As Lady Scarlet waited for her new slave to arrive, she couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation and amusement. The slave was coming all the way from Finland to be her personal toilet, and Lady Scarlet was looking forward to making full use of him.
When the doorbell rang, Lady Scarlet made her way to the entrance of her lavish mansion, her heels clicking on the marble floor. She opened the door and stood before the trembling slave, who knelt before her, his eyes filled with fear and humiliation.
"Rise, slave," she commanded, her voice echoing through the hallway. The slave hesitantly got up, his hands trembling. Lady Scarlet took a step closer and pointed to her feet, which were adorned in high heels. "Worship my feet," she ordered, her voice taking on a more dominating tone. "Show me what you are worthy of."
The slave kneeled before her again, his head bowed low. He reached out hesitantly towards her feet, his fingers grazing against the soft, silken fabric of her dress. Lady Scarlet watched with amusement as the slave's hands shook uncontrollably.
"You're doing a good job, slave," she told him, allowing a hint of warmth to enter her tone. "But remember, you are at my feet for a reason. I am superior to you, and you are here to serve me."
Satisfied with the slave's response, Lady Scarlet led him further into her lavish home. The air was thick with anticipation as they moved through the grand hallways, her heels clicking against the marble floor, his bare feet making no sound. Finally, they reached a dimly lit room in the back of the house.
Lady Scarlet stopped in front of a large, ornate toilet and turned towards the slave. "This," she told him, her eyes glinting with mischief, "is where you will serve your purpose."
The slave looked on in terror as Lady Scarlet casually sat down on the toilet seat. She crossed her legs demurely, her dress hiking up slightly to reveal a sloppily wet pair of panties. Her face took on a mocking smile as she looked down at the slave.
"It seems I have caught a cold yesterday," she said, drawing out each word slowly, deliberately. "And as a result, my shit comes out in the form of dysentery." She leaned forward, her breasts almost spilling out of her clothes, and uncrossed her legs. A wave of nauseatingly sweet stench hit the slave as he saw what she meant – her panties were soaked in a combination of urine and feces.
Lady Scarlet reached down and plucked the soiled panties from beneath her, holding them up for the slave to see. "These are my toilet papers, slave," she told him. "It is your duty to clean up after your mistress. But before you do that," she added, her gaze turning to the porcelain throne she sat upon, "you must first taste the result of my illness."
With that, Lady Scarlet placed one of her soiled, wet panties over the slave's mouth, pinning his lips and nostrils shut. She then leaned forward once again and started to empty her bladder onto the slave's face, her golden locks cascading down over his face as he choked on the warm, foul-tasting liquid.
When she was finished, Lady Scarlet removed the panties from his face, revealing a smear of her urine along the side of his mouth. She smiled cruelly as he tried to wipe it away with his bare hands, knowing that they were now tainted with her waste.
"Clean me up, slave," she commanded, pointing to the dirtied toilet seat. "You know what to do with the toilet paper."
The slave hesitated, the thought of ingesting his own mistress' filth making him quake in fear. But he knew better than to disobey her. He carefully took the soiled toilet paper from her hands, his fingers barely touching the edge of the material.
As he leaned down to clean up the mess on the toilet seat, Lady Scarlet leaned back in her seat, her legs spread wide once again. She watched with sadistic amusement as the slave tasted his own filth, his lips pressed against her panties as he tried to clean them.
When he was finished, Lady Scarlet reached down and grabbed a handful of the used toilet paper, pulling it away from him as he tried to keep it close. "No, slave," she said, her tone cold once again. "You will not be allowed to keep that as a trophy."
She held the used toilet paper up in front of his face, daring him to try and take it from her. Then, with a swift motion, she reached down and pressed the toilet paper against his face, smearing it across his cheeks and nose. The poor slave, covered in his mistress' filth, looked like a pitiful animal being tormented by its master.
Lady Scarlet stood up from the toilet, her flawless skin glistening with sweat in the dim light. She turned to look down at the slave, who was still kneeling on the floor, his eyes filled with despair. "Now eat it, slave," she commanded. "Clean up after your mistress."
The slave looked up at her, tears streaming down his face, but he knew there was no other choice. With quivering hands, he reached out to grab the messy pile of toilet paper, preparing himself for whatever horrible taste lay ahead.
