A story written for me by someone who knows me so well... Enjoy
I don’t feel guilty. Why should I? It’s just a bit of fun. Blokes fuck over girls all the time for a sexual thrill so why can’t it happen the other way round, and it’s not like they don’t deserve it.
I’ve always had the fantasy from ever since I can remember. I used to sit on my teddy bears face and when I was a bit older I’d buy action men and sit on their faces. The first time I actually sat on a real person’s face was at the club. I was 21 and a friend had introduced me. That was the only way you could become a member, through personal introduction. The club isn’t what you’d call entirely legal and the owners of the club are very careful about the women they allow to join. One of the sayings there is “Rule 1. You do not talk about Fuck Club. Rule 2. You do not talk about Fuck Club.” Spot the famous film quote.
I’ve got to say, it’s my favourite place in the whole world. The only place I can be my true self. A real nasty bitch LOL! I arrive and as soon as I go in I’m treated like a queen. They can’t do enough for me. It’s the place where I can get anything I want. Anything I want sexually anyway. As you might have guessed my club’s a brothel, a brothel where girls are the punters and men are the whores. It’s a brothel for girls who like to be, you know, a bit sadistic, a bit horrible, girls who get off on being nasty and abusive. Girls like me.
Sitting on a bloke’s face, just the thought of it makes me so fucking wet, but as I’ve got a bit older and been a member of the club for a few years, my fantasies have got a lot nastier. Like I say, it’s not as if you have to feel sorry for any of the men. The owners of the club always tell us that the men we fuck over are rapists and wife beaters. That they deserve the abuse they get, and I can tell you, they get some real heavy abuse from some of the women here. Having their faces sat on by me is the least of their worries.
It always starts the same. The available men are paraded naked and I get to pick my bitch for the evening. What we actually do is rent the control box. Each bloke at the club has an electric cord round his neck and balls. The box controls their pain and so you control them. Just as well the private rooms are soundproof, although having said that, pretty much all the girls who come here love the sound of men screaming in pain.
So I’m at the club last night, been preparing all week and really looking forward to fucking some random bloke’s face. They start the parade. One of them looks really familiar. At first I can’t believe it’s him. They’ve shaved his hair off and he’s looking down at the floor with his hands padlocked to his side. I thought maybe it just looked like him, which you know, would have been good enough, but then he looked up and I saw him recognise me. It was a momentary thing. He tried to pretend he hadn’t seen me but I knew he had and it couldn’t have been anyone else. He was my manager. Now I understood why he’d been off work all week and now I knew why he’d never be coming back.
I guess I had never really believed the stuff about the men there being rapists although the thought did help me come to terms with the cruel treatment I meted out to them. I couldn’t imagine how David Newell had ended up there but I did know that the thought made me very happy. I’d suffered for years with that tosser as my manager. So many of my best friends had left the company because of him and I was about to do the same, but from that moment on I knew he wouldn’t ever bother me again and I’d get to keep my job. Perhaps even be promoted at long last. He’s one of those smug wankers who thinks he’s better and cleverer than anyone else. He was always blaming everyone and anyone, but never taking responsibility for his own fuck ups. And he’s a racist sexist bastard too. I can’t even begin to tell you how fucking wet my knickers were getting thinking of what I was going to do to him.
One of the great things about the club is the array of brilliant apparatus they’ve got for fucking over men. There’s loads of furniture to whip them on, leg spreaders so you can kick them in the balls, or bars to bend them over so you can fuck them up the arse with a dildo. They even have specially made toilets where they put the men underneath and you get to shit and piss on their pathetic faces. They’ve got a few brilliant bits of furniture for my particular face sitting fetish too, like the bouncy ball and the bench, but my favourite of all is the saddle. His face just sticking out from the bottom of a black leather riding saddle, and all I have to do is mount up. You can ride either way, backwards or forwards. You just put your feet in the stirrups and then you ride his face like a proper cowgirl. There’s not much give in the saddle against the back of his head so you can pound away on his face and grind on it really hard. I’d often fantasised about doing it to my manager, or should I say my ex manager, and now it was real. I actually had the bastard strapped into the saddle. He couldn’t move a fucking muscle. I could do whatever I wanted to do to him, I could make him do whatever I wanted no matter how awful or disgusting, and no one was ever going to find out. The saddle was where David Newell’s nightmare was going to begin. I was pretty sure it was going to end in one of the toilet cubicles LOL.
It’s always my favourite part, where they’ve been strapped down into the face saddle, helpless as fuck, and then I saunter in and introduce myself. With this bollock head it was going to be especially fun. As I looked down at his face sticking out of the saddle, he tried to play the old mates game. He was saying stuff like “thank god it’s you. I can’t tell you how glad I am to see a friendly face”. He went on telling me how I needed to call the police and how they tortured and killed men in this awful place. I acted all innocent and pretended I was on his side. I said how I couldn’t believe it of a place like this. It was just a brothel, just like there were for men, but for girls, a harmless sexual escape.
I asked him how he’d come to be working in a place like this. And then he just started sobbing telling me how he had a gambling habit and got into some serious debt. He told me how he’d been “sold” to the club and how they’d tortured him and forced him to service the disgusting and sadistic sexual needs of the club members. I asked him if he’d ever been in the saddle before. He was still sobbing as he told me that it was his first time in the saddle and then he whispered shamefully that he had his face sat on when he was tied to the bench and he’d been forced to lick a girl’s bottom. I almost burst out laughing there and then. This was going to be even more fun than I’d imagined. He begged me not to tell anyone once I’d got him out of this terrible place.
I carried on pretending I was going to help him. I asked him what else had been done to him, and he described being whipped by three girls and another older woman fucking him up the arse with a huge dildo. He also had to take part in sex shows. He was forced to perform various humiliating homosexual acts while a crowd of women jeered and threw cash demanding he suck off another man or that he was sodomised. I’d been to a few of those parties where they break in the new boys. They’re great fun. I was sad to have missed the show.
As he described these things he was sobbing with shame. He was so distressed but the good news was that I’d never been so turned on in my whole life. I swear I don’t know how I didn’t just straddle his face there and then. I was so fucking horny hearing about him suffering and even more horny that he hadn’t experienced the saddle or any girls with my particular fetish. I told him that I’d go and give the police a call and he was so thankful. I reassured him that help would soon be on its way. Obviously I didn’t call the police. I told the owners of the club instead. They’re not the type of people you fuck over, and anyway I wanted him to stay just where he was. That way I could visit him again and again......and again.
I went back into the saddle room and told him that I’d called the police and they were on their way, and then I said we had to act natural so we didn’t arouse suspicion. I said that I’d need to sit on his face, and before he could protest I swung my leg over and plonked myself down hard. I felt him gasp underneath me just before I sat my full weight down. I had on leggings and tights as well as my knickers but he still must have smelled the stink. I’d worn the same knickers all week and not had a bath or shower. I sat there for a minute of two and then rose up in the stirrups slightly and looked down at his face between my legs. I asked if he was alright, and I could see he wanted to say something else but instead he told me it was ok. I apologised again but said it did need to look convincing and then I sat back down hard and really started masturbating furiously on his nose and mouth.
As my pussy got wetter and wetter I began to smell the pissy stink from my soiled knickers and then I had my first orgasm on his face. It was absolutely delicious and my crotch was soaked.
I sat recovering for a bit and then let rip a fart. I could hardly contain my laughter and it made me horny all over again. I got up and looked down apologising and saying how it just slipped out. He was saying it was fine and that he did understand. He was trying so hard not to upset me. I asked him laughingly if it smelled and he laughed back and said it stank. And that’s when I put on my dead serious face and said, “what do you mean it stank”. As soon as I said that I could see the fear come over him, but I was having way too much fun to let him off the hook. “So you’re saying my fart stinks”. He was stuttering now and trying to backtrack.
Then I said, I suppose you reckon my knickers stink too. By now I think he’d cottoned on that help wasn’t really on it’s way but I didn’t let on that I’d already told the owners of the club. Instead I pressed the button on his pain box just to show who was in charge and listened with pleasure as he howled in pain.
It was only a few weeks ago that I’d sat in his office for my appraisal. He’d told me “girls like you never get very far in this company regardless of how good you are at your job”. Tosser! Now it was my turn. I lowered his face right down. The saddle was like one of those dentist chairs that you could make go up or down to be at just the perfect height. He was almost on the floor. I took my leggings and tights off and pulled my knickers out of my tights. They were my white ones with prints of blue butterflies on them.
You see I have a routine I do each time before I visit the club. It’s all part of my fetish and I love the build up almost as much as I like actually doing it. I’ll put on a pair of knickers a week before I visit, and I won’t take them off till I’m at the club. I go out of my way to make them as filthy as possible, you know, not wiping myself too well after I’ve been to the toilet, walking miles in them that sort of thing. Get ‘em proper filthy. Then on the day I’m going to visit I stuff myself with a vegetable curry and cabbage just to make me really farty. I love farting on their faces, but this time it was going to be even more fun. I couldn’t get over the fact it was him, such a brilliant coincidence. And he didn’t know it yet, but I was going to be doing a lot more than just farting on his face.
So I pulled my knickers out from my tights and I start telling him how he can give my dirty pants an appraisal. This was going to be a load more fun than my last appraisal. A look of horror came over his face as I showed him the gusset with all the piss and shit stains on it. Even I was quite impressed with how filthy they were. I put the most disgusting bit right over his nose and asked him to appraise the smell. If you could have seen how he treated me at the real company appraisal the other week you’d appreciate just how much fun I was having.
He wrinkled up his face in disgust and told me they were disgusting and to take them off him. He was trying to shake them off but the saddle’s designed so he can’t move his head. All he can do is try twitching his face to get the shit and piss stained gusset off his nose. He failed completely and I got to use the buzz box on him again. I left the electricity on for five minutes while I went for a piss and to get a drink. He was screaming his head off as I left the room. If he’d have known how turned on I was getting hearing him scream in pain then he might have tried a bit harder to take it like a man instead of screaming like a pathetic bitch. But anyway, I came back and he was still screaming. I turned the box off. The knickers are still over his face and he’s begging me to tell him what to do and how he’ll do absolutely anything I say. Yeah, like that’s a surprise. Of course he’s going to do whatever I tell him to do. That’s what this club’s all about.
I pulled up a chair right next to his head and sat my naked arse down. A took my knickers off his face and pretended to study them. They really were a work of art. Apart from the sheer stink of them, like a really strong piss and shit smell that you get in one of those dirty public toilets, they seriously looked the part too. The white showed up the stains brilliantly. I hadn’t wiped my arse too well that week and the brown shit marks served as reminders where I’d had a real good scratch through my knickers. If I’d known David Newell was going be at the wrong end of them I probably would have made them even more awful but they were pretty nasty even by my standards.
“So what do you think David?” I asked.
As he mumbled some pathetic response about them being OK and having a nice pattern, I remembered how he’d fired one of my best mates a few months earlier telling her she needed to do better if she was going to be a part of his team. I pushed the pain button and watched him convulse and scream. I fingered myself a bit and then turned the box off and calmly explained to my sobbing ex- manager how he’d need to do a lot better if I was going to allow him the opportunity of being a part of my panty cleaning team. I so wished I could have invited some of my work mates and ex workmates. They would have loved to see him like this, helpless and at their mercy, but I had to be so careful who I told about this place. Still, I wouldn’t let that stop me fucking with his head.
I told him how I was going to inform some of the girls from work about his new job and bring some of them down to have a bit fun with him. He starts begging me not to tell any of them, but you know I’m listing the names of who I’m going to bring with me next time and pretending they’re all into the same stuff as me. I start telling him how I’m going to organise a dirty knickers competition and he’ll get to be the judge. I tell him how he’ll need to practice on my knickers and then I laid the gusset over his nose again and told him to take a huge long sniff. He did what he was told and I was delighted to see him gag. Then I asked him what they smelled of. He was crying now, partly out of shame and also because of the fear of what was going to happen next. He knew I was going to make him suck them clean and he knew there was nothing he could do about it. Through his tears he told me how they smelled of flowers.
All the times I’ve been coming to this club and playing these games, I’ve never heard any of my bitches tell me my dirty knickers smelled of flowers, so I was pretty impressed. Still, I didn’t let that stop me pushing the button on him. While he was screaming I calmly explained that he mustn’t lie and that actually they smelled of piss and shit, which they did. I stopped zapping him and asked him again what they smelled like. This time he changed tack and told me they smelled of piss and shit. Obviously this was deeply insulting to me and I had to push the button again. LOL
The next part of the game was to make him beg for the honour of cleaning them. Obviously the first few times he didn’t beg convincingly enough so I had to zap his sorry arse, but after a few goes his begging became almost believable, and I stuffed my knickers into his mouth telling him how they’d better come out clean or I’d have him whipped. Then I stood naked over his face and raised the saddle up. As his face rose to meet my arse I pulled my bum cheeks open and felt his nose push into my arse hole. The saddle lifted me off the floor and stopped at it’s maximum height. I put my feet in the stirrups and bounced hard on his nose. My shit hole was nice and greasy not having washed it or wiped it too well, so his nose slid easily in and out. I love getting my arse hole nose fucked. It feels fucking great, almost as great as a proper good rimming where he sticks his tongue right up inside. And it’s always better when I’ve got a real dirty bum hole, where I haven’t washed or wiped for ages. Knowing he’s got to clean out all the sweat and shit just makes me so fucking wet.
I pulled the knickers out of his mouth and told him to lick out my arse while I inspected them to make sure he’d got all the stains out. I pulled my bum cheeks as far apart as I could and pushed my anus onto his protruding tongue. His arse licking skills weren’t bad which was more than could be said for his knicker cleaning skills. The brown and yellow stains were still very much in evidence and my underwear didn’t smell any better, but I let him rim out my arse for a while until I had another orgasm. When I recovered I rose up in the stirrups and let him have it, first slapping his face and then electrocuting him with some jolts from the buzz box. He was begging me to be allowed another chance to clean them. That was what I wanted to hear so I stuffed them back in his mouth, turned around to face his feet and planted my soaking wet pussy onto his nose. That’s when I really let go pounding his face as hard as I could. I was in a wild and wonderful haze. I pulled my knickers from his mouth and replaced them with my clit shouting “suck it bitch”. Having him lick me out was just the best and to top it all, just as I was coming I let rip the smelliest fart right into his pathetic face. Farts have always made me laugh. I guess that’s why I love farting in bloke’s faces so much. Farts are funny. And also farting into someone’s face is so incredibly demeaning and insulting to them, not to mention quite disgusting. Of course it’s going to get me turned on all over again. Doing it in David Newell’s face, even more so. And on top of that I got to play the whole “what did my fart smell like?” game which ensured loads more buzz box action.
I can’t tell you how much fun I had with him that night and how many times I came on his face. It was so much more fun because it was David, and not just some random stranger. I despised this scum bag so much and by the end of our session I’d made him pass out with all the pain. But it was only going to get worse for him.
I don’t usually crap on their faces but in this case I was prepared to make an exception. It’s so weird looking down into the toilet and seeing a face staring back up. It’s actually pretty fucking creepy but a lot of girls who come to the club, really get off on it. He was crying and saying how he couldn’t believe I could do that to people and calling me an evil nasty bitch. What could I say? He wasn’t wrong. LOL. He was asking how I managed to sleep at night which was weird cos I sleep perfectly well at night. Like I say, it’s not like they don’t deserve it. Him especially.
I was bored of hearing him slag me off so I pushed the button on him and listened to him scream. I left the box on full pain level as I sat down and did my business all over his face. I’m very much looking forward to my next visit.