You're trapped. Servicing solely as a toilet to myself and Scarlett Venom. This is your purpose now. Merely a receptacle for whatever filth comes from our bodies. Spit. Nectar. The contents of our stomach. All of it you will swallow, not allowing a trace to spill from you. If you don't "flush" properly? Well, we will plunge you with our balled up hands and dirty feet. Making sure that everything goes down with ease. This is your place. This is where you belong. Underneath our asses waiting and bubbling with anticipation for whatever is going to fall into your wide, open mouth.