By: WhatIsYourDesire666
"Slave! Wake up!"
She didn't call me by my name anymore... It had taken her mere weeks to reduce me from being her boyfriend to just "slave." I felt her hand shaking my shoulder urgently. Groaning, I turned over, clutching the heavy blanket and nestling my head deeper into the soft pillow. At least this time, I wasn't sleeping in a box. I was comfortably settled in bed and fully intended to stay there.
Morgan leaped out hastily. She was usually more like a heavy sleeper. Why was she so excited today?
"I had the most amazing dream!" she exclaimed, as if she'd won the lottery. "An angel told me I'm participating in a Tournament!"
"Great..." I muttered, keeping my eyes closed.
"I need to prepare! Stay here," she commanded before rushing out still in underweares, slamming the door behind her.
"Count on it," I whispered, sinking back into sleep.
Moments later, the door burst open. The sudden noise jolted me awake, and I jumped up in bed, clutching the blanket to my chest in shock.
"I don't have time to explain, slave," Morgan began, panting. She was drenched in sweat, as if she'd run a marathon. "We start now." She entered the room, her gaze fixed on me.
I watched in horror as she dripped sweat onto the floor. Her body was not designed for cardio. Her curves and extra pounds made it clear she wasn't an athlete.
"I have to win...," she continued, a feverish gleam in her eyes.
"What happened!?" I asked warily.
Morgan's grin was evil, predatory. "An angel told me how to get my revenge on Abby..."
I knew Morgan was eccentric, but this was next level. What had she been dreaming about?
Before I could ask, she climbed onto the bed, straddling my body. She leaned down, her breath hot on my ear. "Don't worry, slave. I've planned everything..."
Without another word, she flipped me over like a pancake and sat on my back. She reached into the bedside drawer, pulling out handcuffs. In seconds, my hands were secured behind my back.
"Hey, what are you... ?!"" I started to ask, before catching Morgan's eye: she wasn't listening to me anymore, she was in her own world, a world where she does what she wants. A world where my opinion doesn't matter.
Satisfied with the handcuffs, Morgan grabbed our white blanket, wrapping herself in it until only her sweat-soaked ass remained exposed. The fabric quickly became transparent, revealing her damp thighs and the darkness of her crack.
She picked up our heavy, black winter blanket and lay on her stomach, staring at me. "You're not going to like this," she warned.
She slid her legs under me, positioning my head between her thighs until it was firmly lodged in the sweaty cleft of her ass. I recoiled in disgust, trying to wriggle free, but Morgan held firm, her hand on the back of my head pressing me closer.
"But since I don't trust you to obey..." she continued, picking a belt on the floor and wrapping it around her hips and tightening it until it bit into her skin and compressed her cheeks around my head. She pulled tight, locking the buckle in place. "This will keep you where I want you."
Morgan reached for the black blanket again, pulling it up until she was completely covered, ensuring that each corner protrudes from the bed. She settled herself onto her pillow with a sigh of contentment.
"Nice and cozy," she murmured.
I struggled again, but the more I fought, the tighter the belt became, compressing me deeper between Morgan's ass cheeks. The sweat acted as a lubricant, allowing her flesh to slide against mine with ease. My head felt trapped in a hot, steamy crevice.
"Your head feels so nice moving around down there, slave. Keep fighting like that."
Her words were muffled by the blanket, but I could still hear her soft laughter as she sank into sleep, leaving me trapped in my own personal hell. My struggles were feeble, my screams swallowed whole by Morgan's flesh and the heavy fabric of the blankets. All I could do was marinate in her heat, suffocating in her ass.
As minutes ticked by, the temperature beneath the heavy blankets began to rise at an alarming rate. The black duvet trapped Morgan's body heat like a greenhouse, amplifying the steaminess of her sweat-soaked skin. My head, buried deep within her fleshy confines, felt like it was being slow-roasted in an oven set on high.
The air under there grew thick and humid, clinging to my skin like a damp shroud. I could feel every bead of Morgan's sweat as they formed, rolled down her cheeks, and dripped onto me, adding to the sticky mess that already coated my face and hair. The scent of her body - salty, musky, and overwhelmingly feminine - filled my nostrils, making it difficult to breathe.
My skin grew slick with our combined sweat, causing Morgan's ass cheeks to slide against my head with increasing friction. The belt around her hips held me in place, ensuring that every movement she made resulted in my head being pushed deeper into her crack. With each shift of her position, the pressure around my face intensified, squeezing the air from my lungs. My hands, tied behind my back, grew clammy and slick with sweat, making it impossible to grip anything or find purchase to push myself free. I could feel every ridge, every contour of her ass cheeks pressing against my face. My mouth grew parched, my tongue thick and clumsy as it struggled to form words - even if anyone had been there to hear them.
As the heat beneath the blanket reached its crescendo, I found it increasingly difficult to draw breath. Morgan's massive ass cheeks, slick with sweat and pressed tightly around my head, formed an impenetrable seal that left no room for even a sliver of fresh air to reach my face. With each desperate attempt at inhalation, all I managed to do was suck in more of the thick, humid air trapped beneath the blankets. It tasted acrid and foul, tainted by the combination of our sweat, body heat, and the salty tang of Morgan's flesh.
Morgan's ass cheeks, like two immense pillars of flesh, seemed to close around me with every passing second. The pressure they exerted on my face and head was relentless, pushing down on me with crushing force until I felt as if I were being slowly crushed between a pair of giant boulders.
My nose, pressed flat against Morgan's thong offered no place for breath. My mouth, open wide in a silent scream of panic, offered no respite either. All that greeted me was the slick, sweat-soaked skin of Morgan's ass cheeks. I tried to push against them with my lips, attempting to create some small gap through which I might draw breath, but it was like trying to pry open a stone wall with bare hands. My lungs burned like twin furnaces, crying out for air even as my body struggled to conserve what little oxygen remained in my system.
Black spots began to dance at the edges of my limited vision, my movements became jerky, spasmodic, as my body fought against its own instinct to survive. My limbs flailed helplessly, searching in vain for some way to escape. But there was no escaping the grip of her ass cheeks.
With one final, desperate attempt at inhalation, I felt my body convulse as it struggled against the inevitable. And then, with a silent cry that went unheard by anyone but myself, my world went dark, and I slipped into unconsciousness, suffocating in Morgan's sweat-soaked flesh.
When Morgan finally awoke from her slumber hours later, she would find my unconscious body still trapped between her thighs, my head buried deep within the fleshy chasm of her ass. And as she extricated herself from our steaming, sweat-soaked cocoon, she proudly announced:
"The warm-up is over slave! We'll be ready to begin..."