It was a busy day for the gorgeous businesswoman, her office chock-full of important papers and clients vying for her attention. She barely had time to take a breath, let alone attend to personal matters like eating or using the restroom. As her secretary rushed around her, multitasking between phone calls and organizing meetings, the woman couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of guilt for all the work she was piling onto her poor assistant.
But guilt was the last thing on her mind as she picked up the phone to make an important call. "Get me a toilet," she instructed her secretary without breaking stride, her tone cold yet commanding.
It wasn't long until a scruffy-looking man entered the room, eyes lowered, a look of subservience plastered across his face. He knew why he was there - he understood the task that lay ahead of him. His employer, the goddess-like Tempest, ran a unique studio where businesswomen like her could come to relax in the absolute comfort of their own filth. No more worrying about rushing to the bathroom during important meetings or dealing with the inconvenience of cleaning up after themselves.
His tongue dripped at the thought of what was about to take place. But first things first: he had to prepare her. With the efficiency of a well-oiled machine, he went to work, washing her soiled behind thoroughly until it gleamed under the fluorescent lighting. The businesswoman let out a contented sigh as she felt his warm breath against her freshly-cleaned backside - this was a taste of luxury she wouldn't trade for anything else.
As he finished up and stepped back, she couldn't help but smirk. It seemed like just another day at the office. But there was something about the longing look in this man's eyes that made her pause for a moment. Regret? Perhaps he should have listened to his parents and gone to college, instead of ending up as a mere toilet slave for powerful women like her. It wasn't too late for him, after all - but then again, perhaps it was.
A groan escaped her lips as she felt the familiar sensation of need. It had been much too long since she'd had a proper poop, and as someone who thrived on constant productivity, she couldn't afford to stop now. With a sigh of resignation, she turned to face the young man once more and motioned for him to get closer. His face turned beet red as he knew what was about to happen next.
Taking slow and steady breaths, she lowered herself onto the man's face, her massive turd beginning to emerge from her anus. She took pleasure not only in the physical act but also in the knowledge that this man would have no choice but to eat her shit; after all, it was his job. And so, he did, opening his mouth wide as she filled it up with her steaming pile of excrement.
The taste was awful, but she didn't care - she was entitled to eat all the good food and have someone else clean up after her. Besides, watching him struggle to swallow made the whole ordeal all the more gratifying. With each powerful push, he tried not to gag, knowing that if he did, there would be consequences.
Finally, it was over. She sat up, wiping her hands on her slacks as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred. The young man looked up at her with pleading eyes, but she simply shook her head. "That's it for now," she said curtly before turning back to her work, leaving him there, face covered in her filth.
As he was led away, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret for not having more courage in his youth. But then again, this was the life he'd chosen - or rather, the life he'd been born into. And as he stepped out into the hallway, already knowing what awaited him next, he couldn't help but wonder: was it too late for him to change his fate?
