The messenger, a young man in his early twenties, walked nervously into the opulent room of the madam. His heart raced as he looked at her, wondering if he had brought bad news that would earn him her wrath. The madam, an imposing figure with chic fashion sense and sharp features, sat on her velvet chair, a look of expectation on her face.
"Well? What have you brought for me?" she asked coldly.
The messenger swallowed hard and began to speak. "I'm sorry, Madam. The tenants have left town, and they won't be coming back. They didn't pay any rent either," he said, his voice shaking.
Madam's eyes narrowed, and she pushed back her chair, towering over the messenger. He took a step back, his heart thudding in his chest. "How dare they," she muttered under her breath before turning back to him. "You know the consequences of failure, don't you?"
The messenger nodded meekly, knowing all too well what she meant. Madam was not one to forgive easily, and failure always came with a hefty price. "Yes, Madam," he replied, his voice trembling.
"Strip!" she barked, pointing to the corner of the room. The messenger hesitated for a moment before doing as he was told, removing his clothes until he stood naked before her.
Madam approached him, her eyes cold and unfeeling. She motioned for him to lie down on the cold tile floor, and he did so, his body trembling with anticipation. She walked over to a small table on the side and picked up a portable toilet seat, carrying it back to where the messenger lay.
"Open your mouth," she commanded, and the messenger obeyed, his mouth opening wide in anticipation of what was to come. Madam positioned the toilet seat over his face, covering it completely, and then stepped onto it, crushing his face under the weight of her body. The messenger felt a warm, foul-smelling gust of air hit his face, and he knew she was about to use the toilet onto him.
Madam grunted as she relieved herself, and the messenger felt a series of warm splashes onto his face and into his open mouth. After what felt like an eternity, she finally stood up, releasing the weight off his face. The messenger gagged at the overwhelming stench, and Madam's next words sent a chill down his spine.
"Eat it," she commanded. There was no room for disobedience, so the messenger did as he was told. He began to chew on the foul, disgusting mess she had just shat onto his face. Tears streamed down his face as he forced himself to swallow, the taste lodged in the back of his throat.
Madam stood over him, watching his tortured expressions with a sense of satisfaction. This was how she maintained control - by instilling fear in those around her. And the messenger was just another example of how effective her methods were. With a cruel smile, she turned and left the room, leaving the naked, humiliated man sobbing on the cold tile floor.
