Toilet Slaves Scatology - Pissing on House Slave!

In the opulent bathroom, the toilet slave knelt before his Mistress with a pitiful look. His eyes were fixed on her engorged clitoris as she stood over him, dressed in a tight, red latex dress that accentuated her every curve. She was still feeling queasy from her earlier intestinal distress and had unexpectedly vomited on him. The smell of stale alcohol and regurgitated food mingled in the air as he tried to wipe away the vomit from his clothes.

The slave's face was buried in his own filth as the stench assaulted his nostrils. He could taste the acidic mixture of bile and food particles coating his tongue, but he remained silent and attentive to his Mistress's every move. "Why do you make me do this?" He thought to himself, wishing he could escape this sadistic lifestyle for just one moment.

His Mistress, however, seemed to have other ideas. With a mischievous grin on her face, she approached the slave and bent down, her breath hot on his ear. "Because you're my toilet slave, and that's what I do to you. Now prepare yourself," she whispered, her slow, measured words sending shivers down his spine.

As if in response, the slave's bladder began to tingle with the urgent need to release its contents. He knew what was coming next; he had endured this ritual many times before. His Mistress reached down, her latex-clad fingers finding their way between his legs. With a gentle squeeze, she began to stroke his now-hard cock, rhythmically pulling on the foreskin as she teased him mercilessly.

His vision began to blur, and all he could see was the darkness of the void. The intensity of the sensations building up inside him were beyond anything he could have imagined. His Mistress continued to play with his cock, her touch growing more demanding and possessive. He could feel the pressure building up in his bladder, and he knew he had to release it soon. But the thought of pleasing his Mistress by pissing on her command was too enticing to resist.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of teasing, his Mistress stood up straight, still gripping his cock tightly. "Prepare to be washed away, my little toilet slave," she purred, her breath tickling his ear once again. "Do you know what I'm going to do to you?" She asked, though she already knew the answer.

The slave nodded silently, his eyes locked on hers. "Yes, Mistress," he replied, his voice shaking with anticipation. He knew what was coming; he had endured this ritual countless times before. But despite the pain and humiliation, there was something about it that excited him deep down inside. He was her toilet slave, and he would do anything for her.

With a wicked grin, his Mistress lifted her latex-clad leg, revealing her shapely thigh beneath. "Open your mouth," she commanded, her voice dripping with promises of pleasure and pain. The slave did as he was told, his tongue extended hesitantly towards her thigh. He could feel his bladder about to give way, but he clenched it tightly, trying to delay the inevitable.

Slowly, ever so slowly, his Mistress lowered herself down onto him, her engorged clit brushing against his tongue. The slave's whole body shook with the effort of holding back his urine as he tasted the warm, sweet liquids flowing down her leg. "That's my good little toilet slave," she murmured, her voice filled with delight. She knew how much he loved tasting her juices, how much he cherished every drop of her essence. And she loved tormenting him with it.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, his Mistress stood up straight again. She reached down and retrieved a glass from the vanity table beside them. "Now drink this," she commanded, her voice firm but playful. Reluctantly, the slave reached out and took the glass from her hand. His legs trembled as he fought to maintain control over his bladder.

He raised the glass to his lips and took a tentative sip. It was warm and slightly metallic, but he could taste the familiar sweetness beneath the surface. His Mistress's urine. The realization sent shivers down his spine, but he couldn't deny the thrill that coursed through his veins. He was her toilet slave, and he loved every moment of it.

Slowly, steadily, he downed the entire contents of the glass. His Mistress watched approvingly, a small smirk playing at the corners of her lips. She knew that this was his ultimate act of submission, his way of showing her that he belonged to her, body and soul. And she loved every second of it.

With a satisfied smile, she turned and walked back towards the door. "You've done well, my toilet slave," she purred over her shoulder, her voice echoing in the silence of the luxurious bathroom. "Now clean up your mess and wait for your next assignment." The slave nodded mutely, his heart racing with anticipation. He knew that the next time his Mistress commanded him to kneel before her, he would drop to his knees without hesitation. Because he was her toilet slave, and he would do anything for his Mistress.

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