Fart Flavors Assortment: Princess Alex, Goddess Green, and Mistress Corinne
Princess Alex, Goddess Green, and Mistress Corinne were all known for their excessive gas production. They were constantly looking for ways to let out their farts, and today they found the perfect solution. They decided to gather around a slave with a smotherbox, ready to take turns sitting on his face and releasing their farts directly into his nostrils.
The smotherbox was a wooden contraption designed to hold the slave's head in place while allowing his ass to stick out. Princess Alex, Goddess Green, and Mistress Corinne all took turns sitting on the slave's face, their assholes mere inches away from his nose. As they sat, their guts rumbled with the delicious sounds of their trapped farts.
Princess Alex was the first to unleash her farts onto the slave's face. Her farts were always the strongest and smelliest of the three, and today was no exception. She grinned wickedly as she felt her intestinal gases slamming against the slave's face. "Sniff that, slave," she said with a chuckle. "That's the taste of royalty you're getting."
Goddess Green was next, and her farts were just as potent as Princess Alex's. She felt a warm, wet heat spreading across her ass as she released her gases into the smotherbox. "Take a deep breath, slave," she said, her voice heavy with sarcasm. "You don't want to miss out on any of this divine aroma."
Mistress Corinne's farts were a different story. They were not as strong as the others, but they had a unique flavor that the slave had never experienced before. Her farts were slightly sweet and had a hint of vanilla, making them both appealing and nauseating at the same time. "Enjoy this little treat, slave," she said, her eyes glinting with amusement. "You're lucky I'm feeling generous today."
As the girls took turns sitting on the slave's face, he felt his senses being overwhelmed by the stench and taste of their farts. He tried to hold his breath, but he couldn't help but inhale the noxious gases. His eyes watered and his stomach churned with each new wave of foul air.
The smotherbox was not designed for comfort, but it was perfect for this purpose. The slave's head was held in place, ensuring that he could not escape the onslaught of farts. His face was red and sore from the constant pressure of the girls' asses, but he couldn't bring himself to protest.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the girls grew tired of their game. They released the slave from the smotherbox, and he collapsed onto the floor, gasping for fresh air. As he lay there, his eyes closed and his mind reeling from the experience, he couldn't help but wonder when the next time would be. Because despite the horror and discomfort he had just endured, there was something darkly thrilling about being surrounded by such potent farts.
