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

Authors name: Smotherfan ([email protected])

Story title: The Dominion Part Four

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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He was woken. A slap to his face brought him around and into the pain of his position. Monica laughed at his discomfort and then released his ankles. He was too weary to do anything to resist as she shackled his legs together. Now she released his hands only to handcuff together.

“Come on.” She pulled at his shirt and literally dragged him out of the carrier, leaving him collapsed on the tarmac. “On your feet!” She demanded and grabbed his arm. Another girl grabbed his other arm and he was hauled to his feet, his legs were like jelly, his back ached, his neck thought that it had been severed.

It was dawn. The light gave that away but nothing else. The morning was still and quiet as they half marched, half dragged him into a single storey building. He was vaguely aware of other buildings in the tree’s, but no other people. It was as if they were the only five people in the world.

They took him inside the building and through a maze of corridors that always seemed to travel slowly downwards. He might have been wrong as his legs repeatedly gave out from beneath him.

Finally he was outside a heavy metal door. Monica held him whilst one of the blondes tripped the combination lock, then he was pushed inside; to be followed by the two girls.

Without their support he collapsed onto the floor where they left him. He tried to keep his eyes focused upon the floor, afraid, as he was to look either of them in the face.

One of them prodded him with her foot and when he didn’t respond kicked him hard in the ribs. He doubled up, instinctively shielding his face from other blows.

“Look at me.” The girl hissed.

He did so, fearfully of punishment either way. She was a blonde, he thought she might have been the driver, but his befuddled senses couldn’t register or confirm that face.

She bent down and released the manacles from his ankles and the cuffs from his wrists.

He was afraid to look away. The blonde had dark shoots to her hair and deep brown eyes. He knew she was more brunette than blonde, but that didn’t matter, right now she was in charge and she knew it.

“Explore. You’ll find clothes and a shower. You have thirty minutes to make yourself presentable.”

They left him, alone and still slumped on the floor, which was also carpeted with the same soft, rubbery material as the carrier. The door had slammed shut and he had heard the hiss of air forced being forced out. It made him feel as if he were in a cell. It wasn’t a new experience. Any drifter who’d lived on the road as long as he had, would have ended up in jail sometime or other.

He allowed himself a few minutes to recover and then, very slowly he began to explore his prison, for he was under no illusions that he was being held prisoner.

The first room was square, only four spaces wide, featureless plaster walls, no windows and no furniture. Only one corridor lead from it and he followed this, finding the narrow bed and its thin bedding, a toilet and shower hidden behind a curtain. There was a grey vest and matching shorts thrown on the bed.

He had decided that resistance would only lead to punishment and so until he could escape he had to co-operate. So he undressed and took the shower. The water never rose above lukewarm, but together with the soap it was still almost luxury to a man who’d washed in freezing cold mountain streams.

He dried himself and finally dressed in the vest and shorts. They were almost too big but it didn’t matter.

He explored the rooms again. They were all universally featureless and he became aware of the utter silence. Once more back in the main room he discovered the almost invisible door, one blocked from his examination. There was no lock, just a counter sunk slot for a card of some kind.

Out of curiosity he examined the main door. It required a combination, so there was no key, no card he could steel. He would have to force one of them to let him go. It would take time but he was sure he would succeed.

A few things registered with him. There was no clock and they had taken his watch. No room had a window, nor were there any light switches. He would quickly lose track of time and there would be no way he could regulate anything, everything was under their control.

He discovered how slowly time went. He’d thought the thirty minutes had long since past when the door opened with a soft hiss and the brunette / blonde and Monica re-entered to room.

Monica tossed a bag towards him. “Put your clothes in there.” She ordered. He did so and she took the bag away, leaving him with only the brunette / blonde. He glanced past her and towards the apparent freedom of the corridor.

“Try it!” She dared. She even stepped to one side, giving him an almost free run for the door.

He looked closely at her, knowing that she was daring him and knowing that meant she was confident he couldn’t escape. Where to other’s waiting in the corridor? There was only one way to find out.

The room was so small that she was almost within touching distance. He had no room to manoeuvre, no space in which to build up speed. He just had to burst past her and keep running.

So he tried, attempting to hand her off, to deflect her grabbing wrists and for the briefest of seconds he thought he was past her and then her palm slammed into his stomach and he doubled up. She couldn’t hit him that hard! He tried again and this time she was smiling when she hit him back into the room.

He bounced off the wall and collapsed to his knees breathless and already beaten. She was across and standing astride his prostrate body before he had covered his breathe.

“Understand that I have studied Judo for ten years and I could do you a very serious hurt if I wished to.” She spoke so softly that he almost had to strain to hear her clearly, but the threat and menace in her voice was loud enough.

He looked up and then away. He could see right up her short skirt and the memories of those horrible hours of suffocation returned. Only a few hours ago this girl had been grinding her ass across his face.

“Look at me!” She demanded.

He did so, not out of choice, but afraid that she would hurt him again. He could see right up her skirt and he couldn’t help his eyes flitting between her cold, expressionless face and the sight of her panties.

“Nosy!” She said and then laughed at her own joke.

He blushed, embarrassed by her words and the double meaning hidden in them.

Monica returned. She glanced down at him and then towards her companion.

“Let him up.” Monica suggested and the other girl stepped aside to allow him to rise on shaky legs. He stood between them, taller than them both, but now shaking with fear. “You need to understand that Emma is our enforcer.” Monica began by saying. “If you break the rules or disobey any of us then Emma will punish you, and that means she will hurt you. Understand?” She spoke as if explaining something to a moron.

He nodded.

“Answer her.” Emma demanded, digging stiff fingers between his ribs.

He gasped. “I understand.” He whispered.

“Good!” Monica almost smiled. “Now get on your knee’s”

He did so and found himself trapped between their towering bodies.

“Now look up.” Instructed Monica.

He did so.

“This is your natural position.” Monica began. “You will always look up to us, both physically and mentally. We are your superiors in every way and your only function is to please us, do this and we will reward us, fail us and you will wish you had never been born! Understand?”

“Yes!” He choked back tears.

“Don’t cry!” Monica demanded. “I hate it when a man cries.”

He bit his lip and knuckled his eyes until his vision blurred, but he didn’t cry. He looked from one girl to the other, awaiting his next instruction.

“I think he needs to see the room.” Monica said to Emma.

Emma grinned and pulled a card from her pocket.

“This room is for our pleasure and your punishment.” Smiled Monica. “Just how much punishment you receive depends on how much pleasure we receive. Please us and life will be tolerable, dissatisfy us and you will wish you’ve never been born.”

He didn’t answer; merely bit his lip again.

Emma’s card had opened the almost invisible door. The door opened with a whoosh of escaping air. She entered the room without a backwards glance, leaving Monica to usher him to follow them.

The room was the biggest in his prison and its use was so obvious that he couldn’t help trembling.

The now familiar soft rubber covered the floor, but that wasn’t what frightened him. It was the wooden frame bolted to the wall with its dangling restraints.

“Let me explain the furniture.” Grinned Monica.

“The frame.” She pointed to the wooden frame. “Strapped to that, we can do what ever we want to you, just imagine being strapped in whist Emma punishes you.” She crossed to a wide, leather bench and lifted up a pair of handcuffs. “On here you will please us.” There were more restraints built into the floor. “Also here.” She pointed to them. Finally she pointed to the bed with a simple bare mattress. “Also here.” She cast around the room. “Your punishment and our pleasure and our pleasure and our pleasure, and that starts now!”

He wanted to run but there was nowhere to run to and that meant they would eventually bring him back to this room, and that meant they would punish him.

“Do we need to cuff you?” Emma asked seriously.

“No!” He whispered. “I’ll do anything you ask.” He bowed his head in submission. He could see no escape from this torture, so he only had the recourse of utterly submitting to them, no matter how much that hurt or revolted him.

“Don’t promise until you know the deal!” Warned Emma. She propelled him towards the bed. “Get on there, and spread yourself, just like in the carrier.”

He did so, all the time conscious that the girls had taken up position either side of the bed.

“Flip for first go.” Suggested Monica.

“Flip.” Agreed Emma. She pulled a coin from a tiny purse clipped to her skirt band. She showed the coin to Monica. “I call, you flip.”

“Head’s.” Monica called as the coin spiralled through the air. It landed with a soft thud on the bed besides him. “I win.” Smiled Monica.

“Lucky Bitch!” Laughed Emma. “Don’t wear him out, we all want our share.”

It was like he wasn’t really there. They joked and talked about him as if he weren’t really there. Then Emma left them and a smiling Monica returned to him.

“Alone at last.” She laughed as she casually climbed upon the bed and then straddled his chest. “I have been waiting for this since the moment you climbed into the carrier.” She wriggled forwards, pinning his shoulders beneath her bony knees. “I am going to get so used to this position.” She laughed. “Your stupid face between my thighs. A bit closer I think, so you can enjoy a closer view.”

She moved across his face, until the damp patch of her crotch lay across his mouth and his nose rested against the indented valley of her sex. Only the reinforced gusset of her pants was keeping him from direct contact with her sex.

He said or did nothing, just stared blankly into her face and waited for the next humiliation. It was not long in coming. Monica was excited. It wasn’t just the constant way that she chattered or the red flush in her cheeks, or how her eyes were dilated, it was the strong, pungent aroma seeping through her panties.

He couldn’t breathe without drawing in that aroma.

He was starting to understand his role, even if he didn’t comprehend the extent of their planned domination of his life. He could see nothing beyond keeping these mad bitches happy, happy until he could escape or they tired of their little crude game.

She moved further across his face, until her face was lost from his view beneath her bottom. It had been better in the carrier; there in the half-light the details had not been so clear. He had been able to hide in the shadowy gloom.

Now there was no place to hide, no convenient shadow in which he could shelter. He could see where she had shaved, the tiny black stubble marks of the removed pubic hair. A pimple now filled with yellow puss on the inside of her thigh.

She lowered herself until his nose once more brushed against her gusset. The bouquet of her body was becoming stronger and stronger, every breath that he took seemed saturated by with her.

Monica was swaying slightly, sliding her body across his face, still with only the barest of touches, but he was aware of how she would shudder as her movement reached its summit.

She lowered herself still further, now her thighs brushed against his cheeks, the thin stubble scratched against his skin. He could feel her heat, the heat of her body, the heat of her excitement, now his nose was pressed deep into her gusset.

He could imagine what it would be like without her panties, how he’d be deep inside her sex. It made him shudder. He was no prude or sexual abstainer, but this wasn’t the shared sex he’d always enjoyed. This was one person taking utterly and one person giving utterly. There was no exchange of affection, just dominance.

He expected Monica to continue until she was satisfied but suddenly she sat back, her sex still covered his mouth and nose and her thighs pinned his head so that he could only stare into her face.

She was breathing hard; the flush in her cheeks was deeper. She took a deep breath before she spoke.

“Understand this. I will train you, learn quickly and Emma will not punish you. Please us and you will have other rewards, displease us and Emma will punish you. A warning. She enjoys punishing people. It will not be pleasant or over quickly. Understand?” She asked, demanding a reply from him.

“Yes!” He mumbled into her body.

“Yes Mistress.” Monica repeated. “At all times you will refer to any of us as Mistress. Understand?”

“Yes Mistress.” He mumbled again.

“Well that’s a bright beginning.” She smiled; it wasn’t a warm smile but was filled with her obvious relish for the task. “I think you should become reacquainted with my ass.”

For a moment he panicked. He remembered the emotions he’d felt whilst they had been smothering him, and then his restraints had prevented him from fighting.

Monica moved herself into position, for a brief moment his nose was free of her odour and then she was above him again. Only this time facing down his body, again she kept his face upright by wedging his head between her feet, then she settled down, settling her full weight across his mouth and nose, burying his eyes beneath her buttocks.

He fought the panic, for a brief few moments he was oblivious of his position and he struggled with himself and the desire to throw her off. It could only lead to pain and punishment.

Monica moved, reaching behind herself she grabbed his hair and pulled his face into her pantied covered ass crack.

“A man’s nose should always be buried up his Mistresses behind.” She laughed. “It is a man’s natural position in life.”

She settled again, her body now utterly smothered his mouth and nose; only his eyes could be seen, filled with fear and peering up her body. She released him only briefly, a moment in which to fill his lungs before she returned to her complete suffocation of him.

She held him like that; occasionally insulting him, occasionally hurt him. She liked to pinch his nipples. It made him wriggle and squirm, but he couldn’t dislodge her.

Suddenly he realised that he could no longer free himself. It was as if her ass was drawing the strength from his body. He saw star’s, his head pounded and then, just when the panic had turned to a scream, she released his face.

Monica climbed from his oxygen-starved body. He felt weak, so very weak and couldn’t understand why. Still he tried to rise until she turned around and pushed him backwards.

“I didn’t say anything about you moving.” She said coldly. “I have barely started on you. Did you really think it was all over?”

A complicated mixture of shame and disappointed flooded him.

“Well? Answer me!” Monica demanded. “Did you really think it was all over?”

“Yes Mistress.” He slumped back against the mattress. It had been a futile hope. As if they had gone to all this trouble just to sit on his face for a few minutes. He had to be a fool, but then he was. No sane person would have climbed into an unknown carrier with four complete strangers, but he had and just look where it had taken him.

She began to undress. At first he tried to ignore the fact, partly because he was afraid of what she might do and partly out of fear of what was next.

“Look at me.” She demanded.

He did so.

She was almost naked; simply her briefs remained.

“Am I beautiful?” She asked.

“Yes Mistress.” He agreed. He would agree to anything, even that her farts could be bottled as perfume.

Monica laughed.

“I know you are lying but believe me, before long you will beg to please me, you will worship my arse, you will think that I or any of the others are the most beautiful women in the world and you will believe it. We will become your world, the reason for your existence.”

He said nothing. He could never believe that, but he would keep his own counsel.

She dropped her briefs. Instinctively his eyes fell to her groin, to the thin carpet of dark pubic hair and the distinctive slit of her sex. He felt himself stiffen and prayed that it wouldn’t happen.

Monica came back to the side of the bed. He could see how her nipples were aroused and risked her anger glanced once more at her sex. It glistened, its dirty pink folds open and demanding his attention.

She rubbed her hand across his shorts, lingering over his growing erection. It leapt against her touch, pushing against the soft material to form a tent.

“Who said that you could get hard?” She asked.

“No one. I’m sorry Mistress.” He started.

Monica ignored him; casually she took up her station on his stomach.

He could feel how wet she was.

“You have no idea how horny this makes me.” Monica signed. She slid across him until her sticky, viscose fluids must have covered his entire stomach. “Ever munched on a woman’s pussy?” She asked as she moved nearer to his face.

“Yes Mistress.” He admitted.

“Often?” She was now so close that he could see inside her sex.

“No Mistress.” He admitted again.

“Well let’s just hope that you learn quickly.” She laughed shortly and slid across his face, at once smearing herself across his mouth, nose and eyes. “Come on, what’s stopping you.” She lifted herself slightly until he could look up into the gaping maw of her sex.

Tentatively he extended his tongue and touched the gleaming out lips. She moved, instantly reacting to his touch. He tried again, this time sliding his tongue along pussy lips. He tried to be gentle, mostly out of fear but he knew how sensitive a woman’s sex was. He didn’t want to do anything beyond pleasing her.

He sought out her clitoris, reaching the top of her slip and then probing with his tongue for the tiny hard pearl, then he licked harder, knowing how this would please her.

He was right. Monica began to shudder; she ground down on him, forcing his tongue deeper inside her. He could hardly continue so urgent and pressing was her climax. He knew that she was about to come and he no longer cared that she would climax across his face. It would mean that he had pleased her and that was already all that counted.

Monica’s climax was loud and messy.

He had experienced the female orgasm many times. The drifting lifestyle seemed to attract women so that when ever he’d stopped somewhere for any length of time he’d always found women eager to be with him.

Monica’s climax was quite outside his experience; whether it was the final release of so much sexual frenzy he had no idea, but it was almost volcanic in size and intensity.

He was swept along, flotsam in her pleasure. Monica was completely oblivious of his existence. She collapsed against him, breathless and utterly disorientated; she ignored the fact that her naked sex was now suffocating the life out of him.

Slowly she did recover but not before he’d given up hope and a creeping blackness seemed to be enveloping his brain. She moved just before he slumped into unconsciousness.

She left him shaking and whimpering almost without a backward glance. At the door to the room she paused.

“Emma will be here soon and you look a mess, clean yourself up!”

He waited until he heard the outer door slam shut and then he tried to move. Immediately his legs buckled and he collapsed onto the floor.

It was on his hands and knee’s that he painfully crawled towards the shower.

He turned on the water and sat, back against the cold tiled, allowing the luke-warm to wash Monica and her smells from his body. He also tried to recover, dreading how Emma would react if he was not ready and eager for her.