As the doorbell rang, my mind raced with anticipation. Today, I had been invited to the home of Miss Flowers, a woman known for her luxurious lifestyle and affinity for eccentric excess. My toilet slave had been practically vibrating with excitement at the prospect of attending this gathering. He had been groomed thoroughly, his costume immaculate and his demeanor submissive. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of arousal thinking about how he would soon be put in his place.
As I opened the door, there she was - Miss Flowers, resplendent in a flowing black gown that hugged her curves seductively. Her hair was pulled back into an elegant updo, accentuating her features with subtle elegance. Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she took in my apparel - a simple suit that made me feel underdressed in comparison to her opulence. "Please, come in," she purred, gesturing graciously towards her lavishly decorated living room.
The moment I stepped inside, I knew I was in for a treat. The scent of rich mahogany mixed with exotic incense filled the air, creating an intoxicating aura that was both alluring and intimidating. The room was lit dimly, with only a few strategically placed lamps casting warm lights over the plush furniture and intricate tapestries adorning the walls.
As I took a seat on the inviting couch, Miss Flowers joined me, ordering my toilet slave to lie on the floor at our feet. She gave me a sly grin as she saw the look of submission in his eyes, clearly enjoying the control she had over him. Her black stilettos clicked against the hardwood floor as she moved flawlessly across the room, showcasing every curve and contour of her body.
Suddenly, she crouched down next to the slave, her black dress pooling around her on the floor. Her hand grasped his chin firmly, forcing him to look up at her. "Good boy," she cooed, her voice dripping with honey-coated sarcasm. "You're going to be so useful today."
Before I could ask what she meant, Miss Flowers stood up and announced that she had to use the bathroom immediately. My heart raced in anticipation as she instructed my toilet slave to move into the bathroom. She slammed the door shut, leaving us in anxious anticipation of what was to come.
Suddenly, the door flew open, and there she was - Miss Flowers, her voluptuous hips swaying seductively as she stalked towards us. She plunged her hand into her panties, pulling out a steaming hot log of poop that oozed between her fingers like warm maple syrup. My toilet slave's eyes widened in terror as she shoved it into his waiting mouth. The heat of it against his tongue was almost unbearable, and yet he didn't flinch.
"Swallow," she commanded, her voice a low growl that vibrated through me. My toilet slave couldn't move, his mouth full of her freshly extracted waste. She hummed in satisfaction as he slowly worked it down his throat, savoring the squishy sounds it made. When he finally swallowed, she let out a contented sigh and turned to me expectantly.
"Your turn," she said, her grin never leaving her face. She moved in close, teeth clenched in excitement as she produced another turd from her ass. This one was even larger than the first, glistening with moisture from her asshole. Again, she shoved it into my toilet slave's mouth, commanding them to eat it hungrily.
As they chewed eagerly, Miss Flowers sauntered over to me and lowered herself onto my lap. Her heavy breathing filled the room, and I could feel the warmth from her body seeping through my clothes. She whispered dirty things into my ear, urging me to touch her, taste her. I couldn't resist; my hands roamed over her body, caressing her supple skin as my tongue explored the depths of her mouth. It was an intoxicating mixture of pleasure and disgust that left me reeling.
When they had finished devouring her offerings, she scooped up another log of poop from the floor - this one soft and marble-sized - and pushed it into their mouths once more. The slave swallowed it eagerly, never once hesitating despite the revolting nature of their task. I watched in awe as they lapped up every last drop of her feces.
"Excellent work," she purred, patting their head fondly as if they were a loyal pet. With one final glance back at me, she walked back towards the bathroom, leaving us alone with the mess they had created. The toilet slave continued to lap at the floor, cleaning up every morsel of shit they could find.
It was then that I realized - this was what Miss Flowers found entertaining. This was her idea of hospitality - and it sent shivers down my spine. As the door closed behind her, I couldn't help but wonder what other depraved delights awaited us in her lavish home.
dedicated to all toilet slaves who take their training to new heights.
