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One week. Seven days. One hundred and sixty eight hours.
"You completely understand what you are signing up for, yes?"
I look at the man standing before me - a relative stranger before today, a man I've been in correspondence with for a few months now but whom I've never met before today - and nod, taking from him the pen and clipboard full of papers that he presents to me. He smiles as he continues, his accent that particular stripe of middle-European that I've never quite been able to place.
"Good. Only it is quite often that we find women who are prepared to come this far but back out when... how do you say, when the facts are staring them in the face. So, if I could please have your full attention as I go through the questions and have you sign each of the statements as appropriate?"
As he says this, he gestures to one of his assistants, who swoops in with a hand-held digital camcorder, recording all of this. I must look quite the sight - black hair done up in my signature spikes, thigh-high black PVC boots with the most obscenely, absurdly tall heels, one PVC glove covering my left arm to the middle of the upper arm, its right-handed twin on the ground next to me, a black choker with small steel spikes and an engraved plate reading 'TOILET,' otherwise stark naked. I give the producer my attention as he reads out the first of the statements I will be giving my confirmation and consent to.
"You are Elaine Claire Morris, your date of birth August 21st 1981, and you are signing this waiver and release on Sunday October 23rd, 2011?"
This is all correct; I swallow, my heard doing a quick pitter-patter, and put my signature next to the statement at the top of the form. Smiling, the producer continues.
"You confirm that you will be in the care of our firm for exactly one week, starting at 6:00 PM today, Sunday October 23rd Sunday 2011, and concluding at 6:00 PM on Sunday 30th October 2011?"
I place an elegant tick through the box labelled 'I do' before adding my signature to this statement as well.
"You confirm that during this period, you consent to video recordings, audio recordings, and still pictures of yourself being made by the firm; that you will receive, within one week of the end of your time in our care, a complete copy of all such recordings made during your stay here as well as such edited highlights, to your specification, that the firm is able to produce; and that the firm is otherwise free to use all such recordings in whatever manner it deems fit, including but not limited to commercial release via DVD and digital distribution?"
Another box; I tick it and sign my name against it.
"You confirm that you waive any rights to contest or be compensated for the use of these recordings, or of your name and photographic likeness, by the firm?"
With a delicious thrill running through me, I sign this statement, feeling as I do so that I'm signing away a part of my soul. The producer smiles as I do so.
"Good. That is the legal part of the questions mostly done with, I think now we look at questions about the content?" My eyes roam briefly down the remainder of the form, and a heat rises in me, between my legs, in my chest, colouring my cheeks scarlet as he continues.
"You confirm that during this week you will not make, nor attempt to make, any communications with people outside of the firm and this location, to include telephone calls, text messages, and other forms of electronic communication?"
I do; tick-and-sign.
"You confirm that during this week you consent to being physically restrained in any manner the firm or anyone present at this location may deem appropriate; and that you waive any right to request release from physical restraint for any reason except medical or safety concerns?"
I do; tick-and-sign.
"You confirm that you have provided the firm with a certificate of your good health and lack of communicable disease; and that you are satisfied that the firm has obtained such a certificate from any person you may come in contact with during your week in the firm's care?"
I have, and I do; tick-and-sign.
"You confirm your advance consent to acts of penetrative sex during this week, including vaginal, oral, and anal penetration, by one or multiple partners; and that you waive any right to withdraw this consent in whole or part, or to request that contraceptive or protective measures be used?"
I do; Lord above, I do. Tick-and-sign, as I move further down the form.
"You confirm your advance consent to the use of human urine and faeces during this week, your own and that of others present at this location, including all forms of faecal-skin contact, faecal-genital contact including vaginal insertion, and faecal-oral contact including swallowing?"
How can I say no? Tick-and-sign.
"You confirm that you will accept instruction from others present in line with the activities described above, and your advance consent to the use of reasonable force to secure your compliance with any such instruction?"
Tick-and-sign; only a few questions remain.
"You confirm that you release the firm from all generally applicable obligations regarding hygeine and clealiness for the duration of this weel; and that in particular you waive the right to request that the firm provide for your own hygeine and cleanliness and that of your surroundings?"
Tick-and-sign; and so I come to the last question, the one that confirms just how far I've come, just how far I've fallen, from that night when I assuaged my shame at my willingness to eat shit by telling myself that I was only doing it for the £200 I was paid.
"You confirm that for the provision of this service, you are to pay the firm, in advance, the sum of one thousand Euros?"
Tick. Swallow. Sign.
The producer smiles, taken the pen, clipboard, and signed form from me, and around us, the room and its participants ease into greater action. Cameras are double-checked, males in various states of undress - the other participants in this little adventure - start to gather. One of the various gofers returns from off-set - I can't help but think of this space as such - with my purse, hands it to me; I rifle through it with my one ungloved hand and draw out a small wad of crisp, unfamiliar Euro notes. I count off exactly one thousand, pass them to the producer who counts them himself and, satisfied, hands them back to the gofer with a smile to me.
"Very good. We are very nearly ready; we will be restraining you now. Please," here he gestures at me, "put on your other glove and place your hands on the heels of your boots."
The glove is snug but not too tight, very little in the way of 'muffin top' appearing where my arm leaves the sleeve of pliable PVC. I reach back, curl my fingers around the tall, narrow heel of each boot, taking a firm grip of them; each heel is tall enough that I can grasp them completely and still leave the bottom two inches of the heel exposed. Another gofer descends, this time wielding a roll of black electrical tape; with deft motions he begins to bind fingers to heel, wrapping the tape around over and over until my hands are securely in place and there's no way for me to tug, tear, or break free. I shift a little, testing the restraint, finding them to my liking, the tape securely bonded to even the slick PVC surface of my gloves and bootheels.
The producer looks down at me with that oh-so-strange smile upon his face, then checks his watch.
"Very good. All preparation has been done; the forms are signed, the monies are paid, you are restrained, and it is now six o'clock."
"Please... enjoy your week as a human toilet."
Comments for One week as a Human Toilet - The Deal
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Categories: Group Sex / Threesome, Oral Sex, Being Taped, The Audience / Voyeur, Force/Rape, The Fetishists
Location: A theater | Roleplay: Other
Fulfillment: Act on it | Nature: Humiliating