As Goddess Kitra, I am a woman of immeasurable power and beauty. My slaves bow down to me in reverence, hoping to please me even in the slightest. Today, however, one of my loyal subjects has been chosen for a task that seems both humiliating and exhilarating. He awaits my arrival in the bathroom, kneeling by the toilet bowl, his eyes downcast in submission.
I enter the lavatory, dressed in an elegant gown that obscures nothing of my perfectly formed body. Without a word, I walk up to the slave and lower my majestic behind onto the porcelain throne. He looks up at me with desperate pleading in his eyes, knowing full well what is expected of him.
Without further ado, I begin to defecate onto the cold, hard surface of the toilet. The slave watches intently as thick brown turds slide out of my divine rectum and plop into the water beneath. Finally, when I am satisfied that all of my waste has been expelled, I command him to approach.
Kneeling down beside me, the slave nervously awaits further instructions. His trembling hands reach forward, fingers extended, as if hesitant to make contact with what can only be described as goddessly shit. But he obeys without question, knowing that this is his only chance to earn the favor of his beloved mistress.
With a deep breath, he turns his face towards my backside and opens wide his mouth, preparing to accept whatever filth I choose to bestow upon him. Slowly, he lowers his face, his tongue darting out tentatively to taste the foul mix of food particles and fecal matter that now coats the toilet bowl.
The scent is gag-inducing, but the slave shows no signs of hesitation. Instead, he begins to lave my excrement, licking it up greedily as if it were the most delectable treat he had ever tasted. As he consumes more and more of the putrid mixture, his eyes close in ecstasy, lost in the sensation of worshipping his goddess.
I watch him with a mix of amusement and satisfaction. This is just another example of the devotion that my slaves shower upon me, willingly submitting themselves to my every whim. And while others may find this act repulsive, I find it both arousing and humbling.
Finally, when he has cleaned up every last morsel, the slave looks up at me, his eyes shining with gratitude. "Thank you, my queen," he murmurs, voice filled with adoration. And as he speaks these words, I know that he speaks not just for himself but for all of my loyal subjects who would gladly do anything—and I mean anything—to earn a small piece of my divine attention.
