A life in the Ladies Room – Femdom Story

4.1
(67)

by Tau_90

artwork by https://www.deviantart.com/0formant0

Slave Grub had borne witness to a succession of significant changes unfolding in his life over the past few weeks. While these changes might have appeared somewhat inconsequential to the women who frequented the restrooms where he was stationed, for one whose daily toil involved scrubbing floors and sanitizing toilets in the Ladies Room of an esteemed club in the heart of New Amazonia’s capital, these developments served as a stark reminder of the precariousness of his existence. Each female visitor bore the potential to plunge him further into misery with but a simple gesture.

On a fateful evening, a young lady entered the restroom and entered one of the toilet cubicles. As she emerged to cleanse her hands, slave Grub promptly adhered to his protocol, hastening to attend to her cubicle for the requisite post-use cleaning.

However, this particular lady expressed discontent with his efforts. Swiftly lodging a complaint with the head waitress, she, somewhat inaccurately, described an encounter with what she termed an unruly “crawler” who allegedly had nearly caused her to stumble. In her estimation, such creatures had no place freely roaming the restroom; rather, they should remain confined until required.

It mattered little that slave Grub had committed no wrongdoing. As a convicted criminal and the lowest echelon of slave, no women was even remotely interested in his defence. In this world, he was viewed not as a person, but as an object.

In deference to the lady’s wishes, the establishment promptly took action. Slave Grub was escorted to a female doctor who affixed a handle implant to the back of his head. Upon his return to the Female Restrooms, he found himself tethered by a chain connected to a wheel in the ceiling of a tiny cell concealed behind a discreet trapdoor in the wall. At the command of a lady, he would emerge from his confines; at her behest, he would retreat from view, the automatic wheel retracting the chain and forcing him behind the trapdoor.

Curiously, the first lady to visit the restrooms following this modification was none other than the individual who had condemned him to this new level of oppression. He anticipated her indifference, assuming she would confine him to his cell. Yet, to his surprise, she demanded his full range of services. Despite the immaculate condition of all the toilets, she insisted he clean one before her use. Having completed this task, she changed her preference and directed him to another cubicle. This time, she instructed him to wait outside her chosen enclosure, a directive he dutifully followed, maintaining a kowtowing posture with his forehead pressed to the floor until he heard the sound of the water flush and heels clicking as she left the cubicle.


Rather than departing immediately, however, she observed him clean the toilet she used. She then proceed to the shoeshine throne adjacent to the exit, signaling her desire for a shoeshine. Grub promptly abandoned his previous task, dedicating the ensuing half-hour to meticulously polishing every tiny part of her expensive leather boots before she finally departed the restroom.

To Grub’s astonishment, he was swiftly succeeded by another woman with similar demands. It became apparent that he had become a source of intrigue for the club’s female clientele. While slave crawlers were a fairly familiar sight, the addition of a handle, shackles and heavy chains seemed to pique their curiosity. Women visited the restroom not only to avail themselves of his services but also to observe him, perhaps even to derive amusement from his predicament. Some even captured his image on their phones.

Ironically, what was intended to render him inconspicuous had unexpectedly thrust him into the limelight. Nonetheless, such is the lot of a slave – an existence fraught with hardship and humiliation, with no promise of respite.

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