I lay inside the prison box, enveloped in darkness and the heavy aroma of my Queen. Her morning torment was still fresh, occupying both my mind and my senses. I could hear my Queen showering in the distance, and thoughts of her large heavenly body glistening caused my caged cock to stir, adding to my significant discomfort. I squirmed against the bindings, fruitlessly, of course, dreaming of entering that shower with her to serve.
It was hard to tell how much time passed in my prison, and my Queen almost certainly enjoyed this fact. I was helpless, and had no control, and that was simply the way of things in our relationship. As I lay there pondering this fact, the towel suddenly lifted off the top of the prison box, and my eyes were overwhelmed by the light flooding into the box as I finally was granted a taste of some fresh air. My Queen, her glistening clean body towering over me, looked down at me, smiling. Her smile, while beautiful, was often a signal of suffering to come.
"How is my pathetic little bidet slave?" she asked, her voice both playful and sinister.
"I am well my Queen, thank you for allowing me to serve you," I replied, obediently.
She nodded, hopefully accepting my response. Moments later, her face disappeared, and I felt her unbinding my hands from the box. My wrists, aching from the cuffs, were finally free, and my arms dropped to the floor. My Queen grabbed my leash, and yanked me from the box. She then pulled me to my knees.
I kept my eyes to the floor, despite the temptation to look at her divine body in all of its glory. I had fallen for this siren's call before, and paid dearly for it in the form of unique and painful punishments. Before long however, I felt her favorite crop rest on my shoulder, perhaps as a threat, or perhaps simply to get my attention, as she spoke.
"Serve your Queen, my pathetic little slave," she commanded.
Before I could react, she yanked on the collar, pulling my face into her naked crotch. She lifted her stomach and rested it on my forehead as my face became enveloped in her sweet, wonderful pussy. Her hair bristled my cheeks as my tongue instinctively left my mouth to pleasure my Queen. A stark contrast to her sweaty morning ass, her clean pussy was literally heaven. I slowly and carefully maneuvered my tongue, making my way towards her clitoris. I could feel her push on my head as she yanked on my leash, indicating I was doing my job well.
My Queen began to moan as my tongue circled around her clit, and her grip became more forceful. I could barely breathe, her stomach and hand locking me between her thighs as her hold on my leash tightened. What little air I could take in was rich with her scent, and I savored every bit of it. As I continued to please here, I could feel my Queen's large milky thighs quiver with pleasure as I intensified my licking, a mix of her juices and my saliva dripping down my chin. I truly was her pleasure slave, existing only to serve her.
Suddenly, my head was forced hard into my Queen's crotch, a signal that she was reaching climax. Her body quivered as a long, deep moan escaped her lips, as I lapped up her juices. Her thighs tightened around my head, and I truly thought I was about to be crushed, when she finally breathed a sigh of release and relented.
Knowing my duty, I began to lap up her juices, making sure she was clean. Before I could finish, though, a command escaped my Queen's lips.
"Open," she spoke.
My face went white, as a brief moment of pleasure was again about to be replaced with suffering at the whims of my Queen. Still, I did as I was told.
Without further warning, a familiar hot stream entered my slave mouth. Saltier than last time, and far more bitter, it was a struggle to drink it down. The awkward position of my head made this extra difficult as well, as instead of a toilet, I had become what was effectively a urinal. With each awkward gulp, my mouth became more full, and I fell more behind. I hoped my Queen would finish soon, as her bitter nectar would soon overwhelm me.
My wishes were not answered, and my body went cold as my Queen's warm piss overflowed, dripping down my face and onto the floor. I did my best to keep gulping, but I knew at this point my fate was sealed. A cough escaped my mouth, splashing more urine as I gagged and tears fell down my cheeks. My Queen had no interest in my suffering, and I began to openly sob as the piss continued to pour both down my throat and down my body onto the floor. I was truly pathetic.
The salty bitterness was extreme, and I could barely hold on. Finally however, my Queen's bladder relented, and I was able to gulp down the remaining urine, my face now a mess of tears and piss. I licked my Queen clean, like a good bidet, before looking down at the floor and the mess I had made. As I looked down, my Queen's trembling, furious voice boomed.
"What good is a toilet slave that can't even do the one thing it's for?" she asked, her anger clear.
Before I could respond, her powerful hand forced my face to the puddle on the floor, and her other hand yanked my ass into the air. I could briefly hear the crop whistling in the air, a moment of warning before it stung my backside. Tears welled up in my eyes, this was no playful spanking, the sting of the crop was almost unbearable.
"Clean," my Queen barked, her foot now on my head, forcing it into the puddle.
