Archive name: The Dominion Part One.HTM (M/FFFF, Farting, Facesitting, Humiliation)

Authors name: Smotherfan (Smotherfan [email protected])

Story title: The Dominion Part One

Part of the Dominion Series

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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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It had been dark when they had brought him shackled and blindfolded to the rooms that were his home, cell and punishment.

It had been dark when he’d flagged down the dark windowed people carrier. He’d been walking for hours and was tired, cold and hungry. A score of cars had ignored him on that lonely road and how he wished that the dark windowed people carrier had been included in that total.

There’s been writing on the side of the carrier, he hadn’t paid that much attention, it had been something girls school. So he wasn’t even sure where he was, who his captors were or even his ultimate fate.

The driver of the carrier was young, blonde and decidedly female. She pointed to the side door and promptly ordered him inside. The door had opened and he’d been greeted by three more young women, there had been another blonde, and two brunettes. All had been what he’d have called attractive.

They’d introduced themselves as Emma (the blonde), Monica and Jackie (the brunettes) and Caroline (the driver). Almost immediately they’d bombarded him with questions like:

“Who was he?”

“Where he was headed?”

“Who was expecting him?”

“What did he do for a living?”

The questions had seemed mundane and simply polite conversation, or so he’d imagined. Now he realised how each question had been designed to prove his suitability for kidnapping and the humiliation and torture that he was now enduring.

He had asked them questions in return, but they had never quite answered him. He hadn’t noticed at the time, but on reflection, he realised that they had deliberately avoided his questions.

He had been perfect. At twenty-six he was physically fit, healthy, an itinerant worker who’d never stayed anywhere for more than six months since his late teens, he appeared on no-one’s payroll. A single rootless man, with no family who’d miss him; he had been perfect.

In the quiet, warm confides of the carrier he’d lost track of time and as the vehicle twisted and turned, even the direction.

He remembered that they had been dressed similarly but not the same. Short sleeved tops and almost knee length skirts. It wasn’t quite a uniform. The tops were differently coloured, the skirts were universally dark, but in the half-light of the carrier he couldn’t differentiate the colours.

He’d noticed the strange configuration of the vehicle, its wheelbase had seemed un-naturally wrong. Now, safely inside, he saw how beyond the driver’s seat, the passengers each had a seat and then behind them had been an expanse of soft, padded blackness. It had looked like a mattress, but he’d dismissed the notion and had decided that the rear of the carrier was simply one huge boot.

The conversation dried up and the girls exchanged conspiratorial whispers. He considered that rude but after hundreds of lifts he’d learnt never to be critical of his temporary hosts. So he kept his peace and sat in silence as the carrier moved through the darkness.

“How far are you going?” He’d asked eventually. He had started to wonder. He was going nowhere in particular, but wanted to end up somewhere near civilisation.

“We haven’t decided.” Laughed the brunette called Monica. She had a brassy, loud laugh and a seemingly crude personality to match.

“Lets have a vote?” Suggested Jackie, the other brunette.

“Yes!” Agreed Monica. “Let’s be democratic.” She called above the hum of the engine and radio. “All in favour of smothering him?”

“Me!” Shouted Jackie.

“Me!” Agreed Emma.

“And me!” Caroline called from the front of the carrier.

“As am I!” laughed Monica. “So it’s a unanimous landslide.”

He had sat in silence, completely mystified by their actions. He had a burgeoning feeling that this was not good, but he wasn’t really bothered. He’d hitch rides for ten years now and nothing much had ever happened to him. The worse that had happen was that he’d be dumped in the middle of no-where. So that was the worse that he could have imagined.

After ten years on the road he was both world wise and naïve. World wise in the ways of the road, sleeping rough, how to cadge a lift or a free meal. Naïve in the ways of women; the extent and depth of their emotions and the depravities to which their needs might sink.

“Agreed?” Monica asked into a sudden and deep silence.

“Agreed!” Came the chorused reply.

“Now?” Monica asked.

“Now!” Once more the chorus agreed.

The carrier had slowed and after a minute or so bumped to a gentle halt. The radio died with the engine, leaving just that deep, overwhelming silence.

He had looked slowly from face to face, the half light illumination in the carrier giving their complexions an eerie, threatening appearance. It had not looked promising and he’d loosened his seat belt in preparation to bolting from the carrier.

“What’s happening?” He had asked.

“We have an itch which needs scratching.” Monica had said in a soft but ominous voice. Someone tittered, but in the almost darkness he couldn’t say who.

He’d misunderstood. “I’m not very experienced.” He’d begun. “Never been with more than one girl at a time.”

They had roared with laughter, laughed so hard that tears ran down those ghostly cheeks.

He decided that it was time to run and had been out of his seat before any of them had moved, his hand had been on the door handle before they had realised that he was trying to escape, one tug and he’d be free, only the door had stayed shut. No matter how hard he’d tried, it had stubbornly remained locked.

“Self locking.” Monica’s cold voice informed him. “Controlled by the driver. You only get out when we decide.” There was a silence and then she added. “Get him.”

He only understood what that meant when he was assaulted from behind, hands around his arms pulling him backwards, legs and feet undermining his balance, pulling him over. He staggered, struggled to regain his balance, for a second almost freeing himself and then Monica, at least he thought that it was Monica, pushed against his chest.

The attack took place in silence. One moment he had been imagining his escape and the next he was falling backwards, propelled by the weight and strength of the girls.

He landed with a soft thud in the rear of the carrier. The dark mass of the floor was covered in a soft, rubbery material, just the sort you found in a gymnasium. So he wasn’t hurt, just shocked and completely shaken by the event, and then the girls piled onto him in a flurry of arms and legs.

Now he shouted, swore at them, tried to kick and punch, tried to wriggle free. He was stronger and heavier than any of them, but there wasn’t one; there were at least three of them.

One held down each arm, whilst a third sat across his chest, and now the fourth came sat astride his legs. He still bucked and struggled, but their combined weight was too great, their collective strength too much for him. He was simply tiring himself out.

So slowly he stopped fighting, even though this admission hurt his pride. He was after all being defeated by a group of teenage girls.

“What do you want?” He gasped.

“You!” Came Monica’s breathless reply.

“Why?” He asked. He still tried to free a hand but they weighed him down.

“You’ll find out.” Monica retorted and then to the other girls. “Cuff him.”

It happened before he had begun realise what Monica was demanding. The cold touch of metal around his wrists was followed by the hard click of a lock closing. They let go of his arms and instinctively he moved to free himself, only to find his wrists seemingly secured to the sides or floor of the vehicle. He tugged and wrenched at his restraints but only succeeded in hurting his wrists.

He was suddenly very, very scared. “Why?” He whispered his voice soft and broken with the sudden fear that rose from his ice-cold stomach.

“We have a vacancy to fill, and right now you are the prime candidate.” Monica said.

He decided that she was the leader and so he concentrated his attention on her.

“What sort of vacancy?” He asked, dreading the answer.

“He asks too many questions.” One of the others hissed.

“You know how to shut him up.” Laughed Monica.

He twisted his head from side to side, trying to see the faces of his captors. The half-light confused and distorted his view. He didn’t recognise any of them, they were all strangers to him and that was when the realisation hit him.

He was a stranger to them and that was something that they had planned, abduction of a stranger off a deserted highway in the gloom of early evening. The questioning had been geared to confirm exactly that he was a drifter who no one would miss.

“You planned this!” He exclaimed.

“Very sharp!” Monica sneered.

He felt the ring of cold metal around each ankle and then the imprisoning click. He didn’t fight. As long as his hands were secure then any resistance was only a futile gesture, one that could bring a greater retribution on him.

“Secure!” A self-satisfied young female voice announced.

He felt Monica relax, the tension in her muscles fled and her weight increased. She was sitting further up his chest and he felt her weight bearing down on him. It wasn’t crushing or painful, but it did make breathing a little difficult.

Also the weight on his legs shifted but didn’t go away, so he knew there were at least two of them still sitting on him.

Then he was aware of someone above him, kneeling beyond his head, he felt her bare knee against his skull. He tried to look back but Monica caught his chin.

“Don’t move.” She laughed. “It’ll just make things worse.” She looked past him. “Shut him up.”

He was about to speak when he felt the weight of another girl across his shoulders, her knee’s and then her legs and … and … then she sat across his face!

He struggled but she kept his face upright by wedging his head between her feet. She ground down, settling her full weight across his mouth and nose, burying his eyes beneath her buttocks.

His senses reeled from the shock; the sudden humiliation, her weight and the strong smell of her body odours assailed his sanity. This just couldn’t be happening! It had to be a sick dream; something that he’d ate, any moment now he’d awake.

He tried to pretend that it wasn’t happening but slowly the weight on his chest increased, his lungs began to burn, his head swam from lack of air. They were going to suffocate him!

He cried out, only for the sound to be muffled by her body, he strained, fought and twisted, but the cuffs held and they weighed down on him, driving the remaining air from his body.

He knew that he was going to die, and then and only briefly, the smothering behind raised itself from his face. He gasped, expelling and inhaling air as fast as he could, trying to fill his air starved lungs.

The backside returned, stifling his world of light and air, returned the stronger smells of her body, the embarrassment of being so close to her sexual organs, the shame of having his face rammed between her ass cheeks.

He still tried to struggle, the animal instinct of survival drove him on, but as the smothering continued he became weaker and weaker, more and more incoherent and incapable of understanding what was happening to him.

He gradually stopped fighting, he couldn’t stop his body from rebelling against the lack of air, but he didn’t have the strength the resist anymore.

At sometime the carrier moved back onto the road. This brought more pain and pressure, as each bump, and turn was transmitted through the carrier’s suspension and into his body. The continual vibration that seated he would never have noticed wore away at him.

After a while he no longer cared, the only objective of his existence was the desire to live, the need to breath, it was something they granted and it was all that bothered him.

They were excited, chattering amongst themselves, the language crude, and the subjects obscene.

“He’s passed the first test.” His face-sitting tormentor announced. “His face makes a very comfortable seat.” She wiggled her bottom and wearily he found his face being moved by the weight and power of her rear.

“Let me try!” Someone shouted and for a few precious moments his face was free and then another rear descended onto his, taking its position on his helpless face.

He was dumbly aware that each of the girls took their turn on his face, their smells were different, the weight different, one had a bony ass whilst another soft, enveloping one. It didn’t matter. They each took turns on him.

He lost track of all time. When they finally tired of his torture and left him alone he simply slept, his body exhausted, his mind to shattered to fully consider what had happened or what his fate might be.