Mrs Abdul - "The Initiation" - continued -

Feb 19, 2003
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Only 21 views and no replies? You don't deserve the next instalment...but...anyway...

...here it is then. Enjoy.

K

“Aahhhhhhhhhhh!” Mrs Abdul cried out as her next shuddering orgasm rifled through her nether regions. Bringing the seatmount to a halt, she sat full weight on the pancaked face beneath her as if it did not exist. A cursory look by a passer-by might have led to that passer-by assuming that the lady was simply sat atop a leather bench, no more. But if that passer-by had listened intently, he or she would have heard simple desperation from beneath the curvy buttocks. Mrs Abdul did not care and, with venomous intent, she spoke,
“Kalib! Kalib! Where the hell are you? Do you want to go back under me? You might be under me soon if you don’t pull your dick out of your arse! This bastard under me will be dead soon! Come on – get me my next kit – NOW!”
“Sorry dear Mistress. Here it is…”. Kalib rushed in with the next outfit as his supreme wife stood up in the stirrups and looked down, back over her shoulder to the punished face beneath her. David gasped as if he had just been released from a deep, water logged chamber, some fathoms down. His eyes were blackened around their rims and the blood had dried around his nose. Lifting one thigh over his face. Mrs Abdul took hold of a tissue and moistened it between her full lips. Mother-like, she then wiped David’s face, paying careful attention to his nose which she then pinched between thumb and forefinger to pull upwards, as if ordering it, silently, to regain its shape so that, very soon, her bare bottom could absorb it all. David yelped and received a hard slap across his face for doing so.
“WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU SLOB?!” Mrs Abdul then picked up the wide leather strap that had lain, across David’s body well, despite the rotation of the seatmount. Then again, it was rather thick and heavy. THWACK! Mrs Abdul brought the vicious strap down over David’s face. Its tip sliced into the side of his face as if the skin were retreating under protest at the action. Then Mrs Abdul struck repeated blows to David’s upper body, particularly nipples, as deep welts appeared quickly. This gave Mrs Abdul the passion that she needed for the final mount of the day.
Kalib was still holding the skimpy outfit. It consisted of a set of leather straps attached to a leather pair of panties which themselves had what seemed to David (out of the corner of his bruised eye) to be an attachment of sorts. The boots were thigh high. That was the extent. Soon, Mrs Abdul was dressed. The leather straps were now over her shoulders and David could see that they were attached to the knicker attachment. Knickers seated and boots thighed, Mrs Abdul put her left leg into the stirrup near her. She then, very slowly, straddled the face beneath her, smiling down over her shoulder as she did so. She liked this stage, very much. The poor seat never knew what to expect.
“Kalib!” She boomed – “ZIP!”
Kalib rushed to undo the fastener on the knicker attachment itself. From where David was, he could soon see the very dark crevice of the bottom atop of him as the zip was drawn up and as the material parted as if in mock and inviting gesture at what they would soon have a part in doing to him.
“PUSH IT IN!”
Mrs Abdul was impatient – as always!
“Yes Mistress dear” he said as, looking at David’s worried face almost apologetically, Kalib pushed his right hand under David’s head and lifted it as far as the restraining straps would allow, after a little necessary adjustment.
“He placed right?”
Kalib nodded in answer to his wife’s question. SQUASH! David’s face once again disappeared beneath the now semi-naked derriere. Wriggling a little on the nose beneath her, Mrs Abdul commanded that the zip was to be drawn down and round the back of her knicker attachment quickly, fully and thoroughly. Kalib struggled but eventually, David’s face was entombed. She then ordered her husband to bring the silver loops on each side of the attachment together and to padlock them, waving to a shelf where she had placed the locks earlier. Kalib scuttled obediently and soon, David was well and truly encased.
“Now – the straps! Tighten them fully!”
Kalib hesitated. Already, David’s face must have merged soundly with his wife’s bottom.
“DO IT!”
He did! Pull on the back of the straps at shoulder height, Kalib drew the knicker attachment as tight as he dare as the pressure and pull of the leather harness fought with the pull-down of the leather straps around the seatmount.
“AAAAHHHH!” Mrs Abdul groaned as she felt David’s nose give again. That said, it had inserted itself well and truly into her anus, which she had deliberately opened as much as she dare for the purpose. The grinding of her hips and more definite seating of her now dripping crotch on David’s mouth was the unspoken signal for him to begin the cunnilingus, which she now demanded.
“NOW FUCK OFF!” Swinging the heavy strap out wide, Mrs Abdul connected brilliantly with her husband’s forehead, knocking him over. He quickly crawled back into the kitchen, leaving an angry and excited lady well seated atop of a whimpering and crying seat.
“Now David. The next treatment…” Mrs Abdul spoke as if she were a nurse talking simply but firmly to a patient.
David didn’t answer. He was just managing to draw small breaths under the musky pressure cooker that was now sat on his face.
“Number 8!”
Bang! The seatmount kicked into life again. This time, Mrs Abdul could not lift off the prone face beneath her. But she still strained and went with the momentum. Now, at all times, David’s face was well and truly attached to her bottom. Well it was more than that. His face was actually so merged with her bottom that her buttock flesh had moulded itself into David’s eye sockets and, as Mrs Abdul could feel, his nose had now entered her puckered anus. She intended to keep it there with careful riding.
“9……10!” Mrs Abdul shouted as the gyration became absolute. As it happened, the tight arse bondage that David’s face was now in helped Mrs Abdul with her balance. What she had not told David though was that if she lost her balance, then he would be simply decapitated. She grinned evilly at the thought.
“You’d better not dismount me David! So that means putting up with where you are for at least the next hour…or even two!”
Over the next three hours, David’s world was oppression itself. He could not breathe, he could not move. Straps from above were pulling his head upwards. Straps from below were pulling his head downwards. Leather encased his face and head. His body was now very tight under its bonds on the seatmount and through its movement had seemingly and naturally tightened themselves. Above all, his face was crushed by a ballooning and very heavy, damp, bottom, which seemed itself to be mocking the face which it dominated totally. It had no concern for the pathetic male feature as it ground and pressed and bounced and wriggled on the visage. Mrs Abdul was in absolute heaven as she orgasmed again and then very soon after ejaculated fully into David’s mouth. David fought the deluge, as he then had to rely only on his broken nose to draw breath. Getting the sickly sweet smell of Mrs Abdul’s bottom as he did, he began, finally to regret his decision. But, there was no going back now. The only slight relief came as Mrs Abdul’s shuddering body calmed into a ripple, evidenced by the animated buttocks as they described the innermost feelings of the body, part of which they graced magnificently. David began to choke.
“Oh My!” Mrs Abdul exclaimed as she switched the machine off, patting its side for a job well done.
“We can’t have you choking – here, have another drink…!
With that a torrent of piss hit the back of David’s throat. It seemed that she was emptying an ocean-going tanker to David as one, and then two, and then three minutes passed. Mrs Abdul was kind enough to release the straps over her shoulders and unzip the knicker attachment as she rose. David’s nose plopped out of her behind like a cork. It had gone slightly brown at the tip. Mrs Abdul couldn’t decide whether that was because of dried blood or something else. Still though she pressed her sex over the mouth of the seat. Gulping down his last drops, David closed his eyes. The darkness, which he had held off for so long was now, inevitably creeping up on him as, starved of oxygen, his body wanted to hibernate. Several whacks of the strap across his exposed balls however soon brought him to consciousness as his sitter dismounted in one swift movement, dancing on her feet as she hit the ground with both, hand on David’s chest. He winced with the pain.
“Good! Have an hour off David and I’ll be back later…I’m in the mood now!”
David stared, motionless at the ceiling. Well, he thought, at least I’ve got an hour.
Kalib readied the meal. His wife would be ravenous…








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Jan 28, 2003
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Whole Story so far

The Initiation
By Knickered

The Internet – well what a change from buying “contact mags” from the “top shelf”! David sat at home, in front of his PC – bought, incidentally, not to surf the web for many things, but for one thing in particular. His throat was dry as he set up the equipment. He had an “aol” installation CD, picked up from the local supermarket some months before. His nerve had held to now; would it hold until he had set up and “signed on”? He did not know whether what he would search for would be “legal”. Oh – what a world! Why couldn’t he be the thing he craved…inanimate…there…ready…?

There! Done! “Do you want to sign on?” his PC asked him. Trembling all over, he answered “Yes” and entered his password “Tongueherbutt”. He shuddered at the sight of the word he had so quickly thought of. His penis was already half way to being fully erect. What a feeling! He gave it a quick “up and down”.

Very quickly, his PC powered forward and, with an admitted bit of fumbling (for he was new to the whole “Internet” idea), David entered the word “facesitting” in the search engine. Sweat poured down his forehead and his back. His “T” shirt was darkened there – as if his desire was being bodily evidenced to anyone chancing to look from behind him and over his shoulder. Of course, no one was there, in that room with him; a room rented from quite a nice lady of mid-Eastern extraction – a lady whom David would give his right testicle to worship in the way he considered ALL women should be worshipped. Buttocks to face!

The result of his search showed David that there were 171,000 entries. “Christ!” he thought, “Where the hell do I start?”. Number one was the obvious one and the one he chose. He got a definition from an encyclopaedia (Wikipedia) – as follows: -

“Facesitting, also known as kinging or queening, is a sexual practice in which a sexual partner sits on or over the other partner's face, typically to allow oral-genital or oral-anal contact. It is common for this position to form part of BDSM, involving dominance and submission, though this need not be the case.
Facesitting is most common among dominant women and submissive men, and also vice-versa, as a form of demonstrating superiority as well as for sexual gratification. It is also practiced by vanilla couples, who use this position for woman on top cunnilingus (with the woman kneeling over the man, and sitting on his upper chest rather than face), or irrumatio and teabagging. The difference between facesitting and the similar practice of smothering is that in the latter, the partner being smothered is deprived of air, while facesitting does not necessarily involve oxygen deprivation. The full-weight body-pressure, moisture, feminine odors and darkness can be perceived as powerful sexual attractions or compulsions. The person sat upon may or may not be in bondage, sexually submissive, or simply held down by the body-weight of the other person. Sometimes special furniture is used, such as a smotherbox or queening stool.
Facesitting is a common theme in the works of Japanese fetish artist Namio Harukawa, and is also a common theme in erotic magazines and films.
In certain forms of erotic wrestling, facesitting is an often used method of bringing about a sexually humiliating finish to a match (either in same-sex or mixed matches), particularly when the victor has had their clothes removed (either by their opponent or doing so themselves). When the female is victorious the application of the genitals to her opponent's face, and particularly mouth, is the goal. In the case of a victorious male the aim is insertion of his penis into the opponent's mouth. In cases of pre-agreed rules or extreme domination or humiliation, the victor may maintain the facesit position until orgasm is achieved.”
David was ecstatic! Wow! What a result. His mouth salivating, he progressed through the listed websites, not reaching number 7 before he shot his load over his hard drive, helped, of course, by his vigorous thrusting of his now so erect organ. The noise on the stairs made him launch for the bathroom but not before he had quickly minimised his screen. “David? David – are you in?”

A swift opening of the door – always done, followed the knock on the door. “Damn!” David had forgotten to lock the door in his haste to gain vision of his lifelong fetish.
“Yes Mrs Abdul, come in…” David squeaked from the anteroom.
“Ah! So…you have your new PC, no? Very nice. May I?”
“Ahhhh…I will be with you in a minute Mrs Abdul…” David’s wiping was not quick enough. Mrs Abdul strode over to the new toy, her rotund and protruding buttocks trying to break free of the very thin and revealing material of her brief panties and short skirt.
“No worries David. Now, let me see…ah yes… there we are.” She sat down heavily on the small chair in front of the PC, making it groan in protest…or was it desire?
The landlady fiddled with the keyboard and mouse.
“I have always wanted my husband to get me one of these things David…you see, it would help me with my business. All I have at the moment is….”
Mrs Abdul’s voice tailed off into silence.
“WHAT….?” She boomed. “What is this David?”
David could now see, stood as he was at the door to his bathroom, towel surrounding his midriff, that Mrs Abdul had maximised his search page. He stammered….
“So! We have a pervert for a Tenant do we David?”
Mrs Abdul turned the creaking swivel chair with her voluptuous bottom, raising her left eyebrow at David, a semblance of a smile on her lips.
“I…I…was…”
“No need to explain David. I KNOW what YOU were doing! “Facesitting” – well that’s a little unusual isn’t it darling?”
Mrs Abdul’s right thigh was now presented fully to David’s vision, her stocking top and wrenching suspender (a thick black one at that) making David swallow hard. His throat may have been dry before. It certainly was now. He simply could not speak.
“Is this some sort of interest of yours that I do not know about David?”
The accompanied further raising of her other eyebrow made David’s mouth akin to the surface of the Sahara Desert.
“We share a passion – obviously…” her voice tailed off and then… “Come with me, NOW… and leave the towel!”
David followed, stumbling over the dropped towel, hastening to fasten the zip on his denims.

Mrs Abdul led David upstairs, to her personal quarters – a place where he had never before ventured. The stairs creaked loudly, a familiar sound to David, heard very often as his landlady used them…but there were never more than one set of footsteps going up of down…funny, as she was married, after all.

“Come in David”, David heard as Mrs Abdul reached her door and unlocked it. He followed, sheepishly. Once in, Mrs Abdul turned to face him, hands on her wide hips.
“Now David…I want you to go through there BUT NOT, and I repeat NOT to say or do anything. Do you understand?”
“Yes…Mrs Abdul…I suppose so…..”
“Good! Get in there.”
Mrs Abdul pointed to a side room, off the main entrance hall to her rather grand apartment. The sheer beauty of the décor and ornamentation astonished David. The sight that met him took his breath away. The room, painted in deep crimson was adorned by numerous framed drawings of rather plump ladies sitting on the faces of male slaves, much weaker and pathetic in stature. In the centre of the room was a leather topped, narrow table, about three feet high upon which was a heavily tied male.
“Meet my husband Kalib David. I sit on his face a lot, hence his permanent position!”
David was absolutely stunned. What could he say?
“The thing is David…” Mrs Abdul continued…
“…I fear that I am wearing him out. Just look at his face – all red and blistered. I only sit on him 14 hours a day and look’ he blisters up and goes all red. That’s a great pity don’t you think?”
“I…I…don’t really know Mrs Abdul…I…”
David’s brain could not absorb the reality of the dream he was now faced with. Mr Abdul’s groan and pleading look in the eyes shook David out of his illusions…
Slap! Mrs Abdul’s well aimed backhand drawn accurately and very severely across her husband’s features halted time.
“He needs another sitting!”
With that, Mrs Abdul hiked up her skirt and stepped into the stirrups hanging down the side of the “seatmount” as she liked the framework to be called. With a swinging of her right leg, over the prone face of her husband, she quickly plonked her magnificent derriere right onto her husband’s face, her anus pressed brutally against his upturned but very bruised nose, her moistening cunt engulfing his lower face, separated only by moist silky black panties.
“Ahhhhhhhh!” Mrs Abdul laudably sighed. “This is what I crave David – and that is why I have had my husband restrained for the past two and a half years here on this table. I sit on his face regularly, every day. His nose must be against my anus for at least 10 hours. I demand at least 4 hours with his tongue up my bum, but that’s where he fails. Of course I whip him hard. Of course I mash his testicles…” with that Mrs Abdul lifted a mallet from the side table and just as promptly dropped it down again, bringing an involuntary shudder from the victim beneath her,
“…and, of course I piss all over his face and down his throat, but, he still fails to insert his tongue into my magnificent arse! It is easy to facesit him and to make him smell my bum BUT to tongue my bum is something else. He never will, despite the pain and that’s why I keep him tied up like this – the BASTARD WILL before I’m done…!”
With that, Mrs Abdul started to gyrate rhythmically, backwards and forwards upon her husband’s suppressed face, her guttural sounds aiding the further bruising which her husband was suffering, so practisedly.
David felt light headed. Mrs Abdul, even through her orgasmic motions, realised. Her slowing motions, to a gentle rocking, gave her the opportunity to reflect upon the general position and to cast her now opened eyes upon her shaking Tenant.
“So, David, what do you think?”
“I…I…don’t know wha…”
“You wish you were my husband?”
Her question was direct. It was deliberate. It had not taken Mrs Abdul long to work out the potential she had downstairs. She knew David was a regular masturbator – she could see his bathroom and bedroom windows from her higher floor. She had taken note.
A sudden gasp from beneath her made Mrs Abdul extremely angry. She raised her form and dropped her heavy buttocks down on the face of her underling husband.
“YOU SHOULD KNOW BY NOW THAT YOU DO NOT MAKE A NOISE WHEN I AM SEATED – ESPECIALLY WHEN WE HAVE A GUEST!”
Her husband groaned – the weight of his wife never got any easier to take. The weight of her magnificent buttocks crushed his skull. The smell of her intoxicated his senses. Her bottom had filled his vision and pressed down on his face now for approximately twelve thousand seven hundred and forty hours since she had first introduced him to her preferred form of domination. “Mmmmmphhhhhhh!” was the only sound Mr Abdul could make.
“Of course…there is always an alternative!”
Mrs Abdul eyed David, still writhing slightly to and fro.
“Mrs Abdul…?” David stupidly enquired.
“Yes…Y O U!!!”
“Me Mrs Abdul?”
“Yes, you David. If YOU will agree to become my seat AND that will include you penetrating my arsehole with your tongue when I demand, then I might, just might go a little easier on my poor sat-on husband. So, you game? Or not? By the way, I have something on you, don’t forget that David.”
David’s vision was attracted to the reddened forehead of Mr Abdul, just visible from beneath his wife’s spreading buttocks. The forehead showed complete suppression. It was turning a deep purple. Mrs Abdul sat picking at her nails, seemingly oblivious of the suffering under her. Her eyes flitted from her beautiful hands, to David and then back again. Her smile was bewitching. She did not let up. Her bottom was becoming part of the face beneath her – that was her way and that was how she liked it.
“Gravity is a wonderful thing David, don’t you agree?”
“You’ll kill him Mrs Abdul!”
Mr Abdul’s shuddering form was evidence of his desperate need for much air.
“Oh…I never let it get to that stage…look…he has a bit more submission in him at this stage…” and with that. Mrs Abdul sat even heavier on the face of her poor enslaved seat-husband, pressing her buttocks down so hard, it made the leather table creak with the strain.
Mr Abdul was on the edge. On the edge of consciousness. Whilst he knew that his wife sat for the extreme, he also knew, from experience that she would not let him pass out. For a seat to pass out was, in Mrs Abdul’s point of view, a failure. A good queening or smothering Mistress had to keep the slave conscious at all times, especially for internal buttock worship – her aim in this form of slavery. With a sudden lifting of her buttocks, Mr Abdul gasped and coughed heavily, as would a drowned man brought back to life by a lifeguard.

“You see David, I know what I’m doing when it comes to facesitting. Does that word surprise you? Does it stir anything in you? I KNOW it does!”

All David could do was to stare at the spluttering Mr Abdul. The man was beaten, straining at his bonds, weakly, fingers stretching out to some non-present saviour. He began to cry loudly and to plead – “No…no…more… M…Mistress…Sit…SittingGoddess….No…n…….” his words paled away. He had been taught though to refer to his wife at all times as his “SittingGoddess” and kept to that. David looked at Mrs Abdul. She smiled, sweetly and dismounted her prone husband and walked slowly towards him.

“I will offer you one concession David. If you agree to become my permanent seat in place of my husband, I will not charge you any more rent at all. But, be warned, once I strap you down, I keep you there. You will be allowed three toilet breaks per day and two food breaks. Those will be rigorously checked and enforced by me and by Mr Abdul, whom I will place into mobile bondage rather than the bondage he is in now. He will be free from my bottom but punished if you do not please my bottom. Equally, you will be punished with my bottom (if any further punishment is plausibly possible from that you will receive anyway), if he, or you, default. You see, I want to sit on a male slave constantly and have him do what I want him to do. I earn enough income from the other apartments in this building and do not have to work elsewhere. I use that to my advantage, always.”

Her continued smile seemed not to be as harsh as her words, but that was a misconception of extreme significance now for David.

“Well! What is it to be?” David’s eyes glanced down to those of the prone Mr Abdul, whose pleading look said it all. David thought of the images he had so briefly seen on his PC. Any of those male (or indeed female) slaves he had seen with bottoms on their faces would no doubt hanker after such a request from such a superior and beautifully majestic being.

“OK” was all David could utter.

“Excellent!” Mrs Abdul growled, placing her right hand under David’s chin and lifting his head to the ceiling.
“Yes. I can use a face like yours. Now, put out your tongue. Quickly!”
David did as he was asked and got a nod of approval from his soon to be sitter.
Again – “Excellent!” and …”…unstrap my old seat…NOW!” Mrs Abdul pushed David’s face away as she issued the command.

David quickly did as he was asked, noticing at the same time how tight Mr Abdul’s bonds were and how marked was his skin where the tight straps restrained his prone and weak body. He also noticed how flattened Mr Abdul’s nose seemed – no doubt a once very proud and prominent nose, reduced to a fraction of its jutting out size by the regular grinding bottom of a tigress.

“Thank you…thank you…th….”
“Quiet seat!” Mrs Abdul cut short the gratuities. And to David –
“Get down to your flat. You have five minutes to get your wash things and to bin the rest of your stuff. Bring the stereo up though – I could do with a new one – and your new PC. Now, HURRY!”
Her booted heel pushed David through the door and down the stairs where he quickly lost his footing and fell most of the way. “Ha!!” Mrs Abdul called after him…”…you will not do that again soon…you will only see smooth flesh in your spinning vision, not wooden steps!”

David’s mind was all a blur – as was his vision. As he pulled himself up and entered his apartment, he could not remember where his PC was! Soon, the standard screensaver alerted his senses and, as he moved the mouse, a picture flashed on the monitor – a picture of an enslaved male, his face heavily sat on by an Amazonian Mistress who crushed his features beneath her. “Do you really want this?” was the question his conscience was now asking him.
“You are behind your time!”
Mrs Abdul’s voice travelled easily down the stairs and through his apartment. “My bottom is waiting. It is NOT a good idea to let that happen seat. Get up here NOW!!”
David found it impossible to carry all his equipment at once. Resigned to some form of punishment, he slowly ascended the stairs to Mrs Abdul’s lair. Fate had taken a hand and he had to follow the way now clearly laid out for him.
“Where is the rest?” she enquired, her look of a degree of focus he had never encountered before now.
“I couldn’t carry it” David replied, rather simply.
“Kalif! Kalif! Go get the rest of the seat’s stuff NOW!!”
Her husband rushed down the flight of stairs, his recent release from two and a half years of immobility not even slowing him down – fear dwelled within him.
“Right and as for you – undress, NOW!”
David did so, his mind still racing. “Should he leave? Leave now whilst he had the chance? But, where would he go? Damn! What a dilemma!”
As if reading his mind, his Mistress spoke again – “And, if you think you can run, forget it! I’ll have hold of you within a trice and believe me, your fate will be far worse than what I have in store for you right now. Get on my seatmount, now!"


*************************************************************************************************************

David struggled with the last of his clothing as one sock, then another dropped to the floor.
“Hhmmmm! Pretty pathetic cock ya’ ‘ave there seat! You seriously call yourself a male? Ha! Wanking addict more like, what with those “pictures” you were looking at! Well now, how shall we begin?”
David stood there, head bowed. As she uttered the last few words, Mrs Abdul stroked her buttocks with both hands and with a slow deliberation peeled down her black panties.
“Get behind me!”
David sped behind. Her voice was so masterful. Mrs Abdul smiled to herself. “A good sign” she thought, as she parted her voluminous buttocks.
“On your knees – push your nose in – com’on, quickly now!”
Mrs Abdul’s stretched buttocks, the dark crevice between and the moist pink vagina that winked at and beckoned David, filled his vision. He had seen POV pictures (as they were called) briefly on the internet. So, he had thought, this would be what it would be like – under and behind a female. But to be behind such a dominant and gorgeous creature as Mrs Abdul who had such a magnificent and pouting derriere, was beyond David’s comprehension.
His nostrils were soon assailed by the womanly scent of the vision before him as Mrs Abdul released her buttocks. They bounced a little against his face as she pushed backwards, inviting David’s face further into her behind.
“Do you smell me?”
David’s reply was slightly muffled, but audible.
“Yes…Mrs Abdul.”
“And – well? What do you think?”
“It is wonderful Mrs Abdul.”
David made the mistake of withdrawing his face from the buttocks as he spoke and to get a little air.
“THAT’S YOU FIRST TEST FAILED!” Mrs Abdul shouted, as she pushed her bum further backwards in turn pushing David to the floor. Kalib (who had by now returned and locked the apartment door) put his head in his hands and winced.
“WHEN YOU ARE WORSHIPPING MY BOTTOM YOU WILL DO THAT AND NOTHING ELSE. YOU WILL NOT REMOVE YOUR FACE FROM THERE UNTIL I SAY! Kalib – get this bastard on the seatmount now and tie him down tightly. Did you get its rent book and tenancy agreement?”
“Yes Mistress, I found them together. Here they are…”
“Good! Now, do as I say and quickly!”
Kalib wasted no time. Despite his weakness from years of facesitting, he grabbed David by the arms and dragged him across the floor, yanking at his scrotum in order to make him move quickly – he had learned that trick from Mrs Abdul a few years ago.
“Oooowwww!” David squealed as the sharp pain registered in his brain.
“You have no say now sonny! Com’on, get on the seatmount quickly an’ I’ll tie you down. I can then get some air! Ha! You don’t know what you’ve let yourself I for! You poor bastard!”
The last few words were spoken with venom and hate.
“Make sure his straps are tight slave. We don’t want him fallin’ off do we?!”
“Yes Mistress”.
David, now prone on the seatmount, with one of Kalib’s hands at his throat, felt a strap being pulled across his upper chest. With a deft movement, Kalib released his throat, but caught hold of the other end of the strap and yanked it tight through the heavy buckle at the side. More straps (7 in all) followed, right down David’s body. His hands were then separately strapped to the side of the seatmount and then another strap, wider this time and having the stirrups attached was thrown across his mid-chest and secured, again tightly, as would a rider a horse saddle. Kalib the moved level with David’s head and fed a smaller strap through tow loops close to his head, one each side and across his forehead. He did the same with a strap across his throat. This last strap was looser but had a noose-type attachment so that the sitter at could tighten it will. A warning indeed as Kalib smiled down at David as he finished the restraint.
“He ready?”
“Yes Mistress.” Kalib panted away – he was out of condition.
“Now – the theme? What should be the theme?” It was a rhetorical question and Kalib knew it.
“Ah – yes! Fetch my jodhpurs, my brown riding crop, my riding boots and my riding hat – NOW!”
Mrs Abdul strolled over to her mount as Kalib rushed away to her dressing room. Her heavily shadowed eyes peered like dark jewels from her face as she inspected the restraints. She tightened one or two, causing David to groan under the increased pressure. She liked a taught saddle when she was intending a long ride. Very lightly, she lifted David’s flaccid penis as if picking a maggot off a joint of meat.
“Your balls will need shavin’ seat. Kalib will do that when I am comfortably seated. I will, on this occasion, permit him to use shaving foam and a sharp razor. That will not be guaranteed in the future – that depends on how you both perform, as I have already told you. And – by the way – as you are now a seat, a mere thing to be sat upon, I do not expect you to converse with me ever again, even if I should ask you a specific question. You understand? Many people talk to inanimate things and that’s what you are – INANIMATE!! So, I can sit on you constantly without objection.”
Kalib was now standing to Mrs Abdul’s side holding a pair of neatly folded, dark blue jodhpurs and the other times he had been requested to bring.
“Knickers!”
Kalib stooped to collect the panties that Mrs Abdul had so recently stepped out of.
“Put them on me slave – I want seat here to get the full benefit of a few days of my supreme scents. Then jodhpur me.”
Kalib did as asked and very soon Mrs Abdul stood there, ladyship like, the small peak of her riding hat drawn down just above her eyes, riding crop across her full buttocks as she strode over to the mount.
“Slave – fuck off!”
Kalib disappeared, swiftly. The last thing he heard as he proceeded to close the door was the strain of the leather as one of his Mistress’s booted feet stepped into one stirrup. Kalib closed the door as he did his eyes, remembering. He would not wish to be in David’s place right now. Mercy was a word that his Mistress had not even heard of. He proceeded to open the kitchen window slightly – fresh air was novel to him – he needed much.

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As with a keen rider straddling a horse, Mrs Abdul’s bottom, full, dark blue and ballooning out the majority of David’s vision, plonked itself hard on his face, his nose finding itself compressed back into his face as Mrs Abdul’s expert navigation made David’s nostrils acquaint themselves, again, with her covered anus. Immediately the warmth of the sitter’s body and the extreme weight and well-absorbed smell of her buttocks, sent David into a semi-dream world state – one of extreme pleasure but also of extreme concern. Surely he could not stand ten hours of this at once – and then there was the anal penetration that Mrs Abdul had talked about – four hours at that! Surely she would go easy on him? His jaw now felt the pressure, as did his forehead and eyesockets. Stars were beginning to flash across his now darkened vision. The bottom on his face sat motionless for two minutes.
Unkowingly, Mrs Abdul answered the question for David. Knowing that her seat needed to breathe, she took the opportunity of the slight lift from his face to turn the switch. In fact, David had not seen this earlier but the seatmount was in fact atop of and constructed on an old second-hand automated ride mechanism, such as that you would find at a cowboy’s convention. Mrs Abdul had had it specially put together with a bondage table. It had been very skilfully done. All of the mechanical parts were hidden beneath a leather skirt, which surrounded the riding machine. David had taken this to be for sheer decoration only. However, the skirt obviously had a more sinister reason for its existence.
The switch thrown, Mrs Abdul sat back onto David’s face as the machine whirred into life. She had placed the “degree of difficulty” switch onto number 1. She did not want to be thrown off her mount so early on in his training, despite the fact that she had never been thrown before and had had the machine up to a spinning and bucking 9 (out of 10) with Kalib. On that day, David had been in his flat below and had wondered what the hell had been going on. He had finally put it down to Mrs Abdul doing her washing in her noisy washing machine combined with a spin dryer for the fourth time that day. Christ, she was a clean lady, he had thought.
The bucking motion (no spin on this setting) began in rhythmic spurts and jerks. Mrs Abdul closed her eyes and let the machine bounce her tightly jodphurred bottom on the face beneath her. Not only would the bouncing give her new seat the chance to breath, albeit very briefly as she bucked, it meant that he could do so without much loss of compression of his face under her buttocks. Thus, the feeling of his squashed face and nose against her anus were always with her. Besides, every few seconds and going with the machine, she would deliberately sit down hard on its dropping motion ready for the movement of the machine to lift her again. This kept the pressure on the seat and did not give the seat the idea that he could simply walk through the ride, as it were.
“Aahhhhh! Yes, that’s nice, now Seat! I’m gonna take a nice long ride. The timer is on an automatic three hours. I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR ANY SOUND other than the exertions of the seatmount and the creaking leather of the stirrups, coupled with the odd cropping of your bollocks. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”
David recalled the previous warning. He was about to answer but Mrs Abdul’s bottom crashed into his face just as he began to move his mouth. She felt the movement but, she would give him the benefit of the doubt “It was lucky that my bottom squashed him when it did!” she thought.
“Good!” Mrs Abdul moved herself slightly on the face beneath her. She must have perfection and that was soon achieved. She could now settle in for a long, long ride, as the machine peaked at its regular jerking motion, accompanying the bouncing flesh of her large thighs and voluminous buttocks as they crashed, every one and a half seconds on to the face beneath her.
“Yummy!” she uttered.
Next door, Kalib had heard the machine being switched on and was now listening to the motion and to the slapping of Mrs Abdul’s bottom on David’s face. He drew a sharp breath of air form the open window…As with a keen rider straddling a horse, Mrs Abdul’s bottom, full, dark blue and ballooning out the majority of David’s vision, plonked itself hard on his face, his nose finding itself compressed back into his face as Mrs Abdul’s expert navigation made David’s nostrils acquaint themselves, again, with her covered anus. Immediately the warmth of the sitter’s body and the extreme weight and well-absorbed smell of her buttocks, sent David into a semi-dream world state – one of extreme pleasure but also of extreme concern. Surely he could not stand ten hours of this at once – and then there was the anal penetration that Mrs Abdul had talked about – four hours at that! Surely she would go easy on him? His jaw now felt the pressure, as did his forehead and eyesockets. Stars were beginning to flash across his now darkened vision. The bottom on his face sat motionless for two minutes.
Unkowingly, Mrs Abdul answered the question for David. Knowing that her seat needed to breathe, she took the opportunity of the slight lift from his face to turn the switch. In fact, David had not seen this earlier but the seatmount was in fact atop of and constructed on an old second-hand automated ride mechanism, such as that you would find at a cowboy’s convention. Mrs Abdul had had it specially put together with a bondage table. It had been very skilfully done. All of the mechanical parts were hidden beneath a leather skirt, which surrounded the riding machine. David had taken this to be for sheer decoration only. However, the skirt obviously had a more sinister reason for its existence.
The switch thrown, Mrs Abdul sat back onto David’s face as the machine whirred into life. She had placed the “degree of difficulty” switch onto number 1. She did not want to be thrown off her mount so early on in his training, despite the fact that she had never been thrown before and had had the machine up to a spinning and bucking 9 (out of 10) with Kalib. On that day, David had been in his flat below and had wondered what the hell had been going on. He had finally put it down to Mrs Abdul doing her washing in her noisy washing machine combined with a spin dryer for the fourth time that day. Christ, she was a clean lady, he had thought.
The bucking motion (no spin on this setting) began in rhythmic spurts and jerks. Mrs Abdul closed her eyes and let the machine bounce her tightly jodphurred bottom on the face beneath her. Not only would the bouncing give her new seat the chance to breath, albeit very briefly as she bucked, it meant that he could do so without much loss of compression of his face under her buttocks. Thus, the feeling of his squashed face and nose against her anus were always with her. Besides, every few seconds and going with the machine, she would deliberately sit down hard on its dropping motion ready for the movement of the machine to lift her again. This kept the pressure on the seat and did not give the seat the idea that he could simply walk through the ride, as it were.
“Aahhhhh! Yes, that’s nice, now Seat! I’m gonna take a nice long ride. The timer is on an automatic three hours. I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR ANY SOUND other than the exertions of the seatmount and the creaking leather of the stirrups, coupled with the odd cropping of your bollocks. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”
David recalled the previous warning. He was about to answer but Mrs Abdul’s bottom crashed into his face just as he began to move his mouth. She felt the movement but, she would give him the benefit of the doubt “It was lucky that my bottom squashed him when it did!” she thought.
“Good!” Mrs Abdul moved herself slightly on the face beneath her. She must have perfection and that was soon achieved. She could now settle in for a long, long ride, as the machine peaked at its regular jerking motion, accompanying the bouncing flesh of her large thighs and voluminous buttocks as they crashed, every one and a half seconds on to the face beneath her.
“Yummy!” she uttered.
Next door, Kalib had heard the machine being switched on and was now listening to the motion and to the slapping of Mrs Abdul’s bottom on David’s face. He drew a sharp breath of air form the open window…

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After thirty minutes of the trotting motion, Mrs Abdul’s regular pounding on David’s face became almost hypnotic to him. His restraints meant that he could not do anything, save to lift a finger or two, to help his predicament. At each dozen bottom drops, Mrs Abdul now ground back and forth on his face, not rising at all as the next uplift gave upward momentum to her hind quarters as the bucking continued. The picture to an outsider would be as if the supreme sitter were mashing the features under her, deliberately fighting the motion of the machine. It reinforced her sitting addiction. “Saddle Grinding” she called it. Then, when the next upwards jolt came along, she new that the face underneath her had reddened twice as much as the last time and she began the heavy bouncing again. Her aim was a purple face after one hour, almost blue after two and then, at the end of three, well; the colour was anyone’s guess – as was the state of the unfortunate seat.
“You enjoyin’ the ride Seat?” The rhetorical question hit David’s ears amidst that pounding and squeaking of leather and machine. Even if he wanted to answer, or was permitted, he simply couldn’t. The massive behind now pummelling his features and leaving scent after scent deep within his nostrils was in total awe-inspiring control.
“…then lets knock the machine up a notch or two shall we?”
David’s brain squealed a big “NO!” His nose was now swollen and possibly quite well bruised. His lips felt the compression of Mrs Abdul’s now very moist crotch. He heard the click – one, two…three!!?? On to setting 4! Still no spin, but absolute and complete face banging now as the sitter was thrown into three heavy bounces per second as the “horse” went from steady trot to gentle gallop. A sharp and strong whipping of David’s balls, several times, with the well-aimed riding crop, emphasised the rider’s contempt and intent as she settled into the canter. Davi’d squealed but no one heard that. Mrs Abduls impressive bum soaked up all sound.
A wicked smile crossed Mrs Abdul’s lips as she displayed her pearl white teeth to the room. She was sure one or two of the “Namio” ladies on the pictures that surrounded her round became moist between their own legs as they, in accompaniment, smothered and punished their own slaves in they only way they could – heavy, heavy face sitting. The visions and thoughts of this made Mrs Abdul squeal will ecstasy as she realised that she was only a sixth of the time through the punishment in her jodhpurs.
“Brilliant!” she mouthed.
David didn’t know what had hit him as the bouncing and all encompassing derriere pounded on his face. At the twelfth bounce, Mrs Abdul ground down for twelve further jolts as she forced her bottom into David’s features against the powerful uplifts of the machine. It was like a battle of the Titans – with David caught in the middle. His nose was being hit by a Heavyweight Champ, but one sporting riding gear not leather, red gloves. Mrs Abdul’s rear crevice was ideally sized and located to absorb all of David’s face as she concentrated on her ride – with rigour, determination and regularity. After those twelve jolts, with her bum permanently affixed to David’s sweating face during the extreme motion, Mrs Abdul rose a little ready for the next twelve sudden poundings and David sucked in the air he so desperately needed. And it started again – bang, bang, bang…smash, smash, smash…thud, thud, thud…pound, pound, pound…bash, bash, bash…smother, smother, smother…queen, queen, queen… strain, strain, strain…sit, sit, sit…ride, ride, ride…canter, canter, canter…all in twelve seconds, then…plonk! Grind – and a squeal from above as the ass pressure forced David’s features as flat as they could go again for a further twelve seconds…
Kalib, next door, knew things were getting heavy…he was still at the window…he could hear the squeals of his Mistress and feel the pain of David…”Better him than me” he thought, appreciating the sight of a passing female in the street below, her buttocks swaying from side to side as she walked.
“I wonder if she would like to use David”, he thought…After thirty minutes of the trotting motion, Mrs Abdul’s regular pounding on David’s face became almost hypnotic to him. His restraints meant that he could not do anything, save to lift a finger or two, to help his predicament. At each dozen bottom drops, Mrs Abdul now ground back and forth on his face, not rising at all as the next uplift gave upward momentum to her hind quarters as the bucking continued. The picture to an outsider would be as if the supreme sitter were mashing the features under her, deliberately fighting the motion of the machine. It reinforced her sitting addiction. “Saddle Grinding” she called it. Then, when the next upwards jolt came along, she new that the face underneath her had reddened twice as much as the last time and she began the heavy bouncing again. Her aim was a purple face after one hour, almost blue after two and then, at the end of three, well; the colour was anyone’s guess – as was the state of the unfortunate seat.
“You enjoyin’ the ride Seat?” The rhetorical question hit David’s ears amidst that pounding and squeaking of leather and machine. Even if he wanted to answer, or was permitted, he simply couldn’t. The massive behind now pummelling his features and leaving scent after scent deep within his nostrils was in total awe-inspiring control.
“…then lets knock the machine up a notch or two shall we?”
David’s brain squealed a big “NO!” His nose was now swollen and possibly quite well bruised. His lips felt the compression of Mrs Abdul’s now very moist crotch. He heard the click – one, two…three!!?? On to setting 4! Still no spin, but absolute and complete face banging now as the sitter was thrown into three heavy bounces per second as the “horse” went from steady trot to gentle gallop. A sharp and strong whipping of David’s balls, several times, with the well-aimed riding crop, emphasised the rider’s contempt and intent as she settled into the canter. Davi’d squealed but no one heard that. Mrs Abduls impressive bum soaked up all sound.
A wicked smile crossed Mrs Abdul’s lips as she displayed her pearl white teeth to the room. She was sure one or two of the “Namio” ladies on the pictures that surrounded her round became moist between their own legs as they, in accompaniment, smothered and punished their own slaves in they only way they could – heavy, heavy face sitting. The visions and thoughts of this made Mrs Abdul squeal will ecstasy as she realised that she was only a sixth of the time through the punishment in her jodhpurs.
“Brilliant!” she mouthed.
David didn’t know what had hit him as the bouncing and all encompassing derriere pounded on his face. At the twelfth bounce, Mrs Abdul ground down for twelve further jolts as she forced her bottom into David’s features against the powerful uplifts of the machine. It was like a battle of the Titans – with David caught in the middle. His nose was being hit by a Heavyweight Champ, but one sporting riding gear not leather, red gloves. Mrs Abdul’s rear crevice was ideally sized and located to absorb all of David’s face as she concentrated on her ride – with rigour, determination and regularity. After those twelve jolts, with her bum permanently affixed to David’s sweating face during the extreme motion, Mrs Abdul rose a little ready for the next twelve sudden poundings and David sucked in the air he so desperately needed. And it started again – bang, bang, bang…smash, smash, smash…thud, thud, thud…pound, pound, pound…bash, bash, bash…smother, smother, smother…queen, queen, queen… strain, strain, strain…sit, sit, sit…ride, ride, ride…canter, canter, canter…all in twelve seconds, then…plonk! Grind – and a squeal from above as the ass pressure forced David’s features as flat as they could go again for a further twelve seconds…
Kalib, next door, knew things were getting heavy…he was still at the window…he could hear the squeals of his Mistress and feel the pain of David…”Better him than me” he thought, appreciating the sight of a passing female in the street below, her buttocks swaying from side to side as she walked.
“I wonder if she would like to use David”, he thought…

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"“Aaaaahhh! Your first hour is up Seat! Two to go – before I shed some clothing that is!”
Mrs Abdul straightened her riding hat. It had become slightly dislodged over the past ten minutes.
“Number 5 I think!”
David saw the musky haunches lift from his battered face as Mrs Abdul leaned down for the switch. It was clear that her shapely buttocks either created a nice shadow along her rear crevice or that she had become very damp. In fact, it was both, as David could feel from the sudden rush of cold air that skimmed off his moistened features. He felt the machine go up a gear but Mrs Abdul remained half-standing in the stirrups. Her eyes gazed down into his as, with a sweetness that defied her position, she smiled and blew a kiss to the well-sat on face.
“Your face looks a little hot Seat. Do you want a break?”
David eyes answered her question as the jerking buttocks above him fought with the moving ceiling for his gaze – he was still wary of replying verbally but desperate for a reprieve – this was perhaps not as bad as Kalib had illustrated.
“Okay, you can have it…”
WHAM! Mrs Abdul’s bottom rammed down again on David’s face. His nose cracked. David groaned with the pain. His groans became staccato-like as the bouncing bottom interrupted the sound every quarter of a second as the increased motion brought swimming pleasure to the sitter. Mrs Abdul smiled, evilly – in between gasps. The four-jolt-a-second motion soon flattened the soft tissue of David’s nose, now that its somewhat harder innards had lost their resistance. She would soon have her fifth orgasm.
“NOW! I’ll give you one hour exactly of this gallop before I put the seatmount through its rotational paces. You’ll like that I think! Kalib used to cry when I did it to him. I expect better of you Seat!”
Still sticking to a “twelve” combination, Mrs Abdul now decreased the time in-between Saddle-Grindings, now undertaking that particular exercise every three seconds, but then giving David no air at all for twenty-four seconds. During such times, her buttocks gyrated as if in one of those exercise belts that some ladies use to trim their buttocks. Mrs Abdul had discovered that by undertaking such sitting, especially on a face, even where the nose was flattened, assisted her in keeping her bottom in prime position to absorb the shudders – four per second. That in turn meant that she was not in direct contact with the machine and so the face beneath her was absorbing a good deal of the motion form the back of its head, especially with her weight atop of it. The result was that her bottom’s shape had bloomed over the past two and a half years into something that was, well, reminiscent of two closely entwined basket-balls…with as much bounce in them. She did not need implants – in fact, if truth be known – she could have donated most of her bottom to create another like her with just as much smothering capability.
David could stand it no more. After the first twenty-four second grind, he cried out as his sitter lifted.
“YOU BASTARD! YOU DO NOT DO THAT. WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU?!”
With that, Mrs Abdul sat squarely on the face beneath her as the machine continued with its bucking in monotonous fashion. Her buttocks looked as though they were absorbing rocket propelled grenades as they became one with the machine. This time however, she did not lift after twenty-four seconds. At one minute David was wriggling furiously despite his tight bonds. At one minute-thirty seconds David was almost done for. The rush of air to his face as his sitter lifted was all the reminder he needed – not to make any sound, despite his pain.
“Got the message Seat? Good – then I will continue.”
Sitting back down hard on the crumpled features beneath her, Mrs Abdul recommenced her three, twenty-four second routine.
Kalib closed the kitchen door. He had opened it when he had heard his Mistress’s shouts.
“David is a bastard, he agreed…a poor bastard…”"

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The weight and pounding of Mrs Abdul’s bottom was now of such a degree that David could no longer feel any pain. All he felt was absolute pressure as the twelve buttock-bounces hit his face every three seconds and then the eight-times that time of “Saddle Grinding” took place. Even when the large bottom lifted from his face, albeit only briefly, the feeling of oppressive bottom-flesh still invaded David’s senses as he bucked as one with the machine and his rider.
“You’re nearly there Seat – the end of your first trot! Just to “break” you in mind!” Mrs Abdul’s laughs cascaded around the apartment. As with a real-time horse rider approaching the stables on the country lane after a two-hour canter, Mrs Abdul allowed her heavy bottom to squash down on David’s face as she turned the control switch down to number 1 again. This meant that her bottom was in full contact with David’s features constantly but that there was still the varying weight of her buttocks as she relaxed her limbs and gave out a long sigh as her closing journey, or the first part of it, came to an end.
“A good ride seat! Very good! Just time for the seatmount to recover and then we’ll go a gallopin’ good and proper! First though – I MUST change out of this sweaty gear!”
With that, the machine was switched off and it came to a whirring halt, giving out a slight hiss as Mrs Abdul’s bottom now loomed above him and disappeared as she swung her right leg back over his forehead and dismounted, the left stirrup creaking again with the strain of her Amazonian frame.
“KALIB!” Mrs Abdul’s screech shattered the crystal silence. David tried to clear the wetness from his eyes, now half closed with the frantic motion and heavy pressure his face had endured for the last three hours. He failed. His face felt so bludgeoned that he just had to lie there and accept his fate. What the hell had he been doing accepting such an invitation?!!
“KALIB!” Mrs Abdul became impatient just as her husband opened the kitchen door.
“BRING MY COWGIRL OUTFIT AND OIL THE SEATMOUNT!”
“Yes Mistress.”
Kalib ran up the small staircase in the corner of the room to fetch the new attire. He was very careful not to crease it as he took each item of clothing from the respective hangars and drawers. The attire consisted of a pair of brown calf-length/skin boots, stitched with the motif “Grinder”, a pair of sheer black seamed stockings, thick black suspender belt (six straps capped with chrome clips), sheer silk black brief-style panties, brown calf-skin mini skirt, stitched with the motif “Face” on its side and “Place Face Under Here” (with a hand pointing downwards to the hem) on its rear, white blouse, black choker necklace, black gloves, brown leather strap – approximately two feet by three inches at its thickest end – narrowing down to a handle sized grip and a beige cowboy hat with leather brown strap around and the motif “FaceGrinder” at its front.
Mrs Abdul dressed slowly and with absolute attention to perfection as her husband oiled the machine, taking his time to ensure that all service points were inspected and injected. He knew from bitter experience that his Mistress required absolute negligible resistance from her machine as it rotated and bucked – for that what was now David could expect. He nodded to his Mistress as the last dust cap was placed on the last oil-point. He avoided David’s eyes as he passed the surrendered figure. He could nevertheless sense the extreme fear and shock from the seat. Sub-consciously, he let a drop of oil or two fall on David’s cheeks as he passed. He considered this to be merciful – it might lessen the degree of panty friction that the seat was about to receive. David noted the offering but could not move to acknowledge it. His finger twitched as Mrs Abdul’s left foot once again stepped into the left stirrup. She swung her skirted bottom over David’s features and sat quickly. Immediately, what was left of David’s nose entered her back passage, this time, a lot more easily. The black panties were a refreshing change to the tight and heavy material of Mrs Abdul’s jodhpurs. The smell of her anus was also stronger as she ensured that that part of her anatomy was well and truly located at David’s nasal entrance. “Exit to entrance” she often used to think at such times “…how fitting!” This was not before David had caught an extremely erotic glimpse of Mrs Abdul’s legs and thick thighs, encased in thickly suspendered stockings, crossing close to his eyes. Mrs Abdul’s method at such times was to entice the restrained male seat into a false sense of eroticism – for the ride that would follow would be far from simply erotic. Again, she smiled knowing that her weight was now resting fully on the tortured face beneath her. Click! Click! Click! Click! Click!…CLICK!
The 6th setting was turned on the switch as Mrs Abdul relieved David’s face, once again, of her weight, but only briefly. The seatmount sprang into life. It now seemed quicker – and quieter. The room began to spin…and spin…and spin. Mrs Abul took one look over her shoulder and sat on David’s face as the machine hit the peak of one of its accompanying jolts.
“One hour Seat…One hour. Three and twenty-four still. You know what that means by now! Giddyup!”
Kalib replaced the oil tin beneath the kitchen sink from where he had grabbed it. He had begun to sweat…

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David had never been present in any region that experienced earthquakes. But for him, the motion that he now experienced was what he imagined those faced with such natural disaster might encounter. The only grace was that he did not have to look at the gyrating ceiling. His vision was filled with greying oppression - for it was not exactly pitch black as the buttocks atop his face bounced rhythmically with the motion of the spinning and bucking seatmount. At such times and during such motion, Mrs Abdul liked to keep her bottom planted firmly on the face beneath her. And, she was expert in doing so. She did not let the machine get the upper hand as she ground down, pressing her heavy moist and scented nether regions into every crevice and feature of the squashed face. Gravity and motion assisted her in her task – together. She still gave the odd lift off the face but only very slightly. To go with the machine was better – she had learned. She was mistress of the motion so that the face beneath her absorbed all the impact of the gyrations; of the bucking, of the sheer squashing and pummelling process. All David could see were the three-second vision of perfectly shaped buttocks as they lifted briefly from his face to give him the chance to breathe. They were magnificence itself. Their knickered shape was of such degree and presentation that they could not have been sculpted better in their dreams by any of the members of Mistress destiny’s face Sitting Forum, including (and with apologies to the others who are not named) DownUnder007, Kenrug, Rennoch, Yosi, Marco, Logan, Desparate4ass, Nase, Romulus, SmothertoyUk, Al, Bumrest, noface, sinbad, face4wife2sit, rodzo, flipper, couchman, suffocated1…and that prat “Knickered”, etc…etc….etc. As far as the Mistress members are concerned well, they would clearly have their own views and those including Mistress Sitter, Mistress Taylor, FM Mistress and all were of heroine status for Mrs Abdul. She visioned the pictures that each and more of the said Mistresses had posted on their respective sites and ground down harder on poor David. The material of her panties had now been forced well into her cavernous, rear and most dark crevice as she once again lifted from the perspiring face beneath her for the obligatory and all too brief three second period then, BANG! Down came her bottom again for a further twenty-four seconds as she gripped with great strength the sides of the spinning machine with her torso-breaking thighs, forcing what was left of David’s nose well into her bottom, it now straining against the very thin barrier of her very scented knickers as the flesh of her thumping buttocks bore down and simply obliterated the face beneath her. She swore that David was groaning but the noise of the machine and her heavy panting as well as the hard slapping of her buttock-flesh against the tortured face beneath her made her doubt that. David was, against her better advice, groaning. He could not hold the strain or the stress of his position back. His face was as a practice-dummy for a professional boxer. It simply absorbed the hits time after time after time after time. But it did not bounce back, ready for the next hit. It simply lay there, strapped down to the seatmount as the oppressive and heavy, mashing buttocks did their worst. Mrs Abdul was delirious. Never had she had such a perfect sitting, not even with her husband. She notched the machine up to “7” and David felt the acceleration as once again. Mrs Abdul kindly associated his squashed nose with her anal regions; his bruised mouth with her glistening but still shielded sex and, basically, his face with her ass! BOUNCE! GRIND! PUMMELL! Twenty-four seconds of extreme pressure. Then the lift. Then the CRASH! AND SO ON….!
Kalib looked at his watch. “Another half an hour…” he thought. Better get his wife’s next outfit ready….

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“Aahhhhhhhhhhh!” Mrs Abdul cried out as her next shuddering orgasm rifled through her nether regions. Bringing the seatmount to a halt, she sat full weight on the pancaked face beneath her as if it did not exist. A cursory look by a passer-by might have led to that passer-by assuming that the lady was simply sat atop a leather bench, no more. But if that passer-by had listened intently, he or she would have heard simple desperation from beneath the curvy buttocks. Mrs Abdul did not care and, with venomous intent, she spoke,
“Kalib! Kalib! Where the hell are you? Do you want to go back under me? You might be under me soon if you don’t pull your dick out of your arse! This bastard under me will be dead soon! Come on – get me my next kit – NOW!”
“Sorry dear Mistress. Here it is…”. Kalib rushed in with the next outfit as his supreme wife stood up in the stirrups and looked down, back over her shoulder to the punished face beneath her. David gasped as if he had just been released from a deep, water logged chamber, some fathoms down. His eyes were blackened around their rims and the blood had dried around his nose. Lifting one thigh over his face. Mrs Abdul took hold of a tissue and moistened it between her full lips. Mother-like, she then wiped David’s face, paying careful attention to his nose which she then pinched between thumb and forefinger to pull upwards, as if ordering it, silently, to regain its shape so that, very soon, her bare bottom could absorb it all. David yelped and received a hard slap across his face for doing so.
“WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU SLOB?!” Mrs Abdul then picked up the wide leather strap that had lain, across David’s body well, despite the rotation of the seatmount. Then again, it was rather thick and heavy. THWACK! Mrs Abdul brought the vicious strap down over David’s face. Its tip sliced into the side of his face as if the skin were retreating under protest at the action. Then Mrs Abdul struck repeated blows to David’s upper body, particularly nipples, as deep welts appeared quickly. This gave Mrs Abdul the passion that she needed for the final mount of the day.
Kalib was still holding the skimpy outfit. It consisted of a set of leather straps attached to a leather pair of panties which themselves had what seemed to David (out of the corner of his bruised eye) to be an attachment of sorts. The boots were thigh high. That was the extent. Soon, Mrs Abdul was dressed. The leather straps were now over her shoulders and David could see that they were attached to the knicker attachment. Knickers seated and boots thighed, Mrs Abdul put her left leg into the stirrup near her. She then, very slowly, straddled the face beneath her, smiling down over her shoulder as she did so. She liked this stage, very much. The poor seat never knew what to expect.
“Kalib!” She boomed – “ZIP!”
Kalib rushed to undo the fastener on the knicker attachment itself. From where David was, he could soon see the very dark crevice of the bottom atop of him as the zip was drawn up and as the material parted as if in mock and inviting gesture at what they would soon have a part in doing to him.
“PUSH IT IN!”
Mrs Abdul was impatient – as always!
“Yes Mistress dear” he said as, looking at David’s worried face almost apologetically, Kalib pushed his right hand under David’s head and lifted it as far as the restraining straps would allow, after a little necessary adjustment.
“He placed right?”
Kalib nodded in answer to his wife’s question. SQUASH! David’s face once again disappeared beneath the now semi-naked derriere. Wriggling a little on the nose beneath her, Mrs Abdul commanded that the zip was to be drawn down and round the back of her knicker attachment quickly, fully and thoroughly. Kalib struggled but eventually, David’s face was entombed. She then ordered her husband to bring the silver loops on each side of the attachment together and to padlock them, waving to a shelf where she had placed the locks earlier. Kalib scuttled obediently and soon, David was well and truly encased.
“Now – the straps! Tighten them fully!”
Kalib hesitated. Already, David’s face must have merged soundly with his wife’s bottom.
“DO IT!”
He did! Pull on the back of the straps at shoulder height, Kalib drew the knicker attachment as tight as he dare as the pressure and pull of the leather harness fought with the pull-down of the leather straps around the seatmount.
“AAAAHHHH!” Mrs Abdul groaned as she felt David’s nose give again. That said, it had inserted itself well and truly into her anus, which she had deliberately opened as much as she dare for the purpose. The grinding of her hips and more definite seating of her now dripping crotch on David’s mouth was the unspoken signal for him to begin the cunnilingus, which she now demanded.
“NOW FUCK OFF!” Swinging the heavy strap out wide, Mrs Abdul connected brilliantly with her husband’s forehead, knocking him over. He quickly crawled back into the kitchen, leaving an angry and excited lady well seated atop of a whimpering and crying seat.
“Now David. The next treatment…” Mrs Abdul spoke as if she were a nurse talking simply but firmly to a patient.
David didn’t answer. He was just managing to draw small breaths under the musky pressure cooker that was now sat on his face.
“Number 8!”
Bang! The seatmount kicked into life again. This time, Mrs Abdul could not lift off the prone face beneath her. But she still strained and went with the momentum. Now, at all times, David’s face was well and truly attached to her bottom. Well it was more than that. His face was actually so merged with her bottom that her buttock flesh had moulded itself into David’s eye sockets and, as Mrs Abdul could feel, his nose had now entered her puckered anus. She intended to keep it there with careful riding.
“9……10!” Mrs Abdul shouted as the gyration became absolute. As it happened, the tight arse bondage that David’s face was now in helped Mrs Abdul with her balance. What she had not told David though was that if she lost her balance, then he would be simply decapitated. She grinned evilly at the thought.
“You’d better not dismount me David! So that means putting up with where you are for at least the next hour…or even two!”
Over the next three hours, David’s world was oppression itself. He could not breathe, he could not move. Straps from above were pulling his head upwards. Straps from below were pulling his head downwards. Leather encased his face and head. His body was now very tight under its bonds on the seatmount and through its movement had seemingly and naturally tightened themselves. Above all, his face was crushed by a ballooning and very heavy, damp, bottom, which seemed itself to be mocking the face which it dominated totally. It had no concern for the pathetic male feature as it ground and pressed and bounced and wriggled on the visage. Mrs Abdul was in absolute heaven as she orgasmed again and then very soon after ejaculated fully into David’s mouth. David fought the deluge, as he then had to rely only on his broken nose to draw breath. Getting the sickly sweet smell of Mrs Abdul’s bottom as he did, he began, finally to regret his decision. But, there was no going back now. The only slight relief came as Mrs Abdul’s shuddering body calmed into a ripple, evidenced by the animated buttocks as they described the innermost feelings of the body, part of which they graced magnificently. David began to choke.
“Oh My!” Mrs Abdul exclaimed as she switched the machine off, patting its side for a job well done.
“We can’t have you choking – here, have another drink…!
With that a torrent of piss hit the back of David’s throat. It seemed that she was emptying an ocean-going tanker to David as one, and then two, and then three minutes passed. Mrs Abdul was kind enough to release the straps over her shoulders and unzip the knicker attachment as she rose. David’s nose plopped out of her behind like a cork. It had gone slightly brown at the tip. Mrs Abdul couldn’t decide whether that was because of dried blood or something else. Still though she pressed her sex over the mouth of the seat. Gulping down his last drops, David closed his eyes. The darkness, which he had held off for so long was now, inevitably creeping up on him as, starved of oxygen, his body wanted to hibernate. Several whacks of the strap across his exposed balls however soon brought him to consciousness as his sitter dismounted in one swift movement, dancing on her feet as she hit the ground with both, hand on David’s chest. He winced with the pain.
“Good! Have an hour off David and I’ll be back later…I’m in the mood now!”
David stared, motionless at the ceiling. Well, he thought, at least I’ve got an hour.
Kalib readied the meal. His wife would be ravenous…

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