Me and Miss Lith are completely merciless today, zero fucking mercy. Last night I took her to that little Italian restaurant that drives me wild. I made her try the whole damn menu: handmade prosciutto antipasti, pasta with thick ragù that sits heavy in your stomach for hours, dense creamy tiramisù, strong espresso to finish it off. Italian food is perfect in how heavy it is—it fills you slowly until your belly turns hard, warm, packed full of that delicious pressure that makes you grin just thinking about it. This morning we looked at each other and knew right away: time to empty ourselves.We dragged the slave into the living room and made him lie flat on his back on the cold floor, arms straight at his sides, no ropes, no cuffs—just the sharp order not to move even one millimetre. Head tilted back against the low bench, neck stretched tight, throat exposed, mouth held wide open with his own hands keeping his lips pulled apart because he knows if he closes it for even a second the slaps start—or worse. No ring gag, no silicone funnel: just his bare mouth, lips stretched thin, tongue crushed to the floor of his mouth, teeth trembling a little while he tries to breathe through his nose.His face is a fucking show: eyes wide open begging in silence, pupils blown huge from panic, forehead already slick with sweat, cheeks burning red with shame. He whimpers softly, a choked little “please no” that barely escapes because his mouth is held open to the absolute limit.We couldn’t give less of a shit.I squatted over him first, knees planted on either side of his head, ass hovering just centimetres above his gaping lips. I took a deep breath, relaxed every muscle… the first wave came out slow, thick, hot—a dark brown block that dropped straight onto his tongue and coiled there like a snake settling in. The smell flooded the room in one second: strong, raw, animal, our scent mixed with yesterday’s coffee and food. He jerked hard, tried to twist his head to the side but I grabbed a handful of his hair and locked his face right under me.I pushed again: second wave, softer, even bigger, filling his mouth until it overflowed at the corners. Thick pieces sliding slowly down his cheeks, over his chin, trailing shiny brown streaks down his neck. He coughs, gags, eyes flooding with tears but he doesn’t dare close his mouth—he knows exactly what happens if he does.Miss Lith is right next to me, laughing quietly while she runs her hand down my back. “Good girl, pack him full. I don’t want any room left when it’s my turn.”Between the two of us it’s got to be at least two kilos of warm, compact shit scented straight from our bodies—heavy, sticky stuff that can’t be swallowed quickly. He has to chew slowly, feel every piece slide down his throat one by one, throat visibly working while he fights not to puke. If he slows, if he tries to hold his breath or act disgusted, the whip comes out instantly: the short one with multiple tails that leaves red welts across his chest, thighs, cock if we feel like it. We showed it to him this morning, let it whistle through the air just to burn the reminder into him.And the full service doesn’t end there: my golden champagne, hot and sharp, poured straight down his throat while he’s still stuffed full to help wash the load down without him choking too hard Miss Lith’s long, stringy morning spit fired right into his mouth to season the mouthful and make sure he remembers he’s nothing but a human toilet our low, cruel laughter while we watch him struggle, cough, swallow with wet shiny eyes and a filthy smeared face every now and then a foot pressing down hard on his chest to keep him pinned, or a sharp slap across the cheek to remind him who fucking owns him.Two heartless goddesses, bellies finally light and satisfied, one gaping mouth to fill until it’s ready to burst. The only real rule: Eat. Everything. Not a single crumb lost, mouth never closing, no whining. Or get ready to suffer twice as much—and you know we love it way more when you really suffer.

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MISTRESS LUDOVICA LUXURY at Yezzclips