Mistress Shits In Slaves Mouth

Mistress Shits In Slaves Mouth

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This video will make you marvel at the extent that most people will go to get money.

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The Yahoo boy positioned himself under the lady and opened his mouth to swallow the faeces.

In the video obtained from @famousblogng on Twitter, you will see a lady discharge faeces directly into a guy’s mouth.

Yahoo boy who eats bread and excreta

You will recall that a Nigerian lady, Barbie Ulonna recently opened up about regrets she had over dating a Yahoo boy who reportedly eats bread and excreta as part of an instruction outlined for money making rituals.

There are also reports of a a new money ritual system which requires wealth seekers to bark like a dog once a month in order to be rich.

In a clip posted by Instablog9ja on Friday, April 13, 2018, a young man was captured in this act while his buddies made fun of him.

According to the report, the new trend common in Ijebu-Ode, located in Ogun State, Nigeria.

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The momentous day had finally arrived. Goddess had suggested many ways I might be of service to Her, apart from my ongoing financial servitude – a role I endeavoured to perform with maximum commitment in order that She remain happy with me and look favourably on me as a slave of worth and merit.
To deepen my commitment to Her, and ensure I obsessed about her more and more, and thought only about Her, and did nothing else but work and work and work for Her, Goddess had occasionally given me ‘assignments’ and ‘tasks’ to complete, honing my focus on Her divinity. But nothing had approached the size of this task.
Goddess had emailed to tell me I would serve Her – for an entire day – as an inanimate object. That meant, She explained in her matter-of-fact way, that I would be used for 24 hours as anything from human furniture to a human carpet, an ashtray, a rubbish bin, a general receptacle or anything else She deemed useful. I would not be able to speak nor utter any sound that could be construed as ‘human’ for the entire day. I was to abandon – Goddess stressed – any semblance of humanity and exist purely as an object for her use (and great amusement, I gathered).
Afraid that I would fail this demanding task, I spent the week leading up to it doing rigorous exercise – standing still for as long as possible, kneeling for long stretches of time, even standing like a stork on one leg, in case Goddess demanded such a position on the day. Still I feared I would fail her. I also greatly feared what She might have me do – that it would be painful, or publicly humiliating, or both. And I also feared what She would do to me if I didn’t complete my day as an object properly. The fear was both terrifying and strangely arousing.
The big day finally arrived. Goddess asked me to meet Her at a busy downtown coffeehouse. “Stand out the front until I arrive… like a statue. Not one movement,” were Her exact instructions. I did so, of course. People walked past into the coffeshop wondering if I were a piece of performance art or a busker, I stood there so long and so still waiting for Goddess. Finally She arrived and barely glanced at me, ordered me to follow her into the shop. Once inside she told me to stand in a corner next to a cat rack and umbrella stand. Goddess was wearing a camel trenchcoat over a dress that accentuated her beautiful body. “Your first task as my object is to serve as My coat stand,” She informed me, “as well as for anyone else who cares to use you in this way.” Some girlfriends of Hers would be joining Her in a minute, She told me, and would also deposit their coats on me. “If any of the coats drop to the floor, slave, there will be severe punishment later. You are not to move an inch until I’m done here,” She told me ominously.
With that She removed Her coat and placed its neck over my head, the back of the garment obscuring my face and my front, so that everyone sitting at the tables drinking coffee could see only the shape of a man inside a woman’s beautiful trench coat. The embarrassment was intense.
Inside Her coat I could only listen as Goddess ordered coffee and sat at a table somewhere in the shop. Soon enough i heard Her greeting two girlfriends as they came into the shop. After some small talk I heard Her tell them to place their coats “on my personal coat stand – it’s standing over there.” The girls sniggered and expressed disbelief but were shortly standing in front of me waiting to “hang” their coats. Anticipating their needs, I raised each arm to a horizontal position so they could place their coats over them. They laughed again before returning to Goddess’ table to chat and drink coffee.
I remained this way for more than an hour. It took immense discipline and concentration to remain perfectly still, aware that Goddess would be monitoring me from time to time, ready to punish the slightest quiver. My bladder was full and sweat had begun to trickle down the back of my neck, I felt my left leg was about to begin shaking, but the way Goddess had referred to me as “It” (and would do so for the rest of the day) helped me to keep my focus. Finally I heard chairs shift and the coats were removed. I remembered not to meet the gaze of Goddess nor her friends but looked at the floor, relieved I had completed the first task.
With a short, “Follow me”, Goddess was striding off down the street… I followed at the required distance of about a metre, attempting to appear as inconspicuous as possible. Goddess headed into the mall and straight into a shoe store. My next task as Her object was about to commence. After browsing for a while, Goddess selected a couple of pairs of heels to try on. While the shop assistant retrieved them from the back of the store, She told me to get on all fours and serve as Her seat so She could try the shoes on. The numerous Women in the shop looked around as I sank to the ground and made the firmest and straightest seat possible for the divine bottom of my Goddess. Some laughed, some gasped, and one lady told Goddess, “I wish I had one of those…”
The shop assistant also expressed surprise on her return but as she removed the shoes from their box, Goddess reassured her: “It’s ok, it’s my slave. In fact, it’s less than that today. It’s an object… please just forget it’s here and proceed as if it’s another piece of furniture, which it is…”
Goddess tried on many, many, many shoes. I remained rigid throughout, I hoped, keeping my back not arched as it would naturally be but straight so that Her perfect posterior would not feel it was sitting on an uneven surface.
Sometimes Goddess would get up to browse some more shelves. I remained on all fours, as still as could be. A few times other women in the shop accidentally stepped on my fingers, not watching where they were walking… it seemed I was actually becoming a piece of barely noticeable furniture. Each would exclaim, “Sorry!” before Goddess assured them they should not apologise, and could tread further on my fingers and hands should they wish.
Eventually Goddess chose three pairs of shoes She desired and moved towards the register. She clicked her fingers. This, I knew from past experience, meant I was to rise and extract my wallet to pay for Her selections. The shop assistant smiled knowingly at Goddess as I paid. “You’re a lucky girl,” she remarked. Goddess looked straight through Her – there was not
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Mistress Shits In Slaves Mouth

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