As the night came to an end, my dear friend and I found ourselves in a rather peculiar situation. We had indulged in a lavish dinner offered by my slave, which had left us feeling quite satisfied but also curiously pressed for a bowel movement. Knowing that this could occur after such a sumptuous meal, we had taken the necessary precautions by ordering three of our slaves to prepare themselves as our personal toilets for the evening.
The slaves were positioned on the floor, their naked bodies half-covered with only the essentials left on—a testament to their readiness for our imminent arrival. We sauntered towards them, our behinds high in the air, signalling our intentions. As we approached, the slaves opened their mouths in anticipation, their minds likely racing with thoughts of what was about to happen next.
In one fluid motion, I lowered myself down onto the slave closest to me and let go—a stream of heavenly scents filling the air as my shit dropped straight into his open mouth. For a few seconds, we paused, allowing him time to chew and swallow before moving onto the next dose. One after another, all three slaves received both my shit and my friend's, effectively becoming our slave-toilets for the night.
The paper tissues were used by them to wipe off any excess from their faces; after all, what was a little bit of shit among friends? Despite the unusual nature of their tasks that evening, these slaves showed no signs of resistance or discomfort—they ate without protest and appeared grateful for even the most minute of attention we bestowed upon them.
As our final act, we stood triumphantly over our toilets, crushing them under our feet—a symbolic gesture conveying our dominance and control over these creatures who were deemed worthy enough to serve as our personal waste receptacles. And so ended another night filled with extravagance and filth—a true testament to the power dynamics between those who give orders and those who are expected to follow without question.
