As the door of the room opened, you felt your heart sink. Madame Marissa strode in, her ass protruding from her tight jeans like a baby's head appearing from a birth canal. Her tone was commanding yet playful as she addressed you.
"Well, then...let's get started," she purred, her eyes twinkling with excitement. You couldn't help but notice the slight bulge in her back pocket, a hint of what was yet to come.
She sat down on a chair, her weight settling into the cushion, and pointed at the spot in front of her feet. "I want you to get undressed now," she ordered. "You know what I want."
Your body trembled as you undressed, your heart racing with fear and anticipation. Kneeling before her, you saw the glint of her eyes as they scanned your body, taking in your nakedness. "Good boy," she whispered, "now get up here."
It was only then that you saw the full extent of her plan: a comfortable looking armchair with a high backrest, perfect for containing and immobilizing her submissive's face. You climbed onto the armchair and turned around, facing the cushion behind you. "Spread your legs wide," she commanded, and your trembled as you obeyed.
"That's it," she murmured, circling around you. "Now, let me adjust you to my liking." Her hands pushed and pulled at your body until you were in the perfect position, your face buried in the cushion, your ass exposed. "Remember," she warned, "not even a wriggle. This is going to be a long, hard ride for you."
With a final word of warning, she positioned herself above you, aiming for your face from below. Slowly but surely, she lowered herself onto your face, her heavy breathing the only sound in the room as she felt your warmth envelope her. Her ass settled onto your mouth, her clothes making a soft muffled sound against the pillow.
The weight of her body pressed down on you; she felt like an immovable object sitting squarely on your face. Your eyes watered as you struggled to breathe through the fabric pressing against your mouth and nose. You could feel her ass cheeks squeezing tight around your head, her soft flesh enveloping you like a glove.
"Breathe through your nose," she reminded you after a moment, her voice muffled but audible. You did as you were told, sucking in air through your nostrils and pushing it out through your mouth. It was a strange, uncomfortable feeling, but one you would get used to.
Time seemed to stand still as she remained still on top of you. The silence was broken only by the sound of her heavy breathing and the occasional shuffling of clothes. She allowed herself to sink into the cushion, taking comfort in knowing that her face was well and truly buried within her submissive's body.
After what felt like an eternity, she lifted herself off slightly and leaned forward, still focused on your face. "I warned you about the seam," she whispered, her breath warm against your skin. She placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, almost like a parent reassuring their child.
With that, she leaned back again, her weight pushing down on you once more. She settled into a comfortable rhythm, slowly grinding her hips against your face in a hypnotic motion. She lost herself in the sensation, feeling her pleasure building with each passing moment.
As time went on, she increased the intensity of her movements, hitching her breath as she felt the building pressure within her. She bit her lower lip, fighting against the urge to moan loudly. This was hers to control; hers to use as she saw fit.
Finally, she pulled away with a gasp, her body trembling. "That was ... quite an experience," she panted, her chest heaving. "I don't think I'll ever tire of that view."
She stood up, her weight shifting off of you, and walked around to the front of the chair. Reaching into her back pocket, she produced a small mirror. "Take a look at yourself," she said, placing the mirror in front of you.
You looked down, and gasped. Your face was flushed, your eyes bloodshot, and there was a clear imprint of her buttocks seam stretching across your forehead and cheeks. You felt a mix of humiliation and arousal coursing through your veins.
With a final word of praise, she walked over to the couch and sat down. "You did well, my boy," she said, patting the space beside her. "Why don't you join me and tell me how you're feeling?"
Slowly, you crawled over to her side and settled down next to her, your body still shaking from the intensity of the experience. As you laid your head on her lap, you felt a strange sense of peace wash over you. You had survived Madame Marissa's training once again, and you knew that this was only the beginning.
