The Ritual Of Submission
The afternoon sun had dipped below the horizon, casting our bedroom in shadows. My husband stood by the bed, already naked, his muscular body silhouetted against the fading light. He didn't need to speak I knew what was expected of me. My knees hit the hardwood floor before he even turned around.
"Good girl," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. "You know what I need tonight."
I nodded, my throat dry with anticipation. He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself on all fours, his back arched and his ass raised high in the air. The sight of him like that so vulnerable, so dominant made my cunt ache.
"Come here," he ordered. "I want you to bury your face in it."
I crawled across the floor, my fingers trembling as I reached the edge of the mattress. His asshole was right there, pink and puckered, surrounded by the coarse hair of his crack. I could smell him already the earthy, masculine scent of sweat and skin. But that wasn't all he had planned.
"First," he said, reaching back to spread his cheeks apart, "I want you to smell me. Really smell me. Put your nose right against my hole and breathe in deep."
I obeyed without hesitation. Leaning forward, I pressed my face into the warm flesh of his ass. My nostrils flared as I inhaled, filling my lungs with his raw, musky odor. It was intoxicating the scent of a man who owned me completely. I stayed there, breathing him in, my tongue aching to taste him.
"Not yet," he growled. "I have something else for you first."
I felt him tense, heard a low grunt escape his lips. Then came the sound I'd come to crave a soft, wet rumble from deep within his bowels. The fart escaped his ass in a long, slow burst, aimed directly at my face. The warm air hit my nose and mouth, carrying with it the full, pungent stench of his insides.
I didn't flinch. I didn't pull away. Instead, I inhaled deeper, letting the foul, meaty odor coat my tongue and fill my sinuses. It was him, all of him. His dominance, his control, his willingness to use me in the most degrading way possible. My pussy soaked my panties as I breathed in his gas.
"That's it," he said, his voice thick with pleasure. "Take it all. Smell how dirty your husband is. You love this, don't you?"
"Yes," I whispered against his hole. "I love it."
He let out another fart, this one shorter and sharper, like a bark of triumph. I felt the vibration against my lips and inhaled greedily. The smell was stronger now, more concentrated, a blend of digested food and intestinal musk that made my head spin with arousal.
"Now," he said, his tone shifting to something darker, "it's time for your tongue to get to work."
He didn't need to tell me twice. I stuck out my tongue and pressed it flat against his asshole, tasting the faint residue of his farts. The flavor was salty, earthy, bitter everything I craved. I circled his rim with my tongue, teasing the tight muscle before pushing inside.
He moaned, his hips pressing back against my face. "Deeper. Eat my ass like the whore you are."
I obeyed, plunging my tongue as far into his hole as I could. The taste of him filled my mouth warm, musky, and utterly addictive. I lapped at his inner walls, cleaning him from the inside out, savoring every bit of his filth. My hands gripped his thighs, pulling him closer as I buried my face deeper into his crack.
He farted again, this time right onto my tongue as it was buried inside him. The burst of air and sound vibrated through my mouth, and I swallowed it, taking his gas into my body. It was the ultimate act of submission accepting his waste, his odor, his very essence.
"Fuck, yeah," he groaned. "You're such a dirty little slut for me. You'll do anything I say, won't you?"
I couldn't answer my mouth was too full of his ass. But I moaned in agreement, my tongue working faster, harder, fucking his hole with desperate strokes. His asshole clenched around my tongue, squeezing it, milking it for every drop of devotion I had to offer.
He reached back and grabbed a fistful of my hair, pulling my face even tighter against him. "Don't you dare stop until I tell you to. I want to feel your tongue in my ass until I cum."
I redoubled my efforts, my nose pressed so hard against his perineum that I could feel his pulse. The smell of his ass was overwhelming now a thick, heady fog of sweat, shit, and sex. It permeated my hair, my skin, my clothes. I would smell like him for days, and I loved it.
He started to rock his hips, fucking my face while I rimmed him. His asshole gaped and tightened around my tongue, and I drove deeper, tasting the bitter traces of his colon. When he farted again, it was a long, wet groan that seemed to go on forever. The warm gas filled my mouth and throat, and I swallowed it all, letting it settle in my stomach like a dark sacrament.
"God, I love using you like this," he said, his voice ragged. "Your tongue feels so good inside me. You're going to make me cum just from eating my ass."
I wanted that more than anything. I wanted to feel his orgasm ripple through him while my tongue was buried in his hole. I wanted to taste his pleasure, to be the cause of it, even in this filthy, taboo way.
He pushed my head back, just enough to look over his shoulder. "Lick my balls," he commanded. "Then come back to my ass."
I slid my tongue down from his hole, over his perineum, and onto his heavy, hairy ballsack. I licked each one slowly, savoring the salt of his skin, before taking one into my mouth and sucking gently. He groaned, his balls tightening in my mouth.
Then I moved back up, tracing a wet path along his crack until I reached his asshole again. I pressed my lips against it, kissing it like I would his mouth, before diving back in with my tongue.
He was panting now, his body trembling with need. "I'm close. I'm going to cum, and I want you to keep licking my ass while I do."
I didn't stop. I couldn't. My tongue was a machine of devotion, fucking his hole with relentless precision. His moans turned into grunts, his hips jerking as his orgasm built.
"Now," he growled. "I'm cumming."
His body stiffened, and I felt his asshole clench around my tongue one last time before releasing. He shuddered above me, his cock spurting ropes of cum onto the sheets below. I kept licking, kept tasting, kept worshipping his ass through his climax.
When he finally collapsed onto the bed, spent and breathing hard, I pulled my face away, my chin slick with his sweat and the remnants of his farts. He turned over, his eyes half-lidded with satisfaction.
"Get up here," he said, pulling me onto the bed. "I want to taste myself on your lips."
I crawled up his body, my mouth hovering over his. He kissed me deeply, his tongue sliding into my mouth, tasting the mingled flavors of his ass, his farts, and his own desire.
"You're mine," he whispered against my lips. "And I'm going to use you every way I want."
I smiled, my pussy dripping onto his thigh. "I'm counting on it."