In the pale light of dawn, the wealthy man passed by his servant's quarters, making his way towards the opulent bathroom. He barely noticed the young man kneeling outside, dressed in nothing more than a loincloth. But there was something about him that caught the older man's attention; he had an expectation in his eyes, a longing for contact with his master.
As the man entered the bathroom, he didn't close the door behind him—after all, who would see? He undid his pants and allowed his heavy stream to hit the toilet bowl, relieving himself of the excess champagne and caviar he'd consumed the night before. It was a relief to empty his bladder, but it also filled him with a strange sense of power.
He looked down at the young man, whose eyes were transfixed on the stream of urine hitting the water. Without thinking, he pulled out his large, hard member and began to piss onto the stone floor beside him. The warm, golden liquid splashed onto the servant's skin, soaking his loincloth and making him shiver with excitement.
As if in a trance, the young man lowered his head and began to lick up the puddle of urine at his master's feet. He may have been lowly, but this small act of devotion was the closest he would ever come to pleasure in his miserable life. The taste of his master's urine was intoxicating, like a fine wine or expensive cognac.
Satisfied with the act, the wealthy man stepped away and zipped up his pants. He turned to leave without a word, but as he did, he noticed a small piece of toilet paper lying on the floor. He bent over lazily, picked it up, and wiped his hands with it before tossing it back down.
Unbeknownst to him, the young servant had anticipated this moment. As soon as the toilet paper hit the floor, he lunged forward and pushed his tongue deep into his master's scent, eager to taste every last drop of pleasure on it. Even though he knew it was dirty and probably didn't belong to anyone else, he didn't care. It was all he had to feel alive again.
Without looking back, the wealthy man shuffled away, his mind already on the next party or business meeting he had to attend. Meanwhile, the young servant remained kneeling on the floor, the taste of his master's urine still lingering on his tongue. It was a bitter-sweet reminder of the power dynamics that governed their world, and the tiny moments of pleasure they could find amidst the filth.
