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As the description said, this chapter is full of shit! Scat fans only, so if this isn’t your thing, you’d better hit that back button. However if this floats your boat, you’ll find lots to enjoy here.
All events are fictional and all characters featured are over 18.
Diary entry 10th January, in the Year of our Lord, 1680
I’d woken up earlier than usual this morning. Tomorrow The Dolphin was due to arrive at Hamilton, Bermuda.
As today was the last at sea, I’d planned to celebrate in the evening, by having Sarah brought to my cabin again. This time I would discover if she really was as pure as the Virgin Mary. I’d sent the timid little lamb back to her quarters, leaving her confused and, I am convinced, yearning to stay in my cabin. It wasn’t unusual for slaves to develop a deep bond with their masters, no matter what brutality they endured. I was looking forward to deflowering that pale-faced Bristolian’s tight little cunt.
A bracing trade wind and calm sea meant that we had every advantage we could desire in making good time. I’d completed the necessary paperwork that all merchants have to deal with. Not a task I enjoyed, and now, I felt in need of some fun to pass the long daylight hours. It was time to check up on my other new slaves. One of my feistier captives was an Indian woman by the name of Amisha. She barely spoke any English, but what words she did, were mostly expletives. A regular little fighter, she’d spat in my face the first time I’d inspected her. Such behaviour had earned her a tidy few lashes. What insolence. She should’ve been grateful it wasn’t the Arabs who’d captured her.
I felt a few mild abdominal cramps as I stood up. For the past few nights, I’d suffered a little from a looseness of the bowels; not an uncommon thing when out at sea. More than likely, I’d ingested a bit of spoiled meat. This was the time of lice, fleas, worms, plague, and pestilence. I was always careful about what I ate and drank. I knew I had enemies out there. There were men within the Royal African Company who wished me dead. I trusted my crew – well, mostly. I never fully trusted anybody. That’s how I’d survived all these years.
***
Amisha’s abdomen was churning, and she needed to shit with all haste. She’d had a massive release earlier, and was now bursting to go again. sinop seks hikayeleri Something she’d eaten on this damned ship must’ve disagreed with her. She let out a huge, echoing fart in the cramped confines of the lower deck. Some of the other women looked at her in concern. There were mutterings of displeasure when she let out another loud and noxious fart. She didn’t know how much longer her rectum could hold its load. There were several metal chamber pots, most already in need of emptying. Being shackled, the women couldn’t move too far.
Amisha groaned, as she could no longer hold her shit. A long, thick log was pushing its way out, stretching the walls of her anus. She hitched up her dress and squatted over a chamber pot, which was already half-full from her earlier defecation. At the same time, a powerful stream of piss gushed forth. A crackling sound. Moans of relief, and muffled plops as her large brown turds landed in the pot. The wonderful feeling of relief. Hissing of pee. More farts and plops.
***
I nodded at the guard as I walked down the corridor. “Any trouble?”
“No sir,” the redcoat replied. “But there’s a rather disagreeable smell coming from in there.” The flickering of the lantern candles cast eerie shadows across his face.
“Unemptied chamber pots I expect. I’ll carry out a full inspection of the captives. We don’t want any outbreak of dysentery down here. I run a clean ship, as you know. All pots are to be emptied every half-hour.”
“Yes sir.” he unlocked the door and I entered.
The smell that met my nostrils was putrid and horrible. It immediately roused my dormant manhood. Urine and shit.
The women stood up and meekly bowed as I approached – all except one, who was desperately squatting over a chamber pot in the corner, sighing, pissing heavily and and pushing out what looked to be some very large turds.
“Mmm, what have we here?” I smiled. Things started to get interesting. I was fascinated by shit. I never ceased to be amazed by the amount of shit that some women could curl out. They could put a man’s efforts to shame. I remember as a youth, observing soldiers lined up, ready to head off to battle. It was the height of the English Civil War. Many of those soldiers, not much older than me. Some openly pissed, puked and shat themselves out of fear. Their humiliation used to arouse me. Growing up in Bristol, I regularly watched harlots shitting and pissing down near the docks. They had no shame whatsoever, and I very much preferred seeing people be embarrassed when they shat.
Amisha moaned as her log broke off, the bit making the piss in the chamber pot splash against her arse cheeks. Her piss stream dwindled, while more of her shit was continuing to emerge. Nice sounds as they entered the pot. Another log, even larger. Truly a beautiful sight to see. I knelt down to watch closely. Amisha muttered something in her native tongue; I expect she was cursing me, saying what a cruel and perverted man I was, taking advantage of her at a time like this. I opened her clothing, freeing her pert, brown breasts. I began to massage them gently while her arsehole stretched. She was struggling a little to expel this turd.
“Keep going,” I urged her. I extended my index finger and gently massaged the bulging area around her hole. It seemed to help, for the huge turd finally broke and the log that didn’t seem to end finally did. She relaxed and gave a little sigh. I continued to massage, and one final, smooth piece slid out.
Amisha moaned some more and sighed in relief as she felt her bowel be fully emptied, with a final parting fart signalling the end of nature’s call.
I stood up and sniffed my dirty finger. “Oh my Amisha, you really needed to use the chamber pot… I have to use it too but I think you may have just overfilled it with your own relieving!” I whispered while moving my hands under her armpits and helping her stand up to see her doing. The cramps were assaulting my abdomen again, and I sensed I needed to unload too.
The chamber pot was smeared around its rim, and completely filled with Amisha’s piss and large, steaming turds. Small chunks of shit were also resting on the deck as well.
“By all the saints, what a delightful mess you’ve made,” I chuckled, then motioned Amisha to lean closer and whispered into her ear. “As you’ve soiled this pot, it is only fair that you become my makeshift chamber pot. There’s nowhere else for me to go.”
Amisha protested immediately, but I held her firm. “Please…No!” She exclaimed, rage and fear in those dark brown eyes. I kissed her forcibly, then lay her down on the deck. I immediately became aware that the others, rather than turning away, were all watching intently. I loved an audience when I was at work. I’d put on a show for my slaves. I removed my long coat, which would get in the way, unfastened my breeches and removed them.
I walked over to Amisha’s head and straddled her, slowly squatting down on her face. I grunted as a loud fart spewed its miasma right in the woman’s face. She groaned and coughed a bit as it must’ve been quite overwhelming for her. More of her native tongue. I wondered what she was saying. And then it came. My arsehole started to vomit the contents of my rectum. The diarrhoea that I had felt rumbling all this time. My pungent looseness shot right in Amisha’s face, who just had enough time to close her eyes. I coated her pretty face with yellowish-brown excrement. Suddenly, I felt more. Good God, that salt pork and rum really had done the damage. The next load was accompanied by a watery fart. My unloading seemed to go on forever, but was in reality, just mere seconds.
“Ahh,” I sighed, when I’d finally finished. I stood up. “I really needed a shite,” I said to Amisha, who struggled to open her eyes, and shook her head.
“Now clean me up,” I said, gesturing with my tongue, so she understood. “I can’t put my breeches back on with a fundament looking like this.”
Amisha did not protest this time, but obeyed and licked my hole until it was good and clean. Having her warm tongue rimming me felt incredible. I must say, I was really impressed at what quick learners these new slaves were.
“You have pleased your Master,” I smiled, putting my breeches and coat back on. “We must do this again sometime, when we’re in Bermuda.”
Amisha simply moaned as she licked her lips a bit, while smearing my scat with her fingers and sucking them clean.
I knocked on the door, and the redcoat outside unlocked it and let me out again. He grimaced as the aroma of excrement greeted his nose.
“Sir? Are they well?”
“Oh quite well. But I’m afraid there’s been somewhat of a dirty protest in there. That deck and walls need a thorough scrubbing. I suggest hot water and vinegar. Maybe add a pennyworth of cloves in there too.”
“Filthy savages,” the soldier exclaimed. “Smearing and rooting in their own shit. These uncivilised people are no better than dogs.”
“Indeed,” I replied, holding back a smile. “I’d better go and wash my hands.”
What a splendid morning.