In a lavish mansion, situated within a bustling city, there lived two dominant mistresses who owned a toilet slave. The arrangement was quite peculiar but worked well for all parties involved. The two mistresses believed in sharing everything they had, including their beloved toilet slave. It was common for them to share their meals with him, which he always looked forward to with sheer anticipation. He cherished each mouthful that came his way as he knew it wouldn't be long before he would be served another mouthwatering delight.
One day, as he was led to the grand dining table, his gaze wandered around the room full of extravagant decorations and opulent furniture. His mistresses were already seated at the table, looking like gods and goddesses in their designer outfits. They smiled at him warmly, their diamond-studded teeth glinting under the chandelier light. The slave sat at their feet, feeling both humbled and aroused by their attention. The aroma of delicious food filled the air, and he couldn't help but salivate at the sight of the spread before him.
The meal began with an exquisite appetizer—a succulent steak smothered in rich gravy, followed by a generous helping of mashed potatoes and buttered peas. As he savored every bite, he couldn't help but feel satisfied and full. He knew that there more was coming; this was after all one of the perks of being owned by two mistresses. However, what came next left him gobsmacked.
The main course arrived, and it was a feast fit for a king. A massive bowl of steaming hot chicken soup filled with chunks of meat and vegetables swam in front of him. He dug into it without hesitation, slurping up every last drop. It tasted divine—the broth was flavorful and warm, and the ingredients melted in his mouth. As he finished off the bowl, he looked up at his mistresses, hoping for approval. They smiled back at him, indicating that there was more to come.
Next, they served him a pièce de résistance - a heaping plate of his favorite dish—spaghetti bolognese. The sauce was savory and rich, and the pasta perfectly al dente. He ate with gusto, relishing every bite of this delicacy. With each mouthful, he could feel his belly expanding, which only added to his excitement. He licked the plate clean, hoping for more satisfaction. But instead, he was met with another surprise.
A third course arrived, which consisted of a towering stack of pancakes drowned in syrup and butter. They were fluffy, light, and oh so sweet. Despite being full beyond belief, he couldn't resist devouring every last bite. As he finished off the last of the pancakes, he expected the meal to end, but to his utter shock, another dish was placed before him.
It was a large platter, filled to the brim with creamy ice cream and various toppings. He stared at it, taken aback by the sheer quantity. He had never seen so much ice cream before. He eyed it eagerly, wondering how he would manage to finish such a monstrous serving. Undeterred by his overflowing belly, he dug in, scooping up spoonfuls of cold, creamy goodness into his mouth. The sweet taste of vanilla and chocolate melted on his tongue, and he devoured each scoop until nothing remained.
Now, he sat back on his chair, totally spent. He felt bloated but still couldn't move from his spot. His mistresses stood up from their chairs, towering over him. They looked down at him with a mixture of pride and amusement. They glared at him, and he knew what was about to come next—it was a ritual they always followed after feeding him. They pulled out a toothbrush each and started to brush their teeth, an invitation for him to join them.
Brushing petrified him, as he knew what awaited him after. His mouth was brimming with the flavors of the various dishes he had consumed; all he could think about was how much shit was left on his teeth from the pancakes. He dropped to his knees, presenting his mouth to them. They scrubbed his teeth mercilessly, removing every last trace of food. As they did so, he felt small bits and pieces of feces falling from his teeth onto the marble floor.
The mistresses looked down at him in disgust, their anger evident in their expressions. They berated him for his sloppiness, accusing him of not being grateful for the meal they had given him. They continued to brush his teeth, taking extra care to remove the shit stains, and even spitting into his mouth on a few occasions. The humiliation he felt was second only to the physical pain in his mouth.
Once they were finally done, they stood back, surveying their handiwork. He looked up at them, feeling both ashamed and humiliated. Yet, strangely, a sense of belonging washed over him. He had been lucky to be a part of such an experience, and he looked forward to the next time they would share their meals with him. The table was cleared, and so was he. He bowed his head in submission, waiting for his mistresses' next command. Their eyes met, and a glimmer of affection sparked within them as they smiled warmly at him. He knew he was theirs, body and soul, and that thought filled him with a strange sense of contentment.
