A Naughty Game of Expulsion
Morgana strutted into the dimly lit room, her high heels clacking against the hardwood floor. She wore a tight, red dress that hugged her curves, accentuating her hourglass figure. Her long hair fell softly down her back, framing her face. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation as she made her way towards the waiting slave.
She stopped in front of him, her hips swaying seductively. His eyes were fixed on her, filled with adoration and desire. She smiled, knowing exactly what he wanted. He begged her silently, his eyes pleading for her to continue the game they had started.
Morgana leaned down, her breasts mere inches from his face. She placed a soft kiss on his forehead, her warm breath caressing his skin. "I think you know what I want, my pet," she whispered huskily.
The slave nodded eagerly, his heart racing. He knew the rules of their little game all too well - he was to worship Morgana's every move, and he was to become her personal fart receptacle.
She positioned herself gracefully, arching her back to reveal her plump behind. The slave could hardly contain his excitement as he watched Morgana lower herself onto the floor, presenting her backside to him.
His mouth watered at the sight before him. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to be in this position, to have such a beautiful woman willing to share her most intimate expulsions with him.
Without further ado, Morgana released a loud, wet fart right into the slave's waiting mouth. The stench was overwhelming, yet the slave couldn't help but to savor each second. He swallowed every last bit of her fart, moaning softly in appreciation.
"That's it, my little toilet," Morgana cooed, her voice filled with amusement. "Swallow my farts like the good little slave you are."
The game continued for what felt like hours to the slave. Morgana farted in every conceivable position - face down, sideways, with and without clothes. Each time, she would giggle wickedly as she watched him gobble up her putrid gas.
Finally, exhausted but satisfied, Morgana stood up and straightened her dress. She smiled at the slave, her eyes glinting with mischief. "That was fun, wasn't it?" she asked, running her fingers through her hair.
The slave couldn't speak; he was too busy catching his breath and trying to process what had just happened. He nodded dumbly, his mind reeling from the intense pleasure and humiliation he had just experienced.
"Good boy," Morgana purred, stroking his cheek affectionately. "Now, why don't you clean up this mess?" She pointed at a pile of clothes lying on the floor - no doubt soiled by her farts.
The slave nodded again, scooping up the clothes and taking them to the washing machine. He couldn't help but smile as he thought about their next game - whatever it might be. For now, he was just grateful to be in the presence of such a naughty and beautiful mistress.
