It’s a radiant Sunday morning, and I, along with my four Mistress friends, are basking on our terrace, the perfect stage to exercise our absolute dominance. On the floor, a patch of artificial grass hosts two human toilets, lying prone and ready to serve, while a third slave, our human toilet paper holder, kneels in trembling reverence. His role is doubly degrading: he holds the roll of toilet paper and, when commanded, keeps the soiled paper we use to wipe our divine backsides in his mouth, a testament to his utter submission. Each of us dined differently last night, and our bodies demand release: four of us need to evacuate urgently, while one will offer a liquid contribution. The two toilets, sprawled on the synthetic grass that prickles their skin, are at our complete disposal, and the air hums with anticipation and power.I kick off the spectacle, my bowels pressing with no restraint. I position myself above the first toilet, his pale face stark against the fake green grass. “Open your mouth, worm!” I command, a wicked smirk on my lips. My aim falters slightly: my caviar, soft and abundant, lands partly on his cheek, partly in his gaping mouth, leaving a dark smear on the artificial turf. “Oops,” I laugh, without a hint of remorse. After wiping myself thoroughly, I hand the soiled paper to the human toilet paper holder. “Hold it in your mouth,” I order, and he complies, his face contorting as he grips the feces-stained paper between his teeth. “Nothing goes to waste,” I add. The next Mistress steps forward with a gleeful grin. She gathers my ‘gift’ from the toilet’s face, guiding it into his mouth. “Consume it all,” she commands, and he submits, his face etched with humiliation as the synthetic grass beneath him bears faint stains.It’s her turn. She positions herself over the same toilet, releasing a solid caviar, almost like putty, that lands with pinpoint precision in his mouth. “Chew well, it’s a privilege,” she says, devoid of pity, watching him swallow every morsel. After wiping, she passes the soiled paper to the human toilet paper holder, who takes it in his mouth, his role growing ever more debasing. Her caviar is firm, ideal for consumption, and she ensures both toilets receive a share, chuckling at their silent competition to serve better.The third Mistress takes the stage. Her caviar, softer and lighter in color, almost golden, offers a striking visual contrast. She dons glossy black latex gloves, their sheen amplifying her authority. With gloved fingers, she guides her ‘gift’ into the mouth of one toilet, the one more adept at consuming it. “Good boy, keep it up,” she taunts, as the other strives to keep pace in this degrading contest. After wiping, she hands the soiled paper to the human toilet paper holder, who clutches it between his teeth, his face a portrait of submission. “Whoever finishes first earns our favor!” she exclaims, fueling the rivalry with a laugh.The fourth Mistress doesn’t disappoint. Her caviar is copious, with a creamy texture and a rich, deep color, reflecting her lavish dinner. Per our tradition, the toilets are fed relentlessly, consuming every gram without leaving a trace on the artificial grass or their faces. “No waste,” she orders, her smile cruel, as she passes the used paper to the human toilet paper holder, who accepts it in his mouth, now accustomed to his humiliating task. The fifth Mistress, however, concludes with a different offering: a lavish stream of hot piss that floods the toilets’ mouths, “to wash down the meal,” she says, laughing heartily as the golden liquid glints in the sunlight.We all laugh, gazing at the two toilets sprawled on the artificial grass, their faces marked by the caviar of four Mistresses, each with its unique flavor, color, and texture, and the abundant champagne from the fifth. The human toilet paper holder kneels, his mouth stuffed with soiled paper, a living symbol of our supremacy. Aren’t they lucky, these toilets, to have served so splendidly? The sun shines above us, and we Mistresses exchange smug glances, while our slaves lie humiliated, consecrated to their role as human toilets under our absolute dominion.

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