"Do it."Aria's voice was a low, husky command, dripping with an authority that sent a shiver straight to my core. Her eyes, dark and unwavering, held mine from where she stood above me, her silhouette outlined by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the pure, unadulterated want that had brought us to this exact moment.I was flat on my back on the plush hotel comforter, naked, vulnerable, completely at her mercy. And I’d never been more turned on in my life.It had started hours ago, with a charged glance across a crowded conference hall. Aria was a speaker, all sharp wit and sharper suits, a force of nature. I was just another attendee, until our eyes met during the Q&amp;A and a spark, hot and undeniable, arced between us. The after-party drinks were a blur of intense conversation and thighs brushing under the table. We’d escaped to the elevator, and in that mirrored box, her hand had slid possessively to the back of my neck. “My room,” she’d breathed, and it wasn’t a question.Now, here we were. Her earlier dominance had been a slow, teasing build. She’d undressed me with deliberate, agonizing slowness, her fingers tracing every inch of exposed skin. She’d pinned my wrists above my head and kissed me until I was dizzy, her teeth grazing my lip. She’d made me beg, just to feel her hand between my legs. And through it all, in whispered confessions against my sweat-slicked skin, I’d told her my deepest, most secret fantasy. The one I’d never dared voice to anyone else.“I want nothing else,” I’d gasped, as her fingers worked me to the edge of coherence, “than for you to sit on my face and fart on me.”She’d gone still for a heartbeat, then a slow, predatory smile had spread across her lips. “You filthy thing,” she’d murmured, her voice thick with arousal. “You want my complete ownership. My most base, private function. You want to be my throne, my toilet, my nothing.”And I did. God, I did.Now, she was making it real.“Do it,” she repeated, and began to undress. Not with the teasing slowness of before, but with a deliberate, ritualistic purpose. The blazer hit the floor. The silk blouse followed. Each piece of clothing was a shed layer of her professional persona, revealing the raw, dominant goddess beneath. She stood before me, gloriously naked, her body a landscape of curves and strength. Her breasts were full, her waist narrow, her hips flaring out beautifully. And between her thighs, a thatch of dark curls that made my mouth water.She climbed onto the bed, her knees sinking into the mattress on either side of my head. The world narrowed to the scent of her arousal, musky and sweet, and the incredible, overwhelming view of her sex and the perfect, full globes of her ass above me.“You will not move,” she said, her voice vibrating through me. “You will take what I give you. You will worship it.”I could only moan in assent, my body trembling with anticipation.Slowly, with devastating control, she lowered herself. The first touch was her inner thigh against my cheek, warm and smooth. Then the other. The weight of her began to settle, not all at once, but in increments, until her full, glorious ass was resting on my face. My world went dark, soft, and impossibly hot. The pressure was immense, perfect, smothering in the most exquisite way. I was buried alive in her. I could feel the damp heat of her pussy lips pressing against my forehead, the firm muscle of her cheeks on my nose and mouth. I breathed in, deep, filling my lungs with her intimate, primal scent. It was intoxicating.She shifted slightly, grinding down, and a fresh wave of her musk washed over me. My cock, trapped and ignored beneath her knees, throbbed painfully. This wasn't about my pleasure. This was about my submission. My complete and total immersion in her.Then, I felt it. A low, internal rumble deep within her body, a vibration I felt through the very core of her being where she pressed against me. My entire body clenched with desperate need. She was preparing my gift.“Ready?” she purred, the sound muffled and distorted by her own flesh.I made a guttural, pleading sound into her skin.She bore down.It wasn’t a loud, violent explosion. It was a slow, controlled, intimate release. A deep, resonant pfffrrrrrttt that vibrated through her cheeks and directly into my face. A hot, dense cloud of her essence bloomed against my lips and nose. The air thickened instantly, carrying a rich, earthy, profoundly personal scent that was uniquely, undeniably her. It was musky, slightly sweet, deeply organic. It was the most honest smell in the world.And I was drowning in it.I opened my mouth, gasping, and the taste hit my tongue—warm, humid, indescribable. I licked my lips, savoring it, drinking her in. A deep, ragged groan tore from my throat, the sound absorbed by her flesh. This was it. This was the ultimate surrender. I was her vessel, receiving the most private proof of her existence.She didn’t move. She held the position, letting the heat and the scent and the sheer intimacy of the act settle over me, seep into me. I was panting, lightheaded, delirious with devotion.Then, another rumble. This one felt different. Tighter. Higher.She giggled, a low, wicked sound. “I had beans for lunch.”The second release was sharper. A crisp, bubbly prrrr-ip! that fluttered against my skin. This one was hotter, carrying a different, tangier note. It was playful, almost cheeky. She was giving me a variety. A full experience.I writhed beneath her, my hips bucking helplessly. The sensory overload was unbelievable. The weight, the heat, the smell, the taste, the sound—it fused into a single, transcendent point of euphoria. I was nothing but a receiver for her. My purpose was fulfilled.Finally, with a contented sigh, she lifted herself, just an inch. Cool air rushed into the space, a shocking contrast to the humid heaven I’d been in. Light returned, hazy and golden. She looked down at me over the curve of her shoulder, her expression one of smug, radiant satisfaction.My face was flushed, wet with her heat and my own tears of overwhelmed joy. I was gasping, staring up at her like she’d just performed a miracle.She smirked. “You look good like that. Covered in me.”

Aria, a confident and dominant speaker at a conference, commands me to fulfill my deepest, secret fantasy. She undresses and sits on my face, giving me the ultimate submission. I am overwhelmed by the intimacy and the scent of her, and she continues to dominate me with a playful, cheeky release.

"Do it."

Aria's voice was a low, husky command, dripping with an authority that sent a shiver straight to my core. Her eyes, dark and unwavering, held mine from where she stood above me, her silhouette outlined by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the pure, unadulterated _want_ that had brought us to this exact moment.

I was flat on my back on the plush hotel comforter, naked, vulnerable, completely at her mercy. And I’d never been more turned on in my life.

It had started hours ago, with a charged glance across a crowded conference hall. Aria was a speaker, all sharp wit and sharper suits, a force of nature. I was just another attendee, until our eyes met during the Q&A and a spark, hot and undeniable, arced between us. The after-party drinks were a blur of intense conversation and thighs brushing under the table. We’d escaped to the elevator, and in that mirrored box, her hand had slid possessively to the back of my neck. “My room,” she’d breathed, and it wasn’t a question.

Now, here we were. Her earlier dominance had been a slow, teasing build. She’d undressed me with deliberate, agonizing slowness, her fingers tracing every inch of exposed skin. She’d pinned my wrists above my head and kissed me until I was dizzy, her teeth grazing my lip. She’d made me beg, just to feel her hand between my legs. And through it all, in whispered confessions against my sweat-slicked skin, I’d told her my deepest, most secret fantasy. The one I’d never dared voice to anyone else.

“I want nothing else,” I’d gasped, as her fingers worked me to the edge of coherence, “than for you to sit on my face and fart on me.”

She’d gone still for a heartbeat, then a slow, predatory smile had spread across her lips. “You filthy thing,” she’d murmured, her voice thick with arousal. “You want my complete ownership. My most base, private function. You want to be my throne, my toilet, _my nothing_.”

And I did. God, I did.

Now, she was making it real.

“Do it,” she repeated, and began to undress. Not with the teasing slowness of before, but with a deliberate, ritualistic purpose. The blazer hit the floor. The silk blouse followed. Each piece of clothing was a shed layer of her professional persona, revealing the raw, dominant goddess beneath. She stood before me, gloriously naked, her body a landscape of curves and strength. Her breasts were full, her waist narrow, her hips flaring out beautifully. And between her thighs, a thatch of dark curls that made my mouth water.

She climbed onto the bed, her knees sinking into the mattress on either side of my head. The world narrowed to the scent of her arousal, musky and sweet, and the incredible, overwhelming view of her sex and the perfect, full globes of her ass above me.

“You will not move,” she said, her voice vibrating through me. “You will take what I give you. You will _worship_ it.”

I could only moan in assent, my body trembling with anticipation.

Slowly, with devastating control, she lowered herself. The first touch was her inner thigh against my cheek, warm and smooth. Then the other. The weight of her began to settle, not all at once, but in increments, until her full, glorious ass was resting on my face. My world went dark, soft, and impossibly hot. The pressure was immense, perfect, smothering in the most exquisite way. I was buried alive in her. I could feel the damp heat of her pussy lips pressing against my forehead, the firm muscle of her cheeks on my nose and mouth. I breathed in, deep, filling my lungs with her intimate, primal scent. It was intoxicating.

She shifted slightly, grinding down, and a fresh wave of her musk washed over me. My cock, trapped and ignored beneath her knees, throbbed painfully. This wasn't about my pleasure. This was about my _submission_. My complete and total immersion in her.

Then, I felt it. A low, internal rumble deep within her body, a vibration I felt through the very core of her being where she pressed against me. My entire body clenched with desperate need. She was preparing my gift.

“Ready?” she purred, the sound muffled and distorted by her own flesh.

I made a guttural, pleading sound into her skin.

She bore down.

It wasn’t a loud, violent explosion. It was a slow, controlled, intimate release. A deep, resonant *pfffrrrrrttt* that vibrated through her cheeks and directly into my face. A hot, dense cloud of her essence bloomed against my lips and nose. The air thickened instantly, carrying a rich, earthy, profoundly personal scent that was uniquely, undeniably *her*. It was musky, slightly sweet, deeply organic. It was the most honest smell in the world.

And I was drowning in it.

I opened my mouth, gasping, and the taste hit my tongue—warm, humid, indescribable. I licked my lips, savoring it, drinking her in. A deep, ragged groan tore from my throat, the sound absorbed by her flesh. This was it. This was the ultimate surrender. I was her vessel, receiving the most private proof of her existence.

She didn’t move. She held the position, letting the heat and the scent and the sheer intimacy of the act settle over me, seep into me. I was panting, lightheaded, delirious with devotion.

Then, another rumble. This one felt different. Tighter. Higher.

She giggled, a low, wicked sound. “I had beans for lunch.”

The second release was sharper. A crisp, bubbly *prrrr-ip!* that fluttered against my skin. This one was hotter, carrying a different, tangier note. It was playful, almost cheeky. She was giving me a variety. A full experience.

I writhed beneath her, my hips bucking helplessly. The sensory overload was unbelievable. The weight, the heat, the smell, the taste, the sound—it fused into a single, transcendent point of euphoria. I was nothing but a receiver for her. My purpose was fulfilled.

Finally, with a contented sigh, she lifted herself, just an inch. Cool air rushed into the space, a shocking contrast to the humid heaven I’d been in. Light returned, hazy and golden. She looked down at me over the curve of her shoulder, her expression one of smug, radiant satisfaction.

My face was flushed, wet with her heat and my own tears of overwhelmed joy. I was gasping, staring up at her like she’d just performed a miracle.

She smirked. “You look good like that. Covered in me.”

Aria

A man finds himself utterly dominated by a powerful, confident woman who commands him to fulfill her most intimate desires. He is overwhelmed by the intensity of her control, the raw, primal nature of her demands, and the sheer magnitude of his submission to her. The man is completely at her mercy, surrendering to her every whim, including her most private, intimate, and taboo desires.

A conference spark leads to her commanding a taboo fetish; will submission ignite passion? Dive in now.

Aria's Dominant Fart-Face Submission Thrill

I want nothing else than for you to sit on my face and fart on me

Surrender to Aria's Forbidden Throne

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Surrender to Aria's Forbidden Throne

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