Mere moments felt like hours as I waited for my Queen to act. Her promise of the worst experience yet rattled around in my already shaken mind, and I couldn't possibly imagine what she had in store for me. Would it be painful, humiliating, and how could it be any tougher than what I had experienced at the hands of her, Goddess, and Goddess' husband so far? The silent moment was torture, and my Queen was almost certainly delaying on purpose and enjoying that fact.
My thoughts were suddenly interrupted however, when I felt a hard tug at my leash followed by a simple command.
"Come."
I began to rise to my feet to follow and obey, when a strong arm forced me back down.
"You crawl in the presence of your betters, unless you have permission to stand," my Queen spoke plainly.
I nodded and followed her on all fours, aware of the judging gaze of the other two people in the room as I crossed the cold hardwood floor. I resisted the urge to look up at my Queen's divine ass as I followed behind her, knowing that if caught I'd surely regret it. She rounded the corner out of the living room, and arrived at the basement door. Without a word, she opened it and began descending. Apprehensively, I followed, not used to crawling down stairs.
My Queen impatiently tugged on the leash, and I picked up the pace as we continued to make our way down. Eventually, my sore knees hit the soft carpeted floor of the finished basement, and we kept going, past a couch, some exercise equipment, and what looked to be a rack of some sort designed for binding someone to it. Much to my relief, we passed that by as well, and made our way through another door to a small room.
I felt the hard, cool tile of this new room against my hands and knees as my Queen switched on the lights. My eyes widened as I saw what was in front of me, and I realized I would have been better off on the rack. I tugged back at the leash.
"No, my Queen, you can't intend..." I stammered out.
My face suddenly stung, an increasingly familiar feeling, as my Queen slapped me across the cheek without mercy.
"When will you learn?" she asked. "You do not speak, you do not protest. You do what you are told without question."
I nodded, abject fear taking over my mind and body. In front of me was a box with a pink cushioned toilet seat on top, sitting next to a sink and a toilet paper dispenser. The front of the box was just wide enough to slide the head and shoulders of a person in, and a series of straps and bindings to lock the prisoner in place. A sliding flap then covered them up, sealing them in and leaving them unable to exit without someone setting them free. I trembled as I considered what was in store for me, but I wasn't left with much time.
My Queen grabbed me, forced me onto my back, laying me on the cold bathroom floor. Without a word, she dragged me into the box. Moments later, she clamped my hands to the side of the box, cold steel bindings trapping them in place. I felt her use similar cuffs on my ankles, presumably to make absolutely sure I couldn't move. She then lifted the seat and reached down into the box, placing the straps around and under my neck, just tight enough that I was unable to move, but could still breathe. I felt her reach around to the side, and my head began to lift, and then descend. She was simply confirming that the apparatus was functioning.
Without another word, she slammed the toilet seat shut, and tossed the flap over my chest, leaving me sealed in the prison. My ears rang from the impact, and a bright light suddenly came on, illuminating the inside of the box. As my hearing recovered, my deep panicked breaths echoed inside the chamber, and I frantically tried to move, but to no avail. I could see the pink toilet seat above me, closed mere inches from my face. My hands and legs were useless, and what little squirming I could do with my chest got me nowhere.
As I calmed down and began to accept my fate, I realized that my Queen had presumably left. If she was still in the bathroom, she was completely silent. Moments became minutes, and I became increasingly sure she had left me here, trapped with nothing but my thoughts in the ominous toilet box. What were they doing upstairs, and were they even still in the house? Was this really all she intended to subject me to, a basement prison with nobody to interact with?
As further time passed, my wondering moved from where everyone had gone to what they would do to me next. It seems unlikely that this contraption exists just as a humiliating prison, as relieving as that would be. The pink seat sat above me, taunting me with the possibilities of my fate. Clearly someone would sit on it at some point, and they could control my height, allowing for each access for any kind of oral pleasure they desired. But, was that really all this box was intended for?
I don't know how long I was trapped in the prison box, but eventually my frantic thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps upstairs. My Queen and Goddess were heavy, so unsurprisingly their return made a lot of noise. The erratic nature of their footsteps also suggested they may have had something to drink, but beyond that I couldn't really tell what was going on. I struggled to listen further, but my own breaths echoing in the box made it difficult to follow what was transpiring above. I think I heard chatter and laughter, but after being deprived of basic interaction for so long, it could have also just been my mind playing tricks on me.
The steps suddenly became more focused, and I heard the basement door open, and the telltale sounds of people descending. More laughter and chatter followed, and it sounded like perhaps a few more people were present in the basement than the original torturing trio. One feminine voice rung out through the chaos.
"Whew, I really need to excuse myself," the voice's owner spoke, a bit of slurring evident as she did so. More laughter followed, and the door to the bathroom swung open.
The owner of the voice continued to speak.
"Yeah, I ended up going to a party with a few folks I met at the bar," it continued. "They're really fun, and they had some interesting plans for the evening that I absolutely had to check out."
Whoever this was, she must have been on the phone. The door shut behind her as she approached the box. Moments later, she lifted the seat, and I was able to look up at her. She was reasonably large, not quite the size of my Queen, but certainly not skinny either. From my angle, I could see she was wearing a gray pencil skirt, which obscured her olive colored skin. My brief view was interrupted however, as she lifted her skirt, dropped her black lace underwear, and sat on the soft toilet seat. She didn't even seem to notice or care that there was a person inside the box!
Moments later, an aroma of alcohol and sweat filled the box. This woman, whoever she was, must have really been drinking. Perhaps that's why this odd setup didn't seem to phase her. She squirmed a bit to get comfortable, and the interior lighting of the box gave me a clear view of her hairy asshole and vagina. Something about this whole situation was extremely humiliating, and the woman simply kept talking on the phone.
"Yeah, there's some hot guys here, and honestly some pretty attractive ladies too," it continued. "I think I'm going to get laid tonight, it should be a good one."
I blushed. Just how many people were over here, and were they all in the basement with just this devious box as a bathroom? What would that mean for me? I was suddenly beginning to understand what my Queen had meant about this next punishment. As if in sync with my thoughts, I noticed the woman's asshole briefly expand, followed by a quick poot noise, and a blast of hot air on my face.
"Hang on," the voice spoke, and the woman slid forward, and glared down at me between her soft thighs.
"Aren't you supposed to be absorbing these with your mouth? What kind of useless toilet are you? Do I need to tell your owner?" she questioned, clearly annoyed.
I shook my head, knowing what fate would befall me if my Queen heard of any failing.