Mistress Anna and I were both feeling quite pleased with ourselves as we entered the dingy little basement where our toilet slave awaited us. The room was lit dimly by a single bare lightbulb, casting eerie shadows around the space. In one corner stood a small podium with a pair of metal shackles attached to it, while in another was an old toilet stained with use and neglect.
Our slave, Alice, was chained to the podium, trembling visibly as he caught sight of us. He was a pitiful creature, his ragged clothes hanging off him like tatters. His eyes were downcast, filled with fear and despair. It was hard not to revel in his humiliation.
"H-hello, Mistresses," he stammered out, his voice thick with terror. His efforts to please us were pathetic, and it only served to increase our enjoyment of his predicament.
"Our slave is very nervous and scared," Mistress Anna said with a laugh, "but that won't change his fate... he will be our toilet."
She was right; despite his obvious fear, there was no escaping his destiny. He was ours to use and abuse as we saw fit. We were both beautiful women, and he was barely worthy to lick our boots. And yet here he was, bound and helpless, waiting for us to do our worst.
"We are both beautiful Mistresses," I echoed, "and he is so pathetic... he won't touch us even with his tongue!"
Indeed, the thought of him touching us in any way was revolting. Our slave was there simply to serve our every filthiest whim, no matter how degrading or humiliating.
"He is so pathetic," Mistress Anna continued, "little toilet pig... our shit is what he will touch."
It was true; we would be using him as our personal toilet, defiling him with our waste until he was nothing more than a living, breathing garbage can. The thought filled me with a perverse sense of pleasure, and I could see from the look in her eyes that it did the same for Mistress Anna.
"It's his first time," I said, "so I don't expect much from this pathetic slave, but at least we will have fun degrading him and turning him into a toilet bowl."
Degrading him was half the fun, after all. The look of terror on his face as we took him lower and lower was worth everything.
We proceeded to undress Alice, revealing his naked, trembling form to each other. His cock was small and pathetic, hardly worthy of attention. We stripped him of all dignity as we instructed him to kneel before us, his head hovering just above the toilet bowl.
"Now," Mistress Anna said with a cruel smile, "open wide."
Alice hesitated for a moment before obeying, opening his mouth to reveal his pale, trembling tongue. It was like opening a gateway into his soul. We knew that whatever we did to him, he would bear it without protest.
Without further ado, we took our places on either side of him, our beautiful naked bodies looming over his pathetic form. We lowered ourselves onto the toilet seat, our bare skin touching his, and began to urinate into the bowl. The force of our streams was enough to splash against his face, adding insult to injury.
As our piss filled the bowl, we turned our attention to Alice's mouth. We took turns pushing our used tampons into his mouth, forcing him to taste our blood and other fluids. It was exhilarating, like our personal brand of therapy.
Finally, when we were satisfied that he'd had enough, we instructed him to scoop up the mess with his tongue and swallow it. It was a pitiful sight, this once proud man reduced to a toilet slave, but we couldn't help but feel a perverse satisfaction in his humiliation.
We left Alice there, bound and broken, until next time. The thought of what we would do to him next filled us with a twisted sense of excitement, and we knew that this was only the beginning of his journey into depravity.
