Toilet Slaves Scatology - Old Man Slave, Fed with Piss and Poop!

In a luxurious bathroom filled with scents of expensive perfumes and antiseptics, there's a room that holds a hidden dungeon. A cage, in the middle of it, containing an old man - his eyes filled with fear and uncertainty. The skin of his wrinkled face glistened with sweat as he waited for his mistress to come and release him once more. It was noon now, and the door of the cage was unlocked. The dominatrix, dressed in a tight latex outfit that shimmered under the dim light, stepped into the room. She had a bowl in her hands as she approached the cage. With the flick of her wrist, the security lock clicked open, and the old man was free once more. However, freedom for him meant serving his mistress's biddings. And now, his fear only intensified. He knew what was coming next. 'Prepare yourself, slave,' she exclaimed in a cold and cunning tone. 'It is time for your lunch.' The old man's heart sank in his chest. Lunch? What kind of lunch could she possibly mean? He knew he couldn't ask, so he just stood there, waiting. She placed the bowl on the floor and gestured for him to approach it. As he shuffled towards it, his eyes widened in horror - this was no ordinary bowl. It was filled with his own piss and shit! This was his lunch! She stood back, watching him with a sense of satisfaction as he realized his fate. He tried to retch, but there was nothing left in his stomach. His body trembled as he stared at the filth in front of him. 'Eat it,' she commanded, her voice harsh and unyielding. 'Every last drop.' There was no escaping this. He knelt down slowly, his knees creaking in pain. He leaned forward and tentatively extended his tongue, exploring the bitter taste of his own wastes. As he started to consume it greedily, she watched him with a twisted sense of pleasure. She stood there, observing him as he worked on cleaning the bowl. He was a pathetic sight, kneeling in his own filth, begging for more. She amused herself by adding a few more drops of her pee into the bowl, watching as he eagerly lapped it up. Finally, he managed to finish the last drop. He looked up at her, his face streams of saliva dripping down his chin. He panted heavily, exhausted from the ordeal. 'Good boy,' she purred, reaching down to pat his head. 'Now go back to your cage.' With that, she stepped back, leaving him to clean himself as best as he could. The old man shuffled back to the cage, his body aching and exhausted. He knew there would be no mercy for him. This was his life now, his toilet slave existence. As the day dragged on, the old man's mind wandered to better times - times when he was free, when he didn't have to consume his own waste to survive. But those times were gone. Now, he was just a toilet slave, living on the fringes of society, living on the edge of humanity itself.