Cleo was a dominant woman who always got what she wanted, and her current slave was no exception. He knew his place and did as he was told, which was to be at her beck and call whenever she desired. Today, Cleo had ordered him to lay face down on the floor while she chose what to wear. Little did he know that she had other plans for him.
She strutted over to him in a pair of tight, dark denim jeans that hugged her curvy ass perfectly. Her eyes lit up with a sinister gleam as she looked down at the unsuspecting slave beneath her. With a wicked grin, she announced her plan: "You, my pathetic excuse for a slave, are going to be my seating cushion today."
The slave trembled in fear and horror, but he dared not disobey her. He could feel her body pressing against his face, her jeans-clad ass rubbing against his nose and mouth. He tried to beg for mercy, but all that came out was a muffled moan. "I told you not to speak," Cleo hissed, her voice dripping with disdain. "You're lucky I even let you breathe through your mouth. Now lie still and take it like the worthless piece of shit you are."
She sat down hard on his face, ignoring his cries for air. The weight of her body was crushing, and he felt like he was being suffocated. Tears streamed down his face as he struggled to breathe, but Cleo showed no mercy. She leaned forward, using her full weight to pin him to the ground.
Minutes seemed like hours as Cleo enjoyed her cruel game. The slave's face felt hot and sticky from her sweat, and he could taste the damp fabric of her jeans. He could feel the warmth of her body against his skin, and it only served to fuel his humiliation. He had never felt so utterly powerless and submissive in his life.
Slowly, Cleo began to ease up on her weight. She removed her beautiful ass from his face and stood up, admiring herself in the mirror. "That was quite an exhilarating experience," she said, not even bothering to mask the sadistic pleasure in her voice. "Now, get up and thank me for allowing you some air."
The slave stumbled to his feet, barely able to stand upright. He looked up at Cleo, tears of shame and pain staining his face. "Thank you, Mistress Cleo," he whispered, his voice hoarse from lack of air. "I'm grateful for your mercy."
Cleo smirked down at him, her dark eyes glinting with satisfaction. "Don't think this is over," she warned him. "I'll be back for more whenever I please. Just remember your place, slave." With that chilling reminder, she turned and left the room, leaving the broken and humiliated slave behind.
