Natalia Kapretti sat on the edge of her bathroom sink, her chic striped dress pooling around her legs. She stared intently at the toilet bowl in front of her, a wicked grin spreading across her delicate features. Today was garbage-disposal day, and she couldn't wait to use her living toilet bowl as the perfect dumping ground for yesterday's leftover meals and snacks.
She lifted the heavy lid on the toilet seat, releasing a wave of pungent aromas into the air. Her "shit eater," as she affectionately called him, couldn't help but wrinkle his nose at the stench that now filled the room. It was like a love-hate relationship; he hated the smell but loved the taste of her exquisite shit.
"Open wide, my little sewer rat," she cooed, leaning forward to grab a handful of the dark brown, half-solid mass from the bowl. She held it up to his face, letting him take in the strong, earthy scent. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she tossed it into his mouth. "Eat up," she commanded, her voice dripping with seductive authority.
The man struggled against his bonds, but there was no escaping the enchantress who held him captive. She watched with dark satisfaction as he chewed and swallowed every bite of her precious waste, his face contorting in disgust and ecstasy all at once. When he'd finished, she didn't miss a beat, quickly reaching back into the toilet to scoop out more.
"And for dessert?" he groaned between mouthfuls, his voice thick and slimy with her shit. "I'm guessing you're not done with me yet."
"Oh, my dear, shit eater," she purred, leaning forward to whisper in his ear. "You have no idea how much more I have in store for you today." With that, she reached around to her backside and pulled out a fat, steaming turd, fresh from her own bowels. She held it between two fingers like a delicate cherry tomato, daring him to turn away.
He looked at her in horror, but something dark and primal pulled him in. He knew he couldn't resist her any longer. As she brought the warm, squishy treat up to his mouth, he opened wide and accepted his fate. He closed his eyes tight and thrust his head forward, feeling the smooth, slick surface of her asspoke brush against his lips. She guided the mound of shit into his waiting mouth, savoring the sound of his gag reflex fighting against the overpowering taste and texture.
When she was finally satisfied that he'd cleaned her bowels of every last bit of breakfast, she stood up, wiping her hands on her dress. "Now," she said, surveying him with a satisfied smile. "Go ahead and make yourself useful. Clean up this mess."
