As I walk home, I see him. A man, right there in front of me. What is he doing? Hes urinating in the driveway, where dozens of people pass every day. How disgusting. Without thinking twice, I approach with a determined step. Hes homeless, unkempt, dirty, miserable. I almost feel sorry for him but not enough.I look him straight in the eyes, and with my firm voice and a smile that doesnt allow for replies I invite him to follow me. He has no choice. I take him to my house. Once there, I strip him of the shame he wears, I order him to lie down under my feet, I use him as an ashtray, covering him with my spit and rinsing him with my urine to end up using his mouth as a complete toilet.Maybe hes stunned by my presence, maybe hes not used to being treated with anything resembling a cure but he falls into my trap. And from that moment on, hes no longer a free man. Hes mine. Only mine. His will melts like the dirt that slides off his body.He is now where he belongs: lying covered in my caviar, ready to serve me. He has no hope left, but to live to please his Mistress.
