TOILET AUDITION -hd
I am comfortably seated on my elegant burgundy leather sofa, its smooth surface amplifying my commanding presence, ready for today's casting session for my scat videos. I am on the hunt for true human toilets willing to receive and swallow my caviar without hesitation. Typically, my personal slave handles the auditions, and today he has outdone himself with a sadistic twist: he has prepped the candidate by strapping him into a straitjacket, making his task deliberately more challenging. After eight years in my service, he has learned to orchestrate these games with flair, and I cannot help but smirk at his ingenuity.The candidate enters, and I order him to kneel before me, eyeing him with a cold smile. "This will not be easy," I say, gesturing to the straitjacket binding his arms. "Yesterday, I was not careful with my diet. I dined at an ethnic restaurant, spicy food and all, so I cannot guarantee the consistency of my caviar. But a true human toilet does not fuss over texture, smell, or taste. Your job is to receive and swallow. Understood?" He nods firmly: "No problem, I will not disappoint you, whatever the consistency." His determination impresses me, but words are cheap. Time to see action.I have him lean closer to familiarize himself with my scent, a first test of his devotion. Then, I instruct him to lie on the floor and open his mouth. Positioning myself above him, I release a small sample to let him adjust to the taste. The texture is particularly creamy, trickier to handle, but he tries hard to please me, swallowing the first bite with visible effort. Pleased with his attempt, I up the ante, releasing a far more generous portion. He struggles to keep up, faltering slightly. With a stern tone, I urge him on. A few firm taps on his stomach snap him back into rhythm, and he persists, though with difficulty.
Acknowledging the sheer volume, I decide to grant him a brief reprieve, but not without a reward for his effort. I take some of the remaining caviar and, with a slow, deliberate motion, smear it onto his member, using it as a substitute for lubricant. Not yet satisfied, I release another gift directly onto his member, heightening the game. I begin a tease and denial, teasing him with calculated touches as he continues to chew, his breathing growing ragged. With the caviar coating his member, I guide him to a ruined orgasm, orchestrated precisely to maintain my absolute control. He collapses, exhausted, onto the floor.I rise, observing him with a detached smile. "I will let you know if you are suitable for my videos," I say, stepping away from the burgundy sofa. "But I am looking for true toilets who do not leave a single crumb." I doubt he has made the cut, but his effort was intriguing.
