As dawn broke over the city, Miss Dula awoke with an insatiable craving for a fresh cup of espresso. The caffeine had become as essential to her morning routine as her beloved human toilet. With a smile on her face, she padded downstairs to her state-of-the-art kitchen, eagerly anticipating the ritual that would follow. She carefully prepared the beverage, taking delight in the rich aroma filling the room and the anticipation it brought her slave.
The moment the last drop fell into her cup, Miss Dula felt an unmistakable stirring between her legs. It was time. She made her way up to the bathroom, the thick padding in her leather heels adding a sense of dominance to each stride. Her human toilet lay there as always, naked and bound on the cold tiles, eyes closed in anticipation of his mistress's arrival. She admired the way he trembled with fear and excitement, knowing full well what was about to transpire.
Miss Dula casually made her way over to her slave, taking a long draw from her coffee before sitting down on the throne. The moment she felt the warmth envelop her behind, she let out a contented sigh. She lowered herself slowly onto the porcelain, feeling the cool, hard surface press against her swollen sex. Her body tensed as she felt the familiar pressure building within her - her daily dose of release was imminent.
Without warning, a stream of hot, thick piss gushed from her nether regions, splashing directly into the slave's waiting mouth. His eyes flew open in shock and horror, but he knew better than to protest. He dutifully began swallowing every drop, working hard to cleanse his tongue of the strong, musky flavor that always lingered after one of these encounters. He couldn't help but imagine what might be coming next.
As if in response, Miss Dula produced a look of pure satisfaction on her face. She removed a fresh wipe from its dispenser and pressed it into the slave's mouth. He immediately recognized the scent - it was her ass he would be cleaning now. He dutifully began licking and scrubbing, every fiber of his being desperately trying to make his mistress's most intimate area spotless. She allowed him to finish before taking the wipe back and tossing it carelessly on the floor.
Miss Dula sat up, leaving a small mountain of shimmering droplets on the cold tiles. She stood up and surveyed her work - a perfect outline of her body remaining on the toilet seat. Satisfied, she reached down and stroked her slave's head, running her fingers through his hair like a pet owner might do to a beloved dog. It was a small gesture, but one that filled him with humiliation and yearned for more. She turned around and walked away, leaving him to wonder what else she might have in store for him today.
