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Harry Potty is Hermoany Grainger's Secret Chamber Pot
- An Extreme Femdom Erotic Parody
- Narrated by: Virtual Voice
- Length: 5 hrs and 4 mins
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Harry Potty is Hermoany Grainger's Secret Chamber Pot
Narrated by:
Virtual Voice
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This title uses virtual voice narration
Virtual voice is computer-generated narration for audiobooks
Publisher's summary
As a toilet slave, my days are filled with a sense of purpose, unlike any other task I've ever performed. And of all the mistresses I've served, none come close to Hermoany Grainger. She is a powerful witch, beautiful and commanding, with a wicked sense of humor. And I am her secret chamber pot, her Harry Potty – a play on the name of some obscure wizard I can't quite remember.
When Hermoany enters the bathroom, I can't help but shiver with both fear and anticipation. The suspense almost makes me feel alive, as if I'm a character in some twisted fairy tale. And then, she positions herself over me, her skirt lifting, and I know what's about to happen.
At first, I feel disgust, the warm, sticky mess invading my throat and mouth. But through some strange alchemy, the sensation becomes bearable, even pleasurable. It's as if Hermoany's waste contains some sort of magical elixir that subdues my senses and sends me into a trance.
As she continues to relieve herself, flirting and teasing me with her words, I feel myself sinking deeper into submission. It's a strange dichotomy, being both her toilet and her toy, yet I can't deny the strange fondness that I feel for her. There's a twisted affection that's emerged from my service to her, a bond that's difficult to understand.
And so, I await her next visit with a mixture of dread and excitement, knowing that each moment spent in her presence is both a blessing and a curse. For as long as Hermoany Grainger holds the power, I shall remain her Harry Potty, her faithful slave, her secret chamber pot.
When Hermoany enters the bathroom, I can't help but shiver with both fear and anticipation. The suspense almost makes me feel alive, as if I'm a character in some twisted fairy tale. And then, she positions herself over me, her skirt lifting, and I know what's about to happen.
At first, I feel disgust, the warm, sticky mess invading my throat and mouth. But through some strange alchemy, the sensation becomes bearable, even pleasurable. It's as if Hermoany's waste contains some sort of magical elixir that subdues my senses and sends me into a trance.
As she continues to relieve herself, flirting and teasing me with her words, I feel myself sinking deeper into submission. It's a strange dichotomy, being both her toilet and her toy, yet I can't deny the strange fondness that I feel for her. There's a twisted affection that's emerged from my service to her, a bond that's difficult to understand.
And so, I await her next visit with a mixture of dread and excitement, knowing that each moment spent in her presence is both a blessing and a curse. For as long as Hermoany Grainger holds the power, I shall remain her Harry Potty, her faithful slave, her secret chamber pot.