Once upon a time in the bustling city of Vienna, there was a renowned beauty salon known as 'Femdom Austria.' It was famous for its exceptional services and unique offerings that catered to the kinkier side of the clientele. One such service was 'Facesitting,' which involved a wealthy and powerful Mistress using her slave's face as a seat for various activities.
One rainy day, a young insolent man named Smirnis found himself at Femdom Austria, bound and gagged, ready to serve as a footstool or a chair for his Mistress. He was brought into a luxurious salon where he saw the beautiful Madame Carla, an expert in makeup artistry, preparing for her next client.
Madame Carla was known for her impeccable taste and her love for attention. She had multiple slaves to serve her every need, but she craved more. She saw Smirnis—a fresh face eager to please—and decided to make use of him in her next session.
"Face Chair For Make-Up!" she announced grandly, pointing at Smirnis, who flinched under her gaze. "You will be my face chair today, slave," she purred, her tone both commanding and seductive.
Smirnis felt a cold shiver run down his spine as he realized what this meant. Madame Carla, a woman of considerable weight, would sit on his face while she applied her makeup. He had never felt such terror and anticipation in equal measure.
As she casually sat on his chest, pinning him down with her thighs, she didn't even give him a chance to react. She leaned forward, her breasts practically spilling out of her low-cut top, and looked into the mirror. Smirnis, who could hardly breathe, watched as she picked up a brush and started applying foundation to her face.
Time seemed to stand still as Madame Carla took her sweet time with her makeup. She didn't say a word, not even acknowledging Smirnis's existence. All he could hear was the soft swishing sound of her brush against the skin and the occasional click of her lipstick case.
Horny as he was, Smirnis couldn't help but feel humiliated and degraded. His face was pressed into her ample cleavage, his nose nestled between her breasts, and his mouth open to catch any stray droplets of powder or foundation. Despite the discomfort, a strange thrill ran through him as he realized how powerless he truly was.
After what felt like an eternity, Madame Carla finally finished her makeup and stood up, stretching luxuriously. She tossed her hair back and looked at her reflection with pride. "Excellent, slave," she said dismissively, before turning around and walking away.
Smirnis lay there, panting heavily, his face aching from the prolonged pressure. But despite the discomfort, he couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and admiration for Madame Carla. She had dominated him completely, using him as nothing more than a living prop for her vanity. And yet, he couldn't deny that he had enjoyed every moment of it.
As he was pulled away from the salon, already anticipating his next assignment, Smirnis couldn't help but wonder what other perverse uses Madame Carla had in store for him. But then again, he knew that he would gladly submit to her every whim, because even in his darkest moments of humiliation, he had never felt more alive.
