The Unforgettable Day of a Scateater Slave: Trained by ScatqueensBerlin - Missy and Chrissy
Lady Missy, the iconic dominatrix of ScatqueensBerlin, was not content with the progress of her new toilet slave. She had commanded him to clean her feet and other intimate areas, but his performance left much to be desired. The room echoed with the sound of her authoritative voice as she continued to berate him. "Clean it all up! Don't leave a single spot untouched!"
The slave's heart raced in fear and shame. He knew he had disappointed his mistress, but he couldn't bear the thought of incurring her wrath further. With trembling hands, he retrieved a rubber glove from a bucket of soapy water and began scrubbing the floor meticulously. As he worked, Lady Missy took a step back, observing him from head to toe. She smirked, sensing his desperation.
"Not good enough," she said, her eyes cold. "You missed a spot." She pointed at a tiny speck of dirt on the corner of the room. The slave felt a wave of nausea wash over him as he realized what she was implying. He carefully made his way to the corner, knelt down, and placed the glove in his mouth. Slowly, he began licking away at the dirt, tasting the bitterness of his mistress's sweat mixed with soap.
Lady Missy didn't stop there. She watched as he licked every inch of the floor, making sure he cleaned everything to her satisfaction. When he was done, he stood up, holding the gloves in front of him like a supplicant. She nodded, signifying that it was time for the next task - cleaning her used straw. The straw that had held her saliva, spit, and God knows what else.
With shaking hands, he held the straw to his lips and began sucking on it, trying to remove any remaining residue. The taste was revolting, but he forced himself to finish the task. Once he was done, he turned around, presenting the gloves to Lady Missy. She took them from him and let out a long sigh, signaling that he had passed this part of the test.
However, there was one final humiliation left. Lady Missy pulled out a small cup and motioned for him to drink its contents. He hesitated, but knew better than to refuse. He brought the cup to his lips and took a sip. It was thick and disgusting, like a mixture of saliva and leftover food particles. As he swallowed, he felt his stomach turn, but he didn't let it show.
As if sensing his discomfort, Lady Missy took a step forward and spat on the floor. "Clean that up too," she commanded. The slave looked at her in horror, but he knew better than to argue. Kneeling down once again, he took the gloves and cleaned up her spit. By the time he was done, he felt like he had crossed a threshold he never thought possible - he had become a true toilet slave.
As Lady Missy watched him finish, she seemed to be lost in thought. Suddenly, she turned her attention to the door. "Your new friend Chrissy is here. Let's see if she thinks you're ready for more training." With that, Lady Chrissy walked in, a sly smile playing on her lips.
The slave stood up as Lady Chrissy approached, his heart pounding in his chest. She took in his appearance - the gloves, the cup, the look of defeat in his eyes - and nodded in approval. "Not bad for a first try," she said, her voice low and filled with menace. "Now, let's see what you can do with a little prodding."
Without further ado, she led him to a chair and tied him up, leaving him helpless and exposed. Then, she pulled out a microphone and began to interrogate him. "Tell us about yourself," she said, her voice sweet but deadly. "Why do you like being our toilet slave? What other disgusting things would you like to do for us?"
The slave stuttered and stammered, unable to form coherent sentences. His answers were laughable, even to his own ears. But Lady Chrissy only smiled, clearly amused by his ineptitude. "You're not cut out for this lifestyle," she said finally. "Maybe you should go back to being a regular submissive."
The words stung, but the slave knew she was right. He had failed her test as well. His time as a toilet slave might be over before it even began. As they untied him, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. Maybe he could start anew, find another dominant who would appreciate him more.
But as he made his way through the door, he couldn't help but wonder - what path would he choose if given the chance again? Would he really go back to his old life, or would he embrace the darkness within and continue down this twisted path? Only time would tell.
