Toilet Slaves Scatology - You love my piss, dont you slave?

I love having a toilet slave, someone who worships my every need and desire, especially when it comes to my golden nectar. Today, I've decided to use him as my own personal toilet bowl cleaner. He kneels before me, his head bowed in submission, his eyes fixed on the funnel that I'm holding between my legs. The thrill evident on his face as he anticipates what's coming next sends shivers down my spine. I place one foot on a stool, exposing my tight ass and dripping wet pussy to him. I grind against the funnel teasingly, feeling the warmth spread across my slick folds. "Drink up, slave," I command, and he obliges without hesitation. His tongue darts out to lap up the initial drops that trickle from my engorged clit. He moans softly as he savors my flavor, his cock beginning to stir in response. As I get comfortable, the flow of my urine intensifies. I let out a long, slow stream right into the funnel and watch with delight as my slave's face contorts in ecstasy as he greedily guzzles down every drop. His hands clench and unclench fists in anticipation, eager for more. I take note of his desperation, savoring the power I have over him. I pause for a moment, allowing him to beg for more before continuing with another powerful stream that fills his mouth again. "Drink it all, you pathetic toilet," I taunt him, my voice laced with cruel pleasure. He gags slightly but forces himself to swallow every drop, even when it overflows and dribbles down his chin. He licks it up quickly, never taking his eyes off mine. His devotion to my every whim is intoxicating. Finally satiated, I stand up, leaving him panting and dazed. "Now clean my pussy, you filthy slave," I growl. He complies without question, lapping up every drop of pussy juice that dribbles from me. It's almost as if he's addicted to the taste, unable to get enough of it. I watch him worship me for a few more minutes before finally deciding I'm done. I step away, leaving him there, his face buried in my crotch, still trying to get more even after I've moved away. This is why I love having a toilet slave – the pleasure I derive from their depravity is unmatched, knowing they'll do anything for a taste of my pee or piss-slicked pussy. "You're lucky," I tell him as I walk away, "tomorrow perhaps, I'll let you have some for breakfast." And with that ominous promise, I leave him there, alone in his filthy bliss, wondering what twisted delight awaits him next.