As I hurriedly finished getting ready for class, the clock ticked mercilessly in my head. I knew that time was not on my side, but I had to make a pit stop at the bathroom first. My routine never failed - after all, I couldn't just leave it to chance. It was crucial that I found comfort in a familiar setting before heading off into the chaos of the day.
As I approached the bathroom, I could hear the soft sound of drooling from under the door. This always made my stomach turn in anticipation of what was to come. With a sigh of resignation, I opened the door and stepped inside. There he was, lying patiently on his belly underneath my specially designed toilet stool: my loyal toiletboy.
His eyes were fixed on the floor, avoiding direct contact with mine. I knew that this was his way of showing respect and submission. I had trained him well over the years, teaching him that his purpose in life was to serve me - especially in such intimate matters.
Slowly, I lowered myself onto the cool surface of the stool, feeling its familiar contours against my skin. I heard a soft groan escape from beneath me as he anticipated what was about to happen. And then, without further ado, I began to unload my shit onto his waiting mouth.
For several minutes, there was nothing but the sound of retching and slurping coming from beneath me. My toiletboy worked diligently, cleaning every last particle of feces from my anus. I couldn't help but notice the fresh smell of his drool mixing with the acidic aroma emanating from below. It was a unique blend, one that had become strangely comforting over time.
As the last residue disappeared into his eager mouth, I leaned back against the cool surface of the stool, taking a deep breath to calm myself. My heart was racing, but not from fear or disgust - rather, from a strange sense of relief and contentment. This was our routine, our bond, and without it, the day would feel incomplete.
Gently, I rose from the stool and offered him a small reward: a piece of drawing paper with a small smiley face on it. His eyes lit up with gratitude as he reached up to accept it, his mouth still filled with the bitter taste of my waste. And with that, we parted ways - he returned to his place under the stool, waiting patiently for his next visitor, while I left the bathroom more relaxed and ready to face whatever the day had in store.
As I walked towards my classroom, I couldn't help but smile. Despite the unconventional nature of our relationship, I knew that my toiletboy was more than just a servant - he was a cherished companion and an integral part of my life. Our toilet slavery was a secret shared only between us, a sick and twisted pleasure that we both found irresistible. And as long as we were together, I knew that everything would be okay.
Toiletboy: Thank you, our Lord and Savior. May your day be filled with blessings and success.
