My Wutzi farts himself through his slave training
It happens quite often that something funny happens during my sessions. Sometimes even unforeseen situations arise, where it is difficult to remain serious. But a sub who ridicules his entire slave training by permanently farting was new even to me.
Do you still know Wutzi?
Before the next slave training I had prescribed a very special menu for my sub. Beans every day for a whole week. And with every meal. Well, if you want to be a real slave pig, you have to stink like one. Admittedly: I had come up with my sub’s nutrition plan without thinking that it would stink up my own studio as well. Well, my new fetish for gas masks must come from somewhere.
A fart slave training
W
s always the case, I had my sub line up in full gear. Before I enter the room and honor him with my presence, he must stand at attention for a while and not move. From a hiding place, I watched as he convulsively tried to stand still. But the bloating caused his hips to move without him being able to do anything about it.
I suppressed a grin and entered the room. As always, I allowed him a first glimpse of his mistress before pacing imperiously around him. Finally, I started the slave training with the command to undress. He took off his clothes and dutifully put on his pig mask. Then he could no longer suppress the first fart. Stupidly, I was standing behind him at that moment, so my hair was blown back. A first taste of Wutzi’s scent aroma penetrated my nose.
Since I wanted to avoid further direct gas attacks from my slave, I ordered him to stand at the St. Andrew’s cross. With the ass to the wall, because safe is safe. I quickly had him fixed and reached for the clamps, as another fart already boomed through the room. For a moment I toyed with the idea of putting one of the brackets on my nose myself. Unfortunately, that would have ruined my dominant aura, so I didn’t do it.
So it was a matter of bravely persevering. That worked out quite well, at least until the next deafening fart.
To plug or not to plug
It couldn’t go on like this, the guy would sink the whole room into me in no time. I shortened the slave training with the clamps and quickly took them away from him. I let him set up at the other end of the room and walked over to my shelf of toys. I quickly found the box of anal plugs I was looking for. Triumphantly, I held one of them up to his nose. His face turned pale, and shortly thereafter a fart of fear thundered out of him.
At that moment, I realized for the first time that I might not be allowed to use the plug at all. At best, it meant hellish pain for my sub. At worst, a dangerous flying weapon that I had to be wary of. Such a rausgefurzter anal plug hurt certainly hellish, whom he hit. Any bruises or bruises were also among the things I wanted to avoid. With a heavy heart, I presented the toy to him for a while longer, knowing full well that I would not use it.
Breathless through the session
Fortunately, I had an idea to lighten the situation. Much to Wutzi’s delight, I put in a CD by Helene Fischer. If there was one song that fit this session, it was the universally hated “Atemlos”. Of course, my slave also got a task right away. Not only did he have to dance along. He was also to set the song to music himself, in his case farting.
I must admit, this sight was really awesome. With the pig mask, my sub was definitely at risk of confusion with the performer. After the first two minutes, he even had the hip swing down and was making synchronized lip movements. He farted along with the lyrics. I liked the whole thing so much that I ran the song three more times.
Slave training with happy ending
Of course, Wutzi expected a reward. For his work done in slave training he got permission to squirt for his mistress. I served him as a jerk-off template.
Before he started he asked me to turn off the music. Honestly, I could not come to orgasm with the Schlagergejaule either, so I granted him the wish. In comfortable silence he began to rub his cock. His eyes fixed me and his gaze became hornier and hornier.
Read also:
– Dominatrix Miss Trix: Diary of a chastity
– Experiences and dangers of long-term restraint
– With a pump up dildo I blew up the rosette of my slave
– Tickling fetish: My slave wanted to be tickled for two hours
– Cock rating: So much I laugh at your little willy
The movements of his arm became faster, his breathing intermittent, and beads of sweat formed all over his body. The corners of his mouth twisted and he got that stupid look on his face that almost all men have when they come.
Even under the pig mask could not be hidden. But instead of just hosing down, he rolled his eyes upward and let out a thunderous fart. It was, to be honest, barely ten seconds of noise pollution, immediately followed by odor pollution, which belongs before the European Court of Justice. My slave virtually thundered off in both directions at once and collapsed shortly thereafter. He was completely exhausted, but happy. Slave training successfully completed, I would say.
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