A toilet worm has been evading me, believing that I would not discover his whereabouts or seek him out. For four years, we have been meeting, with him enduring humiliation and lowering himself to unimaginable depths. He is my litter box, a filthy toilet, and a pitiful excuse for a man. I take pleasure in humiliating and whipping him, and he sits at home, trembling with fear, waiting for my arrival. His servitude begins with complete humiliation, including consuming waste. He is less than human, a living toilet bowl, existing only to serve my desires.