Natalia Kapretti - Monster shit. I really want to shit

Natalia Kapretti stood at the edge of the shower, soaping up her voluptuous body, trying desperately to ignore the gnawing ache in her gut. She was a toilet slave, and it had been hours since her last shit. Her master had given her a strict schedule: every half hour, whether she needed to shit or not, she was to insert a butt plug and maintain it for the prescribed time. It was his way of maintaining control over her body and ensuring that she remained fertile ground for his perversions.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will the sensation away. But there was no denying it: her bowels were overflowing. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and reached down to grab the muscle butt plug. With a grimace, she squeezed it, stretching her anus in preparation for the thick intrusion. Her fingers trembled as she positioned the cold, hard object at her opening. With a sharp intake of breath, she pushed, feeling the rigid surface slide through the slick tunnel of her rectum. The discomfort intensified, but she kept pushing until it finally popped out, the thick turd hanging from it. She stared at the sight in shock.

It was enormous. A gigantic, monstrous ball of shit, twisted and knotty, covered in slimy mucus and bursting with strain. And it was all hers. "I wanted to shit so badly," she whispered, her voice quavering with excitement and relief. She grabbed the turd with both hands and lifted it above her head, reveling in the sheer weight and mass of it. Then, with a deep moan of pleasure, she lowered the turd back to her lips and absorbed it into her waiting mouth, feeling the warm, viscous fluid coat her tongue and teeth. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she savored the taste and texture of her own excrement, the ultimate expression of her submission and devotion to her master's wishes.

As she stood there, basking in the afterglow of her self-induced orgasm of filth, she couldn't help but wonder how much more of her body he would claim. She knew that he watched her through hidden cameras, monitoring every move, every grimace of discomfort and expression of ecstasy. And she also knew that there was no escape, not when her heart and soul belonged to him, when her very existence was defined by his perverse desires. But still, she welcomed it, embraced it, knowing that only through his control could she find the dark pleasure that she craved so deeply.

She turned to the toilet, waiting for the next command from her master. Another wave of anticipation washed over her as she imagined what he would ask her to do next, how far he would push her boundaries, how deep he would thrust himself into her mind and body. She was his toy, his plaything, his instrument of pleasure and torment. And she loved every moment of it.