It was a bright, sunny day in Madame Marissa's lavish home. The sound of birds chirping and children laughing outside filled the air, but inside her dungeon, there was a completely different atmosphere. In the center of the room stood an imposing box known as the "smotherbox." The box was designed to hold a human's head, trapping them so they could only breathe through the tiny opening between Madame Marissa's perfect ass cheeks.
Madame Marissa, a beautiful woman with long, silky hair and piercing eyes, walked confidently towards the smotherbox. She looked down at the pathetic loser inside it, who was already struggling for air. He couldn't believe his luck when he had been chosen by Madame Marissa to be her personal human seat. He thought his life would be filled with erotic pleasure under her divine body, but he was sorely mistaken.
Madame Marissa locked the door of the smotherbox and smiled cruelly. She walked to her couch, picked up a magazine, and sat down comfortably. The slave inside the box knew what was about to happen. He braced himself for the terror that was about to unfold.
Madame Marissa's ass settled comfortably on the slave's face, her buttocks squishing his nose between them. He took a deep breath, hoping it would be one of the few that he would be allowed for the next 45 minutes. As Madame Marissa began reading her magazine, she slowly shifted her weight on the slave's face, making it increasingly difficult for him to breathe.
Time seemed to stand still for the poor slave as he struggled for air. His body rocked back and forth, trying to find a way out from under Madame Marissa's ass. He could feel his oxygen levels dropping with each passing minute, and he knew that it was only going to get worse.
Madame Marissa, enjoying every second of the slave's suffering, continued to read her magazine without any signs of stopping. She looked down at the slave and smirked, knowing that she had complete control over him. She lifted her ass off his face slightly, taking away his only source of air, before sitting back down on him, trapping him once again.
The slave's mind began to race as he panicked. He could feel his body shutting down, his limbs going numb. He knew that he was close to blacking out, but he couldn't give up. He had to survive this ordeal if he ever wanted to taste freedom again.
After what felt like an eternity, Madame Marissa finally stood up from the smotherbox. She walked over to the slave and knelt down in front of him. He looked up at her with fear-filled eyes, anticipating the worst.
"You survived 45 minutes under my ass," she said, her voice cold and emotionless. "Not bad for a human seat. It seems like your abilities are improving." With that, she stood up and walked away, leaving the slave to recover from his ordeal.
As the slave struggled to catch his breath, he couldn't help but wonder what horrors Madame Marissa had in store for him next. Would it be an hour under her ass? Two hours? A whole day? He didn't know, and he was too afraid to ask. All he could do was hope that he would be strong enough to survive whatever she had planned for him. But one thing was for sure — being a human seat in Madame Marissa's dungeon was no easy task, and the challenges would only continue to get harder.
