Natalia Kapretti's Exquisite Bowel Movement and the Art of Forced Coprophagia: A First-Person Account of Her Slave's Indulgence
I relished in the sight of my slave kneeling behind me, trembling with anticipation as I slowly released a hot, fragrant log from my anus. It was one of those rare moments when I let nature take its course without any restraint. My thick, chocolate-like feces glistened under the dim light, sending waves of nausea through his body yet triggering an irresistible craving deep within him.
As he reached out with shaking hands, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at the power I held over him. He grasped at the mound of excrement, his fingers sinking into its softness as he pulled it free from my tight sphincter. I watched in amusement as his eyes widened at the sight and smell of what he was about to consume. His face contorted into a mix of disgust and desire as he brought the turd up to his nose, taking in its musky scent.
"Go on," I commanded, my voice dripping with malice. "Eat it."
His Adam's apple bobbed up and down before he opened his mouth, stuffing as much of the shit into his mouth as he could fit. For a moment, there was silence as he savored the taste of my feces, his cheeks hollowing out in a grotesque parody of pleasure. I could feel his eager tongue darting out to lick the residue from his lips, and I almost laughed out loud at the sight.
"More," I purred, feeling my power intensify. "Pull out more and eat it."
With renewed determination, he slid his hands back between my legs, finding another moist glob of feces waiting for him. This time, I noticed how his fingers trembled slightly as they touched the warm, soft mass. He brought it back to his mouth, chewing slowly, savoring every bite. As he swallowed, I could almost see the struggle on his face between his gag reflex and his need to please me.
"That's a good slave," I murmured, running my hands through my hair in satisfaction. "Now, lap it up from the floor. Don't leave a single morsel behind."
Obligingly, he lowered his head, tongue extended like a snake's, and began licking up the remnants of my waste. His face became smeared with shit, chunks of it dripping from his mouth as he lapped it all up. The sight was intoxicating, and I could feel myself growing wet between my legs at the realization of how far I'd brought him.
As he finished cleaning up the floor, I let him look up at me, his eyes shining with a mixture of awe and fear. "You're amazing," he whispered hoarsely. "Your shit tastes so good."
I chuckled darkly, feeling the power course through my veins like an electric current. "Of course it does, darling," I replied, running a finger along his chin, smearing his lips with the residue from his licking. "After all, it's a piece of me."
And with that, I stood up, leaving him kneeling there, staring longingly at the empty space between my legs. The anticipation was almost palpable as he waited for his next assignment, his face smeared with the evidence of his devotion to my twisted desires. I couldn't help but smile to myself, knowing that he was truly mine now, a slave to my every whim and fancy.
