Cleaning Duties for the Sweaty Fart Bitch
The air was thick with a mix of sweat and desperation as the fart bitch waited patiently within the confines of the smotherbox. His master, the Pastel Goddess, had finished her intense workout session at the gym and was now ready to unleash him from his chastity cage for his regular post-workout cleaning duties.
The goddess strutted back into her home studio, clad in nothing but a sheer leopard-print sports bra and a pair of leggings soaked through with sweat. She had been pushing herself hard on the treadmill, and it showed—her body glistened with a fine layer of perspiration that matched the glistening intensity in her eyes.
Without skipping a beat, she made her way over to the smotherbox, where the fart bitch was eagerly awaiting her command. She sat down on top of him, her ass crack splayed open as she let out a long, gassy sigh. The scent of sweat and desperation hung heavy in the air as she leaned forward and placed one hand on either side of his head, holding him in place for her amusement.
"How's it going, fart bitch?" she taunted, her voice laced with cruel amusement. "Been missing me, haven't you?"
The fart bitch, his face buried deep in her sweaty crotch, tried his best to mumble something intelligible through his chastity cage. But it was no use; all that came out was a pathetic whimper as he felt her gassy fumes washing over him.
"That's right," she continued, "you're nothing but a pathetic loser, locked away in this smotherbox until I decide to use you. And even then, it's just for my own twisted pleasure."
The fart bitch felt her leggings drop down around her ankles, revealing her massive, sweaty ass cheeks spread wide open for him to see. He could only stare, his heart racing with anticipation and fear.
"Time for some cleaning duties, huh?" she purred, her voice dropping an octave as she leaned forward and spread her cheeks even wider. "Get your tongue out there and start licking up all that sweat."
The fart bitch hesitated for a moment before slowly extending his tongue towards her pungent scent. He could taste the sweat and the faint hint of the goddess's musky armpit hair as he lapped at her juicy folds, cleaning her up as best he could.
"That's it, slave," she encouraged, her fingers digging into his scalp. "Don't forget any spots."
As he cleaned, the goddess teased him further, farting directly into his face over and over again. Each time, she laughed heartily at his helpless struggles against the overwhelming stench. It was clear that this was his punishment for being a loser—to be locked away and used only for her farting pleasure.
Eventually, she grew tired of the game and stood up, stepping out of her leggings. The fart bitch watched in horror as she wiped her ass on his face, leaving him covered in a sticky film of sweat and feces.
"That's enough cleaning for now," she declared, fastening his chastity cage back around his pathetic little cock. "You'll be useful again soon enough."
With that, she disappeared from view, leaving the fart bitch to ponder his miserable fate. Hours would pass before he was finally released from his smotherbox, but by then, he would be ready for more. After all, he was nothing but a toy to the Pastel Goddess—a living, breathing fart bitch, used only for her amusement.
