Nora and I just finished an exhausting workout, and we were both dripping with sweat. We had locked our poor pathetic slave in the smotherbox, ensuring he couldn't move or resist while we were away. The smotherbox was designed specifically for this type of punishment; it forced the slave into a sitting position with his head tilted down, making it impossible for him to breathe unless we allowed it.
As soon as we walked into the room, I swiftly positioned myself over the slave's face, pressing my sweaty ass against his mouth and nose. The smotherbox was such a clever invention; it kept him in a perpetual state of misery and submission, unable to escape the stench of our sweat.
"Do you like being our seatpad, loser?" I asked, feeling him struggle underneath me. I knew he couldn't speak, but I liked to hear him gurgle and wheeze as he tried to get air. It was a pathetic noise, but it reminded me that he was utterly powerless against us.
I leaned down closer to his ear and whispered, "You're going to be grateful for this training later, when you won't be able to breathe without our sweet cheeks." I chuckled wickedly before climbing off him, just enough to let him catch his breath.
"Turn around, slave," Nora commanded. As soon as he faced the other direction, she did the same thing to him that I had done moments before. Her plump ass now hovering above his face, trapping him underneath us again.
"You're going to love this, slave," Nora purred, grinding her hips against his face. "We're going to sit on you both at the same time. You'll be completely buried under our sweaty asses." She laughed maniacally, reveling in the thought of our pathetic slave being nothing more than a human footstool for us.
As we both straddled him, our asses now fully planted on his face, we shared an evil smile. "Now, who's grateful to be our seatpad?" I asked, feeling his desperate attempts to breathe in our sweat. "Mmm... you still haven't learned your lesson, have you?"
We sat there for what felt like hours, simply enjoying the sight of our slave's face buried under our asses. It was a cruel game, but it was one that we both loved to play. We were the ultimate power couple, and our loser of a slave was just another pawn in our twisted game of dominance and submission.
Finally, sated by our torture, we climbed off our slave, leaving him gasping for air. As we walked away, I couldn't help but let out a satisfied sigh. Our poor pathetic slave might not think he's lucky to serve us, but he has no idea how truly blessed he is. To be the object of our desire, to feel our sweaty asses against his face... it was a privilege beyond words.
