As the day drew to a close, Lady Amy's office lit up with the glow of an impending punishment. The slave, a man in his early thirties with a shaved head and a neck full of thick veins, stood before her trembling. He'd failed yet again to complete his tasks to her satisfaction, and she was ready to make an example of him.
"You're such a loser," she said, striding towards him in her stiletto heels. Her tight black dress hugged her voluptuous body, accentuating every curve and crevice. "You don't deserve to breathe the same air as me."
Without further ado, she lifted him onto her desk and pushed him down onto his stomach. Grabbing a black leather smotherbox from her closet, she positioned it over his head and lower body. "This is for your own good," she told him as she climbed inside and closed the lid.
Inside the smotherbox, it was pitch-black and stuffy, the air thick with her perfume. The slave struggled against the confines of the box but found himself unable to move. His mouth hung open, starved for air. The scent of her ass filled his nostrils as he felt her weight settle onto his back, her meaty pussy pressing against his face.
"Breathe, slave," came her taunting voice. "You're going to need it."
Slowly she began to reduce the amount of air she allowed him, her ass grinding against his face as she did. The slave tried to resist, but his body betrayed him; his panting turned to wheezing turned to gulping for air. He felt himself sinking deeper into the darkness, his mind filling with desperate thoughts.
As time wore on, the slave felt himself being pushed further and further to the edge. He could feel his brain starving for oxygen, his limbs going numb. And all the while, Lady Amy rode him like a fucking pony, her glorious ass continually rubbing against his face.
Just when he thought he couldn't take anymore, she finally lifted the lid of the smotherbox. The slave gasped for air, his lungs burning as he sucked in great gulping breaths of sweet, sweet oxygen.
"That," she said, straddling him once more, "was for your punishment. Now it's time for your humiliation."
She grabbed his head and forced it between her thighs, her pussy drenched with her juices and filled with the scent of her ass. "I want you to taste me," she said, her voice dark and demanding.
The slave tried to resist, but he was too weak; he could feel himself slipping further into submission. He opened his mouth, tasting the sweet nectar of her pussy mixed with the acrid tang of her ass. As he worked his tongue between her folds, he felt her muscles clench around him, milking his face like a human facefuck machine.
Finally, spent and exhausted, Lady Amy climbed off of him. She stood over him, her powerful body casting a shadow over his limp form. "You're pathetic," she said, her voice dripping with contempt. "But maybe one day, you'll learn to be what I need you to be."
With that, she turned away, leaving him there to lick his wounds and ponder his fate.
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