Marissa's Bound Slave: A Helpless Seatpad for Her Manicured Delight
Marissa, the mistress of the house, had been planning this day for a while. The slave had been caught doing something he shouldn't have, and now he had to pay the price. She looked at him bound tightly with ropes, his face flush with embarrassment and fear. She smiled wickedly and pulled out a chair.
"Time for some manicure," she purred, sitting down. She spread her legs lewdly, inviting the slave to take a whiff of her sweaty crotch. He hesitated, his eyes widening in horror at the thought of what was about to happen.
"You're going to love this," she said, grinning menacingly. With a sudden thrust, she straddled the slave's chest, letting her ample ass descend onto his face. She felt the warmth of his breath against her pussy as he struggled to breathe through her heavy weight.
"Mmm, that's the sound I like," she murmured, running her fingers through his hair. She leaned back, supporting herself with her hands on the arms of the chair. The slave mewled in protest as he felt her hot breath on his face, and the cold metal of the chair pressing against his chest.
For what seemed like hours, Marissa sat on the slave's face, grinding her hips against his nose and mouth. She watched as he struggled to breathe, his eyes bulging out in terror. She took delight in the power she held over him, knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop her.
Finally, she stood up, her heart pounding with anticipation. The slave's face was red and swollen, and he coughed violently as he tried to catch his breath. She walked around him, admiring her handiwork. The ropes binding him were tight and effective, leaving him completely helpless.
Marissa took a step back, admiring her helpless seatpad. The slave looked up at her, pleading with his eyes. He was at her mercy, and he knew it. She reached down and grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling his head back.
"I think I'll sit on your face again," she said, her voice a low growl. The slave whimpered, knowing that there was nothing he could do to prevent it. As she lowered herself onto his face once again, he felt a wave of nausea and panic wash over him. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the sensation of her weight crushing him into the floor.
Marissa sat there, enjoying the feeling of power that coursed through her body. The slave was completely at her mercy, and she intended to make him feel every ounce of it. As she rode his face, she couldn't help but fantasize about what else she could do to him. The possibilities were endless, and she was looking forward to exploring them further.
