Warning: This story references face farting and humiliation.

After last night's decision, I had become quite excited about the prospect of working above my new assistant. It had been handed to me out of nowhere, after a few not so subtle suggestions I made to my Manager, Kate, who was overseeing the move to my new office. Surprisingly, she was quite keen on my idea, and had agreed upon it without too much, if any, protest. If anything, she was a quite excited about it. Thoughts of what were to come, both in the near and far future, filled me with anticipation for today's reveal, and I became so excited that I almost choked on a fork of gravy layered beef mince.

I sat in the corner upon a small table, below me the steaming package that was my lunch. I was eating a meat and potato pie with extra mince, and I was enjoying the strong, flavoursome meal away from the bustle of the office. It was my last day there, and whilst I enjoyed the banter and the small talk, at least to some degree, I was ready to move on to new ways of working, and with my new assistant, Dale Winters, an intern I had previously managed, I couldn't wait.

Disposing of the polystyrene case, slavered with gravy and bits of potato and vegetables, I felt a rumble in my belly whilst I became bloated from the food and the various processors my intestines and stomach were going through. My chair would feel the affects of that later, I thought as I rubbed my well toned tummy. They were deep, rumbling groans which I'm such would have been heard if anyone was in the kitchen.

Talking of chairs, I really hoped that my old office chair would retain the smell of my butt. It was likely, I had sat in it for years, sweated into it, gassed into it, rubbed my cheeks into it to get comfortable as a lining of rank sweat baked in my crack. You could definitely say that I was not your typical office lady. You might easily mistake me for the bossy, sporty young female manager, but really I was a gross, lazy, mean slob. I couldn't wait until my new office where I would lose any of my previous reluctance to allow my body to display it's natural grossness. My new assistant will hate it, but he'll have to deal with it. There's no more holding it in for me, I think to myself, as I fiddle with my messy auburn bun.

Before I leave the kitchen, I decide to relieve myself of some built up wind. The door was locked, but still I would try to squeeze the trapped vile air out through clenched cheeks, to ensure that any sound is diminished, just in case I get caught letting loose. My body freezes, the tip of my left foot inches off the floor as I lean over, and I fart.

It came out airily through my black leggings, although with a slight squeak I didn't expect, and lasted for about two seconds. I stand straight and sigh, inhaling, my eyes widening as the pungent whiff of my trump wafts into my nose. It's really meaty, although I can smell a whiff of veggies mixed in. It literally was a meat and potato pie fart, and I think I would have been able to tell what I had eaten for dinner by the smell alone. I walk out, not wishing to take the blame if anybody was to come in and smell it. I think that one might last a while, so I'll let the next person who comes in deal with it and take the blame. Poor sob.

Resting now in my seat, I feel once again my belly erupt into growling. Sighing, and resting one hand on my hip, I look at the time, and see that it is close to the meeting. In fact, it was less than an hour away. I decided to send Dale the following e-mail:

“I have set up a meeting for us in an hour's time. It's important you attend, so make sure you organize your time around this. We will go to one of the quiet rooms at the east block. Try and get your work done before then.

Many thanks,

Rachael Anderson”

I rest back in my chair and soon it is enveloped with an imprint of my warm ass. I wonder if he knows what I have in store for him. I doubt it, as I would have been able to see his nervous, sweaty face glance at me every so often. He might have even been in the bathroom right now, crying. Let him live in the blissful ignorance of this current moment, because I'm going to make changes to his employment and life that he's not going to like. I will rejoice in seeing his stupid, ugly face react to being informed that he's going to be my PA, with very unique responsibilities. Loser.

The time draws closer, and as it does I feel a bloated anticipation in my belly, a mixture of intestinal gasses and excitement. I look at him and imagine how he's going to look tomorrow, fulfilling his new duties. I'm going to really enjoy his assistance, especially since he will hate his new job more than anything and I'll get to experience his suffering from underneath me. Also, not having to smell my farts all the time would be great, too.

I walk up to him as soon as the clock passes 2, 'hey, get ready, we've got a meeting, remember?' I say, with an intended harshness in my voice. His young, chinless face stares at me as he logs out and stumbles about his desk.

'Ok, I'm coming, sorry. Huh- what- what is this about?' He clicks his fingers together and then stands up, following me as I walk out of the half empty office and out towards the meeting rooms.

'Well', I pause, 'we'll discuss it in detail when we get there. It might be a little private, so we'll keep it secret until we're in the room.'

I find it strange, walking through large sections of the building that lacked any human presence. It was in one of these sections, away from any intended office space, where my new, personal, private (well, at least for me and Dale) office would be located. I can't wait to introduce my various scents, sights, and sounds into that office, for Dale to endure. He'll get to cater to me, although I do not intend to cater at all to him. Such is the privilege of power.

'It's just through here', I say opening one of the doors, ensuring he closed it behind him. I looked through the slit in the window and there was nobody outside. They probably wouldn't be able to hear me anyway.

'So, as you know, tomorrow I'm going to begin my senior consultant role, and as such I get to move into a personal office. In fact, it's quite far away. It's near the old printing room, and there's nobody else there, but I will still be a part of this team, at least on paper. Anyway, I've had a chat with Kate and we've decided that, as I am having my role changed, we're also, as of tomorrow, changing your role permanently to coincide more closely with mine'.

He rests his arms weakly on the table, 'Oh. So I'm not an intern any more?'

I smile and shake my head, 'No, you're not a intern. In fact, your new job role, which you will actually begin tomorrow, will be very different. I have this confirmed with Kate, so everything has been signed off, and you'll have to move offices. In fact, you'll be working under me, so you'll be moving into my personal office. Don't worry, the contract is permanent, so you don't have to worry about finding a job within the year, or ever, really.'

Oh- I mean, err- what's my job role?'

Grinning, I tap on the contract written below me, which details his job role, 'Well, it's a very unique position, and to be honest you're not going to like it. You're going to be my personal assistant, which basically means that you're main job role is to be my chair.'

'Err-Wha-, I mean, I don't know what you mean.' His face reddened, and I could see his eyes widen as the news crossed his ears.

'It's simple', I lift one cheek off my chair, and point to the seat, 'we'll place an hole in a chair where your head will be placed, facing upwards, so I can sit my bum down on you. Sometimes I might not even use the chair, I might just have you tied to my desk to sit on.'

'Sit-Sit-Sit on my face?' He garbled.

'Yes, exactly. Of course, it won't just be sitting you have to deal with, having your face in my bum means that you'll need to smell it all day, which will be expected of you. I'll tape your mouth so you have to breath through your nose. That makes it easier for me to know you're smelling my bum.'

'I mean, ok, wait, I- I don't understand why I have to do this? What if you need to fart, or something?' He choked on his words.

'When I fart, trust me, you'll smell it. I will not hold in any farts. You will have to deal with them on a daily basis. I do fart quite often, so you'll have the smell of my trumps to deal with all day. You will be expected to sniff, as I don't want to get much of the smell on my end. That will be your responsibility. As for why you have to do this, it's because I want you too.'

'Oh god, err- I', he began to cry, tears welling up in his eyes and then trailing down his reddened cheeks, 'I, err, have a sensitive nose, so it will be bad for me, I think-'  

'A sensitive nose?', I let out a little chortle, 'Well, that's unfortunate for you, isn't it? You're going to have an hard time down there. Anyway, you have already signed the form here, as you can see, so you're legally obligated to start tomorrow.'

I passed him the form, and as he looked upon it as his cheeks begun to moisten with his tears. He must've been suffering internally, confused, scared, disgusted. He realized he had signed this form earlier, without reading the small print, when I asked for his signature based on some lie I made up. I sighed, inhaled and exhaled sharply, and then felt the worry in my mind subside. I had already confirmed the job, now he was mine. I couldn't wait to try him out tomorrow.

'Well, as you can see, Dale, you have signed a legally binding form, so you've accepted the legal responsibility of your job role. You've signed off the right to quit to me, meaning I am not obliged to let you resign at any point during the contract, which is permanent. Nobody ever said that this job wasn't dead end, because it is.'

He began to weep, and attempted to speak through his tears, 'Wha- wha- what if I- I feel really sick because of the smell?'

I shook my head, 'If you do feel really sick because of the smell, don't expect me to give you any breaks. You'll have to sniff my ass and farts whilst feeling sick. I think I need to make it clear that I'm not going to give you any breaks here. This is your job, and you will do it weather or not you want to. Now, I expect you to be fully compliment with your role, and you know what I can do if you aren't.'

Shaking uncontrollably, he muttered, 'can I go now, please?'

'Of course. I'll see you tomorrow, your contract lists the office you'll start at. Be there at 8. You'll have my morning gas to contend with'

He left, wiping his eyes down with his hands. I honestly didn't expect that to go so well. I had easily manipulated him into signing a contract to agree to be my butt sniffer, without having to tell more than a baseless lie. At this point I was just enjoying rubbing it in. I doubt he's getting any sleep tonight, I tell myself, as I stand up and leave the room behind, letting out a steamy fetid fart which expands inside the room, making the air inside intolerable.

PART 2

As I drove towards the office block, a large, white building set against the grey, sunless sky, I felt the creeping movements deep inside my bowels that would haunt my new assistant soon enough. It must've been the baked beans I ate for breakfast, I thought to myself, screwing my face up in a tight grimace as the gas bloated my stomach. I needed to let one out now.

I tense and then release a fart into the seat below, it's rippling warmth a deep vibration against the fabric of the seat, which amplified the bubbling sound of it. I sigh, sniff the air, and made an audible sigh of disgust as the potent stink hit my nostrils. There's nothing like hot boxing your own car with a vile fart.

Still, I felt the gas build up inside. I'll save the rest for Dale, he's going to have to endure them all morning, and I expect he won't enjoy it one bit. Still, the fact that he will have to deal with them made me feel a certain hazy joy, a vague excitement which coursed through me like a smooth high. If there's one thing more humiliating than having your boss use your face as a seat, it's having your boss use your face as a seat whilst refusing to hold back her farts.

I wonder how he feels, right now, knowing he'll be under my arse within the hour, likely experiencing several farts, having an extended work day ahead of him having to have his face used as a cushion by his bitchy, young manager, who happens to have bad gas. I imagine he feels ill. I hope he hasn't eaten too much. I would have to punish him if he throws up after a whiff of one of my morning toots, although I couldn't blame him, they can get pretty nasty. The beans mean that they'll happen often enough that he won't be able to feel relief between farts, only a fearful anticipation of my next stinker.

I get out of my car after parking it close to the lift. I enter the brown wooden box and click the button to the appropriate floor. As I grow closer to my new office I began to feel an increasingly tingly sensation envelop me. Perhaps it was just wind, but it could also mean I'm excited to show Dale his new, farty life. Well, I was, that was clear from the smirk on my face, cast back at me from the mirrored wall of the lift.

The corridors, once wide and present with other office workers, now began to grow empty, as they became increasingly narrow. I was in the unused section of the building now, a section that had been empty for the past decade. There wasn't really any room for any other office. It felt good to have privacy, because I was worried the sound of some of my louder farts might penetrate through the thick walls of the small office room I now inhabit.

Entering through the door of the small office, I notice the green painted walls, the desk, the fuzzy, greyish green carpet, and in one corner, sat upon a small stool, my assistant, dressed in a tucked in white office shirt and slacks, above used black shoes. Yes, I want him to dress formally when I use him. It would feel more dominating to do so. In comparison, I wore a loose dark yellow top, black leggings, and a pair of old smelly trainers, which I'll soon swap for my slip on smart shoes. I took off my dark trench coat and placed it on the coat peg and grabbed my work shoes.

'Well', I put my hands on my waist, 'get in the chair then. Hurry, I want to get on with the day as soon as I can.'

He gulped, and stood up slowly, 'O-Ok', he lifted the latch in the seat of the chair, where there was a raised space for his head to go into, 'like this?'

Having put the back of his head in the chair, he slowly closed it upon him, his eyes raw and dry, presumably from previous crying. He looked like he was about to burst again. I hope he didn't make my bum wet with his tears, although, thinking about that now, it might be quite funny.

'Yes,' I stood over the chair, back to him. He could see my small bubble butt above him, staring down like a predator to her prey. His face was slightly raised above so his nose would slip into my crack. Just before I sat down on my seat (aka his face), I stretched out his arms to either latches on the table and locked them into the attached shackles. Hopefully we won't need any for his legs, and it'll be funny to see them writhe when I fart. Then I taped his mouth shut so his nose would always breath in my stinky fumes.

'Just, yeah, here', I spoke to myself, and slowly bent down. He could probably smell the butt funk before my crack truly enveloped his nose. I could feel his face press into the flesh of my ass, clad in soft leggings, and I heard him groan. It was probably a mixture of the rough smell of ass and my butt taking up his vision. God, this felt a lot better than I thought it would, and I was now sitting on my assistant, and he was smelling my butt. He didn't like it, because I could feel his laboured breathing take in more of my butt smell, and he moaned in discomfort, humiliation, and disgust, but that made it all the more fun.

The outline of his face pressed into my arse, and it was incredibly comfortable. His nose was nestled in me, nostrils stretched open to breath in his air filtered by my sweaty butt crack, and I knew, already, he was suffering. Well, when those beans kick in, he's gonna' suffer a whole lot more, and I can't wait.

I hum a little and then turn on my PC. Every so often I shuffle my ass upon his face, just to rub in that I owned him. It felt good to feel his nose rub hard against my ponte clad butthole. I made sure it was directly beneath it, so that the smell would affect him the most. God, I was such a bitch, but I was a bitch who got what she want, and Dale was a victim, a loser whose only meaning in life is to serve me as I please.

My belly rumbled hard. It must've vibrated against his face, because he let out a soft, confused moan. It rumbled again, and soon I felt gas brewing around my lower intestine. He had only been down there for a few minutes, and already he was about to have me cut the cheese on his face. I braced myself, and grinned.

'Did you hear that? I can feel a fart coming. Remember, sniff it deeply, I want you to take it all in. Well, here it comes.'

His pleads delighted me as I tensed. Then it came, it didn't take much pressure. I felt my butthole violently release a brassy, bubbling fart against his exposed nostrils, lasting three seconds. The beans had taken affect it had seemed. I sighed as the fart ended in a deep ripple which heightened in tone, almost comically. My face was stretched in a minx like grin as he screamed against my butt.

Clearly, it reeked, but I didn't move and felt his deep sniffs vacuum up the stench. A whiff of the fart soon hit me, and it was quite potent, very meaty, with a slight hint of egg. I grimaced and rubbed the fart into my slave's face as he sniffed. He was definitely crying, and I don't blame him, that was a nasty fart. But it would get worse.

'Phew, that was a stinker, huh Dale?' I laugh as he moans, and as I do an airy fart unexpectedly flows from my anus. It was only a short, airy trump, but it must've been an SBD, because Dale wept as he sniffed it up. He was inhaling at the time it ambushed him, still sniffing up the last fart, and as such most of it was directly suctioned into his nostrils.

'Jesus, I'm gassy today.' I said, shuffling my ass a little as I got on with my work, the smell below being dealt with by my weeping assistant. Still, a noticeable funk, clearly from the farts, was present in the once fresh air of the office. I kinda liked it, it reminded me of the smell below, of what Dale had to deal with for the rest of his life. I guess that the whiff of stale fart in the air was nothing compared to the raw stink below, but even so the smell was noticeable and not very nice.  

I continued with my work for the next 15 minutes. The smell must have not evaporated completely below because every time his laboured inhalation was felt suctioning against my ass I heard a soft, disgusted groan below. To be honest, my butt fumes can last for hours, and the pants never really lose that whiff of trump, at least until they are washed. I'm guessing that the smell won't just go away, it'll reside there, a constant waft of stale flatulent air that would remind him between my farts of what he will endure. That was okay with me, I actually enjoyed knowing that my stale farts will always be there for when he breaths air through my ass.

When I next feel the low impact of my brewing fart I decide to surprise him with it. He won't see it coming, and I'll time it right so he's inhaling it at the beginning of the fart. I carefully tense, hoping not to give away the fact that a fart was coming and that he would be enduring it. It feels heavy, like it's gonna' smell really gross, and I know, as the pressure hits me, that this fart is not going to be very nice. That's why I'm going to time it to surprise him with it. This is going to be so fucking hilarious.

I squeeze and seal my ass tight on his face. There's no way he's escaping this fart. Soon, I felt a bubbling, chunky fart ripple out of my asshole and directly into his inhaling nostrils. Instantly, he gags, choking on the sheer stink of it. His legs are kicking about but his face and body only twitch as he convulses, as he is tied to the chair. The chair rattles as his face, now red, sinks into my ass. A brief whiff hits me and I screw my face up as I continue working. It is quite potent, and very fucking cheesy. I don't think it did my slave any good really, as he's trying to shift his head from the source of the smell, but of course, he can't.

'That's pretty bad, huh?' I tease, literally rubbing my ass across his face a few times. It is bad, it must be, his face is redder and darker than a beetroot, and the smell of a cheese fart burns through the air. Down there it must be fucking hot and steamy, not to mention disgusting. I'm really glad I'm not him, let's just say that, but I'm proud of my performance.

Soon, too soon for him, an hissing, quiet stream of gas flows through my anus and up his nose. I smirk, the SBD settling down there as his legs kick and his throat gargles with a gag. Then a second later, three little puffy farts exit my behind and join the SBD, which he is forced to sniff deeply, his nose working like a machine.

He tries to turn his head away from my ass again, his squealing moans sending shiverers coursing through my skin, but he fails to move away from my ass. Instead he ends up rubbing the scent deep into his nose, and somehow dig himself deeper up my crack. Then, he tries to pull back, but I don't let him, and congratulate his new position with a small toot, which sounds like a quick blast from a trumpet and is instantly inhaled, much to Dale's dismay. It's pretty cheesy down there.

I don't even say anything, I just get on with my work as Dale is left to bask in the smell of my wispy, princess farts. Unlike the first wave of gas, which was deep and manly, these are airy, girly, and small, but nevertheless, as you can tell from his struggling, the smell isn't as cute as the sounds make them out to be. Still, I now feel my belly groaning from my breakfast. I think a big one's going to come in the next hour or so. I'll let it brew, feeding him a few airy princess farts from time to time to torment him. I know, I'll make it worse for him by letting him fear it.

'Hey, Dale, just to let you know, I've got a really bad fart brewing in my gut. I'm going to warn you, it will be pretty nasty, and I'll cut it in the next hour for you to enjoy. Of course, I'm not going to warn you when it's about to come, so it'll be a surprise. In the meanwhile you might get some tiny toots, false alarms, if you will. Now, back to sniffing my bum.'

He let out a single, prolonged weep and then settled himself, breathing heavily through my ass, his face crushed beneath me. I can feel that it's going to be pretty raunchy, and I'll try and time it for when he's breathing in. That makes it all the more fun for me, and all the more gross for him.

As the next hour passes I tease him with a few whiffy toots, all of them reminiscent of bad cheese. Sure, they might be small, but they pack a punch. I just let them go freely into his face, unhindered, as they should be. None of them are very loud or long, although one of them sizzled as if melting (that was the cheesiest and kinda burned), and he didn't like that one, kicking at the floor to no avail, releasing a pained, high pitched whimper as the smell enveloped him. It was very warm down there, and I was beginning to sweat a little. Of course, that means he'll have to deal with that, alongside my other bodily scents.

And, oh, here it comes. It beginnings to expand within my lower intestine as it bubbles in my gut. It does feel pretty big, although it had been trapped for an hour so I assume it will have to be big as it has accumulated for a while now. That, of course, means it's going to smell pretty foul, which is good as I want my assistant to really suffer through this fart.

I just keep my legs braced as they are and push. There wasn't any loud rumbling on my belly beforehand, so he had no idea I was about to rip ass. It churns out of me, loud, brassy, raw, long, crude, and unladylike. He is inhaling as the rippling, deep fart vibrates violently across his face, my cheeks literally shaking as his face wobbles under the pressure of the fart. He is inhaling at the time, and instantly his dry heaves begin, even before the fart ends it viscous long bubbling.

He is crying out against my ass, and I have a smile across my face. It was hilarious to see him suffer through that one, and now that the smell is really tormenting him, I think I'm happy. Then the smell hits me, a nasty, potent stink of rotten, stinking veggies.

'That's fucking vile', I yell, sighing as my slave continues to whine against the pure wretchedness of my fart smell, 'still, I can do much worse.'

I let him weep for a while before I decide to grab some lunch. I stand up, feeling his face detach from the sweaty pit of my crack. His face is red and tear ridden, his eyes blood shoot, his mouth twitching as fresh air is introduced into his fart filled lungs. I don't like him having fresh air, so I grab one of my trainers. I bring it to my nose and sniff as he watched, before I twist my face in disgust and make a disgusted noise with my throat, most of which wasn't exaggerated. I then placed it on top of his face, his nose breathing through the sweaty, rank inside.

I bend over and bring my face close to his, 'If that shoe has been removed when I get back, I'll make that last session look like heaven compared to what I'll do to you. Understand?'

Dale whimpered, 'Yes, boss'.

I grinned at him, 'Good. Now, I think turkey with sprouts and carrots is on the menu today, so brace yourself. Sprouts make me fart.'

I leave him to weep softly, sniffing the inside of my stinky shoe. As I turn, I look around and grin whilst shifting my ass to side to side. A nasty small fart exists my behind and quickly fills the room with a meaty stench.

'I'll be back soon slave, this is going to fuel my gut so you'll get plenty of air when I next sit on you!'

PART 3

I enter the door, and introduce the smell of the gravy, vegetables, and turkey into the room. I smile as I see my slave's red face hidden half behind my sweaty shoe, exactly where I put it 15 minutes ago. He must've not had a very nice time breathing since then, as when I picked the shoe off his dumb face and threw it underneath the desk there was a pale green quality to him. His grimace was one of somebody who both feared the future, and loathed the past. I look directly into his eyes and I could sense that he was terrified of me. His eyes darted to my lunch which I placed on the desk. The round silhouette of the sprouts caused his face to wobble.

'C-C-Can-' He whimpered.

'Hurry up, I don't have all day. Well, we have 5 hours, but still, hurry up.'

'Can I jus- just ask something?'

I lower myself down, cradling his chest with my ass. His whole view was taken up by the fleshy lobes of my butt cheeks as they brushed against his chin, 'go on then.'

When does my contract end?' He asked, his voice heaving as my weight pressed down upon him.

I chuckle, 'It doesn't. It's permanent.'

'So-So when can- ca- can I stop being your seat?'

I shuffle my butt over his chest, 'Dale, you will always sniff my farts. This will always be your calling in life. We'll be in this office, 30 years from now, and I'll still be farting and you'll still be sniffing them up. You belong down there, as my chair, and I will always be able to sit on you. You signed the contract, you need to accept this. Now, I would like to eat in peace on your face. Any farts and you know what to do, okay?'

He began to cry, 'Okay, but they smell so bad.'

'They aren't supposed to smell like roses, they're farts. Speaking of farts, this meal is gonna' make me really gassy, so prepare for some real bad ones.'

I mounted his face and felt my weight sink back down, his nose stretched out against the stale, fart smell of my ass. I got comfortable, his chest slightly heaving with each moan and weep. I ate my meal, feeling the build-up of gas inside.

I enjoyed the various tastes, feeling the sprouts in particular build up inside my belly, which was making small vibrations as gas brewed in my bowels. It was one of those sensations which I knew acted as a precursor to frequent flatulence.

As I was half way through my sprouts, I felt a pressure in my lower bowels and anus, so I grunted and pushed out a crude, veggie fart, which bubbled deeply against my slave's face for a second or two. Well, I imagined it was a veggie fart, as his deep sniffs captured most of it, leaving behind only a vague waft of whiffy air. He moaned deeply as it lingered down below. As he suffered through the stink of that fart I sat silently eating the rest of my meal. I was starting to see him purely as an inhuman fart absorber. It felt great to know he really was going to inhale my stinky farts for the rest of his life.

I scraped the final leavings of the food into my mouth and then set the plate on the side of my desk. After I belched, a part of my after lunch ritual, I begin to do my work on the computer, aware of the fact that a nose shuffled in my ass. It must still smell pretty rank down there, farts tend to etch into leggings and endure for days. If you were at my house all the pants/trousers that were in my dirty pile of clothes smelled like farts in the place my ass would be if I was wearing them. Sometimes I pick up a pair of panties from a few weeks ago, sniff them, and recoil in disgust. I'm not ashamed of the fact that sometimes I've done this and then worn them for another week or so afterwards. After that, if you squeezed them into water, the water would go brown. A week old Rachael fart would turn water into some nasty, foul concoction. Perhaps we could use this in my slave's diet.

As I worked, I felt the digestion of my lunch build gas inside me. Shifting my body to the right and raising one cheek off my Slave's face, I pushed out a long, loud, fart which violently blasted right into his face. Sighing, his screams quickly became muffled as I lowered myself back into position, shuffling my hips for a second to get comfortable, which had the adverse affect of rubbing the stink into his skin. I noticed part of it's strong, potent rank stink escape and I found myself grinning as it put his continued cries into context.

After a while I began to relax and watch my screen seemingly form words on it's own, myself in a haze. At one point I had forgotten my slave suffered beneath me and I had let out a silent, steaming SBD up his nose, only remembering he was there below my ass when I heard his desperate, audibly muted protests. Soon after I complimented it with two small, tiny blasts of hot silent air, which seemed to make him cry out, his hell worsening. Clearly he didn't expect my farts to be so frequent.

I bent over my keyboard, my ass applying more pressure to his face, and slumped comfortably, despite his moans. I could feel the faint outline of his breath take in the foul essence of my ass, every single inhale causing him to slightly wheeze. Some of his tears trickle his cheeks, making them sparkle whenever I look below after shuffling my hips to tease him. He was an absolutely pathetic human being, and I held no pity nor respect for his wretched existence. Well, in the next few hours he would be shown how little I care for him. I would make sure of it.

Finally, I truly relax, allowing myself to feel the sinking of my fleshy toned globes on his whimpering face. His various low moans, pleads, and gags will act as a nice, calming ambience for my work, and I am surprised to see how fast I got things done. My bloated belly only relaxed me further, both from the full sensation of my gut, and from the excitement of what I would force upon my slave in the second half of the day.

I don't have to imagine for too long, and soon I feel once again the longing deep howls of my gut. He must've heard too, because he began to breath more heavily, which was, of course, unfortunate for him. It's those spouts, I tell you, they give me awful gas. No longer do I have to hold  them in back, or ease them out silently over a long period of time. Still, I do hold it back for a little while, only to let it build up so I could really let it rip on Davis's fart etched face.

He knew it was coming from the moment I leant to one side. I heard his gasping breaths become high pitched, quiet squeals, his head pulling only to find itself locked in place, ready for my fart. My butt cheeks were clenched around his face as usual and his nose was pressed up my ass, still inhaling the remnants of the day's previous flatulence. At one point he realized he had been set up to be forced to breath in heavily by the way I currently sat, and quickly tried to regain control of his breathing, only to fail and his inhaling to deepen.

Beginning to panic, he realized I was forcing him to lose breath so that when I fart he will instantly inhale the foul trump with deep sniffs. He knew that my ass was ready to let rip, but that I wanted him to truly endure my foetid gas. God, I'm such a mean bitch, but it feels good to have him know that but to also be within my power.

When I was satisfied that he would sharply inhale all of my gas, I relieved pressure around his nose by leaning further, aimed my asshole against his nose, and pushed.

As three long farts bubbled violently out of my ass I slowly lowered my leg and sighed in relief. By the time I was sitting normally the final second of my third, rippling trump exited out. It sounded almost comical, but there was nothing to laugh about the smell, well, at least for him. He kicked, screamed, pleaded, but nothing allowed him to move his inhaling nose away from that stinker. It smelled of rotten cabbage, although enhanced several times, mixed with egg and cheese a year old. I was gagging and I only got a fraction of the smell my slave had to deal with for the next hour. It was as I imagined that fate that two small puffs of dinner farts added to the foul concoction of bodily gas he was sniffing. I ended this chain reaction of farts with a final, sharp blast of foul gas, which burned his face as it pressed against it, until it was finally suctioned in by his tortured nose.

After a few hours of screams, farts, and tears, I lifted my leg up from his face, and stood up. His tear ridden face was really red and I bent down with a smile to face him. I wanted to shudder and whip myself back, his face fucking reeked of ass and rotten eggs, but instead I stared into him as he looked back at me, still weeping tears against his permanent fart etched skin.

'Well, slave, you really stink', I giggle, wafting the air around my nose, 'that was only your first day. You need to learn to smell my farts better. They were pretty bad today, but no different than usual, you should expect at the very least that level of smell everyday, sometimes much worse. I'm going to enjoy my new position, and you will learn to sniff more deeply. Be in an hour earlier from now on.'

I belched in his face, watched as he eyes clamped shut for a second against the acidic stink of my burp, and then begun to leave, just as he slowly raised himself from his seat. It was as I placed on my coat, picked up my handbag, and held the door that I felt another fart enter my gut. I wasn't finished using him for his purpose yet.

'Hey, slave, I have a final fart for you. Crawl over and make sure you get it.'

Moaning and shaking, Dan crawled over to my butt, lifted the end of my long coat over his head, and pressed his nose into my butt whilst holding my hips to steady himself. Anything less and he knew I would punish him. I let out a relativity short brassy fart and sighed in pleasure as I felt his shaking face twist as his nose sniffed the fart deeply.

After the smell left, I made him kiss my ass and thank me. I smirked and left him kneeling there, stinking of my farts. This was just day one of the rest of his miserable life.