Madame Marissa was a famous dominatrix who specialized in facesitting sessions. Her divine ass was known far and wide for its ability to crush even the mightiest of cocks into submission. One day, she received an email from a slave who wanted to challenge himself and see how long he could last under her glorious ass. He proposed a facesitting session with a unique rule: he would be allowed to tap Madame Marissa 10 times if he needed to breathe.
The day of the session arrived, and Madame Marissa welcomed her client into her luxurious chambers. She wore a tight, black latex dress that hugged her body perfectly, accentuating every curve. The slave knelt before her, nervous but determined.
"Are you ready for your challenge?" she purred, smirking. "You know the rules. Ten taps and you can breathe. But don't expect me to make it easy for you."
With that, she lowered herself slowly onto his face, her ass pressing down on his nose and mouth. He could feel the warmth of her skin against his cheeks, and the musky scent of her arousal filled his nostrils.
As the slave struggled to breathe, he tentatively reached up and tapped Madame Marissa on the thigh. She felt the tap but didn't react, making him think it might have been too soon. He waited a few more moments before tapping again, this time a little harder.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Madame Marissa turned her head slightly to look down at him. "Ten taps," she reminded him coolly. "Not ten seconds, ten taps."
The slave's heart sank. He hadn't realized that he'd tapped her so many times already. He apologized profusely, promising that he wouldn't make the same mistake again.
Madame Marissa watched him with amused curiosity as he struggled to regain his composure. She could feel his cock, trapped between her thighs, growing harder under her ass.
"You know," she said thoughtfully, leaning forward slightly, "I didn't say anything about how many times I would let you breathe when you tapped me. Maybe I'll only let you breathe after a tap... or maybe I'll just hold my breath and see how long you can last."
The slave's panic rose as he felt his lungs start to burn. He couldn't believe how vicious Madame Marissa was being, but a small part of him liked the thrill of it.
As the minutes passed, Madame Marissa started to alternate between different positions, making the slave work harder to keep up with her movements. Sometimes she would sit still, but other times she would bounce or shake, making it virtually impossible for him to get any air.
Despite his desperation, the slave was determined to prove that he could withstand Madame Marissa's cruel pleasure. He tapped her as soon as he felt the slightest discomfort, hoping that she would relent and let him breathe.
It wasn't until much later that he realized that he had tapped her over a dozen times, and still she showed no signs of stopping. Slowly, his strength began to fade, and all he could focus on was the burning sensation in his lungs.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Madame Marissa stood up and let the slave fall to the floor, gasping for air. She leaned down and whispered in his ear, "Well done, slave. You lasted longer than I expected. Maybe next time, we'll up the stakes."
With that, she turned and walked away, leaving the slave curled up on the floor, spent and exhausted. But despite the pain and humiliation he had endured, a small part of him could not help but feel exhilarated by the thrill of Madame Marissa's facesitting challenge.
