You arrive at Madame Marissa's house, nervous but excited for the session you've been dreaming about. She greets you warmly and invites you into her boudoir, where she sits down on a luxurious leather chair. "You'll be my seat pad for a full hour," she tells you, a mischievous glint in her eye.
You begin to undress, your heart racing as you anticipate her first command. She watches you intently, her gaze full of domination. You kneel before her, head bowed in submission, and thank her for allowing you to suffer under her ass. Your words are shaky but filled with a strange kind of gratitude.
Next, Madame Marissa instructs you to kiss her ass as a sign of respect. Slowly, you lean forward and press your lips against her plush cheek, breathing in her scent and tasting her skin. It's soft and sweet like cherry blossoms, but there's a hint of authority that lingers on your tongue.
As you pull back, she takes hold of a roll of plastic wrap and begins to unspool it. She smiles cruelly as she deftly wraps your entire body, binding your limbs together so that you become a human mummy. Every inch of your skin is now soft and supple beneath her touch.
"There," she says finally, standing back to survey her work. "Now you're all mine."
And so begins Mrs. Marissa's game of facesitting wheel-of-fortune. Each time she spins the wheel, she chooses a fate for you—some innocuous like slow deep kisses along your jawline, others far more alarming like painful butt drops that make you cry out in surprise and pain.
As she tortures and teases you, Mrs. Marissa watches with glee as your face turns redder and redder from lack of air. You beg her for mercy, but she only laughs in response. This is the perfect punishment for someone who desires her ass so much—it's both humiliating and exhilarating at the same time.
Each time she approaches you, your heart rate increases tenfold. Will she sit down on your face today? Or will she decide on something even more sinister? The anticipation is killing you, but you wouldn't have it any other way.
As the hour draws near, Mrs. Marissa decides it's time for another round of punishments. She produces a roll of gaffer tape and begins to stretch it over your mouth, covering your nose too so that you can only breathe through your nose. You try to protest, but all that comes out is a muffled whisper against her sticky tape.
This new punishment combined with the previous ones makes it almost unbearable for you to breathe properly. You feel like you're dying, suffocating under the weight of Mrs. Marissa's ass and the pressure of her lips against yours. But still, you manage to whisper that you love her, because even in this moment of pure agony, you can't deny how much you crave her ass.
Finally, the hour is up. Mrs. Marissa stands up slowly, her heavy ass leaving your face feeling numb. She unbinds you carefully, removing each layer of plastic wrap one by one until you're free once more. You fall back onto the floor, gasping for air, as she leans down to kiss your forehead tenderly.
"I'm proud of you, sweetheart," she says softly, caressing your cheek. "You survived an hour under my ass. Not many can say that."
You look up at her, dazed and confused, but filled with a sense of achievement that surprises even you. Maybe, just maybe, you're starting to understand what it truly means to serve Mrs. Marissa.
