As Natalia Kapretti, a dominant mistress in her own right, prepared for her evening bath, she couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction wash over her. Her slave husband, whom she had trained to be nothing more than a living toilet bowl, stood at attention by the side of the tub, eagerly awaiting his next duty.
"Make sure you're clean, slave," she commanded, her body glistening in the candlelight. "I won't have any remnants of your filth on me when I step into this tub."
With a trembling hand, he reached for the brush and began scrubbing the tiles around her feet, his nose just inches away from the scent of her femininity. His coarse, calloused skin brushing against the smooth porcelain sent shivers down Natalia's spine; it was a pleasure to know that even this small act of servitude brought him immense humiliation.
"Now, slave," she continued, stepping into the water, "remember your place." As the warmth enveloped her body, Natalia felt her authority over him grow stronger by the minute. "Whenever I need to use the bathroom, I expect you to put yourself at my disposal. No questions asked."
Her words hung in the air like a might sword, piercing his very soul. He knew what she meant; he had been trained for this very moment. With tears in his eyes, he knelt before her, his mouth open in anticipation.
"You will be my personal toilet, slave," she announced, her voice echoing through the opulent bedroom. "Your duties have been made clear, and you will not fail me." With that, she felt a surge of intense pleasure filling her, signalling that it was finally time.
Without hesitation, she released a torrent of feces into his wide-open mouth, feeling him gagging on her musky taste. She watched with glee as his eyes widened in shock, realizing that she had complete control over him.
"Swallow," she hissed, her pale fingers running through the pools of filth that now covered them both. He closed his eyes tight, trying to block out the humiliation he felt, but he knew better than to disobey her. With a loud gulp, he forced himself to swallow every last drop of her feces, hoping this was the last time he would have to endure such a degrading act.
As she stepped out of the tub, Natalia couldn't help but admire the sight of her slave, head bowed in shame, kneeling at her feet. It was then that she realized the full extent of her power; she had reduced a man who once held status and authority to nothing more than a living piece of furniture.
With a smirk, she walked past him, her wet body leaving a trail of water and filth in her wake. He knew what was coming next; it was clear in the way she walked and the smug look on her face.
"Get ready, slave," she called over her shoulder, her voice echoing through the empty halls of their mansion. "Because from now on, being my toilet bowl will be your direct duty."
