As Lady Nora and I leaned in close, our hearts racing with anticipation, we nodded in unison to seal the fate of the unfortunate slave we had kept hidden away in the dungeons for so long. Our plan was simple yet exhilarating - a game of chance that would determine how long the slave would endure our asses smothering his face. The wheel of fortune would be our guide, deciding between short 10-second bursts and longer 90-second intervals.
With excitement coursing through us, we watched as the slave was brought before us, trembling and terrified under our imposing gazes. Looking into his eyes, we could both see the fear and anticipation mixing into a potent cocktail of emotions. It was clear he knew what was coming; that much was evident from the way he tried to pull away from us.
"Now, now," Lady Nora said with a chuckle, "no need to be afraid. This will all be determined by the wheel." Her words were painted with a devious glint, but there was also a hint of truth to them. After all, the slave had no way of knowing what number the wheel would land on next.
As we prepared ourselves for our first turn, we took a moment to admire the instrument of our pleasure - the facesitting wheel, designed especially for this kind of humiliating fun! It was made of gleaming metal, strong enough to support our weight without wobbling, and even featured little restraints for keeping the poor slave in place.
"Ready?" I asked, casting a sultry glance over at Lady Nora. She nodded eagerly, and I gave the wheel a sharp spin, sending it wobbling into motion. Our hearts raced as the wheel spun round and round, ticking away the seconds before settling on a number - 20. A cheer erupted from both of us as we celebrated our joint victory.
The slave looked up at us with desperate eyes, knowing full well that his suffering was about to increase. He shivered under our gaze, and I felt a twinge of pity for him. It was short-lived, however, as Lady Nora moved into position, her massive ass hovering ominously above the slave's quivering mouth.
With a sharp command, she lowered herself onto the slave's face, pressing him into the cold stone floor with a sickening crunch. His cries of pain and desperation echoed through the dungeon, adding an extra layer of arousal to the whole experience. We could hear the thud of his body against the cold floor, the squelching of lips against ass cheeks, and the rasp of shallow breaths.
Taking turns to sit on his face, we mercilessly tormented the poor slave for what seemed like an eternity. With each passing minute, his struggles became weaker and his pleas more desperate. Despite our best efforts to ignore his cries of mercy, there was a small part of us that couldn't help but be turned on by his suffering.
In between our turns, we would extend his torment further by sitting on his chest and smothering him with our weight. His face turned an alarming shade of red, and his body trembled under our massive girths. We reveled in his misery, taking turns pushing him to the brink of unconsciousness before pulling him back just in time for our next turn.
As the hours wore on, the thoughts of the slave's tortured face mingled with our growing sense of exhaustion. Our cheeks ached from the force we had been applying, and our bodies were coated in a sheen of sweat. Despite this, neither of us was ready to call it quits quite yet.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the wheel finally stopped spinning. We looked at each other in surprise, realizing that we had been at this for much longer than we had originally intended. Glancing down at the crumpled heap lying beneath us, we knew that he would need some time to recover.
With a final parting glance, we descended upon him once more, pressing our ass cheeks into his face one last time before standing up and leaving him there, a broken and battered mess. As we made our way back upstairs, we couldn't help but discuss our next plan for the poor slave. The possibilities seemed endless, and we were both eager to continue our twisted games of pleasure.
