The Art of Farting: A Domme's Delight
As I entered the dimly lit studio, my gaze fell upon the young and submissive babi. Her head was bowed low, her eyes filled with fear as she awaited her mistress. I couldn't help but feel a surge of power course through my veins at the thought of what I was about to do.
I strode towards her, my stilettos clicking against the floor, and pressed my hand against her cheek. She flinched at my touch, her body trembling in anticipation of what was to come. "Look at me, babi," I commanded softly, my voice a whisper that carried weight.
Her eyes slowly rose to meet mine, and for a moment, I saw a flash of defiance before it was swiftly replaced by submission. It was as if she knew that this was going to be a battle she could never win.
"You have displeased me, babi," I began, my voice low and threatening. "And for that, you shall pay the ultimate price." I stepped back, my hands on my hips as I surveyed her body. She was still trembling, her breathe coming in short gasps.
Slowly, I unbuttoned my tight black latex pants, revealing a pair of lace-covered cheeks. "Open your mouth," I commanded, my voice a cold, hard edge. Reluctantly, she parted her lips, and I couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of delight as I saw the fear in her eyes.
"You will thank me for this later," I promised, my voice almost playful. I lowered myself onto her face, her warm breath bathing my intimate areas. "This is what you've been missing out on, babi," I whispered, my voice a sultry purr.
I closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath as I prepared to release the nauseating fart that was building up inside me. With a forceful exhale, I let it out, feeling it hit babi's face with a warm, wet sensation. She gagged, her eyes watering as she tried to fight back the rising tide of nausea that threatened to overwhelm her.
"Did you like that?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because there will be plenty more where that came from if you don't shape up."
I stood up, smoothing down my pants before turning to leave. As I walked out of the room, I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction coursing through my veins. This was the art of facesitting - dominating another person through the most intimate of acts. And I was damn good at it.
