By: causticblast
Content advisory: fart fetish (sadistic), girldick/futanari, sweaty stink & musk-based torture
The past few days had all but blurred into one smelly mess in the fallen samurai’s mind, like a streak of sticky cum left smeared across the very folds of her brain. After her will had been thoroughly broken by the two Vikings, she was taken aboard their vessel and became their seafaring servant on their journey home. A corner of the lower deck became her permanent post. No restraints were necessary, as they knew she would do little to resist, and would not get far in any attempt to escape.
The passage of time down here was just as viscous as their loads, but it seemed like there was never an hour that went by without at least one of them coming downstairs to “relieve themselves of their urges.” And indeed, their urges were frequent, visceral, and aggressive. Whenever they came down to have their way with her, even if she could muster no enthusiasm for any of their various nauseating emissions, she took to obediently assuming the proper position to receive their vicious farts, or their smearing bodily sweat, or their brutal face-fucking with their filthy cocks. Even in the pitch-black darkness of a cloudy night, when Yrsa awoke with a gurgling bout of torrential farts after an evening of severe drinking; even on an especially hot sunny day, when Ravna’s ass was sweating enough to form a trickling river between her meaty cheeks; even after stormy winds, where both of them had to diligently maintain the ship’s course, building up immense stress and fermenting their disgusting gas for an entire day until they could finally unleash themselves upon her—even under all those conditions, she remained their obedient fart-sucking, sweat-licking cumslut.
Slight differences in the curvature of their foul, unwashed asses had burned themselves into her memories. Even in an oxygen-deprived haze, she could readily adjust her head and neck angle to better accommodate either of her filthy mistresses. Ravna’s round shapely cakes easily molded themselves around the bridge of her nose and preferred to sit with her neck tilted down, while Yrsa had a heavier and more muscular set of asscheeks that warranted a higher angle with firm pressure. The same was true for the girthy packages they carried in their fronts, as well. Despite the variability across different days, their stiff, sweat-stained rods had distinct aromas, with Yrsa smelling more of decaying fish and Ravna always reminiscent of spoiled meat.
Truly, it felt like her synapses had been rewired and her thoughts themselves had been recontextualized to better serve her Valkyrie captors, even if it was against her will. Attempting to introspect only left her more confused, as she was unable to reach a confident conclusion whether she hated this treatment, accepted her fate, or even—against all reason—was somehow beginning to find an ounce of enjoyment in it. Thankfully, thinking was becoming increasingly difficult, as the gallons of cum and farts exploding into her mouth every day was choking out her brain. She let Ravna and Yrsa drown her more contemplative side, at least willing to accept that servitude was easier without it.
One thing was for sure: any hopes of their stench growing less offensive over time had been thoroughly dashed since day one. If anything, Ravna and Yrsa’s farts only seemed more vile and more numerous now that they had access to their stash of beers and ales. The added bubbly frothing in their already-volatile guts certainly allowed them to reach new heights in their stinking backblasts. And the taste of cum as it splattered against the walls of her mouth and throat—well, that sensation was not easy to get used to.
To add to the sensation of drowning in their sweltering stench and bodily musk, because she was only kept below deck, there was little ventilation to save her from the remnants of whatever stink she did not filter through her nose. The fetid stink of salty sweat, swampy farts, and slobbering cum had all merged into one vividly miasmic odor, and it was only growing worse in the cramped, dark underbelly of the ship.
On this particular morning, as she awoke to that familiar, gut-wrenching stench that perfused her nose and mouth, her stomach felt especially heavy and burdensome. Though her memory was hazy, she was able to grasp at strands of why this might be.
Last night’s “relief” session was an extra-special one, as Ravna and Yrsa declared when they came down to greet her together. After another drinking contest between the two—which had given them yet another case of extreme bubble guts that they used to their advantage—they had decided to attempt a “cumshot contest”, competing to see who could fill their cumdump thrall with more loads. She couldn’t remember who had won, but she could certainly remember the numerous splattering shots of hot, sticky cum all over her body, inside and out. Over the course of several hours, as groans of pleasure and sadistic laughter echoed over the waters from their ship, they quickly learned that the disgraced samurai could only fit about a dozen hefty loads before she started struggling to swallow. The thick layer of filth coating the inside of her throat made it difficult to take the full length of their sweaty shafts. Of course, they were quick to find an alternative. Propping her up on the edge of a barrel allowed them to grab her legs and take turns pumping her slick pussy until they burst, blowing her insides full of multiple serial loads. Just as they did with her gagging throat, they gave her tight cockslit no reprieve, and by the time the two mistresses declared their heaving balls finally empty, their captive fuckslut had been pumped full of so much of their cum that she looked heavily pregnant. Even after a night of residual cum oozing out between her thighs, she reached down and felt a sloshing belly full of their thick, rich juices.
The entire ordeal was a blur of orgasms and quivering legs, as she was barely even able to keep herself together throughout the repeated cockslamming. Ravna and Yrsa had ravenous appetites, fucking her silly and pushing her well past the point of sexual exhaustion. The pheromonal scent of her own dripping desires became just another ingredient to the intoxicating blend of bodily smells in the rank air. And in retrospect, some small part of her enjoyed being used as a piece of fuckmeat like that. She was a shell of her former self, now that the self-righteous sense of pride and honor had been hollowed out of her through constant sensory assaults via sloppy blowjobs and even sloppier farts. Even if the stinking odors made her nose want to curl inside out, she knew her place.
Her hazy thoughts were interrupted as the door slammed open and sunlight suddenly streamed into her makeshift bunk. She looked up through the hot solar rays, wondering what form of sensory degradation she’d be submitting to this morning.
However, where she expected to see the two now-familiar Vikings, she was instead surprised to see a literal knight in shining armor, flanked on both sides by two lesser squires. With a helm tucked under her arm and a sword in her scabbard, this was a tall, ferocious woman of similar stature to Ravna or Yrsa, but with a distinctive air of elegance surrounding her that they had lacked. Her blonde hair seemed to glimmer in the sunlight, and as she studied her captive form, her piercing blue eyes seemed to penetrate into her skull. She walked about with purpose in her stride, though there was a certain grimace that was fixed upon her chiseled face.
It took another few seconds for the rest of her working brain cells—the ones that weren’t already drowned by Viking stink—to wake up and catch on. Running her gaze over the knight’s armor, she picked up on the blue and gold color palette and a recognizable fleur-de-lis motif checkered over the surface. French. And their presence on this ship had some serious implications.
As if recognizing her thoughts by her face, the knight spoke first.
“Your masters are no longer aboard this ship. We are commandeering it for ourselves.”
The girl, whose vestigial memories of serving as a dutiful samurai had not yet fully escaped her, looked up at the fair-haired lady with a curious, almost hopeful look in her eyes. “...Am I free?”
To that, the knight laughed. “I don’t think so. We captured this ship, and now we take the supplies on board. You were clearly abandoned here as part of the cargo, so you now belong to us.”
“For what purpose?” Her voice didn’t sound like her own. The words seemed to stick to her throat coming out, and not just because her gullet was already coated in gooey Viking cum.
The knight’s grin grew even wider as she came down on one knee, bringing herself even closer as they locked eyes. “The same purpose you served your previous masters. And—” Pulling back, she made a show of fanning her hand in front of her face. “—ough, given how much you stink, I think I have a clue as to what your role was on this ship.”
The disgraced samurai could feel her heartbeat picking up, growing faster and more anxious under the piercing gaze of this armor-clad warrior. “You really think you know what they used me for?”
She was already turning her back and preparing to leave. “Well, it certainly wasn’t for cleaning this ship, that’s for sure.” Then, she gestured to her attendants. “Bring her aboard. We’re leaving after that—there’s nothing more to take.”
“Yes, madame,” the two of them said in unison. They moved aside to allow her to ascend out of the cramped lower deck, and then turned to the disheveled captive they had been left to deal with.
She stared back at them, eyes still adjusting to the light, unsure what to think. So it seemed she was going to be serving a new mistress, now that the Viking ladies were nowhere to be found. Was this her ultimate fate? To be tossed around with little regard, back and forth between captors? She silently directed these questions to the two squires with her pleading eyes, and found a peculiar mixture of fear and pity in theirs.
While the pity was for her, the fear was not. It was no leap of logic to deduce that these lowly squires were intimidated by the towering noblewoman they served, though what she did (or threatened to do) to keep them that way, she had no way of knowing. Though they seemed like boys, she could readily see that they were dressing and composing themselves to look feminine, perhaps at the behest of their knight. Soft dainty hands, full lips, wide hips—these were all features that Ravna and Yrsa often enjoyed about her own body when she was serving them; if she were to take a guess, she figured that the knight was using them in a similar fashion, taking advantage of their small, frail physiques.
With little else to go off of, and finding this entire situation a bit difficult to grasp, she decided she had no option but to let them escort her up and off this ship. As the three of them walked out of the stench-ridden lower compartments, she tried to catch their gaze again, but found that they seemed to be avoiding her eyes.
Once above deck, however, the one to her right finally gave in and whispered, “Sorry, but it’s either you or us here…!”
The shaky tone of his voice startled her, betraying a more visceral anxiety than his gaze did. Perhaps her initial guess was very close to the truth. “What do you mean by that?”
He shuddered, sending a tremor through his curly locks. “It has been a long journey. She is getting…restless.”
“They all are,” added the one on the left, who still refused to make eye contact as they shuffled forward.
“They?” The stench-stained girl’s eyes widened. “W-wait, how many are there?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As she stepped aboard, the first thing she noticed was that this was a much larger ship than the one she had been taken from, looking like a proper wartime vessel with a full crew. The midmorning sun was blisteringly hot as it glared down upon the back of her neck, and the sweltering humidity did little to help matters. Once they set sail away from the abandoned and freshly looted Viking ship, she was brought to her knees while six tall women in metal armor towered over her, watching her with varying degrees of curiosity, disgust, and sadistic glee.
The blonde one that first found her was Anastasie, clearly the tallest of the group, enough to stand at least two heads taller than her even if she wasn’t kneeling. Through their conversation, she was able to pick up the names of the others. Camille was the other blonde, smaller in stature but still built like a warrior. Jeanne and Juliette had been murmuring to each other, just quiet enough that she couldn’t make out any of the words—or perhaps they were simply speaking in another language. These two brunettes seemed to be the closest among the six, and occasionally shared a laugh, clearly imagining some vile plan through which they could maximize her suffering. The fifth knight was named Marie, and though she was the shortest of the bunch, she clearly made up for it in her stocky build. Even through the armor, her muscles had a dramatic weight to them, like she could throw a whole person around with ease. Then, the one with by far the most sadistic glint in her eyes, watching her like a hawk waiting to swoop in, was…also named Marie, as far as she could tell. Pure malice radiated from her gaze, which was fixed on her prey throughout the discussion.
“...Clearly, given the stale odor that lingers around her entire body—and the way her breath smells of dried semen—they’d been using her as a, shall we say, ‘stress reliever?’” Anastasie was saying, raising an eyebrow at the euphemism.
“Ooh, I like the sound of that,” Marie said, clanking her armored gauntlets together. “I could use a fuckhole right about now. My, what a pretty mouth on her…”
“Was she tied up?” Camille asked.
“No. But I did find this with her.”
Anastasie held up a raggedy piece of cloth that had been tied into loops and knots, turning it into a bag of sorts, able to fit exactly one head in it and little else. The ex-samurai recognized it instantly as the familiar stench of two gassy Vikings emanated off of it, having had her whole head steamed into near-suffocation countless times within the confines of that dreadful thing. It pained her to realize that she only recognized the faded insignia emblazoned on the fabric as an afterthought. How far she’d fallen.
“She must have been taken as a prisoner of war,” Jeanne noted, inspecting the insignia. “How humiliating.”
Juliette narrowed her eyes in disbelief. “You mean to tell me that this scrappy thing was once a soldier?”
“It’s a banner,” Marie nodded. “One of the Dawn Empire emblems.”
“Was a banner.” Other Marie cackled maliciously. “Looks like it’s been converted to a hood, and judging by the smell, it was used for capturing farts into her own little face-melting steam chamber.” She turned to the girl on her knees. “Did you enjoy having your lungs pumped full of Viking farts? I certainly hope so, because we’re going to show you something that’ll make their gas smell like a fragrant bouquet in comparison.”
Anastasie laughed along. “Frankly, this tattered old thing wouldn’t even stand a chance against our gusty gas blasts,” she said in agreement. “I’m sure no one here would mind if I just tossed it overboard?”
Silence ensued, even from the fallen samurai. Though it was once the flag of her homeland, she could not muster the courage to speak up; and even if she did, why would they humor her? She watched with bitter remorse as the last vestiges of her past fluttered off the ship, unceremoniously drifting into the water below.
“We’ll have to make something to take its place,” said Other Marie. “I can’t wait to drown her in all our farts at once.”
“Patience, Marie,” Anastasie said. “If we do that right away, we’d probably kill her. Or at least, knock her out too quickly for us to have any fun. Instead, we ought to work our way up. Let’s see how she fares against just one.”
The disgraced samurai was forced to watch as Anastasie doffed her armor, piece by piece, slowly revealing more of her glistening, majestic figure. The thick padding of her protective garments under the metal was drenched in large visible stains, and as she peeled those off down to her waist, revealed that all of her exposed skin was similarly coated in rank sweat. Her heaving breasts, each as large as her head, were practically shining in the sun, as if oiled. Thick droplets were streaking down her abdomen, leaving vertical trails of ample moisture.
The other five began to follow suit, working to remove their sweltering hot metal armor so that they could let the girl have a taste of each of their sweaty bodies. But Anastasie raised an authoritative hand, causing them to stop.
“No. Some of us need to stay on guard. I say half of us remain on duty, lest we get ambushed like those Viking buffoons.” She arbitrarily gestured to Camille and the two Maries. “You three, keep your equipment on. You’ll get your turns later.”
“Hmmph.” Other Marie scoffed and turned to their new thrall one last time. “Fine. But know this, girl…That just gives me more time to eat, and to drink, and to brew up some even more menacing farts like you’ve never seen. I hope my friends here give you plenty of practice, because you’re going to need it.” She then walked away, haughty and heated, presumably looking for something to snack on as she brewed up a maelstrom of eye-watering gas.
Though that was a terrifying threat in itself, the samurai had more immediate concerns as the three remaining freshly-disrobed knights stood before her, letting the other three walk away to their posts—and presumably work up even more sweat. An oppressive aura of body heat and sweaty musk hung around them as they approached, as if their sheer presence was altering the local climate. It became harder to breathe, and their swampy stink clung to her hair, her nostrils, her taste buds, and just about everything else.
In addition to the sweat-tainted smog of three large, sun-soaked women, she also had to reckon with the sight of two massive cocks taunting her, right at her eye level. Jeanne and Juliette had gone a step further than Anastasie, stripping entirely nude to air out their girthy packages, including a pair of burgeoning testicles with their own steaming clouds around them. With only Ravna and Yrsa as a frame of reference, the captured samurai took note of their comparative size and heft. Neither were fully erect, but even in this half-aroused state, their girth was noticeably worth worrying about. As with the rest of their bodies, their cocks were covered in a thin film of caked-on sweat, which would no doubt be plastered over her lips and around the inside of her mouth very shortly.
However, as she remained there with her heart pounding against her chest, Anastasie was the first to take a step forward. The blonde knight then turned around to point her curvy bottom at her soon-to-be victim, and pulled her undergarments down just below the fold beneath her cheeks, exposing them in full. Immediately, a wave of pent-up ass heat spilled out like a wet slap to the face. This was a stink that could only come from days of soaking in a damp, humid asscrack, transforming from an ordinary sweat odor to something truly vile. At least the Vikings’ ass sweat was usually fresh, to some extent; Anastasie’s ass had clearly been marinating in her own nasty fluids.
It took considerable effort not to turn her head away and retch, but things kicked up a notch as Anastasie backed up even closer, bringing her grimy buttocks into direct contact with her face. The blonde slowly pressed herself, swallowing the girl’s head with her pale grimy asscheeks. She then slid herself all over as the slick sweat did its job, allowing her face to sink even further between those cheeks until she was practically kissing her puckering sphincter. There was zero friction between their skin, absolutely no traction or even the slightest sensation of rubbing. Anastasie’s fearsome backside was already coated with ample amounts of her special, salty lubricant.
What came next should have been obvious, but its sudden force still caught her off guard.
FFFFRRRRRRRRRAAAAARRRRBBRLLPPLPLPPSRRRAAARRT
Sweat spray and nasty anal fumes burst out of Anastasie’s ass and splashed across the girl’s face. For several suffocating seconds, this vicious fart soaked into her defenseless nose and mouth, rumbling with the violence of an earthquake. The vibrations of Anastasie’s buttocks and the constant wet filth spewing out of it were overloading her already fart-pruned brain.
With a singular fart, Anastasie rendered their new filth-servant breathless with a fit of sputtering coughs. The stench was overwhelming to the girl on her knees, who until now had only tuned her senses to the meaty and/or fishy odors of her previous Nordic captors and their high-protein diets. The unmistakable smell of dairy, or at least what happens to dairy after it gets “processed” and exits through the other end, gave Anastasie’s gas a particular thickness that made it extremely difficult to stomach. It sat on her tongue as if it were a solid mass, unwilling to leave. It felt like a long-used cheesecloth left to fester in the sun had just been stuffed into her mouth, along with a handful of latrine water.
As she desperately rolled around for air, Anastasie merely belittled her weakness. “Ugh. I told you we should have tied her down.”
“No, no. She just needs some more training,” Jeanne said.
“Training? I’d like to have her suck down my filth now.” Anastasie snapped her fingers, bringing her two squires to attention. “Hold her in place. Wrench her mouth open if you have to. Keep her still, or else the next two farts are going in your faces.”
“Y-yes, Madame!”
From somewhere on her left, a soft, thin-fingered hand grasped her lower jaw and pinned it open. Defenseless, she couldn’t even squirm as Anastasie backed herself up again, lightly spreading her cheeks and engulfing the front half of her head with her expansive ass.
BPPPBRRRRAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUURRGGRLPPLPBRRPPPRT
“MMMGHHK!”
“Silence, girl.”
BBBPPRPRRRLLPRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMPPPMPPRRRRBRRRPPPLPLPRRT
PPPHHHHHRRRRRRRFFRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAARRSSSSPSPPSRRSPPRRRRHRT
Anastasie didn’t let her feeble struggles go unpunished, tearing into her open mouth with a furious bombardment of salty, cheesy, and dreadfully thick farts. At times it felt dense enough to chew through, and as she relaxed her pent-up bowels further, it became clear that Anastasie had been going easy on her before this. The full brunt of her flatulence was being revealed, through even bigger farts that sounded like a fleet of war horns blaring into her face. Ten seconds was on the shorter end of her gigantic, sweaty ass blasts.
FFFFPRRPRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUURRLLLRRGRGRRLLGRPRLPPRRRRMMMMMMVPRRPPLLRT
“I’m sure you heard Marie earlier, but I should note that I’m not even the gassiest lady on this ship…”
PPPPPHRPRPRRHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRLLRGRRRRRRMMMMRRRRRBRBBRRRLGRRRRRPRPRPPLLPLPRRRPRPPLPLLART
It was hard to tell how many obscene farts had been blasted down her throat. She lost track somewhere after 30, and it seemed like there were at least twice that. Even after being subjected to the Vikings’ unending flatulence, it was still hard to believe that this much gas could fit inside one woman’s guts…and that all of it, every single whiff, could be so disgustingly raunchy.
After what felt like hours of gassing, Anastasie pulled away, extracting herself from the ass-to-face position with an extremely wet shlopp. She glanced back at her handiwork, and the girl was struggling to even open her eyes, having been essentially waterboarded just from her unbearably thick and sweat-drenched farts.
“Beg me for more,” she commanded. “I want to hear you beg for more of my farts to explode into your adorable mouth.”
The fart-drunk girl opened her mouth to obey, but before she could form words, a highly pressurized stream of fetid gas escaped her, leaving the sour aftertaste of Anastasie’s poorly maintained ass to give her tongue a second coating.
BBWWWOOUUUAAAAARRRLP
“Oh, how rude.” Anastasie made a face of mock offense at her belching. “I give you all these delicious morsels to feast upon, and you have the audacity to reject them.”
“Perhaps we should plug her mouth shut,” Juliette said, clearly eager to jump in.
Anastasie smirked. “Yes, perhaps we should. Would one of you do the honors?”
Juliette stepped in front, gripping the samurai’s hair with a firm, impudent grasp. Her heavy cock swung into view, looking very erect and somehow even bigger than before. To the girl’s left, Jeanne also came into her field of vision, bearing an equally formidable package where heat was visibly radiating off the thick rod and full-capacity testicles. She could swear those sweaty balls were pulsating with sexual hunger, eager to drain themselves into her mouth.
“Open up, girl. Let’s see what else your mouth is good for.”
Juliette threw her head back and pulled the girl onto her cock, moaning into the heavens as her cock plunged straight past those sweat-stained lips and into her fart-stained mouth. Three or four thrusts in, and her thirst was already overtaking her, escalating from facefucking to throatfucking with another lustful moan aimed at the sky. The ex-samurai had clenched her eyes shut to block out the droplets of salty sweat smearing into her face every time Juliette thrusted into her jaws, but it was no use. Her eyes began to sting from Juliette’s strongly aromatic and extremely wet pelvis, combining with her slick, juicy cock to create a sensation in her whole head that made it feel like she’d been thrown into a bucket of bilgewater.
“How is she?” Jeanne came aside, reaching down to cup Juliette’s balls and give them a gentle massage.
“This…it’s exactly what I needed…” Juliette said, panting as she picked up the pace. “In fact, I might…hhnhuh…I might—”
“Mmm…” Jeanne laughed at her friend’s delirium. “Go on. Feed her your hot, sticky juices. And while you do that…”
The ex-samurai, struggling to keep up with Juliette’s long and deep thrusts, found a few seconds of reprieve as she pulled back and let the tip of her girthy rod hang in her mouth, seemingly taking a break. As she opened her eyes to confirm, however, she found Jeanne had come between them and was lowering herself ass-first onto her face. Straddling her this way, Juliette’s cock remained able to fill her mouth, while Jeanne’s taint was plainly smearing more of its especially dense sweat above it. Even without a clear line of sight, she could identify Jeanne’s asshole in dangerously close proximity to her nose, carrying an almost tangible aura of fecal stench.
“...I’ll fill her nostrils.”
BBRPRRPMMPPPPBRPRRLRPRPLBRPRLPGRLPLPRPRLRPLPRRT
Shorter than what Anastasie used to “break her in,” Jeanne’s first fart exploded with much of the same deeply grotesque sweaty spray and an intense smell of what could only be described as manure on a hot day that had somehow had milk spilled over it. This time, she couldn’t even cough her way out of the thick cloud of raunchy gas, as Juliette began fucking her throat anew.
“God, that vibrated my whole dick, Jeanne…Do it again…”
Jeanne giggled. “Gladly.”
PPLPLPLPHRHPHBRRRRPRPRRPRHPRRRRRSSSRPSRHPSSSSSSSSSSRRRT
“Mmngh, that was better…”
Juliette laughed, though it sounded slightly out of breath. “Haah, fuck, that smells brutal…”
“Imagine what our bitchtoy is going through. She can’t even choke on it properly.”
“Give us a few more of those nasty farts, Jeanne, and I might give her something even thicker to choke on…”
“Oh, like you even have to ask.”
Jeanne reached back with one hand, feeling around the sweat-slicked curvature of her buttock and taking a few unsuccessful attempts to get some leverage over the glistening surface. After a bit of slipping and sliding, her fingers managed to find purchase, sinking softly into her meaty posterior and gently pulling her cheeks apart.
PPPPLPLBRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOUUUUUURRRRGLPRGRRRLPGRRGGRRGRRMMPBRRLPPPLRPPPPPT
“Hohh, now that’s more like it…” Jeanne shuddered, shaking a few stray droplets of sweat off of her steaming hot buttocks.
PPLLPBRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOUUURRLMPMPBRRRPPRT
“Ngh, Jeanne, you’ve got some wondrous gas today…!”
BRRRPLBPRLPRFFFFFRRRRRRRRSSPLRPPLPLPRRRPPT
The devastating blasts roaring less than an inch away from the ex-samurai’s face were consistently, threateningly wet, though decidedly more of the spraying kind than the squelching kind. Massive amounts of toxic gas plunged deep into her airways as she had no control over her heavy breathing, induced by the ever-furious throatfucking. It was clear from Juliette’s vigorous energy and grunting that she was finding herself approaching the edge. The reeking stench of farts, mixed with the natural lubrication of their two sweaty, athletic bodies, was serving as an aphrodisiac for the pair of towering dark-haired tormentors.
With her throat plugged with Juliette’s girthy gag and her nostrils plugged with Jeanne’s foul fart barrage, there was no air left in her lungs when Jeanne arrived at her first load. Her grip tightened around her hair until it seemed as though she was going to pull it off her scalp, and her lips clamped down around the base of her greedy cock. Like plugging a leak on a ship, Jeanne locked her into place, forming a complete, breathless seal as she pumped several gunks of sticky cum that was already threatening to come back up the wrong way. And as if to add insult to injury, Jeanne let loose a pent-up blast of her own.
FFFFFPPHPFRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRLLPRRRLPBLBRRLRMPBMBPRLRLRLPRRT
“Nngh, now that’s relief…”
“Tell me about it,” Juliette said with a sigh, wiping some residual cum off the corners of the ex-samurai’s mouth, where it was clear she had trouble fitting it all down in one mouthful. She laughed again, the regal air of her voice contrasting sharply against the lustful brutality she had exhibited mere seconds earlier. “This one has proven herself to be an excellent pleasure vessel. I’m eager to keep filling her with more, but I know you’d love to have a turn.”
“No, no. Keep going,” Jeanne encouraged, playing with Juliette’s breasts with a clear wet squelching sound. “This is so hot. Give her more. Feed her at least three loads. Paint her throat white.”
Juliette moaned at her filthy talk, savoring both the sensuality of their bodies pressed together and the sadistic joys of feeling the girl gagging on her throbbing member and its ample juices. She placed her cock against the entrance of the girl’s lips, which uneasily opened at her insistence. She slowly began pumping her hips again.
“Besides, I’ve got plenty more gas I want to feed her.”
BBRRRLLPPMMPPRT
“Mm, wait.”
BBBBPPPBPBPBHPRRRRRRRRRRHHHPRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUURRRRRRGRGRRRRGLRPRBRRRLPLLLPPPRT
“...That’s better.”
Anastasie, who had presumably been watching with erotic delight this whole time, jumped in. “Spread your legs a little more, Juliette. I’m going to see if I can get myself under you.”
The samurai, still with a mouthful of stubborn, cum-dripping cock, could feel Anastasie backing herself up against her chin. On her knees between Juliette’s powerful legs, Anastasie had figured out a way to double her face-gassing while maintaining Juliette’s oral aggression as well. With Jeanne’s gassy ass from above and Anastasie’s gassy ass from below, she had been forced into a face-fucked fart sandwich of sorts. Her nose and mouth were pummeled with three distinct bodies’ musky odors, which would have been awful enough without the constant assault of unbelievably heavy farts. All the while, Juliette’s thick, gooey cum was still splattered all over the inside of her mouth and throat, leading to a curiously sticky sensation.
While none of this was particularly new to her, given her prior experience with the Vikings who had used her similarly, the combination of smells was reaching new heights not previously witnessed. Perhaps it was simple math, as three bodies were certainly going to stink worse than two. Or it might have been the fact that these were unfamiliar odors to her, after being accustomed to a particular brand of Valkyrie stink. Or maybe these knights’ flatulence, one way or another, was simply on a completely different level, especially after a long journey’s worth of subsisting on biscuits, butter, and cheese rations. There certainly seemed to be something meaty in there, as well.
Juliette’s zealous facefucking continued to force her to take fast, heavy breaths, which were of course always laden with an ungodly amount of sweat-spraying fart gas from Anastasie and Jeanne. Every bit of breath she managed to fit through her agitated nostrils or the slivers at the corners of her mouth wrapped around Juliette’s forceful meaty cock was the exact opposite of refreshing. It drained her and added to her growing headache, presumably due to lack of oxygen in her body.
Her head no longer felt like it belonged to this plane of existence, and everything started to drift into a sense of unreality, as if her spirit was trying to escape what her body could not. A battery of vicious farts and eager cocks slammed her for what felt like hours. Each one must have had at least three turns each with their dicks in her mouth, filling her up again and again without mercy or reprieve.
Blood rushed back into her sweat-drenched, stink-soaked head as the knights pulled their sticky bodies away from her even stickier nose and mouth. Light streamed into view again, from a sun that was noticeably lower in the sky than when she started.
“You’re a wonderful cock cleaner and cumwhore, girl. For that, I commend you and your excellent lips and tongue.” Anastasie had her arms crossed, pressing against her heavy breasts in a chastising posture. “But you’re not doing a very good job at absorbing our flatulent stink.”
“A disappointment, and one we’ll have to work on.”
“Mm.” Jeanne tilted her head. “Look at you. Your lungs must have given up on you.”
There was nothing she could do to respond. Every breath was laden with barely-liquid cum that was lurching up from her sloshing stomach, and with the density of farts that had already been packed into her airways, she could barely find any oxygen to take in. She knelt there, half-awake in a limbo between coughing, gagging, and panting.
“You know what? I have a better idea. Put her in the barrel.”
“Ooh, I like where this is going,” Juliette cooed.
“No, wait.” Jeanne bent down to pick up one of their discarded full-body undergarments, heavy from both the thick defensive padding and the copious amounts of sweat it had soaked up. “These first.”
Anastasie smirked, picking up the other two and helping Jeanne line the inside of the barrel with their sopping-wet sweat-rag underclothes. “Ingenious. Making a sweat chamber.”
Before she knew it, the ex-samurai had been stuffed into a barrel barely big enough to fit her body, and which had been stuffed full of their sweaty undergarments. It was a testament to their odorous torment that the eye-watering stench emanating off of those padded garments was actually preferable over the direct facial assault she’d been subjected to already. At least the sweatstains on these fabrics were stale, having had some time to cool off.
Outside the barrel, she could hear Anastasie toying with her squires. “Your eyes carry sympathy for her,” she was saying. “Would you like to take her place?”
“N-no, Madame…!”
“Then fetch my armor and alert the others. While you’re at it, grab us three more padded tunics. We’re about to swap off our positions. As much as I’d love to keep up her torment, I’m sure they’re dying to have a go at it.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Over the next 24 hours, the fallen samurai would find herself falling to even greater depths of malodorous pain, drowning in six different flavors of sweat, stink, and cum. When they were feeling particularly gassy, they would keep her down in the barrel and unleash their accumulated stink from their powerful rears, filling the tight space with so much gas that it was actually threatening to render her unconscious. Through holes in the side, their cocks barged into her face and demanded servicing, even as the others would continue to dump horrendous gas into the barrel. At one point, after she pulled away and let cum erupt from Marie’s slippery cock without her mouth there to receive it, Marie decided to punish her by pulling her out and sitting firmly on her face with her full weight. Her ass was heavy enough to force itself all over the girl’s head, and her sphincter unloaded fart after fart into her nose and mouth until she could feel herself getting inflated by the incessant stinking torture. After that, she decided that swallowing their loads was the best option. Besides, letting it splatter into the barrel would only lead to an even more offensive odor within minutes of drying, far worse than absolutely anything that the six of them were able to produce.
It was near impossible to adjust to the constantly rotating battery of fetid, swampy asses that slammed into her, smearing slick sweat all over her head and neck, or dropping colossal gas bombs straight down her airways, or coating her insides white with their slick, bountiful loads.
And when night finally fell, Other Marie came to visit her with a foreboding omen of what was to come.
“I hope you’re not falling asleep on me, girl. Though, frankly, you will be needing the rest.” Peering down over the unlidded barrel, she looked at her with a facial expression that was burned into her brain. While she was not the tallest or strongest, Other Marie was the most venomous of the six. She was the only one that had figured out how to feel for the rhythm of her breathing, and time her farts exactly as she inhaled, effectively destroying any chance of having even the slightest bit of salvageable air. Her cackling was nothing like the pompous laughter of the other five.
“We’re in safe waters now. Do you know what that means? It means that now, we don’t have to take shifts. All six of us can preoccupy ourselves with tormenting you, all at once.” The corners of her mouth raised into the most nefarious grin possible. “How does that sound, fart slut?”
It was by some miracle that they hadn’t already done that to her. Four at one time was the most she’d ever handled. Six? All six?
“And in a couple of days…” Other Marie broke into a truly sinister laugh, unable to contain her sadistic glee. “We have orders to rendezvous with another crew. A second ship, staffed just like ours, except they haven’t had a cumdrunk fartmouth like you to keep them happy. Can you imagine what all of us could do to you?”
Being tag-teamed by groups of three was already breaking her mind and body. Taking six farting asses and greedy cocks at once sounded like a living nightmare. Twelve pent-up, unwashed, brutally disgusting knights on one ship…all competing to use her for their merciless pleasures…she nearly fainted again at the very thought.
“Consider yourself lucky,” Other Marie sneered over the top of the barrel. “We’re about to add several more delectable flavors to your palate. In the meantime, though…”
Her face disappeared from view, and five pairs of round, muscular asscheeks took its place. Sweat was already dripping from them, spattering over her hair and shoulders. Through the hole, the front half of a massive, veiny cock thrust itself forward, as if threatening to skewer her if she didn’t put her mouth on it. She hated that she could recognize it as Marie’s.
As she split her lips wide open to take its full, unbridled heft, an ear-piercing cacophony of vile ass blasts exploded right above her, instantly filling the barrel anew with an unprecedented volume of sweaty, muggy farts. She gagged on the stench, which had already rendered the air unbreathable. She gagged on Marie’s slippery cock, the meat stained with days of sweat and mired in an indescribable spectrum of bodily odors. She gagged again as it rammed past the back of her mouth and plunged into her throat. Her head felt like it was being crushed by a heavy weight. Her lungs were drowning in the heavy, condensed, nauseating stench that was only growing stronger every second, as none of the five women ever seemed to cease their overwhelming farting. Her body was drained of all vitality, and her gut was still weighed down by the gallons and gallons of cum she had been force-fed over the past weeks.
And all around her, the six vicious, foul ladies cackled in glee, taking sweet pleasure in the first minute of the unfathomable struggle of their captive. With how heavy and full their balls and guts were, they knew they could keep this up for hours upon hours…