Every morning, I’m greeted by my toilet, waiting obediently on the floor. I’ve adorned its phallus with rings, prolonging its arousal and emphasizing my ownership. I secure its hands and proceed to taunt and tease, my trained toilet responding only to my scent and taste.
I settle onto the toilet, commanding it to sniff and lick, its actions lubricating my passage and allowing it to savor the forthcoming meal. The moment it has been waiting for arrives as I relieve myself into its mouth, the toilet consuming my waste with reverence.
I then discipline my loyal servant, permitting pleasure only when my feces are present in its mouth. Although the toilet struggles to climax due to the rings, my interest has waned, and I prefer to keep it in a state of longing.
I chastise it further, spitting into its mouth as a demonstration of my divine mercy, the only reward it will ever receive from me.