Lady Vikki sat perched on her throne, looking down at her slave with a mix of satisfaction and amusement. The slave, a man in his mid-thirties with a well-worn leash around his neck, looked up at her, his eyes filled with both fear and anticipation.
"I see you are not a bad slave," she began, her voice soft and almost melodic. "But your skills are not so good as I want." She leaned forward slightly, her cleavage visible in the low-cut leather bodice of her dress. "That's why you need to learn more toilet lessons."
Her gaze drifted over to a table in the corner of the room, which held several neat rows of shiny golden toilet seats. Each one had a small placard bearing a number or symbol - symbols that held very specific meanings for the unwilling participants in Lady Vikki's erotic games.
"Open my premium album and buy last lessons," she commanded, her voice taking on a more authoritative tone. The slave quickly scrambled to obey, pulling out his phone and scrolling through the apps until he found the one he was looking for. A moment later, he had located the right album and was staring at the images on the screen with a mixture of horror and fascination.
Lady Vikki watched him intently, her dark eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Those are the toilet slaves who have passed through my hands before you," she explained, her voice still soft but now tinged with menace. "And you, my dear slave, are going to learn every lesson they did - and more."
She stood up from her throne, looming over the trembling slave. His heart thudded in his chest as she reached down and unfastened his pants, freeing his already half-hard penis. With a wicked grin, she reached into the bowl of a nearby toilet and pulled out a small golden ring. "This is your first lesson," she purred, fitting the cold metal circle around his erection.
The slave gasped as she stepped back onto the platform of her throne, her legs spread wide apart. "Relieve yourself on me," she commanded, holding out her bare arms for him to knock knees and climb onto the platform.
He did as he was told, trembling as he positioned himself behind her and began to stroke his cock against her plump bottom. Within moments, he felt the familiar sensation of an orgasm building inside him, but instead of being allowed to release it onto her skin or into her toilet, Lady Vikki grabbed his hips and held him still.
"No, no, no," she scolded, her voice now a stern admonishment. "You must learn to control yourself. Remember your lessons from the other slaves." She paused, and for a moment the slave thought she might release him. But then she shook her head, her long hair cascading down around her shoulders.
"No, I think you need a refresher course," she said, her eyes burning with lustful anticipation. With that, she lowered herself slowly onto the golden ring, impaling herself on his still-hard cock. The slave cried out in pain and surprise, but Lady Vikki paid him no heed, instead leaning back against him and riding him roughly, her hips grinding against his hand.
She moved with practiced precision, milking every last drop of pleasure from his trapped cock while maintaining full control over both their movements. Minutes passed, and the slave felt his strength beginning to wane, his mind filled with images of the other toilet slaves and the things they had endured at the hands of this cruel mistress.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to the shivering slave, Lady Vikki pulled herself off the ring and turned to face him. She reached down and unfastened his collar, letting it fall to the floor with a loud clang.
"That," she said, her smile cold and calculating, "is your first lesson in how to be a good toilet slave. Now, go and learn your next one - and don't come back until you've mastered it."
