I laid back on the couch, my ass and pussy covered in a thin film of my own smell, and watching as the man I had transformed into my personal fart slave slowly crawled towards me. He trembled as he reached my feet, his eyes darting between my sweaty, muscular body and the clear zone around my crotch where he was allowed to breathe. Without saying a word, I gave him one final task, the command clear in his mind from our previous encounter. His tongue darted out, hesitating for a moment before it made contact with the sticky mess on my ass. With eyes wide and a look of disgust masking his face, he began to lick, his tongue darting in and out of his mouth uncontrollably. I relished in his discomfort, enjoying every moment of his servitude as he worked to clean my ass of his own farts.
Once he had finished, I rose from the couch, my fart slave still on all fours where he had ended up. "You like that, don't you?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "You like the smell of my ass, the taste of my farts. Well, you better get used to it." I gave him a wicked grin before sauntering away, leaving him there to stew in his own filth.
As for me, I couldn't help but feel a strange mix of satisfaction and shame at what I had done. I was certainly in control now, but at what cost? This man had been reduced to a pathetic, vomit-inducing mess, all for my amusement. And yet, there was something undeniably exhilarating about it. I had crossed a line, but I couldn't seem to find the energy to care.
For now, I would bask in my new-found power, enjoying the taste of my own farts and the unmistakable scent of my own ass. But I knew this couldn't last forever. Eventually, I would have to find my next victim, my next plaything to feed into my twisted fantasies. Until then, I would savor every last drop of this perverse pleasure.
