As her morning ritual dictated, Mistress Amber sat at the head of the oak dining table, dressed in a silken robe that barely concealed her perfectly shaped breasts. She cupped one in her palm, her warm, moist breath causing the nipple to harden against her flesh. Glancing down the table, she found her slave, Nathan, hunched over the plate of food she had served him. It seemed he wasn't eating much - and why should he be, she thought with a smirk. He was only there to obey her every command, not to enjoy the meals she prepared for him.
The eggs he had made her earlier weren't as fluffy as she liked them, so when she came back with her own plate piled high with bacon and hash browns, she saw that the eggs were a little runny. Without hesitation, she decided to teach him a lesson.
"Did you like the eggs, slave?" she asked sweetly, her eyes glinting with amusement.
Nathan glanced up at her, his cheeks red with embarrassment. "Well, Mistress, they were a little runny," he mumbled apologetically.
A slow, cruel smile spread across Amber's face as an idea formed in her mind. She stood up, graceful despite the anger simmering beneath the surface, and strolled slowly down the table towards Nathan. He tensed, knowing what was coming.
Amber leaned over him, her breasts almost touching his face. "You didn't like the eggs?" she purred teasingly. Without warning, she grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head back sharply. "Well, slave," she hissed venomously, spitting the words into his ear, "I think I have the perfect solution."
With that, she knelt down on the floor beside him, her robe hiked up to reveal her smooth, toned thighs. She reached under the table and produced a large, yellowish-brown turd from a bowl. It was shaped like a log, and steam wisped off it as she placed it on the table in front of him.
"Eat that," she commanded, her voice cold and hard. "You'll like it better than those runny eggs."
Nathan struggled to suppress a gag as the foul smell wafted up to him, but there was no avoiding it. Slowly, reluctantly, he reached out and picked up the gigantic piece of shit with both hands. He opened his mouth to protest further, but Amber pulled his head back again by his hair, forcing him to take a bite of the shit.
"Mmmm," she hummed, licking her lips. "Now that's what I call a breakfast fit for a queen."
She stood up again, towering over Nathan. "And don't worry, slave," she purred, running her tongue slowly over her lips. "I guarantee you'll be much more appreciative of my cooking from now on."
Nathan continued to chew the revolting meal, tears streaming down his face. As he looked up at Amber, he could see the gleam of satisfaction in her eyes, mixed with something darker and more twisted. He knew then that this was only the beginning of his torment.
