At long last, the day had come for my toilet slave and me to pay a visit to Miss Flowers. He had been anticipating this rendezvous for weeks, his excitement knowing no bounds. For as he told me countless times, Miss Flowers was as hospitable as they came in the world of scat play.
When we arrived at her luxurious apartment, the door was promptly opened by a smiling Miss Flowers. She wore a lacy bodiesuit that highlighted her ravishing curves and a pair of high heels that made her tower above us. She greeted us warmly, inviting us inside.
The atmosphere in the room was electric with excitement. The scent of lavender filled the air, indicative of Miss Flowers' distinct personality. She instructed my toilet slave to kneel on the floor, his face level with her crotch. She then proceeded to pee directly onto his head, drenching his hair and face in her hot golden nectar. It was clear that she intended to make him feel utterly used and humiliated.
What followed next was even more intense. Miss Flowers pulled down her panties, revealing a luscious, round ass. And before my toilet slave could even react, she lifted him up by his hair and positioned his face directly over her gaping asshole. She warned him that this was going to be a particularly messy experience but reminded him forcefully that he was there to serve her every need.
Sure enough, she produced a juicy, steaming turd that splattered onto his face with a resounding plop. It was a dark brown, almost black color, and had a strange consistency that made it slide easily down his throat. As he struggled to swallow each bite, tears streaming down his cheeks from the stinging in his throat, I couldn't help but marvel at the lengths to which Miss Flowers would go to degrade and humiliate him.
Finally, when it seemed like there was nothing left to come, Miss Flowers growled in satisfaction and declared the session over. She pushed my toilet slave away, his face streaked with filth and smelling of excrement. As he stumbled backwards, unsure of what was expected of him next, I saw that he was both terrified and aroused by the experience. For despite the humiliation, there was something perversely thrilling about being so completely at the mercy of another person.
As we left her apartment, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy for my toilet slave. The power dynamic that existed between him and Miss Flowers was unlike anything I had ever seen before. Yet, at the same time, I knew that the price he paid for such subservience was too high for me. But perhaps, for some, the rush of degradation and submission was worth the risk.
