Today, I will subject my slave to an important test. In recent days, I've been using him as my personal toilet, but he's always managed to hold back the urge to taste my waste. Not appreciating it fully is a great waste, so today I've decided to raise the stakes. From now on, he will have to learn how to properly savor my delicious shit. I know he's a big fan of my boots, and he's always been eager to lick them. This time, I won't make it easy for him; instead, I'll make him taste the sweetness of my feces right on his belly. That way, he can enjoy the sensation of my boots pressing into the warm puddle of his own feces and mine. His beloved boots will have a taste they've never experienced before - a delightful blend of our scents and flavors. And if he truly is as devoted to them as he claims, he'll get the chance to prove it.
After I've relieved myself onto him, I take a step back and admire the sight. His tongue laps eagerly at the mess on his stomach, tracing patterns in the mounds of sweet muck. Every so often, my heel shifts slightly, grinding my excrement into the fabric of his clothes and dripping more onto his tongue. It's fascinating to watch as the once-pristine leather of my boots gradually becomes stained with the marks of our intimacy.
As I continue to observe from a distance, it's clear that my slave has taken to his new task with surprising enthusiasm. His tongue, once a shiny black color, now bears streaks of browns and yellows. Occasionally, he swallows some of the mixture, only to gag and sputter as he tries to get rid of the unwanted taste. But always, he comes back for more, his addiction to my feces seemingly unquenchable.
As time passes, the intensity of his devotion only seems to grow. He's lost track of everything around him, utterly consumed by the act of cleaning my boots. Hours later, when I finally tire of watching and decide to leave, he's still there, lost in his own little world. It takes him a long time to work up the courage to raise his head and look at me, his eyes misty with relief and maybe even a touch of pride.
"Well done, my pet," I murmur, running my fingers softly over his cheek. "You've proven yourself worthy of me. Now, tomorrow, you'll start learning how to properly chew and swallow my waste. And who knows? Maybe one day, you'll even be able to taste the sweetness within." His eyes light up at the idea, and I can't help but smile to myself. It may have started as a simple game to me, but for him, it's become a deeply personal journey of self-discovery. And there's something strangely moving about that.
