In a dimly lit room, young master lay on the cold tile floor. His heart pounded with anticipation and fear as he heard the click of heels growing closer. The door to the bathroom opened, revealing a woman dressed in an elegant black dress that hugged her body in all the right places. Her raven hair cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall, framing her delicately made-up face and piercing green eyes.
"Miss Dula," he stammered, trembling from head to toe. He knew what was coming and there was nothing he could do about it.
"Call me Mistress," she corrected him with a cold smile. "You are now my toilet slave, and your role is to serve and obey without complaint or question." Her words sent a shiver down his spine.
"Y-yes, Mistress," he squeaked, his face reddening with shame.
"Good boy," she purred, approaching him slowly. She bent over, giving him a clear view of her lacy black bra, and pressed her panty-clad crotch against his face. "Say hello to your new mistress, toilet slave."
He whimpered, his nose filling with the scent of her arousal. It was intoxicating and sickening at the same time.
"Smell me," she commanded, grinding her hips against his face. "Tell me how much you love the smell of your mistress's pussy."
He forced out the words through his fear, "M-Mistress, your pussy smells so fucking good."
She giggled, her breath warm against his skin. "Good boy," she cooed. "But we haven't even started yet."
With that, she turned him over roughly, grabbing his hair and forcing him to look into her eyes. "From now on," she said firmly, "I am the only one who decides when you can cum or not. You will give me the dirtiest side of you: smell, degradation, physical and psychological domination. You will serve me every second of every day."
She stood up, her dress falling around her ankles, exposing her perfect ass and the droplets of her juices glistening on his lips. "Now," she snapped, "lick me clean."
Tears streamed down his face, but he obeyed nonetheless. He lapped at her pussy like a hungry dog, cleaning every last drop of her juices from his lips. "Better," she purred, finally releasing his hair. "Now get ready to serve your mistress."
With that, she turned her back on him and squatted over his face. "Begin," she whispered.
And so, young master began his life as a toilet slave. He would spend every waking moment obeying Mistress's commands, trailing behind her like a broken toy. And when she finally gave him permission to cum, it would be a fleeting moment of pleasure in a sea of degradation and submission.
