Mistress Jardena was not one to tolerate tardiness. As it was, she had an important meeting with a potential investor in the morning, and her patience was wearing thin. When her beloved latex bitch, secured in tight shiny ropes, finally struggled into her presence, the look she gave him was one of cold fury.
"You're late," she hissed, her red lips pulling back from stark white teeth. "I will not have my schedule disrupted by incompetence. You disgust me."
The man, shivering in anticipation, bowed his head in submission. It was a privilege for him simply to be in her presence, to serve her in any way she saw fit. Even though he knew that he had disappointed her, the thought of what she might do to him filled him with both terror and insatiable lust.
"Prepare the bathroom," she commanded, her voice like icy steel against his skull. "And make sure it's spotless. I will not have my domain dirty."
He nodded, already hurrying to comply. Moments later, he reappeared, leading his mistress to the luxurious bathroom he had prepared for her. The steam rising from the tub caressed her skin as she slipped out of her latex catsuit, revealing perfect curves underneath. Her latex-covered breasts stood out in stark contrast against her flawless skin, glistening with sweat in the soft light.
"Kneel before me," she commanded, her voice still cool and detached. The man knelt at her feet, looking up at her in a mixture of awe and dread. "Now show me your true colors."
With that, she kicked him hard in the chest, sending him sprawling onto the cold tile floor. The cruel smile that played upon her lips hinted at the torment to come. As he struggled to his knees once more, she stepped out of her high-heeled boots, revealing talon-like toenails that promised pain.
"You disgust me," she repeated, squatting down over him so that he could see the disgust etched into every line of her face. With that, she took hold of his head and forced him to look her in the eye. Then, with practiced ease, she released a torrent of diarrhea onto his face, the warm, foul-smelling liquid splattering against his skin.
"This is what you are," she hissed, her breath hot against his cheek. "Filthy, useless trash. Luckily for you, I'm feeling generous today. Drink it up."
He could barely contain his revulsion, even as he realized what he was being told to do. But he was hers, body and soul. Swallowing hard, he reached up with trembling lips and began to lave at her heels, tasting the bitter mix of her feces and desperation on his tongue. As he did so, she leaned back against the cool tile, a look of satisfaction spreading across her beautiful features.
"That's a good boy," she purred, reaching down to stroke his hair tenderly. "Now clean yourself up and stand ready for your mistress. We have important business to attend to."
With that, she rose from the floor, stepping lightly in her discarded boots. Despite everything, despite the horror and the humiliation, the man couldn't help but feel a strange sense of gratitude towards her. After all, he was hers, and nothing else mattered.
