Goddess Tempest, ruler of all beings, looked down upon her loyal toilet slave with disdain. The pathetic creature trembled before her, knowing what was to come. She released a surge of gas deep within her bowels which reverberated throughout the room; it was clear that she had been holding in an unbelievable amount of pressure.
With a contemptuous glance, Tempest turned to face the camera and began to undress. Her lingerie was damp and stained from the previous scene, a testament to the power of her farts. Her husband had been kneeling before her, his nose buried in the crack of her ass, breathing in the intoxicating mix of stale air and putrid flatulence.
Her husband's eyes bugged out as the goddess shuddered in pleasure, rocking back and forth on her heels. He could feel the warmth of her ass against his face, the insistent pressure of her anus against his lips. And then it came: a loud, wet fart that filled the room with its stench. He opened his mouth, hungrily breathing in the essence of his queen's gas.
Tempest savored the moment, feeling the power coursing through her veins. She leaned forward, her ass cheeks clenching together as another wave of farts threatened to escape. She thrust her hips backward, grunting as she relieved herself onto her husband's waiting tongue. He lapped up every drop, every bit of wind that escaped her asshole.
The slavering sounds of his adoration only fueled Tempest's lust. She gyrated her hips, farting repeatedly into her husband's open mouth. Each fart grew louder and more powerful, overwhelming him with their intensity. "That's it, slave," she hissed. "Drink it all in."
As the orgasmic rush subsided, Tempest stood up straight, her chest heaving with the effort of holding in her gas. She turned back to the camera, grinning maliciously. "And remember, slaves," she purred. "A woman's greatest pleasure is knowing that she has a man like you, ready and willing to eat her ass whenever she needs it."
With that, the goddess stalked away, leaving her husband kneeling in the filth of their shared desire. He could feel the warmth spreading through his stomach, the insidious tinge of her gas permeating every inch of him. It was a small price to pay for her glory, for the privilege of worshipping at the altar of her farts.
