As I, a dominant goddess named Miss Dula, walked through my luxurious mansion, my eyes scanned for my newest human toilet. He had traveled from afar to serve me and I was eager to put him through his paces. I found him kneeling under a chair, his posture perfect and his eyes fixed on the ground in submission.
"You're late," I said, my voice cold and sharp.
"I'm sorry, Mistress," he stammered, his cheeks flush with shame. "I took the wrong turn."
I snorted, unimpressed. "Get up," I commanded, and he instantly rose to his feet, towering over him. I took a step back and surveyed him from head to toe, my smirk growing wider by the second. "You know what to do."
He nodded eagerly, his cock already beginning to harden. I watched as he unzipped his pants and pulled out his pathetic little penis, a gleam of anticipation in his eyes. It wasn't much, but it would have to do.
I climbed onto the chair, my skirt swishing around my legs, and positioned myself above him. I held out a glass of champagne and watched as he reached up for it, his gaze fixed on my perfect breasts. As he brought the glass to his lips, I leaned forward and poured my sweet, warm champagne over his face. He gasped and sputtered, trying to wipe the liquid from his eyes. Before he could recover, I leaned down and kissed him, tasting the sweet wine on his lips.
"That's for serving me so well," I murmured, my voice husky with lust.
I stood up and surveyed the growing pile of fresh feces beneath the chair. "Now, it's time for you to taste my delights," I said, my voice ringing with authority.
Kneeling down, I took a large, steaming turd in my hand and pressed it against his lips. He opened his mouth eagerly, his tongue darting out to taste the rich, earthy flavor. I watched as he swallowed slowly, savoring every morsel. He closed his eyes, moaning softly as I fed him more and more of my exquisite waste.
As usual, he didn't disappoint me. His eager mouth and cock were proof enough of that. But what really excited me was the next part of our little ritual.
"Now, it's time for your favorite part," I said, my voice dripping with seduction. With a wicked grin, I smeared some of the remaining poop over his tongue and pushed him onto his stomach.
I stood behind him, my heels pressed against his ass cheeks, and took aim with my overflowing bladder. With a loud hiss, I released the stream of piss, feeling it soak through his clothes and drip onto the floor. As I continued to piss on him, I could feel the heat emanating from his body, a clear sign of his arousal.
When I finally finished, I stepped away and surveyed my work. He was filthy - covered in my poop, pee, and cum - but he couldn't have been happier. It was truly a sight to behold.
"Satisfied?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
He nodded vigorously, his eyes shining with adoration. "More than satisfied, Mistress."
I smiled cruelly. "Good boy. Now, get to cleaning."
I handed him a toothbrush and watched as he got down on all fours, determined to clean every last bit of my filth from my heels. He licked and cleaned, his tongue darting in and out of the poop until my heels were squeaky clean. It was a sight to behold - a loyal servant, eager to please his mistress in any way possible. And that, my dear reader, is how I maintain control over my human toilet.
