Serving My Mistress, Stroke With Me
It was a day like any other for me, bound and helpless in the confines of my own home. My body had been transformed into a pair of soft, silky panties, completely under the control of my mistress, Stroke With Me. She had cast her spell upon me, reducing me to nothing more than a personal garment for her use. I couldn't move, couldn't speak, and couldn't even think without her permission. All I could do was wait for her next command.
And then it came. She entered the room, her presence filling me with both fear and excitement. As she approached, I felt the warmth of her body against my silky covering. She sat down on the bed, her heavy breaths filling my delicate fabric with the intoxicating scent of her arousal. Without a word, she lifted her foot, her toes pressing lightly against my crotch. I trembled in anticipation, knowing that she was about to use me in ways I could never have imagined.
Without warning, a hot, humid gust of wind hit my exposed panties. I felt her fart engulf me, filling every fiber of my being with her powerful scent. As she released her hold on me, I swayed back and forth, catching the force of her wind. It was an intimate moment shared between us, one filled with submission, humiliation, and an unspoken sense of pleasure.
"There's no need for you to clean yourself," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "I will enjoy the scent of my own farts on you for as long as I wish."
And so, I became her personal fart cushion, absorbing her gases with every breath. Throughout the day, she would use me in this way, filling me with her dominance and power. At night, she would remove me from her body, placing me in a sealed container until she needed me again. It was a life of degradation and humiliation, but one that I found oddly gratifying.
As time passed, I realized that my mistress had changed me forever. I was no longer a person, but a mere object to be used at her whim. Yet, despite the degradation, I found myself craving her attention, her commands, and the intoxicating scent of her farts. I had become addicted to her power, bound to serve her in any way she saw fit.
And so, I waited patiently for her next command, knowing that it would be both exhilarating and humiliating. For in the world of Stroke With Me, there was no escape from the power of magic or the unyielding control of my mistress.
