As I, Miss Dula, sat at my immaculate dining table, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride. The candlelight flickered gently on the polished silverware and china, casting a warm glow across the perfectly arranged feast before me. Tonight's meal was truly exquisite - a masterpiece worthy of the Royal Court, let alone my humble abode. My slave's wide-eyed admiration only served to further enhance the satisfaction I felt for my culinary prowess.
"What do you think, you worthless piece of shit?" I inquired, tilting my head in his direction as he bowed his head in submission.
"It's the best meal I've ever had the privilege of tasting, Milady." His voice quivered with a mixture of fear and awe.
"I'm glad you approve." Leaning back in my chair, I daintily picked up a grape with my manicured fingers and popped it into my mouth, savoring the sweetness that exploded on my tongue. His eyes followed every move, eager for any sign of approval from his Mistress.
After a few moments of enjoying my dessert, I flashed him a devilish grin. "You know what comes next, don't you, vermin?"
His eyes widened further, yet he knew better than to protest. This was the Scarpetta - an ancient Italian tradition where one shows their gratitude for a wonderful meal by offering their guest the anointed honor of serving as the vessel for disposing of the leftovers. And believe me, as his Mistress, I take great joy in seeing him consume every last morsel of food with such reverence... and then some.
I watched, a cruel smile tugging at my lips, as he knelt down before me, his eyes never leaving my face. With trembling hands, he started by taking a small bite from my plate - careful not to upset his delicate mistress. His face scrunched up in disgust as he tasted the remnants of pasta sauce and meatballs mixed with his saliva and spit. But he had no choice; I had trained him well to understand that disobedience would only lead to further torment.
As he continued to consume more and more of my leftovers, I couldn't help but feel a perverse satisfaction wash over me. I let out a soft giggle as I noticed him scooping up a stray noodle that had stuck to the side of the plate, clearly longing for it to be the last. But no, I would not allow that. I had other plans for him.
Suddenly, I stood up from my chair and towered over him, a look of pure malice etched on my face. "On your knees." My voice was like a whip, causing him to comply instantly. "All fours," I ordered, and he obeyed without question.
Lowering myself onto the floor beside him, I grasped his hair and pulled his face towards me. "Now, eat it all," I demanded. And he did - eagerly, almost desperately shoving my leftovers down his throat as I watched with cold, detached amusement. His face was soon covered in my food and spit, but I wasn't finished yet.
I should say he was not only to eat my leftovers but also my shit. You see, my slave loves the taste of my excrement. I know it's unorthodox, but it's one of those quirks I've grown quite fond of over the years. So while he was busy cleaning himself from head to toe in my leftovers and spit, I casually walked over to my toilet and sat down, taking care not to make too much noise.
Moments later, I heard him whimper as he sunk onto the floor, his face scrunched up in disgust at the sight of what he knew awaited him. "You didn't really mean it, Milady, did you?" He pleaded, but I could see the anticipation in his eyes.
"Oh, but I did," I purred, casually wiping my ass with some toilet paper. "Now open wide," I commanded as I carefully positioned myself over his face.
The scent of my freshly shit was strong in the air, yet he couldn't resist; he opened his mouth as wide as he could, his tongue darting out tentatively to taste the first morsel. And that's when I let it all go - unleashing a torrent of my warm, steaming feces directly onto his face. I laughed manically as he gagged and spluttered, his eyes watering from the stench and the heat. But he couldn't stop himself; he was compelled by my twisted game to swallow every bite, every morsel of my shit.
As he worked tirelessly to clean my waste from his face, I continued to berate and insult him, relishing in his helplessness. It was the perfect way to end such a wonderful meal, don't you agree?
