Every morning, as soon as Miss Dula finished her coffee and cigarette, she felt an intense urge to use the bathroom. However, her toilet was anything but ordinary. It consisted of a luxurious chair placed on top of a filthy slave who lay helplessly beneath her. The beautiful Miss Dula sat gracefully on the chair, feeling the warm sensation of her full bladder pressing against its soft leather. She watched with amusement as the anxious slave trembled underneath her, his eyes fixated on the sight of her shapely legs and bare feet dangling just out of reach.
Miss Dula savored the moment, taking her time to decide what kind of payment she would demand from this pathetic creature for allowing him to worship her most intimate area. She finally stood up, her curves swaying gently as she prepared to do her business. The poor slave could only stare up at her in terror, hoping against hope that she would show some mercy.
With a smile, Miss Dula leaned forward and slowly lowered her elegant lace-trimmed panties, exposing her puckered rosy anus to the waiting mouth of the slave. As if in a trance, the man knew exactly what he had to do. He extended his tongue, his eyes never leaving her ass, and gently traced the outline of her tight hole. A shiver of anticipation ran down her spine as she felt his warm breath against her skin.
"Please, Miss Dula," he whispered hoarsely, his voice full of desperation. "May I have the honor of tasting your exquisite chocolate?"
Miss Dula chuckled softly, enjoying the show she knew would soon follow. Slowly, she lowered herself onto the throne, feeling the cold hardness of the chair press against her sensitive flesh. The slave's eager mouth opened wider, and without further hesitation, she allowed him to peer inside. With a loud groan of pleasure, he closed his lips around her swollen clit and began to suckle gently, as if it were the most precious thing in the world.
And so it began, a dance of pleasure and pain, of control and submission. Miss Dula grunted and moaned as she relieved herself onto the obedient slave's tongue, feeling the warm liquid splash against the back of his throat. The sight of his eager face, covered in her golden nectar, was exhilarating beyond words. She teased him cruelly, pushing and pulling her dripping pussy against his hungry mouth, never missing a chance to make him beg for more.
Finally, she felt her bladder empty, and with a satisfied sigh, she pulled her panties back up and sat back on the chair, surveying the pathetic figure lying beneath her. The slave, his eyes shining with unshed tears, looked up at her expectantly, waiting for her next command.
"You may clean yourself now," she said softly, her voice dripping with contempt.
Slowly, the slave raised his shaking hands to his face, wiping away the last traces of her chocolate from his lips. His cock, which had been hard for what seemed like hours, throbbed painfully between his legs. Miss Dula watched with amusement as he struggled to control his urge to cum, knowing full well that she held all the power in their twisted relationship.
"You may cum now," she said at last, her voice a whisper against the soft leather of the chair.
With a cry of relief, the slave finally allowed himself to release the hot, sticky load that had been building up inside him. As he came, Miss Dula watched dispassionately, feeling nothing but contempt for this pathetic creature who worshiped her so devotedly. Yet despite herself, she couldn't help but feel a small twinge of pleasure at the sight of his humiliation.
And so it went, day after day, night after night. Miss Dula continued to use her slave as her personal toilet, taking pleasure in his humiliation and terror. She knew that he would always come crawling back to her, no matter how cruel she was. After all, who else would have him?
