As Mistress Martina stepped out of her lavish, marbled bathroom, she adjusted the strategically placed black lace of her lingerie, making sure it accentuated her assets perfectly. The cool morning air of the penthouse did little to disturb the self-assured confidence that radiated from her every move.
Her eyes fell upon the male servant who had been waiting patiently for her command. His head was bowed submissively, pleading with his gaze for some form of favor or mercy. However, she knew better than to trust these pathetic creatures with anything but their most base instincts.
With a calculating smile, she walked over to the coffee table where a porcelain golden cup sat, ready for her to fill it up with her morning pee. Without warning, she began to empty her bladder directly into the cup. The warm, stale urine splashed against the sides as it filled to just below the rim.
Satisfied with her aim, she turned back towards the servant. "Bring me my morning newspaper," she commanded, pointing towards a Far East edition lying open on a nearby couch. The servant immediately scurried over, kneeling down reverently before her, his eyes never leaving the stream of urine as it cascaded from her nether regions into the awaiting cup.
"You want..." He hesitated, his eyes darting back and forth between her and the cup. It was clear he was struggling with the thought of consuming such a degrading task, but also equally aware that refusal would likely result in punishment far worse than any he could possibly imagine.
"Go ahead," she said coldly, arching a perfectly manicured eyebrow in expectation. With trembling hands, the servant took the newspaper from her and carefully held it out of the way so as not to spill a single drop of her precious urine. Then, with a deep breath and a silent prayer, he brought the cup up to his lips and began to drink.
As he swallowed each mouthful, his face contorted in disgust but maintained its subservient expression. He couldn't believe what he was doing, yet he couldn't shake the ironclad grip of obedience that Mistress Martina seemed to possess over him.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the last drop of urine was consumed. Unable to hide his revulsion any further, he lifted his eyes to meet hers. They were cold and emotionless--a mirror reflection of her own heart.
"Good boy," she purred, running a finger along his chin before smirking and extending her hand towards the remaining newspapers. Once again, the servant complied without question, retrieving them one by one before bringing them over to her.
Without missing a beat, Mistress Martina began her morning ritual once more: filling up the golden cup with another stream of urine, handing it off to the trembling servant, and watching as he was forced to consume every drop. And so it began--another day in the life of a supreme Chinese mistress and her obedient slave.
