This morning, after a wild party at my place, I woke up to a disaster: the bathrooms completely clogged, thanks to my guests who went overboard last night. The plumber? Nowhere to be found, as usual. So, I summon my slave, who shows up with that familiar look of submission, already sensing todays going to test his devotion. I point to the bathroom, where a stack of toilet paper stands like a monument to chaos. He gets it instantly, his eyes flickering with a mix of dread and loyalty.Todays your lucky day, I say with a wicked smirk. Your Mistress needs a very personal service. I have him lie on the floor while I settle on the couch, legs propped up, fully in command. Last nights raw fish feast went a bit wild, I warn him, so brace for something exceptional. I push, and a creamy masterpiece makes its grand debut. He doesnt flinchknows his only purpose is to please meand his dedication almost makes me chuckle. Almost.Im not done. I light a cigarette, taking a deep drag, and order, Mouth open. Youre my ashtray now. He obeys, trembling slightly as the ash falls precisely into his gaping mouth. Pure bliss. Theres more, I add, and with a fluid motion, I let a warm stream of my golden nectar pour straight into his throat. He swallows every drop of my precious gift without hesitation, and I laugh. See? You were made for this. The cigarette sparks another urge, so I treat him to one final offering. A couple more pushes, with him lying there, mouth open like a sacred altar, and Im finally empty and utterly satisfied.Well done, slave, I say, stubbing out the cigarette. Stay on standby. If the plumber keeps ghosting, you know who Im calling. I dismiss him with a regal wave, and he slinks off, still marked by my essence. Me? I feel like a Goddess.
