Its a scorching afternoon, and my four mistress friends and I are in the garden, lounging under a blazing sun that lights up the clear blue sky. Lying naked on the grass, ready to serve, are four slavesour human toilets, waiting for our divine nectar. The air buzzes with excitement and laughter as we gear up for our favorite game.We start taking turns, positioning ourselves over them with sly grins. The first slave, as soon as he senses Im about to let a stream of pee into his mouth, gets an obvious reaction: his cock shoots up, hard as marble, betraying his pleasure. We laugh loudly, teasing him: Look how much he loves it! Not all are so responsive, though. One of my friends toys with another slave, pressing her pussy right onto his face, but he doesnt react, staying still as an object. And thats how it should be: theyre not here to feel pleasure or move. They exist only to serve, to catch every drop we choose to give.One by one, we shower them with our nectar, aiming for their mouths as the sound of the streams mixes with our laughter and the heat of the sun on our skin. The sharp smell fills the air, but the thrill of the game makes us oblivious. Satisfied, we step away, leaving the four slaves there, sprawled on the grass, soaked and humiliated, while we return to enjoying our afternoon of dominance and fun under the blue sky.
