By: ArseFace2020
Chapter 1
The photo trembled in my fingers. My entire face vanished under Sue’s spandex-covered ass in this one, just a blurred outline swallowed by black fabric and flesh. Another shot showed her lifted slightly—my nose mashed deep into the seam of her shorts, right between her cheeks, my eyes wide with panic. A third captured her grinning over her shoulder at the camera while my chin dug into her chubby buttock. Each Polaroid felt like a branding iron.
Jane’s sobs cut through the humid air as she clutched her own pictures of humiliation: Susan’s crotch pressed against her mouth, her belly resting on her sister's nose. Jane’s tears began streaking the glossy surface. "They left them on us," she choked out, wiping snot with the back of her hand. "Like fucking trophies." Her knuckles whitened around the photo’s edge.
I stared at my set again—the third one where Sue was smirking was a knife twist. My stomach churned. This wasn’t just a prank; it was a violation carved into celluloid, something Susan could hold over us forever.
"Jane," I said, my voice raw. She flinched. "This... It's terrible. What the hell are we going to do?" The words hung thick in the humid air, mixing with the chlorine scent and the faint, lingering smell of Sue's sweaty fat ass.
Jane didn't look at me. She stared at her photo, the one where her sister's crotch completely obscured her face, just her forehead & hair visible, one where Jane's nose was visibly pushing into Sue's crotch & Jane's eyes were filled with tears. "They'll show everyone," she whispered, her voice a broken rasp. "School. The pool club. My parents..." A fresh sob tore from her. "They'll laugh. They'll *always* laugh."
Tears blurred my own Polaroids, warping Sue's triumphant smirk into a monstrous leer. The memory slammed back – the crushing darkness, the impossible weight pinning my shoulders, the thick, cloying smell of sweat and spandex engulfing me as her ass settled, spreading wide over my nose and mouth. It was the scent of humiliation, sharp and intimate, clinging even now in my nostrils. I gagged, bile rising in my throat as the image flashed back in my mind.
"I'm gonna be sick," I choked out, scrambling to my feet. Jane didn't even look up, lost in her own shattered world. The memory surged – the suffocating darkness, the weight crushing my face, trying to find an escape route, the thick, cloying scent of sweat & god knows what, flooding my nose and mouth as her ass spread wide over me. It wasn't just a smell; it was the stench of helplessness, intimate and violating. My stomach heaved violently.
I barely made it to the guest bathroom off the pool deck. Collapsing onto the cool tile, I vomited violently into the toilet, my body convulsing with each retch. Sour bile burned my throat, mixing with the phantom taste of Sue's ass sweat. Tears streamed down my face, hot and relentless, mingling vomit on my chin. I gasped for air, each breath a ragged sob. Fuck, I was so angry!
Outside, Jane’s crying had turned into a low, heart wrenching sob. I heard the sharp rip of paper—once, twice—followed by the soft flutter of torn Polaroids hitting the water. I stumbled back to the deck just as the last fragments of her photos sank beneath the pool’s surface. Jane stood trembling at the edge, her fists clenched, knuckles white against her sunburned skin.
"I can’t stay here," I rasped, my throat still raw from vomiting. The words felt clumsy, inadequate against the raw violation still clinging to us like the stench of Sue’s spandex. Jane stood rigid by the pool’s edge, her back to me, shoulders trembling. The torn remnants of her Polaroids were dissolving ink blossoms in the chlorinated water. "Jane," I tried again, the name catching. "I... I need to go home." It wasn't comfort, it wasn't a plan, just the desperate, animal urge to flee the scene of the crime, to scrub the memory from my mind.
She finally turned. Her eyes were red-rimmed, swollen slits in a face pale beneath the fading tan. She looked hollowed out, a ghost of the confident girl who'd lounged beside me an hour ago. "Yeah," she whispered, the sound barely audible over the hum of the pool filter. "Go. Just... go." There was no fight left in her, only a terrifying emptiness. She turned back to the water, staring at the spot where her humiliation had sunk. I couldn't bear to look at my own photos still clutched in my damp hand. I shoved them deep into the pocket of my shorts, and left through the garden gate.
The walk home felt like stumbling through a dream. My flip-flops scuffed the hot pavement, each step jarring the dull ache at the base of my skull from supporting Sue's weight. All I could think about was the shower waiting for me—scalding water, gallons of soap, scrubbing until my skin was raw, trying to scour away the phantom pressure on my face and the lingering, cloying scent of sweat and spandex that clung to my nostrils. How could I ever feel clean again? What if the smell was ingrained inside me? My head swam with fragmented images: Sue’s triumphant smirk, the crushing darkness, the heat Jane’s broken sobs, but worst of all had been the lack of oxygen; I'd never felt fear like that before as everything faded. What would we *do*? The Polaroids felt like a live grenade in my pocket.
Lost in the dark spiral of my thoughts, head bowed low, I didn’t see them until I collided with something soft and unyielding. I stumbled back, startled, a reflexive "Sorry!" already on my lips. My gaze snapped up, and my blood turned to ice. Carole and Mandy stood blocking the sidewalk, arms crossed over their ample chests. They weren’t laughing now. Their expressions were smug, confident like predators who’d cornered easy prey.
"Well, well, look who's slinking home," Mandy sneered, stepping closer, her shadow falling over me.
"Move," I snapped, my voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor in my hands. I tried to step around them, but Carole shifted, blocking my path with her bulk. Her eyes flickered with cruel amusement.
Carole was built like a sturdy oak tree, thick-limbed and broad-shouldered beneath a faded band t-shirt stretched taut over her heavy chest & big belly. Carole would have been a big girl even if she hadn't been so overweight, it was clearly in her genes. Everything about her was just big, and i guessed she had to be 6” taller than my 5’2”. Combined with her 245lbs this made for an intimidating force of nature. Her dark hair framed a round face, flushed and sweating in the heat, held small, watchful eyes and lips curled into a permanent smirk.
Mandy, stood shorter, lighter at 200lbs but still plenty vs my 112lbs. Mandy looked softer, as though molded from dough, her pale arms dimpling where they crossed over her equally large breasts, her thighs stretch marked & wobbly. Her frizzy red hair escaped a messy ponytail, framing cheeks flushed pink, her expression one of lazy, predatory confidence. They both radiated a sickening new sense of ownership over the sidewalk, and me.
"I said move," I repeated, the tremor in my voice betraying the sudden fear coiling in my gut. The phantom scent of spandex and sweat seemed to intensify, clinging to my memory like tar. Mandy let out a low, chuckle, a sound like stones grinding together. Carole didn't laugh outright; her smirk just deepened, turning cruel. "Or what?" she rumbled, her voice thick with amusement. "You gonna cry again, like when Sue sat on your face?" Her words were a physical blow. Mandy’s laughter bubbled out louder now, harsh and mocking, filling the humid street. "Yeah," Mandy sneered, shifting her weight to block me more completely, "you looked real pretty under her ass. We got *lots* more pictures, you know. Better ones." The Polaroid in my pocket felt like a burning brand.
I gasped, the sound sharp and involuntary. "You're lying!" The denial ripped out of me, raw and desperate. My mind reeled. *More?* The three Polaroids I had were nightmares enough – images seared into my retinas. The thought of others, unseen, capturing even worse angles, deeper humiliation, sent a fresh wave of nausea crashing over me. "There aren't any others! You’re just saying that!" I tried to push past Carole, my hand instinctively flying to shield the bulge in my pocket where my own photos were hidden.
Carole’s thick arm shot out, shoving me back hard. I stumbled, my flip-flops skidding on the hot pavement, nearly losing my balance. Her small, piggish eyes gleamed with malicious triumph. "Try again, snob," she grunted, her grin hinting at her poor dental hygiene. Beside her, Mandy’s doughy face split into a wide, gloating grin. With deliberate slowness, she pulled a folded Polaroid from the tight pocket of her shorts. The white border flashed in the sunlight like a threat. "Here," Mandy sneered, thrusting the photo towards me. "Have a look at your pretty face. Sue thought this one was *especially* flattering."
I recoiled, but Mandy grabbed my wrist in a viselike grip, forcing the image into my line of sight. It wasn’t one of mine. This was a new horror. There I was, unconscious on the deck, my head lolling to one side. Susan stood over me, her back to the camera. She’d tugged down the waistband of her black spandex shorts, exposing the pale, fleshy top curve of her buttocks and top of her asscrack. One of them – Mandy, judging by the dimpled, pale arm in the shot – had her hand tangled in my hair, yanking my head back. My mouth was slack, gaping open like a fish out of water, pressed obscenely against that exposed strip of skin just above her crack. Humiliation, hot and sickening, flooded through me. The vulnerability was absolute, grotesque.
"See?" Mandy crowed, shaking the photo. "You were *so* out of it. Didn't even fight when we posed you. Just a ragdoll." Her breath was hot on my ear. "Sue thought it was hilarious. Said she could feel your stupid little breaths right against her crack." The detail was intimate yet violating. My skin crawled. I could almost feel the clammy heat of her skin, the pressure on my slack jaw, the utter helplessness of that moment captured forever. It wasn't just domination; it was desecration.
"You fucking phyco bitches!! Why?" My voice was a rasp, barely audible above the frantic pulse in my ears. I stared at the grotesque image, unable to look away. "Why do this? What do you even *want*?" The question felt pathetic, but it clawed its way out. Was it just cruelty? Was there a point? Jane was broken, I was shattered. What more could they possibly take?
Mandy shoved the photo back into her pocket, her cruel grin widening. "Because you *deserved* it," Carole grunted, stepping so close her belly pressed against my arm. "Always looking down your nose at us. Jane’s snooty bitch. Now you’re *our* bitch." Mandy leaned in, her frizzy hair brushing my cheek.
"Ass face," she whispered directly into my ear, the words sticky with malice. The nickname hit like a slap. Carole's belly jiggled with her snorting laugh, a wet, ugly sound. Mandy's shrill giggle followed, sharp and grating. Their laughter coiled around me, thick and suffocating—a physical echo of Sue's weight. Every instinct screamed to run, to hide. Instead, pure, hot shame ignited a spark of defiance. I shoved past Carole, putting all my weight into it. My shoulder connected solidly with her soft flank. She grunted, stumbling sideways, her smirk dissolving into surprise. Mandy’s laughter died abruptly as I shoved her too, not hard enough to knock her over but enough to clear a path. I didn't look back. For a split second i felt back in control. My flip-flops slapped the pavement, each step fueled by a desperate, trembling rage.
"Stop, Assface!" Mandy screeched, her voice cracking with fury. "Or you know what happens with the photos!" Her words were a physical anchor, snagging my momentum instantly. My feet froze mid-stride. The threat was cold, brutal, efficient. *More* photos. Worse ones. Circulated. Posted. My humiliation made permanent. The image of my slack mouth pressed to Sue’s exposed crack flashed behind my eyes. I stopped instantly, shoulders slumping. The fight drained out of me, replaced by a sickening wave of cold dread. They owned this moment. They owned me.
Slowly, deliberately, Carole extended her thick arm. Her stubby index finger crooked inward, beckoning me back towards them with a slow, deliberate motion. It wasn't an invitation; it was a command. Her small eyes held a flat, predatory stare. "That's right," Mandy hissed, her earlier fury replaced by a low, satisfied purr. "Come here girl" The gesture was obscene, ancient, primal—a summoning of an obedient puppy. My breath hitched. Every nerve screamed to run, or punch her stupid fat face, but the invisible leash of those unseen photos held me fast. I turned mechanically, my limbs heavy.
Carole waited until I stood trembling directly in front of her, close enough to smell the stale sweat on her band t-shirt. She didn't need to reach into her pocket this time; Mandy already held the vile Polaroid aloft, waving it slowly like a trophy. "You asked what we want?" Carole quipped, her voice thick with disdain. She jabbed a thick finger towards the photo Mandy held.
"Sue had her fun," Mandy interrupted, her doughy face inches from mine. Her breath smelled faintly of peanut butter and something sour. "But we didn't get *our* turn." She tapped the image of my unconscious face pressed against Sue's exposed crack. "She didn't let us use your face like that. Thats what we want" The implication hung heavy and defiant in the air. They wanted to replicate Sue's pose. On me. With *them*.
Chapter 2
I stared in disbelief. They couldn't be serious. The sheer, petty vindictiveness of it felt unreal. Was this just some grotesque game? Was my entire worth reduced to being a prop for their humiliation fantasies? Mandy's cruel smirk and Carole’s flat, expectant stare confirmed it wasn't a joke. My stomach churned, the nausea from earlier threatening a violent return. The Polaroid in Mandy’s hand wasn't just a threat anymore; it was a blueprint.
"No," I whispered, the word barely audible over the frantic drumming of my pulse. It felt useless, pathetic. Mandy’s grin widened, predatory. "Oh, yes," she breathed, stepping closer until her bulk blocked the sun, casting me in shadow. "You don't get a vote, Assface." Carole grabbed my upper arm, her fingers digging in like meat hooks, steering me towards the curb. Resistance was pointless. The photos were the guillotine blade hanging over my life. Jane’s tear-streaked face flashed in my mind. How much worse could it get? The answer, apparently, was a lot.
"You can't do this!" I blurted, my voice cracking. "This is assault! Blackmail! It's illegal! Sue already humiliated us, isn't that enough? We were just... sunbathing! You think this is justified? You're bot out of your minds!! There is no chance my face is going near your fat, skanky butts! Give me all the photos, or im going to the police" Desperation made my words tumble out fast and sharp. "Just because Jane was mean sometimes? You helped Sue sit on her face! On mine! You freaks! You took pictures! It's not fair!" Mandy loomed over me, her shadow swallowing mine. "Fair?" she scowled, "Life ain't fair, bitch. All these years people calling us names, you & your friends calling us fat, whales, comments about the size of our butt's. This is payback bitch. You won't go to the cops. You remember my older brother, Troy? He had a real crush on you but you humiliated him; all because he was too fat for you! Well guess what- Troys a state cop now. I’m sure he'd love to see these pics too. Besides, it's Helen's big pool party next weekend; imagine if that guy you like, Barney, saw you kissing Sue's sweaty ass! Haha! I don't think he'd be so hot for you then”!
Mandy's face took on an even more smug expression as she tore through my false bravado.
"Relax," Carole grunted, her grip tightening painfully on my arm as she steered me towards the curb. "We ain't gonna smother you unconscious like Sue did." She shot a dismissive glance at Mandy. "And im sure as hell not sittin' my full weight on you. Too risky. You might break." Mandy smirked, nodding slowly. "Nah. We're civilized." She patted her own ample rump. "We're just gonna squat. Nice and easy. And you..." she leaned in, her sour breath hot on my face, "...you're just gonna kiss each of our asses. Right on the crack. Where Sue had your mouth. Like a little thank you kiss." The sheer, bizarre pettiness of it stole my breath. Kiss? Their *asses*? After what Sue did? It was like twisting the knife deeper, reducing the nightmare to some grotesque, childish dare.
I hated myself for the wave of weak, pathetic relief that washed over me. Blacking out had been terrifying – the panic, the burning lungs, the suffocating darkness. This? This was just... humiliation. A different kind of degradation. "You... you mean it?" My voice trembled, betraying my shameful gratitude. "You promise? No smothering? No... no sitting?" I needed to hear it again, clinging to the flimsy shield of their word. Mandy rolled her eyes dramatically. "For the tenth time, *Assface*, no smothering. We're not Sue. Now, are we doing this or do we start texting these pics to everyone at school?" She waved the Polaroid inches from my nose, the image of my slack mouth against Sue's exposed skin burning itself into my mind again. The threat was absolute.
Mandy's eyes darted past me, landing on a small, slightly grimy cafe tucked between a laundromat and a closed-down travel agency. "There," she announced, pointing with her chin. "Perfect." The thought of entering a public place, of walking past other people while flanked by them, made my stomach churn. The cafe’s large front window offered zero privacy; anyone inside could see us approach. My legs felt like lead. Carole’s meaty grip on my arm tightened, propelling me forward. "Move it, bitch," she grunted. "Before we change our minds."
Chapter 3
The smell of stale grease and burnt coffee hit me as we neared the entrance, mixing unpleasantly with the sour sweat clinging to Mandy and Carole. I focused on the chipped paint around the cafe door, the faded 'OPEN' sign buzzing faintly. Inside, I could see the blurry shapes of a few patrons at booths. My humiliation was about to escalate, but at least, *at least*, I wouldn't be unconscious this time. The pathetic justification for agreeing to this tasted like ash.
Carole shoved the cafe door open with her shoulder, the little bell above jangling like a mocking alarm. The warm, greasy air inside felt thick, pressing in on me. A bored-looking waitress glanced up from wiping a counter, her eyes widening slightly as she took in Mandy and Carole flanking my rigid form. "Just need the bathroom," Mandy chirped, her voice suddenly, unnervingly cheerful. "Be quick!" She flashed the waitress a wide, toothy smile that didn't reach her eyes. The waitress just nodded mutely, her gaze flickering to my pale face before quickly looking away. The cafe’s patrons – an old man reading a newspaper and two teenagers sharing fries – didn’t even look up. We moved past them, down a narrow corridor smelling faintly of disinfectant and mildew, towards a single, unisex bathroom door at the back. The sound of our footsteps echoed off the cheap tile floor. Mandy reached past me, turning the knob. The door opened with a squeak, revealing a cramped space barely large enough for three people.
Mandy crowded in first, her wide hips brushing the sink. Carole pushed me in next, her sheer mass filling the remaining space as she slammed the door shut and locked it. The tiny room instantly became claustrophobic. Mandy leaned her weight against the flimsy door, ensuring it stayed shut, while Carole turned to face me, her broad back blocking the sink. They weren't huge like Susan, but their combined presence was overwhelming. Carole was easily pushing 245 pounds, her frame dense and powerful, all thick limbs and solid torso. Mandy was softer, maybe 200lbs, her weight distributed in heavy curves that strained her faded old jeans. Trapped between them, I felt fragile & breakable.
Mandy held up the Polaroid again, tapping the image of Sue’s exposed crack pressed against my face. "This," she breathed, her voice low and vicious in the confined space, "but better. You're gonna do it properly this time. Awake. Willing." She shoved the photo into her pocket and grabbed my shoulders.
"Willing?" I spat, twisting against her grip. My voice cracked with rage. "I'm awake, you fat bitch, but I’m sure as hell not *willing*!" Mandy's smirk vanished. She slammed my back against the tiled wall, the impact jolting my teeth. Carole loomed closer, her breath hot. "Doesn’t do well to call us names right now, Assface."
"Get on your knees," Carole ordered, her voice flat and final. "Willingly. Or Mandy texts every single cheerleader, every teacher, your parents… everyone. Right now." She held her phone up, thumb hovering over the screen. The Polaroid flashed in my mind – my slack mouth, Sue’s exposed skin. The world tilted. Humiliation warred with raw panic. My legs trembled. Mandy leaned in, her voice a venomous whisper. "Do it. Or we *make* you do it & sit on you"
The fight drained out of me like water from a broken vase. The threat of being sat on again – feeling that suffocating weight, the darkness, the helplessness – wasn’t just physical, it was a trigger akin to PTSD. It was a violation that crushed my spirit. My shoulders slumped. My gaze dropped to the grimy linoleum floor. I couldn't bear the thought of another Polaroid, another moment trapped beneath their weight. A choked sob escaped me. Slowly, stiffly, I sank to my knees on the cold, damp tiles. The smell of stale urine and cheap disinfectant filled my nostrils. Mandy’s triumphant chuckle echoed in the tiny space.
Carole shifted her bulk to turn to face away from me fully, her thick legs planted wide. Her cheap leggings strained over her heavy thighs and wide hips. From my point of view she looked almost too wide to have even fit into this room, as though it had been built around her. She hooked her thumbs into the elastic waistband. Mandy watched with hungry eyes, leaning against the locked door. With deliberate slowness, Carole tugged the leggings down just enough, the fabric catching on the shelf like swell of her buttocks, revealing the top curve of her fleshy cheeks and the deep cleft of her crack. She didn't expose herself fully, but she did lower her leggings further than Sue had done, half way down her butt cheeks. The implication was hideously clear. The stretch marked skin looked pale and dimpled in the harsh bathroom light. "Remember," she grunted, her voice thick with power. "Right on the top of my crack. Like you *mean* it." She shuffled her feet wider, arching her back, presenting herself. My stomach heaved.
Mandy nudged me hard between the shoulder blades. "Go on, Assface. Kiss it. Like you're thanking her for not sitting on your face." The proximity was overwhelming, as was the heat radiating from her mammoth behind – the heavy scent of unwashed skin, cheap perfume, and sweat mingled with the bathroom’s chemical stink. I stared at the grotesque display inches from my face, the sheer size of her forcing my head back. My breath hitched, trapped in my throat. The humiliation wasn't just physical; it was the utter degradation of having to perform this willingly under their gaze. Mandy’s phone was still poised, a silent, terrifying threat. I felt dizzy, detached, like this was happening to someone else. Slowly, stiffly, I leaned forward, closing my eyes as if that could erase reality. My lips brushed against clammy, dimpled flesh. The contact was brief, but revoltingly intimate. A choked gasp escaped me. Carole didn’t move, radiating smug satisfaction.
"Open your eyes, Assface," Mandy commanded, her voice sharp with malice. "I want you to *see* what you're doing. See how insignificant you are." Reluctantly, I forced my eyelids open. The sight was jarring – the threadbare fabric of Carole’s leggings pulled taut below her hips, the pale expanse of her lower back, and directly before me, the exposed, deep crevice I’d just touched. The overhead fluorescent light cast harsh shadows on the rolls of flesh, making every imperfection starkly visible. Mandy loomed beside me, her expression a twisted mix of glee and anticipation. "Now, say thank you to Carole. Tell her you enjoyed it." My cheeks burned with a mixture of shame, anger & pure hatred for these fat bully's.
I looked up at Mandy, her command hitting me like a physical blow. *Thank her?* The words curdled in my throat, tasting like bile. Every cell in my body screamed against it – this wasn't just humiliation; it was a ritualistic breaking of my spirit, forcing gratitude for my own degradation. Mandy’s eyes glittered with cruel triumph, her phone held like a weapon inches from my face, the ghost of that Polaroid burning behind my eyelids.
My gaze snapped back to Carole’s exposed flesh inches from my nose. The dimpled skin, the coarse hair escaping the stretched waistband of her leggings, the sour tang of sweat – it was all overwhelming. A tremor ran through me, part rage, part soul-crushing shame. "Th-thank you," I forced out, the words thick and choked, scraping raw against my vocal cords. "For… for not… sitting on me." The admission felt like swallowing broken glass.
They burst out laughing. It wasn’t just chuckling; it was a guttural, belly-deep roar that bounced off the tiny bathroom tiles, sharp and mocking. Carole’s heavy frame shook with it, her exposed buttocks jiggling obscenely close to my face. Mandy leaned against the door, gasping, tears of cruel amusement streaking her flushed cheeks. "Oh my god," Mandy wheezed, slapping her thigh, "she actually *said* it! Like a good little bitch!" Carole’s laughter turned into a satisfied grunt as she hitched her leggings back up over her hips, the fabric straining audibly. "Hear that, Mandy? Assface *appreciates* our mercy."
But she didn’t move away. Carole remained planted in front of me, feet wide, her now covered rear end still hovering inches from my face. The cheap fabric stretched taut over the sheer mass beneath. The sour-sweet scent of sweat and teen hormones clung thick in the air. She shifted her weight slightly, her shadow falling over me as I knelt on the grimy floor. Mandy’s laughter subsided into a predatory grin as she watched. Carole glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes cold and flat. "Do it again," she stated, her voice devoid of any emotion but command. "Kiss my ass. Properly this time. Show some damn enthusiasm."
My throat tightened. Enthusiasm? The word was obscen in this context. I stared at the wall of stretched fabric, the memory of the clammy skin beneath it fresh and nauseating. Mandy nudged my shoulder with her fist. "You heard her. And remember…" She wiggled her phone, the the new threat, a silent ghost in the air between us. "We want a *performance*." My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. I took a shallow, shuddering breath, the stench of the bathroom mixing with the oppressive closeness of their bodies. Slowly, deliberately, I leaned forward once more, pressing my lips against the thin fabric where it covered the deep chasm of her crack. I held the contact, my lips staying in position against her rump, forcing myself to linger, the heat radiating through the material making my skin crawl.
Mandy leaned down, her face too close to mine. "Again," she whispered, her breath hot in my ear. "Louder. Show Carole just how grateful you really are that she isn't sitting on you" Her hand, surprisingly strong, settled firmly on the back of my head, not shoving, but applying steady, inescapable pressure, ensuring I couldn't pull away. Her fingers tangled in my hair, anchoring me. "Say it properly this time," she hissed. "Thank Carole for her *generosity*." The pressure increased, forcing my forehead to rest against Carole’s covered backside. The position was utterly debasing, my nose pressed into the fabric, the scent was truly awful, overwhelming my senses. My voice, when it came, was muffled against her leggings. "Th-thank you…" I stammered, the words tasting like shit. "Thank you, Carole… for your… generosity." Mandy’s grip tightened, her fingernails digging slightly into my scalp. "For not sitting on my face," she prompted sharply, her voice laced with venom, and i repeated the humiliating phrase.
Carole shifted, her weight pressing back firmer. "Better," she grunted, a note of cruel satisfaction in her voice. "But not great." She didn't move. Mandy’s hand remained clamped on my head, keeping me pinned against Carole’s rear end. "Again," Mandy commanded, her voice dropping to a menacing purr. "With *feeling*. Like you mean it. Like you actually want to kiss her fat ass." She pushed my face harder into the fabric. "Go on. Make it convincing, Assface. Or that picture goes viral *tonight*." I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the dizzying wave of nausea. The grimy floor tiles pressed into my knees, the stench of stale urine and sweat thick in my nostrils. I drew a ragged breath, the fabric scratching my lips. "Thank you, Carole," I choked out, forcing my voice louder, clearer, lacing it with a pathetic tremble. "Thank you… for not sitting on my face. Thank you for allowing me to kiss your ass, I'mreally grateful,thanks " The admission echoed hollowly in the tiny, tiled space. I hated myself for how weak I sounded.
The longer Mandy held me the more aware I became of the restriction on my breathing. My hot, panicked breath, was trapped against Carole’s leggings, right where they stretched tight over the crease of her buttocks. The cheap, synthetic fabric grew warm and damp beneath my mouth and nose with each shallow, terrified exhalation I managed. It was like breathing into a suffocating pillow. And beneath that warmth, something else bloomed – a thick, pungent, sour-sweet musk intensified by the rising temperature and humidity trapped between her skin and the cloth. It was the raw, intimate scent of someone's dirtiest place and unwashed skin, concentrated and amplified right against my face. The more I struggled to breathe, the more my own expelled air seemed to cook it, making it sharper, more cloying, clinging to the back of my throat. It wasn't just sweat; it was the earthy, almost fermented tang of her body, unfiltered and overwhelming. Tears stung my eyes, partly from the humiliation, partly from the sheer physical assault of the smell.
*Oh god,* the thought slammed into me with sickening clarity, *this is the air I’m breathing. Air from between her huge ass cheeks, wtf?!* Every desperate gasp pulled that humid, intimate odor deeper into my lungs. It wasn’t just *smelling* it anymore; I was inhaling it, forced to take her essence inside me with every ragged breath. My stomach churned violently, bile rising sharp and bitter. This wasn’t just degradation; it was a biological violation, forcing me to consume her presence in the most repulsive way imaginable. The sheer *grossness* of it, the primal revulsion of having my air supply filtered through the sweat and musk of her ass crack, hit me with paralyzing force. I gagged, the sound muffled against the taut fabric.
Mandy’s laughter, sharp and sudden, cut through my choking. "What’s the matter, Assface?" she jeered, leaning down so her breath was hot on my ear again. She gave my head a rough shake, her fingers still knotted in my hair, forcing my nose to wiggle about between Carole's cheeks.
"Carole’s special perfume too much for your delicate nose?" Her laughter hitched, then exploded again, louder this time, edged with cruel delight. "Oh, wait! I get it!" Her voice dropped to a mocking whisper, thick with realization. "It’s not just the *smell*, is it? Poor little Vicky’s actually living off of it! Breathing it right in! That’s why you’re gagging like a cat with a hairball!" She dissolved into another peal of laughter, rocking back slightly on her heels, her grip slackening just enough for me to feel the fresh wave of humiliation burn my cheeks. "Carole! She’s practically filtering your ass crack through your leggings! She’s getting a full *sensory experience*!"
Carole let out a low, satisfied grunt. “Shake her head about again, I've got a real itchy ass, she can help out with that!” she laughed. The horror of her words was suddenly superseded by Mandy obeying. She shoved my head forward hard, my nose wedging the material impossibly deep into butt canyon, not stopping until the soft cheeks filled my eyeballs. Once happy in position, Mandy began roughly shaking my head about by my hair. The stinging in my scalp brought a fresh wave of tears to my eyes as I involuntarily screamed a muffled cry of pain. For her part, Carole pushed back further until Mandy had to really lean some weight against my back to stop us stumbling back. The tip & bridge of my nose was forced to follow Mandy's erratic head shaking, thus satisfying Carole by scratching her butthole through the fabric.
The pressure against my face eased as. Carole shifted slightly, finally taking a small step away. The sudden retreat felt like a reprieve, but it was short-lived. Both girls loomed over me, Mandy wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, Carole’s expression smug and predatory. They blocked the meager light from the single bulb overhead, casting me into shadow as I knelt, trembling, on the grimy tiles. Mandy pinched my chin & tilted my head back. "Look at her face, Carole," she snorted, her voice thick with amusement. "She’s beet red! Like a damn tomato someone sat on!"
Mandy’s laughter faded abruptly, replaced by a chilling smirk. She stepped forward, her shadow engulfing me. "Alright, Assface," she declared, her fingers already working the worn button of her faded jeans. "My turn."
Chapter 4
Mandy's movements were deliberate, slow, savoring the anticipation. She paused, watching my expression shift from humiliation to dawning horror. The button of her jeans popped open & with a small *snick*, the zipper rasped down agonizingly slowly. Mandy hooked her thumbs into the waistband and began pushing the denim down over her ample hips. It wasn’t a quick tug; she worked the tight fabric inch by inch, revealing pale skin stretched over thick flesh, the denim bunching around her thighs. She paused again, the jeans now pooled just below her knees, and turned her back to me.
The sight was stark. Mandy’s ass was simply enormous, pale, and dimpled with cellulite. She was obviously fat all over, but she certainly carried most of her weight in her ass. A flimsy black lace of a thong that vanished into the deep crevice was just visible. The thong seemed absurdly inadequate, a tiny scrap of fabric lost amidst the sheer expanse of her bare buttocks. Sweat glistened in the crease where the lace bit into the flesh. The air thickened with the raw, musky scent of her body, amplified by the confined space. "This wasn't the deal!" I choked out, my voice raw and trembling. I tried to scramble back, my palms slipping on the grimy tiles. "You said just… just a kiss! Just the top of your crack! Not… not *this*!" My protest died as Mandy glanced over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed and dangerous.
Mandy snorted, her expression hardening. "Deal changed, Assface." She braced one hand against the peeling wall. "You think a quick peck on Carole’s covered ass is enough payback? After all the times you wrinkled your nose at us? Called us whales?" She leaned forward slightly, deepening the shadowed cleft. "No. You’re going to *kiss* it. Properly. Right where it counts. Like you mean it." She paused, letting the implication hang in the fetid air. "Or that Polaroid of you getting smothered unconscious by Sue? It’ll be in every group chat, every locker, before you even get home. Imagine your mom seeing *that*." The threat was casual but absolute.
She settled her stance, her bare, immense buttocks mere inches from my face. The heat radiating off her skin was like opening an oven door. The scent was immediate and overpowering – a dense, sour-sweet funk, thick with sweat trapped all day in denim. It was earthier than Carole’s, deeper, with a fermented, almost vinegar undertone that made my eyes water. Mandy deliberately shifted her weight, causing a faint, wet squelching sound where her cheeks pressed together. "Smell that?" she taunted, her voice thick with cruel pleasure. "That’s *me*. All day. Bet you can practically taste it already, can’t you? Bet it smells worse than Carole’s. Be honest, tell me it stinks" She chuckled, a low, unpleasant sound. "Go on. Take a deep breath. Get acquainted. This is your new perfume, Assface. Breathe it in."
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to retreat into myself, but Mandy’s hand shot back, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head forward violently. "Eyes open, bitch!" she snarled. "You watch what you’re worshipping!" Then my face was suddenly slammed against the hot, yielding flesh of her left buttock. The texture was shocking – clammy, unnervingly soft yet heavy. The thong’s lace edge scraped my cheek. That intense, intimate smell flooded my nose again. I gagged, my stomach heaving. This was so wrong. Mandy just laughed, grinding my face deeper into the sweaty crease where her buttock met the back of her thigh. "That’s it! Get a good whiff! Fill your lungs! You wanted to call us fat? Well, choke on my fat!”
"No! Stop!" I gasped, twisting my head away for a fraction of a second, only to have it shoved back harder. Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the sweat on her skin. "This wasn’t the deal! You said just a kiss! On the top! I wouldn’t have agreed if I knew you’d take everything off! Please!" The pleading felt pathetic, desperate. I instinctively brought my hands up, pushing at the backs of her legs to try & get her away from me. Mandy’s fingers tightened painfully in my hair until I screamed. "Agreed?" She snorted derisively. "You were on your knees the second we mentioned that photo, Vicky. You don’t get to renegotiate now. You do exactly what I say, or your face buried in Sue’s ass becomes everyone’s screensaver." She pressed backwards, giving just a hint off the immense weight, her bare hip pinning my head sideways. "Now *kiss* it. Like you mean it." I keep trying to say no, keep pushing & slapping at her legs. In a desperate move, I rake my nails hard down the side of her thigh. This hurts Mandy and in a fit of rage Mandy suddenly & unexpectedly kicks backwards,the sole & heel of her sneaker coming up hard into my stomach. I gasped & doubled over, the wind knocked out of me. Mandy let's go of my hair & i fall to the floor clutching my stomach.
"You know what?" Mandy hissed, her voice suddenly cold and dangerous as she turned around to face me, looking down at me curled on the floor, gasping for air. "You’re right. This *wasn’t* the deal. You were supposed to kiss it willingly. Awake and grateful." A slow, predatory smile spread across her face. "But you fought. You whined. You tried to look away & tried to stop me" She shifted her weight, her bare foot nudging my shoulder. "So guess what? *I* get to break the deal now too." Her smile widened, showing too much teeth. "You didn’t give me my kiss. So now… I don’t have to stop at just a kiss." Carole chuckled darkly, leaning against the sink. Carole is well aware how cruel & depraved Mandy can be.
Mandy’s sneakered foot pressed hard against my shoulder, shoving me onto my back on the filthy tiles before I could curl up tighter. The impact knocked another ragged gasp from my lungs. Before I could react, she brought her other foot down in a swift, brutal stomp directly onto my stomach. "UHHFF!" The air exploded out of me in a wet, agonized rush. White spots danced before my eyes as I instinctively folded inwards, clutching my middle, utterly paralyzed by the pain. Mandy looked down at me, her expression utterly devoid of pity. "That's for struggling," she stated flatly. Carole just watched, a faint smirk playing on her lips. "Now stay on your back. Don't move." Mandy ordered. "Or I'll do it again. Harder." She meant it. I knew she meant it. I froze, trembling, tears streaming freely now, both from the humiliation and the sharp, radiating agony in my gut. I'd never so much as been in a playground scuffle before, this physicality was a new experience to me.
Mandy didn't waste a second. She kicked off one sneaker, then the other, sending them clattering against the metal stall partition. Then, with deliberate slowness, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her jeans, still unbuttoned and unzipped from earlier. She shimmied them down the rest of the way over thick thighs, stepping her feet out of the pooled denim with a grunt. Now clad only in her thong and t-shirt, her large, pale legs seemed even more imposing. "Carole," Mandy commanded without looking back, "close the lid." Carole stepped forward, flipping the grimy plastic toilet seat cover down with a clack. Mandy lowered herself heavily onto the closed lid, her bare thighs spreading wide to accommodate her bulk on the small surface. She settled with a sigh, her enormous breasts straining against her shirt as she leaned back slightly against the tank. Her gaze, cold and expectant, locked onto mine. "Better," she murmured, almost to herself "Feels good to sit down," Mandy says, looking directly at my face.
"Drag her here," Mandy ordered Carole, gesturing vaguely towards the space beside the toilet base. "Head right here." Carole moved with surprising speed, grabbing my ankles and yanking me roughly across the gritty tiles. I cried out as my already aching back scraped the floor, the pain flaring white-hot again. She pulled until my head bumped against the cold porcelain base of the toilet. I lay sprawled on my back, staring up at Mandy’s bare legs dangling just inches from my face. The sour-sweet tang of her sweat was overpowering at this proximity, mixed now with the faint chemical stink of the toilet bowl cleaner. My head pressed against the filthy floor, grit sticking to hair. Mandy shifted her weight, her big toe brushing my temple. "Comfy?" she asked, her voice dripping with false sweetness.
She lifted her right foot slowly, letting it hover for a moment above my face. The sole was grimed with dark dirt, the skin a sickly yellowish-white. Then, with deliberate pressure, she lowered it. The thick, calloused pad of her heel landed squarely on my forehead, the rough skin scraping against me Her toes, curled slightly, pressed down onto the bridge of my nose and my right cheekbone. I flinched, trying to turn my head away, but her foot held firm, pinning me. "Ah-ah," she chided softly, pressing down harder. "Stay still." The heat radiating from her foot was intense, almost feverish, and the smell that hit me then was staggering – a dense, fermented funk of stale sweat, trapped for hours in hot sneakers without socks. It was like old cheese and vinegar, thick and cloying, settling heavy in my nose and throat. I gagged for what felt like the hundredth time, my stomach churning violently.
My involuntary retch made Mandy’s breath catch. A low hum vibrated in her throat, almost a purr. She shifted her weight subtly, grinding her heel harder against my forehead while her toes flexed, digging the knuckles into my cheek. The pressure forced my jaw open slightly. "That’s it," she murmured, her voice suddenly husky. "Let me hear you gag." She deliberately wiggled her big toe, pressing its filthy underside against my flared nostril. The concentrated stench punched deep into my sinuses. My gag reflex spasmed uncontrollably this time, a harsh, wet sound tearing from my throat as bile surged into my mouth. I tasted sour acid. Mandy’s eyes widened slightly, pupils dilating. Her breathing hitched again, faster now. "Yesss," she hissed, leaning forward slightly on the toilet lid, her free hand gripping the edge tightly. "Do it again. *Choke* on it."
The slight forward lean transferred more of her substantial weight onto my face. It wasn’t a crushing force, not yet. It was a promise. The pressure increased steadily, methodically, like a slowly tightening vice. The calloused ridge of her heel dug into my brow bone, a sharp, focused ache radiating through my skull. Her toes, slick with sweat and grime, pressed relentlessly against my cheekbone and jaw, forcing my head harder against the cold, gritty porcelain of the toilet base. The sheer, undeniable mass behind the pressure struck fear into my heart. I felt the immovable density of her thigh above me, the solidity of her seated bulk. This was just a fraction, a *taste* of the crushing weight she could unleash if she chose to settle fully onto my pinned head. The implication hung thick and suffocating in the humid air, sharper than the stench. My frantic heartbeat hammered against the pressure points her foot created.
"Can you imagine it?" Mandy's voice was a low thrum, thick with a dark satisfaction that sent a fresh wave of terror through me. Her eyes were half-lidded, glued to my trapped, grimacing face. "Right now? If I just... stood up?" She paused, letting the image form. Her toes wiggled against my skin, grinding in the grit. "Put my bare foot... my full weight... right on your mouth? Your nose?" Another subtle shift of her hips on the plastic lid made her leg tense, the pressure on my face intensifying momentarily. "Pressed down... hard? Until your head popped? Blood vessels would burst under the pressure" Her gaze was predatory, hungry & even lustful. "Would you fight? Try to bite? Or just lie there... waiting for the blackness?" The mental image was horrifyingly vivid: the immense, unyielding sole breaking my entire lower face, the darkness absolute, the heat and stink overwhelming. The threat was terrifying, truly. I tried to speak, to absolutely beg her not to.
My choked whimper seemed to be all the answer she craved. "Shhh," she cooed, a cruel parody of comfort. "Just breathe deep." She pressed her big toe harder against my flared nostril, deliberately smearing the sweat and grime. "Inhale. Taste it." The concentrated, fermented reek of her foot – layers of sockless wear, stale sweat, and bathroom filth – flooded my senses. My gag reflex convulsed violently, a wet, choking sound erupting from my throat as my stomach clenched, bile stinging the back of my mouth. Tears streamed freely, mixing with the dirt on my face. Mandy watched, utterly rapt. Her free hand slid down her own thigh, almost unconsciously, fingers digging into the soft flesh above her knee. Her breath hitched again, faster, shallower. The flush on her cheeks deepened. "That's right," she breathed, her voice thick. "Choke on it. Suffocate in it. It's *mine*." Her dominance wasn't just physical; it was a sick, intimate violation she was savoring. She was getting off on my helpless revulsion, my utter degradation & my deep fear. The air itself felt thick with her perverse pleasure and my despair.
A sharp sigh cut through the humid tension. "Jesus, Mandy," Carole muttered from the doorway, shifting her weight impatiently. She'd been leaning against the stall partition, idly picking at a loose thread on her leggings. Her expression wasn't disgusted, just bored. "This is taking forever. She's already puking in her mouth." Carole glanced dismissively at my trembling form pinned under Mandy's filthy foot. "I'm starving. And thirsty." She pushed off the partition, her voice taking on a whining edge. "You gonna sit here playing with your food all afternoon? I'm going to grab a milkshake from the cafe. Chocolate malt." She didn't wait for permission. Turning, she shoved the stall door open with a loud scrape. "Bring her out when you're done," she called over her shoulder, her footsteps already echoing on the tiles as she headed out the restroom door. The sound of the outer door clicking shut felt like a temporary reprieve, however small. Carole’s indifference was its own brand of cruelty, but her departure shifted the dynamic. Now it was just Mandy and me.
Chapter 5
“Alone at last”, Mandy smiled. It wasn't triumphant, but slow and deeply satisfied, like a cat settling onto a captured mouse. The bored edge vanished from her eyes, replaced by an unnerving focus. The pressure from her heel eased slightly, not out of mercy, but to savor the subtle shift in my breathing, the frantic flutter of my eyelids against the grime coating them. "Finally," she breathed, the word a warm puff of air I could almost feel above the stench of her foot. Her gaze traveled over my face, lingering on the tear tracks cutting through the dirt, the involuntary tremors in my jaw. "Just us." Her free hand, which had been gripping the toilet lid, now slid slowly down her own plump thigh, squeezing the flesh almost thoughtfully. "Carole doesn't... appreciate the finer details." Her thumb rubbed a slow circle on her skin. "She doesn't understand how much... flavor... there is in fear." Her eyes locked back onto mine, gleaming. "But you do, don't you, Vicky? You taste it." The implication hung heavy: without an audience, Mandy had all the time she wanted to indulge her twisted appetites.
The pressure on my face changed. Instead of grinding down, her toes flexed deliberately, spreading wider. The thick, calloused pad of her big toe remained anchored firmly against my right nostril, sealing it completely, while the grimy underside of her second toe pressed hard against the left. Her other toes curled slightly, digging knuckles into my cheekbone. It was a deliberate, suffocating clamp, designed not just to hurt, but to control the very air I desperately tried to gasp through my flared, filthy nostrils. The rough skin scraped raw against my upper lip and the bridge of my nose. My lungs burned, starved. Panic tightened my chest. I tried to jerk my head, a futile spasm against her immovable weight. Mandy watched the struggle, her chest rising and falling with a slow, steady rhythm that was terrifyingly controlled. Her smile didn't waver. "Shhh," she murmured, the sound vibrating through her leg. "Breathe slowly. *Savor* it." Each word felt like a nail hammering the coffin shut.
Her free hand dipped into the pocket of her discarded jeans crumpled beside her. It emerged holding a smartphone. With a practiced thumb, she unlocked it, the screen casting a cold, blue glow onto her flushed face and the shadowed contours of the stall. She angled the phone carefully downward, pointing the camera lens directly at my trapped face beneath her filthy, dominating foot. The screen clearly showed my wide, terrified eyes, the distorted grimace forced by the pressure, the sweat and tears mingling with the dark streaks of dirt Mandy had ground into my skin. The tip of her big toe filled the lower edge of the frame, a grotesque monument to my helplessness. She tapped the record button. A tiny red dot began pulsing. "Say hello to the internet, Vicky," Mandy whispered, her voice low and thick with anticipation. "Let's show everyone exactly how much you *love* my feet."
My vision blurred, not just from tears, but from the sheer, suffocating pressure sealing my nostrils. The stench was a physical presence, thick and cloying – a potent blend of sour sweat, stale shoes and the sharp tang of fermentation absorbed into her skin. My chest heaved in frantic, shallow bursts, desperate for oxygen my nose couldn't provide. Mandy shifted her weight forward slightly, a subtle adjustment that brought the ball of her foot more firmly down onto my upper lip and nose, intensifying the blockage. The pressure felt like an anvil settling onto a brittle bone. A high-pitched whine escaped my constricted nostril, raw and involuntary. Mandy’s smile widened, her eyes fixed on her phone screen, relishing the live capture of my distress. "That’s it," she murmured, almost to herself. "Fight for it. Struggle. Make it good for the viewers."
"You remember how this started, right?" Mandy asked, her voice deceptively conversational despite the strain in my ears. She pressed her big toe harder into my nostril, emphasizing each word. "When it was my turn for the ass kissing? When you *just had to* struggle? When you couldn't just take your punishment quietly like a good little bitch?" The accusation hung in the fetid air. "You broke the deal first, Vicky. You fought me when it was my turn . You got loud. You made threats." Her free hand gestured vaguely towards the restroom door where Carole had left. "That little tantrum? That's why we're *here*. That's why the nice, simple kiss turned into... this." She wiggled the toes pressed against my other nostril, triggering another convulsive gag deep in my throat. "This humiliation? This recording? It’s *your* fault. You pushed. You forced my hand. You made us escalate." The logic was twisted, cruel, but delivered with absolute conviction. She truly believed it, or wanted me to.
"So now," Mandy continued, her eyes gleaming as they flicked between my face and the recording phone screen, "you get a *choice*. Because I'm generous. Because I didn't just sit my fat ass on your face like Susan did." The memory of that Polaroid, the suffocating darkness under Sue, flashed through my mind, intensifying the panic clawing at my throat. "Option one," she announced, leaning forward slightly, her weight shifting, making the pressure on my face throb. "You can *ask* me. Nicely. Beg me, actually. To sit on your face. Right here. Right now. Properly, like Susan did. Smothered under my bare ass." The image was horrifying, visceral. The sheer scale of her, the smell that was already overwhelming from just her foot… the complete darkness, the crushing weight… My eyes widened in pure terror, instantly trying to shake my head. I didn't A need to hear option 2, there was no way i could agree to having my face sat on again. Smothered again - no way! A strangled, desperate noise escaped my lips – not a word, just pure, animal fear.
"Or," Mandy purred, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper that vibrated through her leg and into my skull. "Option two. I stand up. Both feet. All my weight." She emphasized the words, letting them sink in. "Right here." She pressed the ball of her foot down harder, grinding the grime deeper into my skin, the toilet base digging painfully into the back of my skull. "Stand on your face. *Really* stand on it. Grind it into this filthy floor. See how long before something… *snaps*." She wiggled her toes again, sealing my nostrils completely for a few agonizing seconds. "Your nose? Your cheekbone? Or maybe," she mused, tilting her head, the phone still recording, "maybe you just stop breathing altogether. It’d be messy. But oh so… final." The casual cruelty, the absolute certainty that she *could* and *would* do it, broke something inside me. Tears flooded my eyes, blurring the sight of her triumphant, flushed face and the glowing red recording dot. My body trembled violently, a trapped animal facing the abattoir.
The choice was no choice at all – a slow, humiliating crush under her immense weight, or a brutal, potentially fatal stomping. Panic seized me, icy and absolute. "N-no!" I choked out, the sound muffled and distorted against her sole. "Please, Mandy! Please don't!" My voice was a ragged sob. The thought of her bare ass suffocating me was terrifying, the memory of Susan’s smothering flashing back with sickening clarity – the darkness, the impossible weight, the utter helplessness. But the alternative… the *crack* of bone, the blinding pain, the final, crushing oblivion… "I-I can't!" I wailed, thrashing uselessly under her foot. "Not that! Please, do not stand!" The words tumbled out, raw and desperate. Mandy’s eyes lit up, a predator sensing surrender. She eased the pressure slightly, just enough for me to gulp fetid air. "So," she prompted, her voice thick with anticipation, "you know what you have to ask for, then."
Slowly, deliberately, Mandy lifted her filthy foot entirely off my face. Cool air rushed against my skin, a shocking contrast to the suffocating heat and stench it had held captive. Tears and sweat mingled, stinging my eyes as I blinked, trying to clear my vision. Above me, Mandy loomed, her expression one of pure, gloating triumph. She held her phone steady, its lens now coldly focused on my exposed face. With a deliberate swipe of her thumb, she zoomed in, the tiny mechanical whirr sounding unnaturally loud in the sudden quiet of the tiled room. The screen filled with the close-up image of my own terror – the reddened skin imprinted with the ridges of her sole and the grit of the floor, my nostrils flared, my eyes wide and bloodshot, tears tracking through the grime. She wanted this moment captured in high-definition detail, my utter defeat broadcast-ready. "That's better," she murmured, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "Now I can see just how scared you really are." The camera’s unblinking eye was almost as horrifying as her physical presence.
My gratefully filled freely, desperate for clean air, but every breath still tasted of her sour sweat and the filthy tile beneath my skull. My mind screamed to fight, to scramble away, but my body felt leaden, broken by the relentless pressure and the sheer, paralyzing terror of her threats. The Polaroid flashed in my mind – Susan’s smothering bulk, my own face disappearing beneath her – followed immediately by Mandy’s chilling promise: *Ask me. Nicely.* The words choked in my throat, thick with bile and humiliation. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the sight of her flushed face, her heavy thighs, the cruel curve of her lips.
A sharp, painful nudge jarred my cheekbone. Mandy’s filthy sole pressed hard against my temple. "Eyes *open*, princess," she hissed, grinding her heel slightly. The stench intensified. "How many times do I have to warn you? Keep 'em wide. I wanna see every damn second of you begging." Her voice was low, dangerous, amplified by the phone’s proximity. "You think closing them makes it disappear? Makes *me* disappear?" Another nudge, harder this time. "Open. Them. Now." The command left no room for defiance. Slowly, painfully, I forced my eyelids apart. The fluorescent light stabbed my vision, but worse was Mandy’s triumphant smirk filling the my view, her dilated pupils drinking in my agony.
My throat felt raw, scraped bare. Every instinct screamed *fight*, but her sheer physical dominance pinned me tighter than any handcuff. The Polaroid’s threat pulsed behind my eyes – Susan’s smothering darkness, the shame burned onto glossy paper. Mandy’s alternative – the sickening *crack* of my skull under her full weight – was unthinkable. There was only one path left. I sucked in a shallow, shuddering breath, the air thick with her sour sweat & defeat. "P-please," I stammered, the word tasting like dirt. Mandy leaned forward, the phone dipping closer, her nostrils flaring with anticipation. "Please... Mandy." My voice cracked. "Sit... sit on my face."
Mandy shook her head slowly, a cruel smile twisting her lips. "That's not begging for *something*," she purred, her voice dripping with disdain. She tapped the phone screen meaningfully. "It’s barely a whisper. Sounds like you’re *still* holding back." Her gaze shifted pointedly down towards my chest, heaving with panicked breaths beneath my thin shirt. "Maybe," she mused, shifting her weight deliberately, her bare foot hovering inches above my ribcage, "standing on your chest will inspire you. Remind you what the *other* option feels like." The threat was palpable, a physical pressure building beneath her raised sole. "Give me something *real*. Something that shows you *know* you deserve this." Her heel descended slowly, deliberately, not quite touching, but the promise of crushing force vibrated through the air.
I squeezed my eyes shut again but then quickly reopened them, the fluorescent light burning through my lids. The phantom crackle of bone echoed in my ears. "Please," I choked out, louder this time, my voice ragged and raw. "Please, Mandy..." I swallowed hard, the humiliation scorching my throat. "Plrase sit on my face... smother me... like Susan did." The admission tore something loose inside me. "Smother me properly!" I gasped, forcing the words past trembling lips. "I-I deserve it! I deserve... your weight!" Mandy's triumphant grin widened, her phone capturing every flinch, every tear-streaked grimace. She lowered the phone slightly, angling it to frame my pleading face and her own predatory satisfaction.
Mandy chuckled, a low, guttural sound that vibrated through the tiles beneath my skull. "Much better," she purred, shifting her hips forward on the toilet lid. "But just to be perfectly clear..." Her voice dropped to a terrifying whisper. "*Do* you want me to sit on your face?" The question hung in the foul air, heavy with menace. It wasn't an offer; it was a demand for absolute surrender, a final acknowledgment of her control. Her eyes bored into mine, daring me to hesitate, to give her any excuse to choose the stomping instead.
I choked back a sob, the taste of filth and defeat thick on my tongue. "Yes," I rasped, the word scraping my throat raw. "Yes, Mandy. I want... I want you to sit on my face." Every syllable felt like swallowing glass. Her triumphant grin widened, a predator savoring its prey's capitulation. She lifted the phone again, ensuring the lens captured the utter humiliation etched into my expression – the tear tracks cutting through grime, the desperation in my wide, reddened eyes.
Mandy lowered the phone slightly, her gaze turning mockingly thoughtful. "Hold up," she drawled, her voice thick with false concern. "You sure about that, Princess? Really sure?" She shifted her weight on the toilet lid, the plastic groaning under her bulk. "See, I remember things. Like how you used to whisper with Jane." Her eyes narrowed, glittering with malice. "I heard you. Talking about my 'fat disgusting ass'. Calling me sweaty. Calling me gross." She leaned forward, her shadow swallowing me. "Well, guess what? You were right." A cruel smile twisted her lips. "These jeans? Been sweating in 'em all damn day. Didn't shower after my bathroom vistearlier neither. My fat ass?" She gave a deliberate wiggle. "It's ripe. Hot. Smells like a locker room dumpster." She paused, letting the horrifying image sink in, her nostrils flaring slightly as if savoring her own description. "I freely admit, it's Still gonna be fucking nasty. You don't want it plastered over your pretty little face, do you?"
The air thickened, saturated with the vile truth she’d painted. My stomach churned violently. Every instinct screamed *no*, recoiling at the thought of that unwashed heat and stench smothering me. Mandy watched my involuntary grimace with predatory delight. "See?" she hissed, leaning closer, her rancid breath washing over me. "You don't *really* want it. You're just scared spitless of me standing on you." Her free hand gestured vaguely towards her raised foot, hovering like a threat. "This?" She patted her cellulite pocked ass cheek, the sound thick and heavy. "This is gonna be worse. Way worse. It’s gonna be dark. It’s gonna be hot. You're gonna gag on *me*." Her eyes locked onto mine, demanding absolute submission. "So, I gotta know. Knowing *exactly* what my sweaty, fat ass smells like..." Her voice dropped to a terrifying whisper. "...are you still begging for it? Lets hear you beg for my ass. Crave my fat, smelly ass. Say it bitch!"
Defeat tasted so bitter in my mouth. There was no escape, no dignity left. Only survival. "Yes," I rasped, forcing my eyes wide open, meeting hers despite the terror. "Please... Mandy." The name felt like poison. "Your ass... your fat, sweaty ass..." I choked on the words, humiliation burning my cheeks hotter than any sun. "...I want it. I *need* it. Smother me with it!" The plea spilled out, raw and desperate. "Cover my face! Crush me!" Mandy’s triumphant grin widened, a grotesque mask of power. She lifted the phone higher, ensuring every degrading syllable was captured clearly.
"Well, damn," Mandy chuckled, a low rumble of genuine surprise and dark amusement. "Didn't know you had *that* in you, AssFace." She shifted her considerable weight forward on the toilet lid, the plastic groaning ominously. Her free hand gripped my hair, forcing my head back painfully, arching my neck against the filthy tiles. "If I knew begging suited you so well," she purred, "we could've skipped all this nasty business earlier." Her eyes gleamed with predatory delight. "Almost makes me wanna forgive you..." She trailed off, her gaze lingering on my tear-streaked face trapped beneath her. "...almost."
Mandy leaned down even closer, her face filling my vision, blotting out the harsh fluorescent light. "But see," she murmured, her voice suddenly thick with a terrifying intimacy, "begging’s just the start." Her thumb brushed surprisingly softly over my trembling lower lip. "You kissed Carole’s nasty crack... but I saw." Her smirk widened, cruel and knowing. "You kept your lips tight shut. Like kissing grandma." A low chuckle escaped her. "My ass?" Her voice dropped to a whisper that slithered into my ear. "It deserves... *appreciation*. Real appreciation." Her thumb pressed harder against my lips, forcing them apart slightly. "When I sit... you're gonna use that tongue." The implication hung in the foul air, thick and suffocating.
My eyes widened in horrified disbelief, a fresh wave of nausea churning my already sickened stomach. *Tongue?* The mere thought of actively tasting the vile sweat and grime I'd been gagging on felt like a violation deeper than anything before. My body instinctively recoiled, a pathetic whimper escaping my clamped lips. Mandy watched my reaction, her expression morphing from cruel amusement into pure predatory satisfaction. "Oh yeah," she breathed, relishing my disgust. "That's the look I wanted. You're absolutely right of course - licking ass *is* super nasty. Yuck." Then, abruptly, she pushed herself upright off the toilet lid. The sudden shift of her weight made the stall groan. She planted one heavy foot firmly on the tile beside my left ear, then the other beside my right, her massive thighs framing my head like prison bars. She wasn't looking down at me anymore, her attention on her phone. Mandy turned the phone to landscape mode, and placed it on the tiled floor, parallel with the side of my face. She adjusted it a few times until happy. Each adjustment meant she bent a little, or squatted - each movement giving me a terrifying glimpse of what lay in store for me as her cheeks naturally parted, revealing the hidden thong, lost so so deep up in there.
Chapter 6
Each time she bent slightly to adjust the phone's position on the tiles, my view was dominated by the horrifying expanse of her ass. It wasn't just big; it was grotesquely massive, a mountain of flesh that blotted out the stall door behind her. Worse were those fleeting glimpses of her thong. Thin straps of stretched, sweat-darkened fabric disappeared deep into the cleft, wedged impossibly far between her huge cheeks like a desperate flag in a landslide. Seeing that tiny strip engulfed, buried alive in that sweaty canyon, was profoundly disturbing. It was a visual testament to the sheer, overwhelming bulk she possessed – a bulk I'd just begged her to lower onto my face! Disgust clawed its way up my throat, thick and choking. The smell, intensified by her proximity and movement, was a physical assault – stale sweat, unwashed skin, and something else, something deeply, inherently foul. My nostrils burned just breathing it in passively; actively tasting it will feel like a descent into hell.
Desperation surged, momentarily overpowering the suffocating fear. "Mandy," I rasped, my voice barely audible against the pounding of my own heart. "The... the picture... Carole... she already has one." I struggled to keep my voice from cracking, forcing the words out past lips that felt numb. "Isn't... isn't that enough?" My eyes flickered towards the phone lying parallel to my face, its lens pointed directly at the impending horror. "Please... don't film *this*. Not... not while..." The sentence died in my throat. The implication hung unspoken but deafening: *not while you force me to lick your disgusting fat ass*. Filming that wasn't just humiliation; it was annihilation, turning degradation into a permanent, shareable spectacle. It felt infinitely worse than the Polaroid Susan had left – a vile documentary of my utter destruction.
Mandy froze mid-adjustment. Slowly, deliberately, she straightened, her shadow engulfing me completely. A low, dangerous chuckle rumbled in her chest. "Oh, Vicky," she purred, her voice dripping with venomous amusement. "Not while... *what*?" She bent at the waist, bringing her face shockingly close to mine, her stale breath hot on my cheek. Her wide, cruel eyes locked onto mine, demanding completion. "*Finish the sentence*, bitch." Her hand shot out, fingers tangling painfully in my hair again, pulling my head back until my neck screamed. "Not while... *what exactly*?" Her thumb jammed against my lower lip, forcing it down. "Spit it out!"
The words choked me, thick with terror and shame. "N-not... while..." I stammered, tears blurring my vision. Her grip tightened on my hair, a silent threat. "*Not while I lick you!*" I gasped, the vile confession ripped from me. "Don't film it while I lick you!" The admission tasted vile, a surrender far deeper than before. Filming *that* act wasn't just humiliation; it was the obliteration of any remaining shred of dignity, transforming me into nothing but a prop in her sadistic documentary.
Mandy’s laugh was pure malice, echoing harshly against the tiles. “Too late, princess,” she sneered, her eyes glittering with cruel triumph. “You already begged for my ass. You already *asked* for this.” She straightened abruptly, releasing my hair, her gaze fixed solely on the phone screen. Its cold, unblinking red recording light burned into my peripheral vision. Ignoring my desperate plea entirely, she planted her bare feet firmly on either side of my head, her thick ankles pressing against my ears, pinning me completely. Slowly, deliberately, she began to bend her knees, sinking downwards into a deep, controlled squat. Her immense ass hovered like a dark moon above me, filling my entire field of vision, blotting out the world. The stretched black fabric of the thong, already lost deep within her cleft, strained impossibly against the sheer mass descending towards my face. The rancid heat radiating from her intensified, a suffocating prelude.
As her knees bent , her ass nearing her ankles, her massive buttocks parted naturally with the motion, widening the terrifying chasm directly above my nose and mouth. The thong straps, buried deep within the sweaty canyon, seemed to vanish entirely beneath the sheer weight of flesh slowly descending. The overpowering stench – a thick, fungal odor of stale sweat, unwashed skin, and something deeply sour – slammed into me with physical force, making bile rise instantly in my throat. My frantic attempts to turn my head were useless; Mandy’s feet were vises locking my skull in place beneath this horrifying eclipse. I could only stare upwards, paralyzed, as the vast, shadowed expanse, framed by her parted cheeks, descended relentlessly. The thong was a mocking, distant speck swallowed by the overwhelming darkness of her spread flesh.
She paused, hovering impossibly close, her immense cheeks trembling slightly with the effort of holding the deep squat. The heat radiating down was intense, humid, and thick with her body’s foul perfume. My nose brushed against the thin, sweat-soaked fabric of her thong strap stretched taut between her cheeks – a single, terrifying point of contact. The rancid odor intensified tenfold, flooding my nostrils and mouth, thick and cloying like spoiled milk mixed with rotting earth. I gagged violently, my body convulsing against the tiles, trying instinctively to recoil from the vile assault, but Mandy’s weight and positioning held me utterly immobile beneath her. Her cruel chuckle echoed above me, muffled by her own flesh. "Smell that?" she hissed, her voice thick with dark satisfaction. "That’s what you begged for." She shifted her hips minutely, grinding the fabric-covered crack against the tip of my nose, forcing me deeper into the suffocating miasma. My eyes watered uncontrollably, stinging with tears and the acidic burn of her smell.
The pressure increased slightly, bit by bit adding more weight. Mandy lowered herself another fraction of an inch, her immense buttocks spreading wider as they descended. My nose was now buried completely within the deep cleft formed by her cheeks, pressing against the damp, heated valley of her thong-clad ass crack. Her flesh pressed down, sealing over my nostrils and upper lip like a suffocating plug. Air became less available. Panic surged, wild and primal. I gasped desperately, trying to suck breath through my mouth, but Mandy anticipated it. Her hand shot down, fingers clamping painfully over my mouth and chin like a vise. "Nose only, bitch," she snarled, her voice strained with exertion and sadistic glee. "Remember? Be fucking *grateful* I'm letting you breathe at all!" Her grip sealed my lips shut, forcing me to try and inhale solely through my nostrils, which were already clogged and crushed against the rancid heat and fabric of her thong. Every desperate, shallow sniff was agony, pulling in pure, concentrated stench that burned deep into my sinuses and throat. Each gasp was a horrifying reminder of her total control over my most basic need.
My body reacted violently, convulsing beneath her as I gagged uncontrollably. Tears streamed freely down my temples, pooling on the filthy tiles. The rancid odor wasn't just a smell anymore; it was a thick, tangible fog flooding my lungs with every frantic, inadequate sniff. It smelt sour and fungal, coating my nose & my lungs equally. I could feel the sweat-drenched texture of her cheap thong fabric grinding against my nose, a rough rasp against my skin. Mandy shifted her hips casually, grinding herself down harder, ensuring maximum contact. I gagged as I realised the tip of my nose was pressing the thong deeper. "That's it," she hissed above me, her voice thick with exertion and dark pleasure. "Smell it deep. Inhale it. Like you craved." Her fingers dug deeper into my jaw, ensuring my lips stayed sealed. My frantic attempts to twist my head were futile; pinned utterly beneath her immense weight and leverage, I could only endure. Each desperate sniff was a horrifying trade: a gasp of foul air for a moment of consciousness, pulling the thick, cloying essence of her unwashed ass deeper into my core.
With one fluid, practiced motion, Mandy altered her position. Her knees slid forward forcefully, pressing down hard onto the tops of my shoulders like twin vices. The sudden shift immobilized my upper body completely. Simultaneously, her hips lifted slightly, then slammed back down, settling her immense weight directly onto my face. Her thick calfs clamped firmly around the sides of my head. The filthy, damp, thong-covered mound of her pussy pressed heavily against my mouth and chin, sealing it shut beneath the sweaty fabric. Above it, her immense ass cheeks settled fully, pressing together around my nose, burying it completely within the deep, humid space between her cheeks. It was a traditional reverse facesitting position: her knees pinning my shoulders, her pubic mound crushing my mouth and chin, my nose trapped deep and smothered between her buttocks. Her rancid heat enveloped my entire face like a suffocating blanket. The stench intensified, a brutal assault concentrated now on my sealed mouth and buried nose. I was completely immobilized, utterly smothered beneath her.
Instantly, the crushing weight and horrifying darkness transported me violently back to Susan’s pool deck. I saw Sue’s triumphant sneer, felt the slick black spandex enveloping me, smelled the chlorine mingled with her sweat as she sat boldly astride my face. The memory wasn't just visual; it was visceral. The helpless panic, the raw humiliation, the desperate gasping for air *then* echoed *now*, amplified tenfold by Mandy's rancid reality. "*No! Not again!*" screamed silently in my mind. Panic surged through my limbs like electricity. Adrenaline burned away the fog of fear and disgust. My legs kicked wildly against the tiles, a frantic drumming. My arms, pinned beneath her knees, strained upwards with every ounce of desperation, pushing uselessly against the immovable weight. A choked, muffled sob tore from my sealed lips – the only sound I could make against the flesh smothering me.
My chest heaved violently beneath Mandy, trying desperately to expand, to suck in precious oxygen. But each frantic attempt only pulled deeper drafts of that thick, sour, fungal odor into my tortured lungs. It wasn't just suffocating; it felt *poisonous*. Blind panic obliterated rational thought. My legs thrashed wildly beneath her immense weight, heels hammering uselessly against the cold tiles like a trapped rabbit. My pinned arms strained upward with every shred of muscle, pushing futilely against Mandy's rock-solid knees pressing my shoulders flat. It was a horrifying echo of Susan’s poolside humiliation – the crushing weight, the smothering darkness, the utter helplessness – but amplified by Mandy's deliberate cruelty and this rancid, intimate stench. "*GET OFF!*" screamed silently inside my skull, drowned out by the roaring panic and the wet, muffled sounds of my own frantic struggle.
Sobs erupted uncontrollably, choked and bubbling past the sweaty fabric pressed against my sealed lips. Tears streamed freely, mixing with Mandy’s perspiration on my skin. My entire body trembled like a leaf in a hurricane, wracked by pure, unadulterated panic. It was primal terror, despite Mandy weighing less, this was worse than Susan’s poolside smothering – a suffocating intimacy combined with the putrid reality of Mandy’s unwashed heat grinding into my face. Every frantic gasp pulled that fungal stench deeper, triggering violent convulsions I couldn’t control. "*Please...stop...can't...breathe...*" the silent plea screamed inside my skull, drowned by the roaring rush of blood and Mandy’s low chuckle vibrating through the flesh smothering me.
Mandy shifted slightly, her immense ass lifting just a fraction. It wasn't mercy. A tiny pocket of stale, rancid air rushed into my crushed nostrils – a cruel tease, not relief. She maintained brutal pressure on my chin and mouth, sealing them completely beneath her damp pubic mound, ensuring only my nose could access the foul airspace she’d grudgingly allowed. Her thighs remained locked like iron bands around my head, pinning me utterly. "Grateful?" she hissed mockingly, grinding her hips slowly, deliberately, letting the sweat-soaked thong rasp against my nostrils trapped within the newly formed crevice. The stench intensified sharply in this confined pocket, thick and cloying. My gag reflex surged violently, but I couldn't vomit this time; her crushing weight sealed everything shut. Desperate, shallow breaths sucked in pure, concentrated filth.
My lungs seized. Hyperventilation overtook me instantly, uncontrollably. I gasped like a landed fish – short, sharp, frantic inhalations – each one dragging that poisonous stench deeper, flooding my raw airways. Tears blurred my vision, mixing with Mandy’s sweat. My chest heaved wildly beneath her, ribs straining against skin, a frantic drumbeat against the suffocating weight. This wasn't breathing; it was drowning in open air. The rancid oxygen burned, triggering violent tremors that shook my entire pinned frame. "*Stop...please...stop...*" my mind screamed uselessly. Each frantic gasp felt like inhaling ground glass, the fungal rot scraping my throat raw. My fingers clawed weakly at the tiles beside my trapped arms, finding no purchase, only cold, unyielding ceramic.
Desperation clawed its way up my throat. I *had* to beg. To promise anything. To scream my surrender. My sealed lips strained against Mandy’s crushing pubic mound. The damp cotton of her thong pressed into my mouth, tasting faintly metallic and sour. I forced my jaw to move, to form words behind the suffocating barrier. "*Please... Mandy... stop...*" The syllables vibrated uselessly against the sweaty fabric, muffled into nothing but low, buzzing hums against her flesh. It felt grotesque – my lips moving against the intimate heat of her crotch, pleading directly into her dampness. The vibrations tickled my own lips, a horrifying parody of speech. Mandy shifted slightly, grinding harder. "*Mmmphh... pleassss...*" the vibrations buzzed again, pathetic and utterly swallowed by her immense weight and the wet friction. She wouldn't hear me. Couldn't hear me. My desperate pleas were just intimate tremors against her skin, absorbed instantly.
Twice. *Twice in one day.* The thought pierced the suffocating haze like jagged ice. Just hours ago, Susan’s immense ass had blotted out the sun, burying my face in humid spandex darkness. Now Mandy’s sweaty ass crack and sour thong crushed me in a grimy bathroom stall. Both girls are younger. Both *bigger*. The sheer, impossible humiliation of it choked me worse than Mandy’s flesh. How? How did I, Victoria Ashford, find myself pinned, gasping, beneath the immense weight of *two* girls like this? Susan’s poolside smothering had been terrifying, degrading… but this? Mandy’s deliberate cruelty, the filming, the *smell* – it felt infinitely worse, a descent into a nightmare I couldn’t comprehend. My mind reeled, alternating between the visceral horror of Susan’s suffocating shorts and Mandy’s vile pressure. Two distinct agonies, merging into one crushing reality: I was helpless prey to their mass and malice. The sheer statistical improbability felt like cosmic mockery.
"Wow," Mandy's voice cut through the roaring in my ears, thick with amusement and exertion. She shifted her hips minutely, grinding the soaked thong deeper into my nose. "Seriously? I barely sat down yet, Vicky. Barely got started. And you’re already thrashing like a hooked fish? Freaking out *that* much?" Her laugh vibrated through the flesh smothering me. "Didn't you *beg* for this? Didn't you plead for my fat, sweaty ass to smother you? Said you *needed* it. Remember?" Her tone dripped with mocking incredulity. "Susan must've *really* messed you up bad at the pool if this little bit already has you pissing yourself." She punctuated each word with a small, deliberate bounce, forcing my nostrils wider against her pungent cleft. "*This* is just me getting comfortable."
The sheer unfairness of it ignited a flare of rage deep in my panic. "*Barely sat down?!*" I tried to scream against the suffocating seal of her pubic mound, crushing my lips shut. My jaw strained violently, lips pressing hard against the damp cotton and sweaty flesh plugging my mouth. The furious vibrations buzzed low and intimate against her crotch, trapped entirely within the humid darkness between my sealed mouth and her thong. It wasn't a scream; it was a desperate, muffled buzzing directly against her most intimate flesh – a furious tremor absorbed instantly by her overwhelming weight and wetness.
Mandy chuckled low, the sound vibrating through the flesh smothering me. "Oh, honey," she sighed, shifting her hips slightly, intensifying the sour stench flooding my nose. "Look at you. Already beaten. Already whimpering. Barely even felt my ass yet." A deliberate, grinding motion squeezed my nose deeper into her rank crack. "I thought I was gonna have to *really* smother you properly. Hold you down for hours. Make you pass out a couple times. Before you'd ever be desperate enough to actually..." Her voice dropped to a mocking whisper. "...kiss it, ya know, really kiss it." She paused, letting the vile implication hang in the thick air. "But look at you now. Already under my ass, pinned flat. Already smelling it deep. Already crying." Another tiny, torturous bounce. "Maybe... maybe you're ready now? Or would you rather smother properly first, so you can at least say you tried to resist? Haha!!"
A sudden, dizzying lightness. Mandy lifted her immense weight off my face, pulling her hips forward slightly but keeping her knees firmly pinning my shoulders. Cool, blessedly clean air rushed into my burning lungs. I gasped, choking on spit and snot, my vision swimming with tears. Her sweaty thong and flushed skin remained terrifyingly close, inches above my nose. She tilted her head, looking down over her shoulder, a cruel parody of kindness twisting her features. "Feeling generous," she announced, her voice dripping with false sweetness. She tapped her phone screen where it lay recording beside my head. "Choice time, Vicky. Do I sit my ass back down? Spread my cheeks & smother you nice and deep? Hold you until you pass out? Make sure you *really* learn?" Her grin widened. "Or... do you worship my ass? Kiss it properly? Show me how *grateful* you are?" She leaned forward, her fat belly pressing against my throat, her face looking at mine. "Choose. Now."
The choice wasn't a choice. It was torture. Smothering meant oblivion, the crushing darkness, the rancid air, the helpless convulsions – Susan's poolside terror revisited, amplified tenfold by Mandy's malice. My lungs still burned. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. Worship? Kissing Mandy’s sweaty, filthy ass? The sheer degradation was vomit-inducing. Yet… the memory of her suffocating weight, the terrifying loss of control, the *filmed* gasping panic – it paralyzed me. Mandy saw the flicker of raw terror in my eyes, the instinctive flinch away from her hovering crotch. "See?" she whispered, triumphant. "You know. Deep down. You remember Susan sitting on your face… how it felt when the blackness came. When your lungs just didn't work anymore. How *weak* it made you feel. That’s still there. Right now." Her finger traced the wet trail of tears on my cheek. "Smothering scars the mind, Vicky & kills brain cells haha! Makes you *mine*. So... whats it to be?"
My breath hitched, a ragged sob escaping. My gaze darted between Mandy's terrifyingly close thong and the cold tiles beside me. The phantom sensation of Susan’s immense ass crushing me, the horrifying helplessness under Mandy’s earlier smothering – they merged into one suffocating dread. Mandy was right. The trauma was a live wire, sparking panic with every glance at her spread thighs. Choosing smothering felt like volunteering for drowning. My bruised ribs ached at the mere thought of her settling back down. My voice, when it finally came, was a broken whisper, thick with shame and defeat. "W-worship," I choked out, barely audible. "I-I'll... worship." The words tasted like shit. Admitting it ripped something essential inside me. I knew I'd never be the same person. Mandy’s grin was predatory.
"What was that?" Mandy demanded, leaning closer, her weight shifting dangerously over my throat. She deliberately lowered her hips a fraction, letting the rancid heat radiating from her thong wash over my face again & the weight of her belly roll press on my throat. "Worship *what*? Be specific, Vicky. What owns your breath right now?" Her finger jabbed brutally against my cheekbone. The unspoken threat hung thick in the air: *Say it wrong, and the smothering starts*. Panic clawed its way up my throat, I was confused, and had no idea what she meant. The threat of smothering began to take over my thought process. My eyes squeezed shut, trying to block out the looming horror of her immensity. "Y-you," I gasped, forcing the syllables past trembling lips. "Worship... you?"
Mandy's response was a sharp, derisive snort. "Wrong answer." She punctuated it by grinding her hips downwards, letting the sweat-slicked fabric of her thong smear across my cheekbone. The stench intensified instantly, thick and cloying. "Whilst you're busy sniffing my ass again," she hissed, her voice dripping with contempt, "try to think *real* hard.
The genuine terror flooding my system was unlike anything I'd ever felt. Not Susan's sudden violence by the pool, not Mandy's earlier smothering – this was deeper, primal. The sheer *expectation* of deification aimed at this cruel girl paralyzed me. My whole body trembled violently beneath her pinning knees, my breath coming in frantic, useless gasps that only pulled more of her odious scent into my burning lungs. "Please!" I repeated the word, a desperate mantra against the suffocating dread pressing down on me. "I'm sorry! Please don't!" Tears streamed freely down my temples, soaking into the cold tile floor. Mandy's eyes, watching me unravel with such raw fear, held a chilling, triumphant glee. She savored every shudder, every choked sob.
Her laugh was a low, grating sound in the tiny room. "Wrong again, *worm*," she hissed, leaning closer until her immense belly pressed against my pinned chest, forcing the air from my lungs. The rancid heat radiating from her crotch intensified. "You think *I* want your pathetic worship?" Her finger jabbed sharply into my tear-streaked cheekbone. "No. Think *bigger*. Think… *divine*. Who owns the ground you crawl on? Who deserves absolute reverence?" The implication slammed into me with horrifying clarity: Susan. She wanted me to worship *Susan*. The girl who had humiliated Jane, who had sat on my face, whose friends were now orchestrating my torture. But why??? The thought was vomit-inducing. "Oh god," I whimpered, my voice barely audible. "Please, Mandy, *please* stop! Don't make me say it! Don't sit on me! HELP!" My plea echoed uselessly off the grimy restroom walls.
Mandy sighed theatrically, a sound thick with fake disappointment. "Pathetic. Truly pathetic." Her eyes, cold and amused, locked onto mine. "You had one chance. One *simple* chance to show proper respect. And you blew it." She shifted her weight slightly on my shoulders, a deliberate, crushing reminder of her power. "You disappoint me, Vicky." Without another word, her hands slid behind her. I caught a flash of thick fingers gripping the flab of her butt cheeks and the grimy black thong beneath. Then, with horrifying deliberation, she spread her immense buttocks wide. For a split second, I saw it: the puckered, wrinkled brown bullseye of her asshole, stark against pale, dimpled flesh, the thin thong strap buried deep within the cleft. The stench that bloomed was overpowering – sour, fecal, intimately foul.
The sight burned itself into my brain – the raw, ugly intimacy of that exposed orifice aimed directly at my face. My stomach clenched violently. Before I could gag, Mandy shifted her hips downward with terrifying ease. Her spread cheeks slammed onto my face, engulfing it completely. The wrinkled rim of her asshole pressed wetly against my sealed lips. Her immense weight crushed my head backwards into the unforgiving tile floor. Darkness. Suffocating pressure. The rancid stench was overwhelming, a thick, fecal miasma flooding my nostrils and mouth even through clamped lips. My neck screamed in protest under the relentless downward force.
I felt Mandy’s grip on her cheeks release. Instantly, the thick, yielding flesh snapped shut like a vice around my nose, sealing it deep within her sweat-slicked cleft. Every desperate gasp was futile; her flabby buttocks formed an airtight seal. My nostrils flared uselessly against the slick skin plugging them. The only air available was the trapped, toxic heat radiating from her core – stale sweat, intimate musk, and the vile promise of her unwashed hole pressing against my lips. Panic exploded, a supernova behind my eyes. My lungs burned, demanding oxygen that simply wasn’t there. My limbs thrashed against the tile, a frantic, useless drumming beneath her immovable bulk.
Her weight shifted, settling deeper onto my skull with bone-grinding finality. This wasn’t just dominance anymore; it was annihilation. The pressure intensified, forcing my chin towards my chest, grinding my neck vertebrae. Stars burst in the suffocating darkness. Her rancid scent saturated my senses, thick and cloying, flooding my mouth through my clenched teeth. A low, guttural groan vibrated through her flesh above me – Mandy’s sound of exertion or dark satisfaction. Her hands pressed down on her own thighs, leveraging her immense frame to maximize the crushing force. The thin fabric of her thong felt like sandpaper against my sealed lips, soaked through with her sweat. There was no rhythm, no teasing bounce – just the relentless, flattening pressure of her entire lower body intent on smothering me into oblivion.
My struggles were pathetic, futile twitches beneath her. Arms pinned uselessly under her knees, legs kicking weakly against the tiles. Each thrash drained precious oxygen, burning my lungs hotter. My frantic attempts to twist my head met only yielding, suffocating flesh molding tighter around my face. Mandy rode these feeble convulsions like a seasoned rider on a weary horse, shifting her hips minutely to counter any movement, her weight unyielding. Her thighs remained locked like steel bands around my shoulders, preventing even an inch of retreat. A sharp, metallic taste filled my mouth – blood, I realized dimly, probably from biting my own tongue or lips crushed against her. The darkness pulsed, edged with crimson streaks. Panic choked me worse than her flesh; this was worse than Susan’s smothering poolside, worse than the photos. This was deliberate, intimate destruction.
The sheer, unbearable pressure concentrated on my face. Mandy’s immense buttocks pressed down with crushing force, flattening my lips painfully against my own teeth. My mouth felt stretched and bruised, forced open slightly despite my clenched jaw by the sheer mass pushing down. Her sweat-soaked thong dug into the corners of my lips, abrasive and foul-tasting. My nose was buried impossibly deep within her sweaty cleft, nostrils mashed shut against slick, salty skin. Every frantic attempt to gasp was met with suffocating resistance; her flabby flesh molded perfectly around my face, sealing me in a rancid tomb. Her weight wasn't just heavy; it was absolute, like being trapped beneath a collapsing building made of sweat-slicked fat. My skull felt compressed, grinding against the tile floor with each settling bounce Mandy gave.
Darkness pulsed violently behind my eyelids. My lungs were twin furnaces screaming for oxygen that simply wasn't there. My frantic thrashing had ceased entirely, replaced by terrifying tremors – my body shaking uncontrollably beneath her. The rancid stench – fecal, musky, intimate – saturated my senses, thick enough to choke on. It wasn't just a smell; it was a taste coating my sinuses, a burning sensation in my throat. My vision tunneled, the edges collapsing into pure blackness. A high-pitched ringing drowned out Mandy’s triumphant groans. Consciousness was fraying, unraveling like cheap thread. I was drowning on dry land, buried alive beneath a mountain of contemptuous flesh. This was it. Not just passing out, but annihilation. *Susan... the photo... Jane crying...my parents....the poolside* The thoughts flashed, fragmented, meaningless in the face of the crushing dark as I slipped from consciousness ...
Abruptly, the suffocating pressure lifted. Not much – just a bare inch. But it felt like a mountain sliding sideways. Cool, blessed air rushed against the lower half of my face – my chin, my bruised lips. My nostrils remained buried deep within Mandy's sweaty cleft, still plugged shut by slick skin, but that tiny gap beneath her immense buttocks allowed a desperate, rasping inhalation. My bruised lips parted instinctively, gulping the relatively cleaner air pooling near my chin. It was thick with her scent, but it was *air*. My lungs seized it greedily, triggering violent coughing spasms that shook my entire pinned frame. Light stabbed back into my vision, blurred and watery.
Mandy chuckled low in her throat, a sound vibrating through the flesh pressed against my forehead. "Pathetic little gasps. Like a landed fish." She shifted her weight deliberately, grinding her hips backward slightly. The movement dragged her saturated thong painfully across my bruised lips and jawline, leaving salty trails of sweat. Then, with terrifying purpose, she pushed *forward*. Her full weight settled lower, crushing my tits beneath her belly bulge. The crushing point wasn't my face anymore; it was my *throat*.
Her immense ass settled directly onto my trachea, pressing down with calculated force. The breath I'd just gulped was instantly choked off. My bruised throat buckled under the sheer mass. A strangled, wet gasp escaped me – involuntary, desperate – as my windpipe compressed. My neck arched painfully backward, tendons straining against the tile floor. Mandy gave a sharp, satisfied grunt. "There it is. That sweet sound." She rocked her hips in tiny, grinding circles, savoring the friction and the choked, gurgling attempts to inhale beneath her. Each micro-movement sent fresh waves of pressure onto my crushed throat, allowing only thin, whistling sips of air past the blockage. My eyes bulged, vision swimming again as the darkness crowded back in.
Weakly, instinctively, my hands fluttered upwards. My fingers clawed blindly against the slick, sweat-streaked expanse of Mandy's thigh flesh. It was like pushing against wet concrete. My arms trembled violently with the effort, muscles screaming, but barely made an indent in her immense flank. Panic surged anew, colder and sharper than before. This wasn't suffocation; it was strangulation & god did it hurt. Pure, slow crushing. Mandy felt my feeble struggle and laughed, a low rumble vibrating through her belly pressed against my chest. "Pushing? That's your big move? Pathetic." She sat up straight slightly, transferring even more weight onto my throat. A sharp, sickening *pop* echoed in my ears – my neck joint protesting violently. Stars exploded behind my eyelids. My hands fell away, limp and useless.
Mandy didn't move. Not an inch. Her immense weight remained a crushing, immovable anchor on my throat and chest. Only her head tilted down slightly, as if inspecting a trapped insect. Her voice dripped with mocking amusement, cutting through my choking gasps. "Still struggling? You really don't learn, do you?" She paused, letting the terrifying pressure intensify for another agonizing second. "Maybe you just need a little… motivation. How about this? You kiss my ass right now, nice and proper, and maybe – *maybe* – I’ll shift this fat off your windpipe before you turn blue." Her tone was chillingly casual, like offering a trivial bargain. "So… little Vicky? Are you ready to kiss my ass yet?"
My vision swam violently. The edges were collapsing into blackness again, the ringing in my ears a deafening scream. Every instinct screamed to fight, to thrash, but my limbs were useless lead weights pinned beneath her bulk. The agony in my neck was blinding, my crushed throat a furnace of pain. Survival overrode pride. With a gargling, desperate sound, I managed the tiniest upward jerk of my chin – a fractured nod scraping against the tile floor. Yes. Yes, god, *yes*. Anything to lift the weight crushing my airway. The movement was microscopic, barely more than a tremor, but unmistakable. It felt like total surrender carved into my bones.
Mandy’s triumphant chuckle vibrated through the flesh pressing down. "Thought you'd see reason." The crushing pressure vanished instantly. Not eased – *vanished*. One moment I was pinned beneath an immovable mountain, the next, cool, humid air rushed over my entire face. Mandy stood bolt upright on her feet beside me in a single, fluid motion, her immense form towering. The sudden release was dizzying. I gasped, sucking in ragged lungfuls of air that burned my bruised throat, I coughed. My chest heaved, ribs aching. I lay sprawled on my back, utterly exposed on the cold tile, trembling uncontrollably. My neck throbbed fiercely where her weight had concentrated, the ghost pressure still choking me. Above me, Mandy stretched lazily, the hem of her soaked t-shirt riding up to expose the pale, dimpled swell of her lower belly above panties. She looked down at me with predatory amusement. "Now, let's see that worship. On your knees."
The command hit like ice water. Move? *Kneel?* Every nerve screamed protest. My body felt shattered – neck screaming, ribs bruised, limbs leaden and trembling. Attempting to lift my head sent bolts of agony shooting down my spine. My shoulders and hips felt welded to the tile. Breathing was still ragged torture. Trying to roll onto my side was an agonizing battle against gravity and screaming muscles. Each inch gained felt like dragging myself through broken glass. Sweat slicked my skin against the cold floor. My lips were a mess – the top one swollen grotesquely against my teeth, tasting like warm copper. My nose throbbed violently, red and bruised, each shallow breath whistling painfully through swollen nostrils.
Mandy watched my pathetic struggle with undisguised contempt, arms crossed beneath her large chest, tapping one bare foot impatiently. "Tick-tock, princess," she sneered, the sound echoing harshly in the humid stillness. "Didn't say 'crawl'. Said kneel. Chop-chop." Her voice dripped with mockery. Each labored scrape of my knees against the rough tile sent fresh waves of nausea through me. My trembling arms felt incapable of holding my weight. Finally, somehow, I managed a wretched approximation of kneeling – slumped forward, palms pressed flat on the floor for support, head hanging low. My vision swam violently, threatening to tip me back into darkness. A hot tear escaped, carving a path through the grime on my cheek before dripping onto the tile, joining the smear of sweat and saliva already pooled beneath me. The sheer humiliation of this posture – broken, exposed, utterly conquered – burned hotter than any physical agony.
Chapter 7
Her shadow fell over me, immense and suffocating even without her weight pressing down. Mandy shifted her stance, planting her feet wide apart, right before my messed up, aching face. The stained, sweat-soaked crotch of her black thong filled my entire field of vision, inches from my lips. The overpowering, intimate musk emanating from the thin fabric choked me anew. "Well?" Mandy demanded, her voice dropping dangerously low. "You look lost, little Vicky. Like you forgot why you're down there." She leaned forward slightly, placing her hands heavily on her thighs. Her belly brushed against the top of my head, a sweaty, oppressive weight. Her tone shifted into a grotesque parody of concern, saccharine-sweet and utterly false: "Hmm? Need a little... guidance? Something specific you wanna... do? What d'you want?" The question hung in the air, thick with menace, daring me to misunderstand her twisted generosity. My swollen, bleeding lips trembled, utterly incapable of forming words yet.
Instinct screamed denial, but the pain in my crushed throat silenced it. Survival clawed its way up through the wreckage of my pride. A ragged, wet gasp tore from me, the precursor to speech. My broken body convulsed with the effort. "P-p-l..." The sound was barely audible, muffled by pain and damage to my throat. I forced my head to tilt upward a fraction, bringing my eyes meeting hers. The rancid heat radiating from her crotch pressed against my bruised face like a physical blow. I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to bear the visual confirmation of what I was doing. "Please..." The word escaped in a pathetic, choked whisper, barely audible over my own frantic heartbeat pounding in my ruined ears.
"...may I..." I stammered, the syllables catching and tearing on my swollen tongue. Each word felt like dragging barbed wire through my throat. "...worship..." The word tasted like ashes, humiliation burning hotter than the bruises. "...your royal..." A sob threatened to swallow the next word. Images of Susan's triumphant smirk flashed behind my eyelids. "...ass..." The final syllable emerged as a defeated gasp, my body trembling violently under the enormity of the degradation. "...your highness?" The question mark hung in the humid air, trembling with desperate hope for mercy. I kept my eyes squeezed shut, unable to witness Mandy's reaction to my utter capitulation. A fresh tear, hot and shameful, traced a path through the grime.
A stunned silence fell. Then, a low, delighted chuckle rumbled above me. It wasn't her usual mocking snort; it held genuine surprise, almost... pleasure. "Your highness?" Mandy repeated, each syllable drawn out luxuriantly. Her voice had lost its harsh edge, replaced by a purr of unexpected satisfaction. The oppressive heat radiating from her crotch intensified as she shifted her stance, deliberately pressing the sweat-soaked apex of her thong against my battered forehead. "Oh, little Vicky," she murmured, the false sweetness now laced with genuine amusement. "That's... unexpectedly appropriate." I felt her weight shift slightly, the immense pressure of her belly lifting minutely from my scalp. "Such impeccable manners from such a broken toy."
"Alright," she declared, the purr hardening back into command. "You *did* ask so nicely." She stepped back abruptly, removing the stifling proximity of her crotch, leaving me gasping in the sudden, cooler air. "So... you can have your reward." With a deliberate pivot, she turned her broad back to me. Her immense buttocks, framing the lost strip of thong, wobbled violently with the motion, stopping mere inches from my face. The sheer mass blocked out the light, filling my vision with the terrifying expanse of dimpled, cellulite flesh. The overpowering, fermented musk of sweat and skin assaulted my senses anew, thick and cloying. "Now," Mandy commanded over her shoulder, her voice dripping with cruel anticipation, "Kiss it. Like you kissed Carole's disgusting crack earlier. Deep."
Every instinct screamed to recoil, but the phantom crush of her weight on my throat spurred me forward. My neck screamed in protest as I leaned in, closing the torturous inch separating my swollen lips from the rippling flesh. The sheer scale was overwhelming; the hot crevice seemed impossibly deep, the stretch lined skin slick with sweat. My bruised jaw trembled violently as I pressed my mouth against the humid valley. The taste was immediate and overwhelming—sour salt, stale sweat, and the bitter tang of unwashed skin permeating the thin nylon. A choked gag fought its way up my throat, but I forced it down, pressing deeper as commanded. I knelt there, too afraid to do anything else, kissing the top of this fat bully's asscrack.
A sharp *click* echoed beside me. Mandy twisted slightly, holding her phone high over her shoulder. On the cracked screen, I saw the distorted selfie: her smug, triumphant smirk, the wide-angle lens exaggerating her immense ass, and my terrified face pressed deep into its center cleft. My humiliation was frozen in pixelated horror. Her thumb jabbed decisively. *Whoosh.* The WhatsApp sent sound confirmed my degradation was broadcast live. "Sent it straight to Carole and Sue," she chuckled, her voice thick with malice. "Hope they enjoy the show." She let the phone clatter onto the tile beside my knee, forgotten. The screen flashed once, then went dark.
"Mission accomplished," Mandy declared, a predatory grin spreading across her face as she turned fully to loom over me again. Her eyes, now devoid of the phone's distraction, held only raw, hungry cruelty. "No more recordings. No more proof for anyone else. Now..." She planted her hands on her hips, her immense ass jutting backward. "...it's just you... and me... and my fun." Her gaze raked over her shoulder down at my kneeling form, trembling and tear-streaked. "You begged so prettily to worship my royal ass, little puppy. Time to prove you meant it. Don't make me sit on you again." The air grew thicker, charged with her terrifying intent.
Mandy inhaled sharply, then presenting her colossal backside inches from my face once more. The stained black thong vanished entirely into the deep cleft, framing the obscene swell of her buttocks. Then, with deliberate slowness, she reached one thick hand backward. Her fingers, slick with her own sweat, hooked into the thin strip of nylon buried between her cheeks. I heard the wet, sticky *shluck* as she pulled the thong entirely free from its deep valley, dragging the sodden fabric to one side until it rested uselessly across one huge cheek, leaving her immense ass exposed and terrifyingly open. The humid musk intensified tenfold, a physical assault.
"Spread it," Mandy commanded, her voice thick with anticipation. She didn't move her own hands. It was an order directed solely at me. "Use your hands. Pull my cheeks apart nice and wide... and kiss my shit hole." Her fingertip jabbed downward, pointing directly at the puckered, deep brown center nestled within the glistening folds of her exposed crack. My stomach lurched violently; vomit scorched my throat. This wasn't just degradation – it was violation. Touching her *there*, spreading her open, kissing that intimate, unclean hole... it felt like the absolute annihilation of my dignity. Worse than Susan, worse than Carole, worse than anything I could have imagined. It was vile.
My hands trembled uncontrollably as I lifted them, hovering inches from the sweating expanse of flesh. Every muscle screamed to recoil. The sheer depravity of the demand paralyzed me – spreading *her* cheeks, exposing *her* deepest privacy, forcing my lips onto it. Mandy shifted her weight impatiently. "Tick-tock, puppy," she hissed, the threat implicit. Her sheer size, looming over me, blotting out the light, made resistance feel suicidal. With a choked sob tearing from my bruised throat, I pressed my fingertips into the hot, yielding flesh flanking her cleft. The skin was slick and unnervingly soft. I pulled outward, slowly, feeling the immense resistance of her bulk, astounded at how heavy each cheek felt. The humid stench intensified unbearably as the meaty cheeks parted reluctantly, revealing the tight, dark knot at its core.
"Permission," Mandy breathed, her voice thick with dark amusement. She didn’t turn, didn’t move her hands. She simply waited, perched above my kneeling form. "You don’t kiss anything down there without asking first. Nicely." The humiliation scalded me hotter than ever. My fingers remained hooked, holding her obscenely open, unable to avert my horrified stare, trembling violently. My voice felt trapped beneath layers of revulsion and terror. "P-Please…" I stammered, the word thick and mangled. "...may I… please kiss… *it*?" Each syllable tasted like shattered glass scraping my throat raw. The plea hung in the humid air, utterly degrading.
Her low chuckle vibrated through the flesh beneath my hands. "My *it*?" she mocked, twisting slightly to glance over her shoulder. Her eyes pinned me, cold and triumphant. "Say the word, you slut. What exactly are you begging to kiss?" The demand was absolute. My mind recoiled, refusing to form the vile term. *Asshole*. The word felt filthy, unspeakable. My gaze flickered desperately away from the exposed core pulsing inches from my face. "Y-Your…" I choked, unable to complete it. "...your… *hole*?" The whisper was barely audible, pitiful. Mandy snorted derisively. "Try again. Louder. Properly."
Tears blurred my vision as humiliation burned hotter than ever before. Survival clawed its way past my gag reflex. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing the abhorrent word past cracked lips. "*Asshole*!" The cry was ragged, desperate. "Please... may I kiss your... asshole?" The confession tasted like poison, leaving me trembling violently, my fingers still hooked deep in the hot, yielding flesh I loathed.
Mandy's triumphant chuckle rumbled through her flesh, vibrating against my palms. "Permission granted, princess," she purred, shifting her immense weight slightly to loom even closer. Her tone dripped with cruel amusement. "Now show it some real devotion." The command hung heavy, demanding more than mere contact – it demanded surrender.
My eyes fixed on the target inches away. Mandy's anus was a tight, puckered knot, deeply recessed within the humid folds. Darker than the surrounding skin, it appeared almost painted, wrinkled with concentric rings like a grotesque, miniature whirlpool. A faint sheen of sweat and other bodily secretions glistened on its surface. Fine, wiry hairs sprouted irregularly around its perimeter, embedded in the slick, swollen skin. It pulsed faintly with her breathing, a tiny, alien sphincter radiating an overpowering, musky stench – a pungent blend of stale sweat, intimate bacteria, and the faintest metallic tang of earlier bowel movement. The sheer intimacy of its exposure felt violently invasive, a violation laid bare. It felt so wrong. So fucking wrong.
Forcing down another gag, I leaned forward, my trembling lips brushing the coarse skin surrounding the puckered core. The texture was unexpectedly bumpy, each groove felt coated in grease. Mandy hissed sharply above me. "Directly. On the hole itself. Deep." Her command brought no hesitation. Survival instinct screamed louder than revulsion. With a choked gasp, I pressed my lips firmly onto the tight, wrinkled ring itself. The sensation was hot, yielding, and intensely alien. My lips met wetness – a slick film that tasted overwhelmingly of salt, sourness, and something deeply organic and unclean. It clung to my mouth instantly. I pressed harder, trying to obey the "deep" command, feeling the muscular ring resist slightly before yielding minutely beneath the pressure.
A low, guttural groan rumbled from deep within Mandy’s chest, vibrating through her flesh and into my face. Her thighs clenched together, "Ohhhh fuck yes..." she moaned, her voice thick and ragged. Her hips pushed backward, grinding her exposed anus harder against my lips, forcing me deeper into the humid depths. The pungent musk intensified, flooding my nostrils. Beneath the overwhelming disgust, I felt the unmistakable shift in her stance – the subtle rocking of her hips, the flush of heat radiating from her skin. Her arousal was visceral, immediate, and terrifyingly potent. Nothing seemed to ignite Mandy like this degrading worship.
My lips remained locked onto the tight ring, tasting the sour tang of sweat and intimate oils. Mandy’s breathing hitched. "Snog it!" she gasped, her voice trembling with urgent command. "Like it’s… like it’s a Hollywood screen kiss! But *better*! Make it wet! Make it messy! Pretend… pretend my brown hole is your fucking lover’s mouth!" The demand was grotesque, absurd, yet delivered with desperate intensity. She craved the simulation of desire, forcing me to perform twisted, obscene intimacy onto her most forbidden part. Survival instinct overrode sanity. With a choked sob, I forced my lips to move against her asshole – not just pressed, but kissing, loving. Softening the pressure, parting slightly, mimicking the tender suction of a lover’s embrace against the wrinkled sphincter.
I sucked gently, pulling the hot, yielding flesh into my mouth. Mandy shuddered violently, a sharp cry tearing from her throat. "Oh GOD! YES! Like THAT!" Her hips bucked backward, grinding her anus deeper against my face. Saliva pooled in my mouth, mingling with the slick secretions coating her hole. I let it flow, creating the "wetness" she demanded, drooling onto the puckered skin. The kiss became sloppy, noisy – deliberate slurping sounds forced through my nostrils, simulating passionate entanglement.
Mandy panted, her voice thick with arousal. "Good... god Vicjy…!!" Her fingers dug into her own thighs. "But... you're forgetting... something vital...no french kiss is complete without tongues" She paused, letting the awful implication hang in the humid air. My lips froze mid-suck. *No... please no...* "Use it," she commanded, her voice dropping to a husky whisper thick with cruel anticipation. "Use your tongue. Lick it. Lick my brown hole clean." My entire body locked rigid. Despite the smothering, the choking, the crushing weight, the vile kisses... this was the precipice of my doom. The thought of actually licking, tasting that intimate opening directly with my tongue, sent a wave of pure, primal revulsion crashing through me worse than anything before. My jaw clenched shut.
Her hips gave a sharp, impatient thrust backwards,punching me with her mass, grinding her puckered flesh harder against my sealed lips. "Do it!" she snarled, the playful purr gone, replaced by raw dominance. "Or I'll sit down hard, princess, and you can kiss my ass goodbye through your own broken teeth!" Terror spiked, cold and sharp. The threat wasn't empty. I remembered the crushing pressure, the popping sound in my neck, the suffocating darkness. My survival instinct screamed louder than the revulsion. With a ragged, tear-choked gasp, I forced my jaws apart, my tongue lying inert and heavy in my mouth like a dead thing.
"Slowly," Mandy commanded, her voice regaining a cruel, breathy smoothness as she sensed my surrender. "Take your sweet time... savor it." Her hips shifted subtly, widening her stance minutely, emphasizing the dark target. "Make it a proper French kiss... deep... wet... messy. Like you mean it." The command hung thick and obscene in the humid air. My entire body trembled violently as I willed my tongue forward, a reluctant explorer forced into a toxic cave. The tip touched the tight, wrinkled ring – a sensation impossibly nasty, yielding, and slick with secretions. The taste exploded instantly: intense salt, sour musk, and a profound, stomach-churning bitterness that I knew must be shit. I gagged, involuntarily recoiling, my tongue snapping back into my mouth.
Mandy hissed sharply, grinding her hips backward with punishing force. "Do not stop, not now!” she snarled. "Get that tongue going around & around - rim me, assface!"
Trembling uncontrollably, I forced my tongue forward again, pressing the flat of it against her puckered hole. The taste was overwhelming—sour brine & intimate decay coating every pore. I circled slowly, deliberately, dragging my tongue along the tight, wrinkled ring. Mandy gasped sharply, her thighs tensing. "Yesss... wider circles... deeper!" she commanded, her voice thick & strained. Drool dripped from my chin onto her exposed cheeks, mixing with her slick secretions as I obeyed, pressing harder, swirling my tongue in broad, deliberate strokes around her forbidden target. The bitter tang intensified, flooding my senses & coating my throat.
Her hips began a slow, rhythmic grind against my face. "Faster," she rasped, nails digging into her own flesh. I increased the pace, my tongue moving like a frantic piston around & around her asshole. The slurping sound was obscenely loud in the humid stillness. Mandy moaned, a low, guttural sound vibrating through her body. "Oh fuck... yes... just like that..." Her weight shifted, pressing back heavier. Sweat dripped from her buttocks onto my forehead as I worked, my jaw aching, my tongue burning with effort and revulsion. She rocked backward, forcing my tongue deeper into the yielding heat of her rim. The filthy taste bloomed thicker, like copper, coating my teeth.
Chapter 8
Just then, Carole pushed open the bathroom door. Her eyes widened slightly, taking in the scene: Mandy towering, buttocks spread wide, my face buried obscenely deep in her crack, my shoulders trembling violently. A slow, incredulous smirk spread across Carole's face. "Wait..." she chuckled softly, stepping fully inside. "Is she doing what I think she's doing….??" She didn't need to finish the sentence. The answer was horrifyingly clear – the frantic slurping sounds, Mandy’s flushed skin and ragged breathing, my visible shuddering submission.
Mandy groaned, a sound thick with pleasure and exertion, grinding her hips harder against my face. "Oh, oh yes, she really is," Mandy gasped, twisting her head slightly towards Carole without lifting her weight off me. "Our little puppy... finally learned her manners." Her fingers tightened in my hair and yanked my head backwards, freeing me from her sweltering ass crack. "Tell Carole what you were just doing?" Mandy commands.
My breath came in ragged gasps, the taste of her filth coating my tongue. Tears blurred Carole’s grinning face as I choked out the words: "K-kissing… Mistress Mandy’s… royal asshole." Mandy laughed sharply, releasing my hair. "Just kissing?" Carole quizzed further, half laughing, half disbelieving.
Mandys hips shifted backwards again, pressing her slick opening against my lips once more. "Tell her how," she commanded. My stomach churned. My lips rubbed against her wet hole as i spoke "With… my tongue," I whispered, unable to meet her hard stare.
Carole’s smirk widened. "Begging for it now, princess?" she taunted, stepping closer. Before I could react, she grabbed my hair, forcing me to crane my neck backwards, pulling my face further from the huge butt before me. Mandy chuckled darkly. "She’s learning," she confirmed, "But she needs encouragement." Carole’s nails dug into my scalp. "Say it louder," she hissed in my ear. "Tell me you loved tasting Mandy’s smelly hole."
The words scraped my throat raw. "I… I loved kissing Mistress Mandy’s… asshole," I choked out, bile rising. “I love the….” I broke down, crying uncontrollably, still trying to speak, my voice an incomprehensible choke as I shake my head. Mandy sighed theatrically. "Almost convincing. But the tears ruin it." She shifted her weight, pressing her puckered flesh back against my lips. "Try again. Mean it this time." Carole tightened her grip. "Or I’ll hold you here while Mandy squats." Panic surged. "I loved the taste!" I gasped, mumbling the words into her asshole, the lie thick and acrid. "I loved kissing her… her perfect asshole!"
Carole snorted, releasing my hair. Mandy chuckled, a low rumble against my face. "Better," she purred, grinding slowly. "Now get back to work, princess. Show me that devotion." She leant her hands on the bathroom door, sticking her fat ass out. I clenched my jaw, the taste of decay overwhelming.
Carole smirked, stepping towards the door. "Well then," she drawled, her voice thick with amusement. "Seems you're finally where you belong, Vicky. I'll leave you two to it." She winked at Mandy before slipping out, the door clicking shut behind her. The silence was thick, broken only by Mandy’s heavy breathing and the frantic pulse in my ears.
Chapter 9
Mandy’s grip tightened in my hair. "Get back in position," she hissed, guiding my face forward again. "Spread my fat ass." I obeyed mechanically, fingers digging into the slick flesh of her cheeks, pulling them apart to expose the wrinkled, puckered target. The bitter stench flooded my nostrils instantly. Mandy chuckled darkly. "Wider," she commanded, grinding her hips backward until her entire cleft yawned obscenely open. Sweat dripped down her lower back, mingling with the slick mess I’d already made.
I pressed my trembling lips back against her exposed anus, the taste of salt and decay thick on my tongue. Mandy groaned, rocking forward onto her toes and then back, working my face deeper into the humid crevice. "Now get to work," she gasped, her voice ragged. "Use that tongue like you mean it." I flicked my tongue stiffly against the puckered ring—a dry, reluctant scrape. Mandy snarled and slammed her hips backward hard, crushing my nose flat against her perineum. "Wetter!" she demanded. "Messier! Make me feel it!"
Saliva pooled in my mouth, mingling with the sour residue clinging to my teeth. I softened my jaw, letting the spit drool out before swirling my tongue around her rim in slow, slick circles. Mandy shuddered violently above me, crying out "YES!" as her thighs tightened. Her hand yanked my hair back again, forcing my chin upward. "Deeper," she commanded, her eyes blazing. "Push that tongue inside me. Now."
The command slammed into me like ice water. My tongue froze mid-circle against her puckered flesh. Mandy sensed my hesitation instantly. She slammed her weight down hard, grinding my face deeper into her cleft until my lips mashed painfully against her sphincter. "Don't make me ask twice," she hissed, her voice thick with threat. Tears blurred my vision as I squeezed my eyes shut. Gathering every ounce of wretched obedience, I pressed the tip of my tongue firmly against her clenched opening, pushing inward. The muscular ring resisted stubbornly.
With a low groan, Mandy rocked her hips backward, piercing herself onto my tongue. The tight ring yielded suddenly, engulfing the tip in shocking, humid heat. An overpowering wave of sour salt and visceral decay flooded my mouth. I gagged violently, my body convulsing against her weight. Mandy’s hand tightened like a vise in my hair, holding me buried. "Deeper," she gasped, grinding rhythmically. "Fuck me with it." My jaw screamed in protest as I forced my tongue further into the slick, clinging tunnel. The taste was overwhelming—bitterness, sweat, and something metallic coated my throat. Mandy shuddered above me, pressing down until my nose flattened against her ass crack, sealing me in darkness.
She began riding my face deliberately, hips thrusting back and forth like pistons. Each grind shoved her puckered hole deeper onto my tongue, stretching my jaw wider. Her thighs trembled around my ears—not from exertion, but building arousal. The wet, obscene sounds filled the air: slick suction, her sharp gasps, my muffled choking. Mandy moaned "Oh fuck yes..." and released my hair. Her hand slid between her legs, fingers frantically rubbing her clit. She rode my tongue harder, faster, losing herself in the sensation. My own saliva mixed with her secretions dripped down my chin onto the tile floor. Mandy barely recognised me as a person, at that moment I was merely an object she was using to get herself off.
Inside my skull, silence. No panic, no anger—just hollow numbness. As Mandy shuddered above me, her approaching climax sharpening her cries, I felt nothing. Not the burn in my jaw. Not the filth coating my tongue. Not even the humiliation crushing my soul. My mind floated somewhere beyond the slick heat, beyond the stench of decay. Like watching a stranger’s nightmare through thick glass. Mandy’s hips jerked violently as she came, grinding my face deeper into her sweat slicked crack until my lips mashed against her puckered hole. She gasped "Oh GOD!"
Then stillness. Heavy silence. Only Mandy’s ragged breathing echoed off the bathroom tiles, her buttocks trembling against my nose as she relaxed. The suffocating pressure of her ass didn't lift—she stayed standing there, ass pressing back firmly on my face, trapping my tongue deep inside her. Her fingers slipped away from her clit, limp. Minutes crawled. The air grew thick with the scent of sex and sweat and sour musk. My jaw throbbed beneath her weight, locked open. Trapped saliva pooled at the back of my throat. I waited. Listened. Nothing.
Slowly, mechanically, without thought—without *command*—my tongue began moving again. A shallow lick. A soft slide against tender inner walls still pulsing from her climax. Then another. Gentle. Hesitant. Almost questioning. Mandy gasped—a sharp, startled inhalation. Her thighs tensed instantly. Her hips jerked backwards instinctively, pressing harder against my face for a fraction of a second before she froze completely. Utterly still. Waiting. Listening. Feeling. Doing nothing other than kneeling there, on the floor, with a large ass pushing back against my face. I took no action, nor did I try to escape.
Then, to both our surprise, my lips parted slightly. Not for tongue. Not for penetration. Softly, carefully, I pressed my mouth against the wrinkled, sweat-slicked surface of her sphincter. One firm, deliberate *kiss*. Lips puckered against the bitter salt rim. Like pressing a hesitant goodbye onto an elderly aunt’s weathered cheek. I paused. The taste—feces, old sweat, sour musk—flooded my senses again. But I didn’t recoil. Didn’t gag. My breath hitched, shallow and quick against her skin. Then another kiss. Slow. Closed-mouthed. Respectful. Almost tender in its quiet, grim persistence. *Kiss*. Stop. *Kiss*. Stop. Methodical. Ritualistic. Utterly detached from the filth beneath my lips. What was i doing?? What had i become??
Mandy froze. Entirely. Her heavy breathing ceased abruptly. Her hips stopped their idle shifting. Even her thighs stopped trembling. Utter stillness. Then, slowly, she twisted her torso sideways—awkwardly, with my nose still buried deep in her sweaty cleft—to look back over her shoulder. Her eyes widened, pupils blown wide with disbelief. Sweat-damp hair clung to her forehead. Her lips parted slightly. She stared directly into my upturned eyes—mine blurred by tears and exhaustion, hers sharp with utter confusion. Her nostrils flared. “What…” she breathed, her voice low and unsteady, “the *fuck* are you doing?” Her tone held no malice. No mockery. Only raw, bewildered shock. Her gaze stayed locked onto mine, searching, probing, demanding an answer I couldn’t give. Why wasn't she laughing? Why wasn’t she gloating? Why did she look... shocked?
I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. My lips moved mechanically. *Kiss.* Pause. *Kiss.* Pause. Each deliberate press of my mouth against her wrinkled sphincter was a small, damp sound in the heavy silence. The sour musk filled my nose, the bitter taste coated my lips, but a strange numbness had descended. My gaze remained locked onto hers through the blur of tears—a silent, hollow defiance. There was no pleading left. No panic. Just the relentless, quiet rhythm of my lips against her skin. Her expression flickered—confusion shifting towards something else… unease? Disgust? Fear? Her hand, slick from her climax, twitched slightly against her thigh. She didn’t pull away. Didn’t slam down. Just stared, frozen in place by the sheer, inexplicable strangeness of my actions, while my mouth continued its grim, detached worship.
"Jesus Christ," Mandy breathed, her voice thick with disbelief, but lacking its usual venom. She shifted her hips forward slightly, breaking the contact, her puckered ring pulling away from my lips with a faint, wet suction sound. A bead of sweat dripped from her brow onto my forehead. "That's…" She swallowed. "You're fucking disgusting." The words tumbled out, but they lacked conviction. They sounded more like a startled reflex than genuine malice. Her eyes flickered over my tear-streaked face, my swollen lips, my vacant stare. She wiped her fingers roughly against her thigh, trying to erase traces of her own arousal. "Seriously, Vicky? What the hell is *wrong* with you?" Her brow furrowed, not in anger, but in bewildered revulsion. She wasn't mocking me anymore; she seemed genuinely unnerved, almost repelled by the hollow, mechanical compliance she'd forced into existence. She pushed herself fully off me, turning to look down at me.
Standing unsteadily, Mandy pulled her jeans up her thick thighs, the denim straining over her hips. She fastened the button with trembling fingers, the rasp of the zipper loud in the heavy silence. She stared down at me where I sat against the wall, the taste of her still thick on my tongue. "Get up," she commanded, her voice regaining some of its harshness, though it cracked slightly. When I didn't move immediately, she nudged my leg roughly with her foot. "I said *up*. You belong to me now, Vicky. That little freak show you just pulled? That proved it." A cruel smirk flickered across her lips, a desperate attempt to reclaim control, to push away her own unease. "You're mine. Every pathetic, disgusting part of you."
Mandy leaned down, her face inches from mine. The sour musk of her sweat still clung to her skin. "So," she hissed, her breath hot against my ear, "describe it. Tell me exactly how it felt. Living. Inside *my* fat ass." She straightened, crossing her arms beneath her heavy breasts, waiting. Her eyes burned with a mixture of lingering arousal, disgust, and a desperate need for dominance. "Every detail, bitch. The smell. The taste. The feeling of my asshole sucking on your tongue. How it felt *owning* you." She tapped her foot impatiently on the tile floor, demanding my humiliation as the final act of her superiority.
My tongue felt thick, coated in a bitter film. The words clawed their way up my raw throat. "Dark," I whispered, the sound scraping against the silence. Mandy’s smirk tightened. "Hot. So… wet." I closed my eyes, not to escape, but to see the suffocating blackness behind my lids again. "Your skin… slick against my face. Pressing everywhere." I swallowed bile. "Taste… like… salt. Sour. Something… decaying." Mandy shifted her weight, a faint flush creeping up her neck. "And your… hole." The word choked me. "Felt… soft. Wrinkled. Like… wet leather." My hands trembled against my thighs. "It opened… swallowed my tongue… squeezed." I could feel Mandy’s gaze drilling into me, forcing the confession deeper.
"It felt like death," I breathed, the admission escaping like a last gasp. Mandy’s foot stopped tapping. Her nostrils flared. "Like drowning… in thick air." My voice cracked. "No light. Just… weight. Crushing." I lifted my head, meeting her bewildered glare through a haze of tears. "Couldn’t scream. Couldn’t… breathe." I pictured the terrifying plunge into that smothering oblivion. "Just… heat. Taste. Darkness pressing in." Mandy shifted, smiling, enjoying hearing how terrible it had been, her crossed arms tightening. "Like… hell," I rasped, the words thick with the lingering bitterness on my tongue. "Suffocating. Trapped. Just… filth… and pain… and your… smell." Something flickered in Mandy’s eyes – triumph, but also lust. My hollow stare held hers. "That’s… urgh the smell" I suddenly felt nauseous.
Mandy’s cruel smirk widened into a predatory grin. "Good," she purred, leaning in so close I could see the sweat beading above her lip. "My ass *should* stink. Like *power*. Like sweat, and shit, and superiority." Her breath, thick with the stale remnants of soda & candy washed over me. "Get used to it, assface. That smell?" She chuckled, a low rumble in her chest. "That’s gonna be your perfume now." She straightened up, looming over me. "The scent of knowing your place. Buried beneath me." Her eyes glittered with malicious satisfaction. "Every breath you take, you’ll remember *my* scent. Every time you close your eyes, you’ll see that fat ass blocking out the sun. You belong to that smell now, Vicky. Own it." She tapped a thick finger against her temple. "Wear it."
A glob of thick, warm saliva splattered against my cheekbone, sliding slowly towards my jawline. Mandy watched it trail down my skin with undisguised contempt. "Consider that a preview," she spat, the venom dripping from her voice. "A little taste of what’s always dripping off me onto pathetic little you." She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her gaze never leaving mine. "You did okay today… for a first timer." The compliment was laced with poison. "Learnt your lesson quick enough. Didn’t puke *too* much." Her smirk returned. "That means you earned another lesson. Soon."