My Day as a Toilet Slaves for My Mistress's Scatological Needs
As the sun began to rise, I found myself in the cramped and dirty toilet bowl, my body trembling with anticipation and fear. I was one of many toilet slaves owned by my cruel mistress, tasked with servicing her most intimate needs. Today was no different; I could already hear the distinct sound of her urine hitting the inside of her chamber.
A moment later, the door to the chamber swung open, and there she stood: my mistress, clad in nothing but a seductive lingerie set that left little to the imagination. Her eyes flashed with amusement as she took in my quivering form. "It seems like you're excited to see me again, my little toilet slave," she teased, her voice dripping with honeyed venom.
Without warning, she stepped over me, her silky thighs brushing against my face as she made her way to the vanity mirror. I could feel the familiar wetness seeping into the toilet bowl, slowly filling it up. The scent of her urine filled my nostrils, an intoxicating mix of sweetness and musk.
As she began to relieve herself into the toilet bowl, I struggled to keep my head above the rising tide of pee. Her stream was strong and steady, and I found myself gasping for air as wave after wave of her golden nectar splashed over my face. She took her time, enjoying the power trip as she forced me to service her most basic needs.
Finally, she finished her ritual, her stream slowing down to a dribble. With a triumphant smirk, she zipped up her skirt and turned to face me once more. "Now, clean up this mess," she commanded, her voice a low growl.
I knew what she meant: I had to lick every drop of her pee from around her pussy, making sure not a single drop was left behind. It was a humiliating task, but one I was bound to perform as her slave. With trembling hands, I pressed my lips against her soft skin, tasting the lingering sweetness of her urine.
Minute after agonizing minute passed as I licked and sucked at her pussy, cleaning up her mess. When I was finally done, I looked up at her, my face red and streaked with her pee. She gave me a satisfied smile. "That's a good little toilet slave," she purred, reaching down to caress my cheek with the tips of her fingers.
And with that, she turned and left the chamber, leaving me alone in the dirty toilet bowl to contemplate my next task—and my next humiliation at her hands.
