Lady Scarlet strutted into the room, her heels echoing off of the marble floors. She was dressed in a figure-hugging red dress that accentuated her curvy frame, drawing attention to every inch of her voluptuous body. Her long, silken hair fell in waves around her shoulders, and a trail of diamonds glittered on her skin. She moved with a confident stride, her hips swaying as she made her way over to the slave lying on the ground before her.
The slave was old, his body wrinkled and drained of color. He lay there, dirty and neglected, barely visible beneath the layers of grime that coated his skin. His eyes, once bright and full of life, were now dull and lifeless, filled with a sense of defeat and hopelessness.
Lady Scarlet stopped in front of him, her cold gaze raking over his pathetic form. Her lips curled into a sneer as she took a drag from her cigarette and blew the smoke right into his face. The slave tried to turn away, coughing and choking on the harsh tobacco fumes.
"Look at you," Lady Scarlet said disdainfully, "you're just an old, flaccid, slow, and impotent wreck." She took another drag from her cigarette, the ashes falling onto his naked body. "Practically useless."
The slave said nothing, his body trembling from fear and the cold air-conditioning. He couldn't even muster the strength to look up at his mistress.
Lady Scarlet crushed the cigarette against his skin, leaving a burn mark behind. "You know your role in society, don't you?" she hissed. The toilet, weak and powerless, could only nod feebly. "You're here to serve as my human toilet and dustbin, to clean up after me and do my bidding. And that's all you'll ever be good for."
She stepped onto the slave's chest, grinding her high heels deeper into his skin. "You will not move, you will not speak, you will not even blink unless I command it," she said, her voice cold and sharp like a knife. "Do you understand?"
Again, the slave could only nod.
Lady Scarlet picked up a handful of cotton buds from a nearby table, dipping them in a small bowl of clear liquid. She grabbed the slave's face roughly, forcing his mouth open. "Open wide, toilet," she commanded.
The slave obeyed, his mouth gaping open like a fish out of water. Lady Scarlet applied the wet cotton buds to his tongue, cleaning away any traces of dirt or grime. When she was done, she pulled away, revealing a tongue now sparkling clean.
"Good boy," she purred, her voice laced with sarcasm. "Now, lie back down and don't move."
The slave did as he was told, his body trembling with fear. He could feel her eyes boring into him, weighing him up like a worthless object. Lady Scarlet reached into her purse, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. She lit one up, taking a long drag before blowing the smoke straight into the slave's mouth. "This is what you're good for now," she said, her voice dripping with disgust.
The slave choked on the smoke, gasping for air. His eyes watered, his throat burned, but he could do nothing to stop her. Lady Scarlet continued to blow smoke in his face, forcing him to inhale the toxic fumes.
Eventually, she tired of the game and stepped away, grinding out her cigarette against his dirty skin. The slave tried to cough up the acrid smoke, his lungs burning from the assault.
Lady Scarlet walked over to a nearby table, picking up a handful of used tissues. She reached back and tossed them in the slave's direction. They landed in his mouth, filling it with the bitter taste of stale perfume and makeup.
"Chew them," she commanded, her voice barely above a whisper. The slave forced himself to move his jaw, chewing the disgusting mess. He could feel the phlegm, saliva, and cotton buds mashing together in his mouth, the taste making him want to gag.
Lady Scarlet watched him for a moment before turning her attention back to the table. She picked up an ashtray filled with cigarette butts, and held it out over the slave's face. "Now, pick out the butts and swallow them."
The slave did as he was told, his hands trembling as he picked out the wet, dirty butts from the ashes. He dropped them into his mouth, feeling them crumble against his tongue before being swallowed whole.
When the ashtray was clean, Lady Scarlet stepped away from the table, revealing a partially filled bottle of vodka. She took a long swig from the bottle, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Without missing a beat, she threw the bottle at the slave.
The slave flinched, but managed to catch it. He looked down at the bottle in his hand, knowing what was expected of him. Slowly, he raised it to his lips, taking a small sip. The vodka burned down his throat, hitting his stomach like a punch.
Lady Scarlet watched him, a slow, evil smile spreading across her face. "That's right," she purred, "drink up. You'll need your strength for what I have in store for you next."
With that, she turned on her heel and left the room, leaving the slave alone with his despair and his empty existence.
