RosellaExtrem - 3 mistresses piss a slave in the mouth! Part 2

As the three Mistresses, Contessa Calucci, LadyKinkyCat, and I gazed upon the new slave lying on the ground before us, our anticipation grew. We had already witnessed his obedience to our every command, and now it was time for him to experience the true depravity of our desires. Slowly but surely, we each took a step forward, locking eyes with the helpless man beneath us.

With a smirk, LadyKinkyCat reached down and grabbed the hair at the back of his head, pulling him towards her. She unzipped her sky-high stiletto boots, revealing the steaming puddles of urine inside. One by one, she removed her boots and pushed his face deep into the putrid mess. Contessa Calucci followed suit, repeating the process with another pair of boots, ensuring that the slave's nose was completely submerged in the stench of piss and sweat.

As for me, my heart racing with anticipation, I stepped in front of the slave and lowered my footless fishnet stockings. With a slow, deliberate motion, I slipped off my right stocking and placed it over his face, trapping him in a cocoon of hairy, sweaty nylon. The stench was overwhelming, but he didn't flinch or make a sound. He simply waited for our next command.

Leaning in close, we three Mistresses began to speak in hushed tones, our faces inches away from his terrified eyes. "Swallow," we commanded in unison, our breath hot against his skin. And with that, we withdrew our nylon-covered feet, leaving him gasping for air. The scent of urine filled the air as LadyKinkyCat and Contessa Calucci pulled their boots back on, their heels clicking on the hard floor. I savored the moment, the look of complete submission on the slave's face as he struggled to catch his breath.

Slowly, I too began to pull off my nylons, revealing my bare feet to the trembling slave. He knew what was coming next - he had no choice but to obey. As I tied them into a knot, I felt a twisted sense of power course through my veins. This was what we lived for, these precious moments of control over another's destiny. With a look of resignation, the slave opened his mouth wide, preparing for the onslaught of my piss.

I positioned myself above his face, feeling the warmth of his breath on my thighs. With a forceful stream, I emptied my bladder into his open mouth, the hot liquid splashing against his tongue. I gazed down at him, marveling at his ability to swallow every drop without so much as a whimper of protest. It was as though he was addicted to our filth, longing for more with every passing moment.

And then, sheer terror flashed across his face as Contessa Calucci and LadyKinkyCat stepped in front of him, their bladders full to bursting. One after another, they unleashed torrent after torrent of urine into his waiting mouth, the pungent liquid splashing against his face and chest. The slave's eyes rolled back in his head, a high-pitched moan escaping his lips as he was overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of our piss. There was no escape for him now, no chance of ever tasting anything but the bitter flavor of our desperation.

Finally, with one last look of triumph, the three of us backed away from the trembling slave. We had broken him completely, reduced him to nothing more than a toilet slave at our command. And yet, there was something strangely satisfying in knowing that he would never be free from our depravity. As we turned our backs on him, we left him there, alone with his thoughts and his addiction.

Later, as we sat in our plush chairs, sipping on champagne and reminiscing about our latest conquest, we couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. We were the Mistresses, the ones in control. And our toilet slave? He was nothing more than a disposable tool, a vessel for our darkest desires. As the night wore on, we began to plan our next move, anticipating the day when we would find another innocent soul to grovel at our feet.

And so it continued, a never-ending cycle of humiliation and submission. For the Mistresses, it was a way of life. For their toilet slaves, it was a never-ending nightmare. But at least they knew their place, didn't they? They were nothing more than disposable objects, existing solely to satisfy the perverse desires of their ruthless Mistresses.