Miss Dula, a stunningly beautiful and manipulative mistress, knew just how to control her pathetic toilet slave. Today, she had a plan in mind to humiliate him even further than usual. As he kneeled before her, his heart pounding with anticipation, he could feel the cold metal of the toilet seat against his skin. His eyes were transfixed on her perfect figure as she nonchalantly strolled towards him, a devilish grin on her face.
"My toilet," she purred, placing her manicured hand on his shoulder. "I have a little surprise for you today." She watched intently as the realization of what was about to happen began to sink in, and the look of fear that slowly spread across his face filled her with delight.
"Don't worry," she reassured him with a soft laugh. "You'll like it, trust me." She reached behind her and pulled out a bottle of cheap champagne, which she promptly uncorked and took a swig from before pouring some into a glass for herself. Then, without another word, she shoved the glass into the toilet slave's mouth, forcing him to drink every last drop.
His face contorted in disgust, but he didn't resist. That was always his first mistake. Miss Dula loved seeing him squirm like this; it only fueled her power trip more. With a satisfied smirk on her lips, she casually strolled back over to the toilet, her hips swaying hypnotically.
"Now," she began, her voice taking on a more commanding tone. "I want you to take a deep breath and prepare yourself. This might be... different. From the looks of it, my stomach's not quite as settled as usual." She watched as he did as she asked, his eyes never leaving her form. She flexed her ass slightly, causing him to gulp audibly.
Then, she let it all out. An explosion of hot, putrid shit shot out of her like a cannonball, covering his face and clothes in a thick layer of filth. His eyes widened in shock as he realized what was happening, but it was too late. He found himself choking on the thick, vile liquid—and he realized he was going to have to swallow every last bit. And as if that wasn't enough humiliation, she cracked a devilish grin and continued to talk to him, the thick strings of her saliva mixing with the shit strewn across his face.
"Now, why don't you clean yourself up?" She taunted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "And while you're at it, why don't you do one more thing? You're going to clean my toilet too—with your tongue." She laughed cruelly and watched as he scrambled to his feet, doing her bidding without protest.
As he cleaned the filth from her toilet, tears streaming down his face, she remained observant, eyes never leaving his form. She took a step back and enjoyed the sight of his degradation, feeling more powerful than ever before. It was only when he finally began to stroke his hard length that she spoke again.
"Good boy," she purred, lazily approaching him. "Now, cum for me." She watched as relief washed over him, his movements becoming more fervent, more desperate. She knew he would do anything she asked at this point—and she loved every second of it.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he shook violently, his cum spurting across the floor. Miss Dula's heart sang with victory as she stepped over his spent form, leaving him crumpled at her feet like the worthless piece of trash he was.
"Such a good toilet," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "You should be proud of yourself. Now, clean up this mess." With a flick of her wrist, she flushed the overflowing toilet, sending shockwaves of water over him. And just like that, she was gone, leaving him there, panting and covered in a sticky mess of his own making, wondering when he'd ever be free from her twisted games.
