Lady Grace, a dominant mistress with high standards, was intrigued by the news about a new toilet slave in town. As she watched the slave's arrival at her estate, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of interest. She knew that not just anyone could serve as a toilet slave, let alone one who could be worthy of the title "toiletmouth."
With a hint of curiosity mixed with amusement, Lady Grace decided to test the new slave's abilities. She didn't want to rush to judgment and believed that everyone deserved a chance to earn their stripes. After all, the dungeon was filled with those who thought they were ready but failed miserably.
As the slave knelt before her, Lady Grace assessed his appearance. He was younger than most of her slaves, probably in his early twenties, with an athletic build that hinted at his past life. His eyes were downcast, filled with fear and anticipation, but there was also a glimmer of determination that caught her attention.
"You know why you're here?" Lady Grace asked, her voice cold but calm.
The slave nodded nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed hard. "I am to be your toilet slave, milady. To serve you in any way you see fit."
Lady Grace smirked to herself. He seemed eager enough, which boded well for his training. "Very good," she said, her voice softening slightly. "But let me make one thing clear. I have not yet earned the title 'toiletmouth.' You must prove yourself worthy of it."
The young man's eyes widened, and he hesitated before asking, "How can I prove myself, milady?"
"Simple," she replied, a cruel smile curling her lips. "I must shit, and you must receive it in your mouth. If you are successful, then we shall see about bestowing that honorific upon you."
The slave swallowed hard, his throat bobbing visibly as his face flushed with embarrassment. Nodding anxiously, he responded, "Yes, milady. I understand."
Lady Grace descended from her throne, her long black dress swishing around her ankles. She walked gracefully towards the slave, never breaking eye contact. As she reached him, she shifted her weight slightly and let out a loud sigh, indicating that she was about to defecate.
The slave closed his eyes, bracing himself for what was to come. He had been trained to receive his mistress's waste in his mouth, but this was different. This was Lady Grace, one of the most feared and respected dominatrixes in Berlin. He couldn't afford to disappoint her.
The warm, soft pile landed on the slave's tongue, causing him to gag slightly. He leaned forward, opening his mouth wider to accommodate the mass in his mouth. Closing his eyes again, he began to chew and swallow as fast as he could, determined not to vomit in front of his new mistress.
Lady Grace observed him dispassionately, her face devoid of emotion. She watched as the slave struggled with the thickness and the smell of her excrement before finally swallowing it down. When he opened his eyes and looked up at her, she nodded in approval.
"Not bad," she said, her voice a soft growl. "But remember, this is just the beginning. From now on, you will live and breathe as a toilet slave, serving me and my guests in any way we see fit."
The young man bowed his head, nodding in agreement. As he rose, Lady Grace could see the determination in his eyes, but also a glimmer of fear. He knew what he had signed up for, and he was terrified of failing. But for now, he was her toilet slave, and he would serve her well.
