Archive name:
Authors name: Smotherfan
([email protected])
Story title: Beer Garden Smoother
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This work is copyrighted to the author and
the Smother World Organisation © 2003.
Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this
story. All rights reserved. Thank you
for your consideration.
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Authors Note. I
can remember being in a beer garden one fine summers afternoon when one of
several girls at an nearby table farted loudly, they all thought that it was so
funny that they all tried with varying degree’s of success. The real point is
that everyone else in the garden was embarrassed and pretended not to hear. I
started to wonder what would have happened if somebody had said something or
maybe just looked up.
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He’d stopped
for a rest as much as for a beer, after three hours driving on a hot sunny day
he needed the break as much as the beer. It was getting on for closing time
when he eventually pulled into the car park of the Bluebell.
The car park
was empty and the pub almost the same, just a couple of elderly regulars seated
near the empty fireplace. He ordered half a shandy and a packet of plain crisps
and made his way into what he thought was a deserted garden.
It wasn’t until
he’d sat down that he saw them, two girls in their late teens on the next
table. The shape of the garden had concealed them until he’d sat down.
He tried to
ignore them, he didn’t want conversation. He was tired, his brain sluggish and
he’d probably have found a lay-by for a nap if he wasn’t so close to his new
home. The conversation they were having drifted across the small space and
despite himself he listened. It was irrelevant rubbish then …
“I’m gonna
fart!” The blonder of the two said. “Here it comes …faaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt.
Jesus, but I needed that.” She laughed.
The other one,
she only had fair, not blonde hair, just laughed. “You are fuckin disgusting.”
She said but her voice held no censure.
“Its three
pints of lager, it always gives him gas.” The blonde retorted.
“Don’t blame
the lager, it’s that fuckin veggie diet that gives you gas.” The other replied.
He just sat
there, in his world women very rarely farted and when they did it was with
discretion. He tried not to listen but when she farted again his head jerked
up.
“That bloke is
listening.” The other one giggled.
“So, maybe he
likes hearing women farting, some men do. I read it somewhere that they’ll even
sniff them.” The blonde said.
“
“Truth!”
“Hey you,
baldly, wanna smell his farts?”
He pretended
not to hear but that only egged them on for suddenly
“I was talking
to you.”
“Excuse him?”
He looked up. He had to be three times her age and had done the entire
management course’s on meetings and people management and then he looked into
the hardest pair of eyes that he had ever seen emerald green, cold and
confident, and all those courses didn’t mean a thing. “I don’t know of anything
we have to discuss.” He stuttered.
“I thought we
could talk about how much you’d like his arse in your face.” The emerald eyes
never flickered. “How you’d love it
when I farted … what do you say egg head?”
“It’s a
disgusting suggestion.” He replied. He was trying to look away but
“I don’t think
so.” A smile started to spread across her severe features. She farted once
more, as noisily as before. “See, that fart was wasted on the seat, it should
have been about here.” She touched the tip of his nose.
He just gaped.
“See, now I
think that we should really tie you up …” She looked about the garden. “Why
don’t you get that garden twine and tie up our little victim.”
He didn’t
answer and Maureen having crossed the lawn to collect the ball of green twine
came and stood behind him.
Whilst
“Done.” She
said quietly.
“There, doesn’t
that feel better, now you can’t be blamed for anything that we do to
you.”
“No!” He
whispered and felt a tremendous surge in his groin. He was enjoying this no
that was an understatement. He was revelling in it.
“What now?”
Maureen asked.
“We all take a
walk and then have a bit of fun with baldy here, it’ll be quiet by the river …
get to your feet dirt bag … hey, this is fun.”
It wasn’t easy
standing up without his hands for balance. Maureen caught his arm and steered
him between the chairs and tables.
“Where are we
going?” He asked in a low voice.
“I said, to the
river … now shut up and speak only when you’re spoken to.”
He slowed to
navigate a hole and Maureen gave him a shove and he over balanced, crashing
into
“Sorry!” He
said, panting.
“You will be.”
Maureen was
shorter and slighter but not by much, maybe five seven and a hundred and twenty
pounds.
All in all he
captive to two muscular and powerful women. All in all he was trust up and
pretty helpless. He had liked the idea but there is a gnawing fear of what is
to come.
We carry on for
a few minutes and pretty soon we seem to be in the middle of nowhere. He can
even hear birds singing. The silence just increases his foreboding.
“Where are we
going?” He repeats.
“I said;
don’t ask questions … you’ll find out soon enough.”
They march on
and he thinks another five minutes has passed. Of course he can’t tell, his
watch is on his wrist and he can’t read behind his back, so even time is getting
subjective.
He just feels
more and more uncomfortable and wondered just how he could have been so stupid.
They could rob and leave him miles from anywhere. He must have been stark
staring mad to allow this to happen.
He tries to
break the twine or loosen the bindings, but he can’t. He even hears a giggle
from behind him.
“He’s trying to
get free.” Maureen calls.
“Can he?”
“No chance, he
gets free when we let him.” Maureen’s confident voice simply lowered his morale
still further.
Finally they
arrived, the flat terrain of the fields gives way to woodland and they reach
the side of the river. He tried to think which river this might be without
success. He was just trying to keep his mind from what is about to happen. If
“Kneel.”
“Roll him
over.” Maureen suggested and
“Still got the
twine?”
“Here.” Maureen
held up the reduced green ball of twine. “What, his ankles?”
“Well we don’t
want him running away.”
He kicked out,
not in hope of escaping because if he’d been thinking he’d have known that
escape was impossible, but out of the frustration he was feeling. This was his
own stupid fault.
“Hey!”
“He’s fighting
back!” Maureen laughed. “Let’s do him.”
They fell on
him literally fell on him. One of them dropped knees first onto his stomach and
his breath escaped with a loud whoosh and a cry of pain whilst the other sat on
his legs so that he couldn’t kick.
He was hurting
too much to fight and he feel the twine being wrapped about his ankles.
“Noo!” He
managed to gasp.
“Yes!” Laughed
Tracy and she bounced on his stomach again.
“Ahhhhh!” He
jack-knifed as far as his bonds and
“Get down!” She
laughs, pushing him back. He can’t do anything to resist.
“Complete.”
Maureen announces. “Now he really is going no where.” He feels her weight shift
from him and then she’s standing over
“That’s the
very least he can expect to happen.”
“Ugh, just
where do you find about this stuff.” Maureen pulls a face.
“The internet,
I was surfing and found these sites that looked real cool, where women made the
men their slaves just by smothering their faces under their backsides.” She
looked smug. “The men would do anything just for a breathe of air.”
“Can’t see
that, how can sitting on a blokes face make him your slave?” Maureen asked
doubtfully.
“Try, he’ll be
begging for mercy in five minutes.”
Maureen
shuffled her feet. “Just like I am?” She pointed at her jeans.
“You can take
your jeans off if you want, on the web sites they usually end up naked.”
“Ohhhh!” The
sound was from him, the thought of either of them sitting naked on his face
almost makes him sick. He was prepared to surrender now, if he had thought it
would make any difference, but he was helpless and at their mercy.
Mo still looks
doubtful but
She moves,
steps across his body, looking down at
“Kneel down.”
Mo looks down
between her open legs, staring at him, her long fair hair falls like a curtain
around her face. “Peak a boo!” She laughs and starts to lower herself onto him;
the denim is stretched tight across her buttocks, the stitching raised high.
“Nooo!” He
whispered to no one as Mo’s behind finally settled across his mouth, his nose
is pressed hard between her buttocks. The weight grows as she gains confidence
and begins to settle, there is pain but the humiliation hurts more.
Mo laughs.
“This feels funny, I can feel his face, and it’s kinda bumpy under my bum.” She
giggles.
“See, I said
that it’s easy.”
“Yeah, but how
does this make them into a slave.”
“Lift your bum,
see what happens?”
“Like this?”
She moves and he gasped desperately for the air that her backside had deprived
him off. “So, what’s happening?”
“Just listen,
he’s gasping for breath and you’ve
sat on him for what, twenty seconds. Now he knows
what it will feel like. Do it again.”
He tried to
speak but her behind is down on him before he can form the words. He wriggled,
but without his arms free it’s futile, but he had to try, just the thought of
Maureen’s arse suffocating him terrifies him.
“Now he knows
what it’s like, the first time he isn’t sure, but the second time he knows
what’s going to happen, the third will be worse and so on and so on.”
Maureen slides forwards until his face is free
of her. He just lays there, only worried about
breathing and wondering how long it will be before she returned to his face.
She turns at
the waist to look down at him. “How was that?” She laughs.
“Please…” He
found the wind to speak. “Not again … please!”
“Oh yes.” Maureen laughed. “Again and again
and again.” She rolled backwards; in one last futile attempt at resistance he
shook his head from side to side. “Oh no, not that!” Maureen grabbed his hair
and tugged; he yelped and stopped wriggling long enough for Maureen to claim
his face for her rear. “And don’t fight back!” She slapped his face lightly.
He stopped
resisting, but only because he was afraid of how far they would take the
suffocation. Maureen took his submission as his admission of defeat.
She spread
herself, closing off any chance he have of air and then she would just longer
enough for him to breath, long enough to keep him from passing out. If she had
never done this before then Maureen was a fast learner.
“How does it
feel?” Tracy asked. She had remained sitting on his stomach, just giving her
friends short bursts of advice.
“Nice,
different, it’s not like being with a bloke, he’s just a thing … hey I just
thought, we don’t even know his name.”
“So, he doesn’t
have a name, he’s just something to sit on … or worse, why should we want to
know anything about him?”
“I’d just like
to know something about the face I’m using.” Maureen complained.
“He’ll have a
wallet somewhere.”
“Let’s look at
the house stuff … I know this place, its only a few minutes from here.” Maureen
shifted from his face; in fact she climbed completely off him. “So Graham, this
place was on the market only a few weeks ago … are you buying or just looking?”
He was just
grateful to be free of her suffocating rear. “Bought…” He finally gasped.
“Moved in … this week.”
“This is a big
place … so how many others, wife, kids?! Tracy asked. She was still sitting on
his stomach, her knees were raised and her skirt had fallen to her waist. He
tried not to look at her panties.
“Just me … wanted a big place … always have, plenty of room to
move about in!” He gasped.
He didn’t know
what he was saying. All he knew was that the longer they asked him questions
then the longer they stayed off his face. He would trade any information for
that.
“Any one
joining you later?”
“No.” He
admitted. It was a bitter admission, he might be a comparatively wealthy man
but that had come at the expense of his marriage and what few friends he had.
“Just you and a
great big house.”
He mouthed the
words of protest, of pleading.
“First
instalment … delivered.” She laughed huskily as she farted. He heard it and
moment later he began to smell it.
Everything
seemed multiplied, her smells were strong, and the heat from her body worse and
even her weight seemed the greater.
“I know that
look, you’re planning something.” Maureen said.
“Just
thinking.”
“What about, go
on tell me!” Maureen pleaded
He grunted into
“Well, he’s all
alone in that big house and we live in that crummy squat. He must have space
there for us. What do you think?”
She moved
slightly, enough for him to breathe a couple of times before she sat down
again.
“I hadn’t.”
Maureen replied. “I haven’t thought beyond how many pints I can afford … are
you being serious?”
“Sure … hang on
… that’s better!” She farted again, this time straight onto his face. He even felt
the explosion against his face.
“He’s not going
to agree.” Maureen protested.
“Oh yes he
will, if we humiliate enough, he’ll agree to anything.” Tracy laughed.
“Just farting a
few times will never work.” Maureen sounded less than convinced. “He wouldn’t
let two complete strangers move into his house.
“No that’s
true, but would you let two complete strangers tie you up?” Tracy asked.
“No, they’d get
a smack for suggesting that.”
“Likewise, but
what’s his name?”
“Graham.”
“Yeah, well Graham’s allowed us and he hasn’t put up to much of a fight since then.”
“Meaning what
exactly, he likes sniffing your farts?” asked Maureen curiously.
There was a
brief silence punctuated only by his ragged breath as
“He likes being
a submissive.” She said smugly.
“A what, what’s
a submissive?”
“Somebody who
likes taking orders, being humiliated, a real submissive will do anything their
Mistress asks of them.”
“And he’s one
of these submissives?” Maureen asked.
“I’d say so,
you’d have to be pretty sad to let this happen to you and he reckon a real man
would keep fighting back. He doesn’t even shout or swear.”
“So what do we
do now?” Maureen asked.
“You go get his
car and we’ll meet you at mile end … then we’ll do a little house viewing.”
He had heard
them speak but somehow the words hadn’t quite penetrated his dulled senses, had
they really been talking about taking over his house? He just couldn’t believe
it.
Maureen shifted
from off him and after another exchange he didn’t hear any more from her. He
just lay beneath
Finally she
moved, releasing him from his fetid prison. She stood up, arching her back and
flexing her legs.
“I bet you
really enjoyed that?” She laughed and when he didn’t answer kicked him in the
side. “Well?”
“It was
horrible.” He whispered, his throat was dry and it still felt as if they were
still sitting on his face.
“Funny, from
where I’m standing that looks like an erection, should I found out?”
“No!” He cried
and tried hopelessly to protect his groin.
“Now don’t
argue or this will really hurt.” He felt the pressure on his balls build.
“Please don’t
hurt him.” He found himself begging her.
“Like this?” She
squeezed and he yelped. “Just remember that I can do this at any time.” She
squeezed again and he yelped again. Tracy was grinning from ear to ear. She was
enjoying this. “Now lie still, I’d have thought you’d have fantasized about a
young woman holding your dick.
He acquiesced
and
He was
expecting her to just unzip him, but suddenly
As his trousers
reached his ankles the twine intervened, but not for long.
“Please!” He
gasped.
“No!” She
pushed him back down and once more sat across his face, pushing back until his
nose was between her buttocks.
It was doubling
the torture and the humiliation, now
“You know I can’t
remember having his hand around a smaller dick.” She laughed. “I bet you’ve
never really fucked a woman, bet they
all have to fake their orgasm.” She laughed nastily. “Don’t worry baldy; I don’t think you’re ever
going to use this on a woman again.”
He expected her
to fart again; she seemed to be obsessed with farting on him but she didn’t.
Suddenly she lifted off him and then pulled the sodden gusset of her panties to
one side. Even in the half light beneath her body he could see her hairy and
naked sex.
“Kiss that
baldy, if you ever want him off your face, kiss his cunt.”
He didn’t even
hesitate; if that was the price of breathing clean air then he’d do it. He
lifted his head and planted a kiss upon her slime covered sex.
“Again … I
hardly felt that!”
He pressed
harder against her, now tasting her sex, her lubrication, on his lips.
“French me, use
your tongue baldy.” She demanded, squeezing his cock.
Tentatively he
inserted his tongue, feeling the folds of her sex stretch and part as he
pressed and the more he did so them the more copiously her juices flowed onto
his tongue and down into his mouth.
After that it
was just time and nature before her orgasm arrived, flooding his mouth as she
squashed down on him. Now she didn’t move as the orgasm left her breathless and
uncaring of his fate. He was barely conscious when she finally moved, rising on
unsteady legs.
“That was good
baldy, real good.” She laughed again. “Now get to your feet.”
He struggled to
rise but eventually she had to help him and then he stood before her, dressed
only in his shirt, socks and shoes and with his erect dick, purple from her
abuse, sticking out from beneath the shirt.
“Come on, Mo
will be there now.”
“Not like this
please.” He began to beg and as he started to beg then he also started to cry.
“”Anything … take his wallet, have the cash, the
credit cards, I’ll give you the pin number … just untie him; please …let him
get dressed. I won’t try and escape … and you can do anything you want to him …
but please, please, let him get dressed.”
“What’s the pin
number?”
“1543.”
“1543 … thanks
… now move your arse … or do I have to get unpleasant?”
He looked as if
he was about to say something and then he stumbled after her, his face streaked
with tears and her climax.
She led him
through the fields towards their appointment with Mo and his car. They met no
one until he saw in the distance the reflection on his silver BMW, Mo was
sitting on the field gate and when she saw his predicament, she burst into uproarious
laughter, shouting towards them and applauding.
He stood in
abject humiliation whilst
“Is he any
good?” A curious Mo asked as she circled him.
“He’ll learn.”