The Fart-Worshipping Submissive
Andressa Scot was on the hunt. She prowled through the dimly lit halls of her mansion, her heels clicking against the marble flooring in a seductive rhythm. She held a glass of red wine in one hand, the delicate stemware clinking against her white, nearly translucent nightgown. The soft fabric hugged her curves, revealing just enough to tease and entice.
Her emerald eyes scanned the room, searching for the insolent slave who had dared to defy her. She couldn't help but feel a rush of power course through her veins at the thought of him kneeling at her feet, his face buried in her lacy panties while she filled the air with the most divine and stinky farts imaginable.
Finally, she spotted him. He was hiding behind a velvet curtain, his body shaking with fear but his eyes filled with desire. Andressa smirked, setting her wineglass down on a nearby table. "Come out, come out," she purred, her voice dripping with seduction. "It's time for you to worship your mistress's farts."
Slowly, trembling, the slave emerged from his hiding place. He knelt before her, his head bowed in submission. Andressa took a deep breath, her stomach rumbling slightly. She could feel the pressure building up inside her, the warmth spreading through her abdomen.
"You know what happens when you make your mistress wait," she growled, reaching down to grab his chin roughly and forcing his face up to meet hers. Their eyes locked, and for a moment there was only desire.
Then, with a sudden eruption of sound, Andressa released the first of many farts directly into her slave's waiting mouth. He moaned in ecstasy, his tongue darting out to taste every last bit of her gas. She watched, her heart racing with excitement, as he lapped up each fart like it was the most precious nectar in the world.
As he returned to his knees, panting and spent, Andressa stepped back just enough to deliver another round of farts directly into his waiting mouth. This time, she varied the tempo, making him work for each new blast of air. He groaned in pleasure, his hands grasping at her thighs, begging for more.
Andressa continued to torment him, making him suck in each fart with increasing desperation. She watched him struggle, watched him beg, and felt a heat rising within her that had nothing to do with the farts building up inside her. It was a heat of pure, unadulterated power.
Finally, when she felt he could take no more, Andressa released him from his task, letting out a final, thunderous fart that shook the room. The slave collapsed to the floor, panting and gasping for air, his eyes filled with unbridled desire.
"You're such a good little submissive," she purred, leaning down to run her fingers through his hair. "Now come, let me show you your true purpose." She led him to a bathroom, where she sat him down on the edge of the bathtub and positioned herself directly in front of him. She smiled wickedly, knowing that he knew what was coming next.
"Say it," she commanded, her voice low and threatening.
"I will worship my mistress's farts until the end of time," he replied, his voice shaking with fear and excitement.
And so, they began again. Andressa took pleasure in the way her slave's enthusiasm only seemed to grow with each passing moment, how he would do anything to please her, no matter how depraved or taboo the act might seem. It was a power trip like no other, and she reveled in every second of it.
