Mistress Anna sat on her golden throne, dressed in a luxurious robe that billowed around her. Her eyes were fixed upon her newest acquisition, a kneeling male slave who trembled before her. His chest was bare, revealing a tattoo of a gleaming toilet seat adorning his muscled torso. The word 'Toilet' was written in bold, fancy lettering just below it.
She surveyed the scene before her, taking in the sight of the trembling slave and the alabaster chamber pot placed next to her throne. Mistress Anna was well-known for her unusual tastes, and today was no exception. Today, she would use her slave as both a receptacle for her waste and as a method of cleansing herself afterward.
"Open wide, toilet," she commanded in a soft, yet authoritative voice. "It's time for your mistress to relieve herself."
The slave's eyes widened in fear, but he could not disobey his Mistress. Slowly, he opened his mouth, revealing his pink tongue and the tip of his eagerly awaiting throat. Mistress Anna smiled wickedly as she positioned herself over the bowl, her naked posterior suspended in the air above his face.
Without further ado, she released a torrent of hot, steaming feces into the bowl, filling it to the brim with her putrid waste. The stench was nauseating, even to her, but she took pride in the power she held over her slaves. She gestured to the chamber pot, and the nervous slave scooped up a healthy portion of the filth with his hands, bringing it closer to her throne.
"Lick it clean, toilet," Mistress Anna commanded again, her voice laced with menace.
The slave began to clean the feces from the chamber pot with his tongue, coating each item inside with a thin film of his saliva. When he had finished, he placed it back at her feet, waiting for further instruction.
Mistress Anna looked down upon her creation one final time before speaking again. "Now, toilet," she said coolly, "I believe it's your turn."
The slave lowered its head into the chamber pot, submersing itself completely in the putrid mess. It swam through the thick, opaque liquid until it found what it was looking for: Mistress Anna's excrement. The slave opened its mouth wide and raised its tongue, allowing the foul substance to coat every inch of its tongue. Then, with a look of pure adoration on its face, the slave raised its head and pressed its mouth against Mistress Anna's rear end, cleaning her anus with its own tongue.
Mistress Anna felt the warmth of the slave's tongue against her asshole, and she giggled wickedly. "That's a good toilet," she purred, allowing herself a moment of indulgence before dismissing the slave.
As the slave crawled away, Mistress Anna sat back on her throne, surveying her handiwork. The room was thick with the smell of excrement and despair, but she found it intoxicating. She was the Mistress, and they were her toilets. It was a beautiful relationship, one that she intended to maintain for as long as possible.
