Compliments to the Chef
by Voidmasterdom

Warning: This story references face farting and humiliation.

I'd usually wear something quite lavish, perhaps an embellished lace dress below a extravagantly knitted vest top. I'd have my lush black hair loose, the long, wavy strands purposefully alluring and yet present with an undeniable, practiced discipline. I'd walk with delightfully beguiling strides, careful to ensure my image is maintained as my tall, arousing figure was witnessed in public.

In fact, when I dined at 'Lagrad' earlier, one of the most renowned restaurants in the country, I wore a similar attire. I ate with my friend Suna, the young wife of Murat Demir, the owner of a successful international oil tycoon. Suna, whilst technically worth more than me, acted almost as a cautionary tale against marriage. She clearly hated her husband, enduring him for the sake of  money. I myself was much happier alone, as my desires could be fulfilled without interruption, and money was never an issue.

As I sit in front of the large emerald mirror, I feel myself unravel into my true form, establishing a previously jailed individuality. I tie my hair back into a neat but extravagant bun, and change into an attire more suitable for the rest of my day. I wear a pair of tight, black chino pants, with a white, tucked in blouse. I fold my clothes and place them neatly in their appropriate drawers. When I'm done, I sigh, hold my hands against my hips, and then feel the heavy brewing of my dinner inside me. Here it comes. I really should save it, but there's no harm in testing it out.

I enter one of my pearl tiled bathroom suites. I close the door, and still holding it, bend down, just a little, my ass extended towards the sink. Then, I give a little squeeze, and soon the room echoes with the explosive force of my sharp, unladylike toot. It lasts only a second, but as I breath a sigh of relief and  relax my posture, I take a sniff of the air around me and instantly regret it. It was an harsh, meaty, rotten smell which quickly overwhelms my sinuses and burns through my nose. I grab my nostrils and pinch them  before uttering a disgusted retch.

Realizing I can't stay in here for long, I slam the door behind me as I escape in the fresh air of the living room. I'm not going to be able to enter that bathroom for at least the next few hours. My god, that smell was utterly vile, it's tang entirely unendurable, it's bitter aroma potently revolting. The Menemen from this morning clearly influenced the strength of that fart, but the digested Manti and the Bakali Enginar was discernible in the noxious stench of my cloud of flatulence. I could not wait to see how my new toy will react to this.

Another fart brews in my toned belly, causing my bowels to become heavy as a group of farts churns through my gut. It is almost painful, but a soft, dull, arousing pain which represents new opportunities to use my toy in ways I haven't before. The food has evidently not only given me hours of gas, but also strengthened the smell of them beyond what the normal human nose can endure. It's a good job I've starved him, otherwise he would throw up instantly from the stench.

Entering my study, I walk towards the oak cabinet on one side of the room. Opening that up, I press a latch and then pull the wooden slab at the other side of the cabinet, which loosened, making it possible to move through an hidden gap in the wall. It was heavy due to the soundproofing, but I am a strong woman, and soon I saw down into the descending, darkened staircase that was revealed, before closing the slab behind me and walking down the aforementioned stairs.

The dark permeates my view before I reach the bottom of the stairs. There is steel door with a latch on. Beyond that is the silence ensured by the chamber I had installed specifically for the purpose of containment. I feel a smile stretch across my face as I take solace in the fact that this place would never be discovered, and that I could do whatever I wanted to the poor guy inside.

Slowly, I open the door. As it begins to screech hard against the concrete floor I hear from within the pained, terrified whimpering of my new slave. I feel almost wet listening to his muffled cries, and so I purposefully slow the opening of the door so that he can truly anticipate the horror of his next few hours. He knew from the torture that I was a sadistic, evil, unmerciful demon, but today he's going to learn how his sense of smell can be used against him as a torture worse than anything he's gone through before.

He was bolted in a crawling position on the ground, his mouth gagged. Winking, I display a soft smile, then close the door, bending over a little to show off my ass, mainly as a form of 'rubbing it in'. I am his owner, he has no choice but to be on the receiving end of whatever I have to inflict upon him. The bruises and cuts on his skin showed this clearly, and his meek, pathetic shaking frame shows me how I inspire in him great terror. His face is red as he stares towards me, his screwed up eyes begging me to release him.

'I'm going to be here for several hours, so, just to let you know, you're going to be very busy for quite some time. Oh, and you're really not going to like it,' he whimpers as I approach him, 'I think it's time I show you how little I care for your anguish, and also show you what you can expect to endure for the rest of your life. Boy, this is going to be so fun.'

When I was close enough, I bend down until my face is level with his, smirking as I stare into his eyes, which are full of welling tears. I don't blame him, he knows the suffering he is about to endure, now it's just the time to tell him specifics, to mock him with promises of his torment. I'm going to make him regret his decision to travel to this country by himself, to agree to speak and follow me through that alleyway. He was such a pathetic, scared little man, barely able to speak in the presence of such a beautiful woman. Now he was my slave.

'I have just had HUGE lunch at one of the finest restaurants in this country, and unfortunately, for you, at least, I have awful gas', I grin as his face twists in fearful confusion, 'but at least I have my little slave here to endure them for me. You're about to learn that the sense of smell can be used in torture just as much as the sense of touch. God, you're so fucked.'

He began to struggle against his restraints. Clearly the idea of being my little fart receptacle disgusts him, and he despises the idea of being used to soak up my stink. Well, that's just too bad, because he's going to be absorbing my flatulence for quite some time, and I'll be making this quite a frequent torture for him. After all, it's better than stinking up my house, better than having to avoid certain areas in my own home for a few hours after releasing a gust of foul anal wind.

I turn and kneel down, my ass facing him. Pressing my hands into the floor, I lean forwards until my ass stretches out in front of him, an inch or so from his nose. Carefully, I crawl backwards upon the cold concrete until his nose, which has been locked in place due to the way he was bound, rubs up against my crack. Shifting my hips from side to side I notice he is breathing quite heavily. Oh god, it must be that fart from before. He can smell the etched scent of it embedded in the material of my pants and he hates it. That was hilarious.

'I feel one coming', I say, tensing up as  my slave lay shaking in his chains. He has nowhere to go, and I am going to let one rip, right up his big, ugly nose. He better be ready for this one, because it's not going to be pretty.

My belly expands until I push, closing my eyes as my anus puckers and an airy, thick, brassy fart rips through the material of my chinos. I can literally feel the labored inhalations of his nose as it sucks up the nasty, Turkish fart. Even as it continues to loosen from my bowels I feel him convulsing against the flesh of my ass. As it finally forces it's way out I release an audible sigh of relief and press my face into my resting hands, stretching my ass out further for the stink to envelop his face.
He is gagging when the smell finally hit me. My god, how can he deal with it? I can smell it's meaty, rotten, puke inducing smell and have to shake it away. It is almost a solid, it is that thick and nasty, I can even imagine it coiled around my skin. It is so bad that I have to try and block my nose to avoid smelling it any more. I tighten my cheeks around his face, hoping this would block out any future smell, because that is fucking nasty. He knows it too, his howling wretches making this clear. I look behind into his eyes to see them redden as tears trail down his face.

'Jesus Christ, that stinks', I tease, coughing a little in reaction to the lingering smell as I open my nasal cavity, 'how can you put up with it back there, slave? How can you live with the knowledge that this is only the beginning, that you're going to smell so much more and much worse in the next few hours? I told you noses could be tortured pretty effectively. Don't worry, it won't be long before I need to fart again.'

Resting, I sigh and hum to myself, the background silent apart from my slave's soft whimpering. I keep my butt firmly against his nose, after all it's not going to be long before I need to cut the cheese once again, and he knows it. In fact, even thinking about it now, I feel something brewing deep inside me, something monstrous and heavy. Oh god, is it going to come that soon?

The answer is yes. I feel it conjure inside me, like some foul magic I was to inflict upon one of my test subjects. The sensation of my belly expanding with gas made me feel incredibly aroused. I think it is the anticipation, the knowledge that I held the weapon of my trump upon my brink of release, the power of being able to decide weather or not my slave will be smelling my fart (the answer is almost always that he will).

I tense up, press my ass into him, tighten my gut and release a steamy, noxious fart which blows audibly into his open nostrils. I time it to coincidence with him inhaling, and accurately align my asshole to his nose so that it all is vacuumed up as he is breathing. The smell, a kind of overwhelming rotten veggie stench, permeates the air and causes me to cough as it passes my nose. He was making a kind of piggish squeal as he attempts to move away from my crack, but he has been tied in such a way that he was completely immobile, and so all I can feel on the hem of my pants is his nose rubbing up and down the material as he desperately fails to pull away. That was good, because he is in the perfect position to take the fart that was about to be loosened upon his tainted nose.

It is a loud, impressive explosion of flatulence that rips violently from my puckering asshole. It is short, but clearly it is also disgusting, because instantly my slave resumes his hectic heaves and his tearful choking. The smell fuses with the previous to create a cloud of excess fart that is unbearable, even as the air masks it partially. He must be in hell right now.

Surprisingly, my gut has not finished torturing my slave's nose, and less than 10 second after the previous two farts I feel and press out a bubbling, rapidly ascending trump which attacks his nose in a succession of sharp toots, until it ended in a high pitched gust of air. It strengthens the cloud of rank fart around us and becomes indistinguishable in the accumulative smell. The slave releases a high, whiny cry as the overwhelming smell burns his sinuses and causes his eyes to water.

'I assume you can smell that, because, oh my, it really does smell quite awful, doesn't it? I don't know how can you bare it. I mean, I'm sorry, I don't even think I can stay down here for long, it's making me feel ill,' I say, slowly standing up, 'Nope, I can't stand it. Its unbearable. It's a good job I don't feed you, else you would have choked on your own puke.'

He looks relieved for a second as I pull my pants slightly further up my waist (they had fallen a little when his nose had been pressed into them) and waft the air around me, my face screwed up in disgust. The air is still bad, but much more bearable from this distance. Still, he really shouldn't be relieved. I had purchased a tool that I am about to use on him that will not only ensure I don't have to smell much, if any, of the fart, but that no trace of it would be wasted.

Grinning as I fumble around in the drawer beside the torture rack and the toilet, I pull out what looks to be a leather mask with a clear plastic jaw mold and tube. As I turn to face him I notice that his eyes have become drawn to the mask, and have widened as a result. He then looks upon me with terror so defined that I'm almost coming from his visceral fear alone. Then I feel a brewing mass of flatulence in my gut and widen my own eyes, still staring at him.

'Oh, did you think you wouldn't have to smell any more farts? God, you're so dense.', I chuckle, blowing him a kiss as my belly audibly rumbles.

Excited, I rush towards him, ignoring his shaking frame as I snap the mask on his face and then insert the two tubes into his nose. They expand to the form of his nostrils as to ensure that no fresh air would escape. I walk speedily back to the other side of the room, pick up the tube, and press a latch on it that blocks all air from coming up the tube.

Whilst I fiddle with the tube, he begins to really struggle. After all, he is suffocating to death, as he can't breath through either his mouth, nor his nose. I pull back my belt a little and, facing away from him, his face aligned with my bum despite the distance between us, pull the tube down my pants. I meddle with it until I feel it close around my bare ass crack. Perfect.

I don't have time to taunt him. I unlatch the air flow and instantly push out a long, trailing, rapid succession of greasy farts. They feel like they are deflating my belly, as they end with a loud humid, gritty explosion which drowns out his screams, if only for a second. And oh boy is he screaming. I giggle in a minx manner as his animalistic screaming ensures me that the smell really is that nauseating. God, I should have recorded this. Well, there's always next time.

Turning my head, I see his red, pain stricken face. It looks like he wants me to put him out of his misery, as he is nothing but pain and humiliation and wants to die. I look at the tube, see that it had fogged up due to the force of the fart. My slave continues to convulse, dry retching until his shrieking throat can no longer withstand his agonized wailing. He tries to keep his eyes away from my face, but he can't also bare to look at the well toned ass before him. I smile at him, using my cute expression to rub in the fact that he was literally inhaling pure fart. His face is red and is soaking with glistening tears, a pure representation of a broken man capable only of suffering and disgust. That suits me fine.

Still silently staring at him, I push and let out a compact, trumpeting fart which thunders up the tube with precision and ease. It is only a quick one, but it is one I can rip whilst my gut creates more rancid, long, nose burning farts. His face almost instantly twists into an ugly, disgusted grimace as his eyes water and he begins to cough dryly, closing his eyes and shaking his head as much as he can as his labored breathing is vacuums it up. I'm staring at him the entire time, satisfied by the repulsion I see take over him as the smell endures in his nostrils.

'Jesus, this is so much fun', I giggle, 'you really do look quite ill. Are you feeling sick? Aww, poor slave. Do you know what's so good about farts? Well, I can keep you in my basement and torture you daily, but there's no chance that you'll succumb from the smell. Do you know what that means?'

His eyes twist as tears began to well up, flowing down like a waterfall.

'It means that you can keep being my slave forever. Isn't that great? There's no chance of me killing you, so you can be here everyday when I want to make your life a stinking misery. That's really good for me, I'm tired of having to dispose of my slaves, this is a much more efficient way of ensuring I get to keep just one slave my whole life. No longer will I have to worry about the police investigation into the bodies found dumped in the river. Oh, and talking of dumping, I really think I need to take a huge, smelly dump myself.'

This information seems to overload him. His head vibrates and his hoarse throat makes a sound I can only describe as the sound of a soulless create upon the brink of the most painful, terrifying truth imaginable.

'Oh, don't worry', I give him a huge grin as I feel my belly expand even further, 'I'll make sure to involve you in the relieving of my bowels. But before we do that, let's see how bad my pre-poop farts smell, huh? I've got a huge one to let loose right now. Jesus, this is going to be fucking hilarious.'

I turn my head before pressing the latch which stops his flow of oxygen. I let it build up even more this time, until I can feel the fart begin to unravel itself from my bowels. Whilst my slave croaks I unlatch the air flow, and then immediately, as he was breathing in as heavily as he could, squeeze out the fart.

Oh my god. It is the longest, grittiest fart I had let loose in a long time. It bubbles out violently and loud, it's sound vibrating up the tube. I sigh even as the fart continues to leave my bowels, shooting up the tube and into my slave's nostrils, burning my anus as it left. Even after it ends and the dry croaking of my slave continues, an hoarse and hideous sound that truly displays his agony in reaction to the smell, I still feel unrelieved. In fact, I struggle to remain upright as my bowels churn violently. Jesus, I am going to annihilate that toilet.

'Breath that in slave, consider it practice for what's about to come. I think I can hold it in a little longer, let you endure that smell for a little longer before your torment is to be taken to the next level.'

Weeping, he endures it for a minute or so, but I can't hold it in for much longer so I pull the tube up from my pants and turn towards the toilet. It is next to the torture rack, and clearly hasn't been cleaned in quite some time. Still, it is actually connected to the main pipe system and could flush (my first slave was a plumber, and oh boy did I make sure he got to test out his product), and so I don't have to worry about cleaning it out.

I attach the tube to the bowl of the toilet, latching it a few inches from the water. I turn and pull my pants down until my bare, sweating ass looms over the toilet. My slave looks like he would rather go to an actual hell rather than endure what is about to come, but there is nothing he can do but watch as I mount the bowl, and push.

Suddenly the bowl vibrates with a series of gross, wet explosions. Jesus, the smell that is coming from up from under my ass almost instantly makes me want to throw up, but still the toilet doesn't stop echoing out as my sloppy, wet dump detonates around the porcelain bowl. I finish, and release a huge sigh of relief. The loud noise of my dump no longer masks the weeping, wretched screams that burns through my slave's already damaged throat.

Whilst he endures the smell of that wretched, disgusting toilet I stand up and waddle a few feet away to the bidet my plumber slave had installed. Feeling the flow of the water against my loose anus feels great as I watch my slave's face twist into a wrinkled mass of reddened skin as he convulses hard and violently.

'Well, that's it for today', I say whilst I'm pulling my pants back up around my ass, 'wasn't that just the most awful experience of your life? Anyway, you don't have to worry, I'll be back later to feed you scraps. Also, because I'm a real bitch, I'm going to keep the tube in, and I ain't gonna flush that nasty toilet. You'll never forget what your role is now, will you, shit sniffer?'

Ignoring his pleads, I walk back up the stairs, closing the torture dungeon as I did so. It is arousing, knowing that as I relax in my large mansion, my slave is suffering beneath me. What he doesn't know is that I am going to make sure that he's in the same position every time I leave him alone after one of our many sessions. Still, he's suffering enough for now anyway. One thing is sure, that meal was amazing.