’ve said this before, so I tamper my excitement and message back: 

I’m free all day, got nothin going on.

Cool, come over at 8 in the morning.

Without thinking, I message back: 

For sure, I’ll be there!

Great. Come around the back when you get here– my friend will be here, hope you don’t mind

Ofc not. I’ll see you Saturday!

~~~

I park my bike at the top of the street, thanking the gods I’m seeing them. It still feels surreal as I walk through the fog down their street lined with gray and beige triple-deckers. 73, 71, 69, 69A, 69B, 691/2, I begin to think this is some cosmic joke. Then I see those sacred numbers – 67 on the last house of a dead-end street. It’s a typical apartment house, nondescript with overgrown shrubs, no grass; litter lines their car-less driveway like rose petals on my path around back. 

I reach their door, take a deep breath, and knock three times. A few seconds later the door opens. They barely smirk when we see each other. I am, of course, in awe of them, mouth open like a hopeless believer before my Maker.

They look like they had a long night and just woke up; their multicolored hair, shiny with leftover product, is still matted and cowlicked with dreams. They have on an oversized black tank that just covers their underwear; feet in dirty white socks and sandals, so worn I see black nail polish on their toenails.

"Right on time. You look good, but you’re forgetting one thing." 

Puzzled, I laugh and ask, "What?" Out comes a leather collar from their pocket.

 "Can I put this on you?"

Still baffled, I manage to stammer "yes" after moments of incomprehensible uh’s. Smelling like sex and cigarettes, they lean in and put it on me. The collar is tight. 

"Is that too loose?" They ask.

I gulp and smile, "No.” 

"Just know that you can leave anytime you want, and if anything gets to be too much, the safe words are ‘Aurora Borealis’. "

I nod in agreement. 

"Now, I am going to clip this leash on your collar and it will stay on you for the rest of the day. And call me Master from now on." Master wraps the leash around their hands a few times and pulls it tight.

"I want to hear you say it, call me Master."  

"Yes, Master."

"Now get on your hands and knees, I’m gonna to take you on a walk in our backyard while I smoke a cigarette." 

I feel the dampness of the morning dew soak into the knees of my jeans. I crawl with them as they light their cigarette and exhale a smokey sigh. The backyard is full of trash, broken furniture, dirt patches, and crab grass. But if I was told to kiss the ground, I would, because they walk on it. 

They finish their cigarette, rattle the leash and say, "Come inside, but be quiet my friend is still sleeping."

I crawl through their threshold and mudroom into the kitchen. It smells like cigarettes and coffee.

"Would you like some coffee?" Master asks.

"Yes, Master." I say, as I look at the black and white floor.

“Good. Now, sit at the table… How do you like your coffee: cream and sugar?"

"Yes, Master."

They place a mug of coffee in front of me, then sit opposite me smirking like they have a trick up their sleeve. I reach for my coffee but before I grip the handle, Master knocks my hand away and says "Hold on, it’s not quite ready yet."

They snatch my coffee, hold it to their lips, and spit into my cup. Smiling, Master gives it back to me. "Drink it quick, before it gets too cold."

"Thank You, Master," I say before each delicious sip.

"Now come on over to the couch and get on your hands and knees, you’re going to be my footrest while I watch some cartoons." They kick their feet up on my back, cross their ankles, and swing their sandals side to side. After a few minutes their sandals fall off to the floor. The screen turns black for a second and in the reflection, I see Master’s dirty socks covering their face. My elbows falter for a split second as my body becomes hotter and hotter with desire.

Master stands up, takes one sock off, holds it up to my nose and then shoves it in my mouth. Off comes their other sock, they rub it on my face, and tell me to put it over my cock. I do as I am told.

"I wore these all day and night yesterday, saving them for you. I knew just by looking at you–   you’re a little foot perv."

I nod as they motion for me to roll over. "Let’s get you broken in before my friend gets up. Now do exactly as I say: take off your shirt, lay still and put your palms on the floor and take some deep breaths in for me. Now tell me you love my dirty feet all over your face."

Before I can get the words out their feet perfectly cover my whole face, almost like it was made for them. Master’s feet become sweaty like bare feet in sandals too long. They spit and spit and spit until it drips onto the carpet. Just when I was getting comfortable as my Master’s doormat and spittoon they tug my leash and say "come".

They walk me to their bedroom and lead me to the hamper. "Dig in there and find a black thong, it’s close to the bottom."

I do as I am told and find their underwear still clinging to a pair of leggings.

"I thought you’d like these the best. I was wearing them when I went to a rave a few nights ago and had a very long night in them… and then a long day in them after that.” Putting emphasis on the last "T".

They rip their sock from my mouth and shove the underwear in my mouth and start to laugh. "You will do just about anything, won’t you?"

"Yes, Master, anything for you." I vibrate out in ecstatic bliss as I salivate on their filthy panties.

I am led over to the desk, sitting at Master’s feet. 

"Spit out my panties," they laugh. "That’s probably the closest you’re going to come to it all day – now open."

They sit and file their nails into my mouth and wash it down with spit.

Master walks me to the bathroom but when I start to crawl too fast, they halt my advance with their foot on my head: "Always crawl behind," they say.

When we get to the bathroom sink, I kneel next to them, bare knees on the tiles. Water goes swish swish swish between Master’s teeth, then gets spit into my mouth. I swallow the sweet water and am still in a daze as my Ruler brushes their teeth. They spit spit spit their toothpaste in my mouth and on my face, then swish mouthwash in their mouth. I pray that I can taste it. Master lets me and I swish it around my mouth and only rinse after I am told.

"Wash your face and draw a hot bath. I"ll be right back." Master comes back when the bath is fully drawn. "Close your eyes."

Their foot eases me into child’s pose. Clothes drop to the floor, feet break the water, and then their whole body. Master lets out a deep sigh and sinks into the holy water.

An hour passes.

"Now go get a pint glass." 

I take my leash and walk myself to the cupboard. The kitchen is a divine mess. Dishes are strewn about and there are piles of stuff on the tables and counters complimented by overflowing ashtrays and garbage bins. I search through the cabinets and find the last clean glass and walk back to the bathroom, closing my eyes just before I enter.

"Now come here and get on your knees." Master takes the leash and the glass in one hand as the other rests on the tub. 

"You can open your eyes now." The room is filled with daylight and clarity, made surreal by their blue eyes glistening in the sun like opals. Master pulls me close like we’re talking through a confessional booth and the conversation soon takes on that tone. 

"Now I’ve liked having you here so far, but if you want to stay the rest of the day, you have to do this one thing; think of it as an initiation rite."

"I’ll do anything you want, Master. I want to please you." They laugh and tell me that I’m a weird little bitch.

"Do you like me calling you that?"

"Yes, Master." 

"Good, I’m glad,” they spit in my eyes.

"Now, fill this to the tippy-top with bathwater near my feet."

They hand me the pint glass. I do as I am told.

"Take a big sip."

Without hesitation I take a big gulp and they hold the end of the glass so that I choke and spill some of their holy water simultaneously.

"Fill the glass up again and take another big sip."

I do as I am told and they laugh and say, "turn the faucet on."

I drink a sip of bathwater and every time I do they raise their eyebrows and hide their laughter.

"Now, you want to hear what I am into?" They ask. 

"Yes, Master."

"Tell me a dirty little secret of yours first." 

I blush and hesitate, "Well…"

"Come on, come on, I want to know, tell me a dark dirty little secret." They light a cigarette with a smile. "But turn the water off first." They blow smoke in my eyes and face.

The silence of the room is deafening and their look is overly friendly and prying.

"I’ve always wanted to drink piss, have my cock stamped on by dirty boots, and be an ashtray."

"Oh yeah, what else?" They blow smoke in my face again, more sensually than before.

"Most of all, I want to suck a hot load of cum from a freshly fucked pussy." I drink another sip of bathwater.

"Stick your tongue out, say ah," they ash in my mouth. "Where else would you suck a load of cum from?" They blow their smoke in my face again.

"Anywhere you tell me, but I fantasize about sucking cum from an asshole, off feet, out of your hand, out of a condom, I just love eating cum."

"Have you eaten cum before?"

"Yes, Master. Is that what you want to hear, Master?"

"Yes, now close your eyes, don’t open them til I tell you and go back down to praising me while I shower."

They take a long steamy shower and as I rest, I think ahead with sadness about when this day will come to an end – but the day has yet to begin.

~~~

I drift off onto the astral plane only to be taken back to reality by the rattling of my leash and Master in a black bathrobe.

"Take all your clothes off except your underwear and kneel in the bathtub." They dig through the medicine cabinet and put on this cream and that perfume and I hear them sighing and sniffing and clipping until without warning, I feel their hot piss in my face. As I moan in pleasure, Master pisses in my mouth and tells me to drink it. I am uncontrollably horny and begin to caress my cock. 

"You can only touch yourself when I say, so hands off,” Master tells me. “You’re being such a good little bitch. Shower off and crawl over to my room when you’re finished." 

I crawl through the threshold and find my Master half-dressed and putting on makeup. "Stop there and open my closet. Get the tall shiny boots in the back." 

"Now put them on me." The boots have a four-inch heel and come to a point at the toe. I put them on Master while gently making eye contact. 

"Never look me in the eyes. Now lick my fucking boots clean!" I eagerly, probably over-eagerly, oblige and I lick every inch of them clean, even the bottoms. When finished, Master leads me to the TV room and says, "Lay on the floor in front of the couch."

They open the curtains, light incense, and put on music I have never heard before. Master gently toys my face with their boot to command my attention and then presses down lovingly on my neck. They make me lick and kiss the bottom of their boot again. As I am halfway through cleaning the left heel, I feel eyes on me and I look up to see Master’s friend.

"Ah, you’re up!" Master goes over and hugs their friend.

"Let me introduce you to our slave for the day – let’s call them… Toilet, since they like to be pissed on. Toilet, call my beautiful girl here Electra. Is it okay if our Electra has their way with you like I do?"

"Yes, Master and Electra, I’d like that very much." Electra lights a cigarette and talks with Master.

Electra ashes her cigarette on my chest and lap and then says, "Open up." She ashes into my mouth and keeps talking to Master without looking at me. 

"Can our slave make breakfast and coffee?"

"Toilet – [snaps fingers] – eggs, toast, waffles, bacon, coffee." I do as I am told and am eager to serve them. As I cook they both ignore me, leaving me to the poetic monologues in my head.

God, this is hot and I am fortunate to be serving them, even as their ashtray, their toilet, their object of humiliation. Anything just to be in their vicinity, in their holy apartment and among their divine things, smells, and microbes, their hair on the sticky floor, their piles of dirty dishes and dirty clothes. I tremble as I prepare every precious ingredient and clean and set the table. As they eat, Master keeps me on a short leash on the dirty floor staring at their feet.

When they finish and are talking but still picking at their food, Master puts a piece of crust between their toes and feeds it to me.

"Do you want to come play with us Electra? Before we head out?"

"Yeah, I may hang out to see what depths this slave, I mean toilet, can steep to."

Master leads me to the living room and lays me on the couch and sits on my face with their feet on my throbbing cock. They smoke a cigarette and fuck around on the phone while ashing into an ashtray sitting on my stomach. When they finish, they make me get up and kneel in front of them as they spit in my mouth and call me a new name, each one worse than the last.

"Loser, Toilet, Little Bitch, Piss Drinker, Pathetic Sissy. What else can I call you?"

"Faggot, please call me faggot Master." 

Electra comes in with a pile of dirty laundry. Master laughs, "Faggot, tell Electra that."

"Electra, I"m a faggot."

"Ha, I already knew that."

"Oh wait, can you get the polaroid camera? It’s on my dresser." Master asks.

Electra comes back with the camera and sits on the couch.

"Let’s take some pictures you won’t be posting to Insta. Don’t worry, we won’t show them to anyone, they are just for us to laugh at. And If you’re extra good, we’ll even let you take one home," says Master.

My Master tugs my leash to the floor and makes me lay down in front of the couch, twisting one boot over my cock, the other over my neck. "Electra, can you take a picture of me and my new bestie?"

"Smile!" Electra says. Click, the photo prints and Master can’t wait to see how they look. When the image develops, Master is sitting and smiling on the couch in a bleached tank top and a skirt over fishnets looking like my wildest wet dream – their boots twisted over my neck and cock.

"Let’s get one of you licking boots, I know you like that." Click, flash, it prints, Electra puts the picture face down on the end table and I lick their boots so fast they pull me away like a bad dog.

Master walks me around the room and tugs the leash and tells me to kiss the ground they walk on. Kiss kiss kiss. Electra lights a cigarette and Master says, "Oh I have a great picture idea."

"Now, Toilet, come here, near Electra’s cigarette. Electra, get a good ash and when it’s just about to fall, make sure it lands in our toilet’s mouth."

The ash tastes like sweet death – click – the photo prints as I swallow it and Electra blows smoke in my eyes and laughs. 

Master and Electra laugh even more when the photo develops and then they show it to me. Electra’s fragile, tattooed hand, cloaked in smoke from her cigarette, an eraser sized ash on my tongue—my eyes are rolled back in my head from sheer ecstasy.

Master spits on me and slaps me and tugs my hair down to the ground. They put their bare feet on my face and tells me to lick them, knowing that I saw them on the carpet. I lick the bottoms of their feet as they rub them on my face. When their feet part, the camera clicks and another photo is added to the pile. 

"Let’s save the rest of the roll for later, we need to start getting ready to leave, Electra… Now Toilet, I want you to stay here until we leave. When we are gone, do our laundry, clean the bathroom, the kitchen, and the living room. You should still be working when we get back. And when we do, get in the tub on your hands and knees, and leave the curtain open."

~~~

I do as I am told and clean their mountains of dishes, I make their gray tub white, I change their sheets and make their beds, I water their plants and clean the mudroom. I clean their holy filth with a religious sensibility. I purify each area in hopes I can be so lucky in a few months to come back and clean again when the grime and dust and piles of hair build up over the weeks, months, and seasons. I wash my hands and light a candle and turn the lights low as the sun sets and I am in the middle of vacuuming the hallway when I hear Electra’s and Master’s laughter echoing through the hallway and the click-clacking of their holy boots and the doorknob turn.

I quickly run into the bathroom and get on my hands and knees in the tub. A few minutes later my Master comes in. They ignore me and piss in the toilet.

As they wash their hands they speak to me – "So Toilet, I got you a gift I thought you might like. It’s my toilet paper from when I took a piss at the café we went to."

My gift is in a plastic baggy with "Toilet" and a poorly drawn heart written on it in sharpie.

They put the baggy in my lips just so that it dangles around my chin, then they open the bag and tell me to keep it like that. Master leaves and Electra comes in. 

"So, Toilet," Electra says with a friendly cajole. "I heard you like drinking piss and eating cum. Master told me everything. You’ll have to clean my room extra hard if you want me to keep it a secret. Now I have something for you I think you might like."

Electra leaves the room then comes back with a little box of sex toys, dildo’s, plugs, vibrators, gags, and more.

"I want you to clean these for us. But, uh, with your tongue first." To help me along Electra grabs a metal plug with a fox tail on the end and makes me keep it in my mouth til they are gone.

I hear them laugh and freshen up, and soon after, they leave into the freshly blossoming night. Cleaning the dildos is not the hard part, not cumming my pants is, however, so I take another cold shower and do their chores some more until they come back again around midnight. 

The moment I remember I still have the majority of the dildo’s to clean, I hear them from outside the street yelling and laughing and obnoxiously drunk. Their boots and yells vibrate the walls of the house as if they are an invading army. My heart pounds in my chest and my insides feel like falling confetti. They come in and eat and joke around and laugh with abandon and eventually stumble into the bathroom, where I am on all fours in the tub gagging on their dirty dildo’s.

They both forgot my existence until they see me and burst out laughing.

"How could we forget we have our Toilet Loser in here!" Master exclaims.

Electra tugs me out of the bath and bathroom and into the living room. They both take their boots off. "Now clean our boots."

They do a little blow and drink wine coolers as I shine their shoes with my tongue. As they smoke cigarettes they continue to use me as their ashtray and spittoon. They make out with each other as I have their cigarette ash in my mouth; my cock throbs and I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be. 

What was a pipe dream a few days ago has exploded into a debauched, and perverted reality. I don’t know what love is, but perhaps it is cleaning your Master’s boots with your tongue. I’m not an expert, I just like to be a filthy submissive.

Electra whispers in Master’s ear loud enough for me to hear: "We still have the rest of the camera." They both laugh.

Master gets the camera and they joke with Electra about our "Instagram Photoshoot." They take me into the bathroom and point at the toilet seat. 

"Lick it and look pretty for the camera." Click – flash – the photo prints and is put on the edge of the bathroom sink.

"Now, Toilet, we have another gift for you. Electra and I made some friends at the bar, and we all spit in this cup for you. I came up with the idea as we were all talking about what we did to you today. I told them we’d send them a picture of you and the empty cup to prove we’re not fucking around."

I drink it in one gulp and smile for the camera with the empty cup. 

The fear of being found gets me off, and I don’t mind proving that to consenting strangers who may or may not know my name or face, may or may not remember my face, and see me another time, at a business meeting, as the friend of a new lover, cashing my check at the bank. I stew in my lustful, soft paranoia with a cock hard as a rock to prove that I am not ashamed of being a filthy little bitch to society.

Electra and Master leave the room and have loud sex for over an hour – making sure I hear some parts, but not others.

After a while they bring me in to lick their toes and call me names. I crawl and lick and suck as they spank and suck and lick and fuck and moan and curse my name.

When they climax, thunder strikes, lightning flashes. The sky opens up and rain pours on the windows in an increasingly loud din.

Electra pulls me over to look at my Master’s juicy red pussy, their legs still shaking from the endless intense orgasms. Electra speaks to me: "I know what you want… to lick this sweet cum from this even sweeter pussy, don’t you? Well, they told me you can’t have it unless you lick it from the bottom of their boot."

Without hesitating I get the boots they wore tonight. A pearl of white drips from Master’s pussy on the black, tarnished bottom of their boot. Then the whole load falls slowly onto the boot with a tender glow.

"Wait right there." Electra gets the camera. "Show me the cum on your boot and hold it next to your face and look into the camera." Click – the photo prints and is put face down on the nightstand with the others we took earlier.

"Now slurp the cum from the boot." I tremble and lick the bottom of their boot clean again.

Click – the photo prints. "One photo left, Toilet, what’s it gonna be?"

She takes me to the bathroom and makes me sit in the tub and lights a cigarette. She ashes in my mouth but then notices I forgot to take out the trash so she dumps it on me. She slowly pisses in my mouth, laughing all the while making sure I drink every drop.

"Lay on your back and kick your feet over your head so I can hold your ankles. Start jerking your cock for me. Don’t take too long… you need to leave and I want to cuddle with your Master."

I cum in less than a minute and when I open my mouth in moaning pleasure my load falls down my throat and spatters across my face. Electra spits on me and laughs. As I revel from my orgasm, Electra takes a photo and throws it at me.

"Keep that to remember how low you can go. Now clean this up, take the trash out with you and leave. You’ll be lucky to see us again.”

I do as I am told and pause at their threshold looking out into the pouring rain as the grayness of the sky blinds my eyes.

Photo by Kamaji Ogino