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How I Got Started
Author: Closet Fetishist

Written: November 29th, 2013

It's hard to think about the experience now but, it seems important enough to relive it. Or perhaps you're just perverse and get a thrill from the details of the encounter. It's fine. It doesn't really matter; what am I now if not just an object of pleasure?

It wasn't wasn't always like that though. There's a start to this; an innocent one, believe it or not.

The day started out like any other, I was, in the mirror, pressing my nose in hopes it would get smaller but every time it just flopped back like a diving board. It was such a shitty thing; my body was nice, very petite but still with a fairly nice rack, if I do say so myself. But it was this damn nose! Fuck!

I hated my big nose; I was teased for it as a young kid and now I'm ignored because it. No one ever seems to have any love for me! I'm just ol' big nose! And mom refuses to let me get a nose job so I'm just stuck with this mountainous schnoz.

Hrmph, maybe some new clothes will help me hide this big booger cavern...or at least just make me feel a little better. Maybe also a hat. I smiled to myself and turned out the light.

I went to the mall and wandered around JCPenny for a while until I found a beautiful top, with a nice low cut to accentuate my bust. That oughta swing some attention away from the nose.

I reached for the hanger but the slippery dress slid off and to the floor; stupid clumsy me. I got down on the floor to pick it up, my head shadowed by the rack of clothes above me. I grabbed the fallen top and lifted my head and started to stand.

You know how, like when you lift your head up, you often hit your head on something; like a counter or desk? That's sort of what happened; but instead a desk, it was an ass, thought I didn't know that instantaneously. At first, all I knew was my head had squeezed between two soft but firm pads, like pillows but with more pressing force between them; where my head was.

It's about then that I started to notice a strong, musky, shit-like aroma building all around me. Where ever I was, it wasn't pleasant. The smell became stronger and involuntarily moaned; I gagged from this potent, chocolate-cheesy smell.

Then, hell began. There was no sound but I felt, right up my nostrils, a strong, hot wind blow and it carried with it a shitty, dank aroma that assaulted my nose. I tried to scream but my lips felt squeezed shut by these massive orbs; now realizing they must be ass cheeks.

I was in a buttcrack; a fat, deep on to be precise.

I heard muffled muttering and the distinct clinking sound of hangers on racks; I tried to raise my arms to strike the woman but I was weakened by her gas in my face. Then, around me the cheeks started to grind painfully, rubbing my cheeks like an Indian burn. My body felt it was being dragged, my knees scraping against the hard, department store carpet; she, that is to say, we, were walking now.

My head recoiled as a bubbly but still silent fart ripped through my nostrils with great power; I even heard the woman above sigh with relief as she, unknowingly, I hoped, shredded my face with her potent gas attack. Tears ran down my eyes as my nose was caught, though blocked by fabric, deep near the woman's asshole; thus taking all the gas almost exclusively up her nostrils.

I heard the sounds of stifled giggling; likely customers had seen the display of a woman hanging from another woman's buttocks. I fear looking it up on YouTube; someone probably posted a video of it.

I don't exactly remember what happened next. I felt the cheeks compress my head even further and the woman's anus ripped a long, silent but blasting airy fart which I endured for a second before passing out but I remembering seeing the light as I passed out; the lights of the store. Maybe I dreamt it. Or maybe I fell out of her butt finally. I don't remember, I just remember being at peace.

I woke up on the floor of the department store; a young cashier was nudging my body with his foot.

"Are you okay miss?"

"I guess," I say, my voice horse; my throat so dry. I catch a whiff of my own face and gag; dry heaving. It's so much worse than I remember it.

"What happened."

"Nothing." I snapped. "Just...fell down."

"Do you need help?"

"No! Please, just...go," I softly yelled; I didn't want him to get any closer. I just wanted the smell to go away and I wanted to leave; I wanted to be home.

The boy, looking disturbed, did as I'd asked.

I stand and weakly walk out of the store, my knees bruised and sore from being dragged.

I tried to forget the whole thing but I realized, a week later, that I wasn't the same person after that day. I was in my room. No one was home and, I...well, I wanted to...have a little fun...erm...with myself.

So I got under the covers and...used my fingers. I wanted to think about Ryan Gosling coming in through the window with a ladder like Sam from Clarissa Explains it All; like he do this everyday, coming in and we'd talk about our day before he'd finally fuck me and tell me how much he actually liked my nose. He'd even give it a loving, non-weird peck.

But when Ryan straddled my body, and I felt myself really warming up, he turned; he transformed into this woman. Her face obscured but everything else was clear, her large body; the boring, dark blue, small print of her dress. I saw just her mouth, watched it smile as she turned, lifting her dress, and lowering her big, naked, dirty looking butt in my face as she laughed evilly. I screamed and yelled; my cries suddenly muffled under her heavy butt, crushing my face against my bed.


The woman ripped a long, loud, bubbling fart from her butt hole and started to grind her cheeks; ensuring the smell got mashed into my skin. And that's when I came.

My eyes opened wide and I panted and gasped like I was horrified but instead if was relief; a relief of sexual release. And for that instant, it was euphoric. But then, the thoughts creeped in; I had just gotten off to a woman farting in my face.

The idea excited me; I felt my own pussy throbbing as if it was already horny again. I tried to just close my eyes and picture Ryan Gosling, just in a vacuum, but it continually turned to this housedress wearing, big woman.

I shook it off. But the feelings, the desires kept growing.

I had to do something.

So I looked up "fart domination." There was surprisingly tons of results; mostly horny guys creeping on girls that probably weren't even girls. And then a lot of Brazilian women almost or totally shitting in other Brazilian women's faces.

But then I found something promising. It was a fantasy dungeon, one of the only ones that even mentioned farting; many considered farting comparable to scat. I shuddered at the thought.

Luckily, the place was only a few cities away. So I told mom I was going on a college camping retreat and I drove there.

Though decorated rather stereotypically goth inside, the girl at the front desk seemed like typical, inattentive, retail drone.

"Hello Mistress; how many we pleasure you today."

I look behind me but there's no one there, "Me?"


"I'm...not a mistress; actually the opposite, I wanted to see about...being used."

The girl at the counter just batted her eyes, as if she didn't even understand; "Hold on."

A door opened to the right side of the front desk and a man in a shirt and khaki shorts walks out; he practically looks like the archetype of a tourist.

"Hi, I'm Dale; I heard you want to be a pleasure slave here?" He extends his hand out to shake.

"Yeah," I say, shaking his hand, "I guess."

"Well, you should be very sure, it's a big commitment. Why don't you follow me."

I walk with Dale through the small corridor which is between the two hallways with one way mirrors so you can see a full 180 degrees of the 'pleasure hallways' as he called them. His big 'secret' was adding the word 'pleasure' before a lot of things.

"So you understand that you're for sale here. That you're an object. Your feeling and thoughts are worthless; you are property to be bought, sold, and even traded. That's why I want you to be sure you want to do this."

I thought for a moment. From my now sickening and perverse sex fantasies, it seems my head was already in this place; the mindset of a slave. But I had a choice, like Harry Potter with the sorting hat, I could just walk away and try to live a normal life; try to suppress the weird thoughts and maybe they'd go away. Or maybe this was meant to be; maybe this was happiness. No advice ever told you to go the path of a slave, in fact, the path is never really mentioned unless speaking about history or other countries.

"I'll do it."

"Okay, cool. Enjoy my words because this might be the last time anyone speaks nicely to you again, alright, sweetheart?"

I nodded.

"I'm putting you in room one, there's already an appointment scheduled in there for later today so you won't be lonely for long. And your price number is 52. Try to remember that; it helps Mistresses make faster purchases." He explains, gently pulling me with him and down the pleasure hallways to room one.

"Okay." I say, a little confused; already unsure of the number. It was fifty...something; or wait, was it?

He takes out a key and opens the door. I look around the dimly lit, concrete room; spiced up slightly with a few curtains and thin pieces of red cloth. But really it was a dump; like someone's first studio apartment. There was a tall, cushioned bench that looked like a doctor's exam table in the center of the room. On one wall,

"So this is like a prison?"

He smiles, "Only superficially," he says, entering and gesturing me to follow. He lifts a panel by the door; there's a large red button. He closes the dungeon door and then hits the red button; the door, instead of opening out, slides up into the ceiling. "See, you can 'get out' anytime. But I only tell you to make you feel safe; please don't ever use this, unless there's an emergency. And I put an end to all the fire play so there shouldn't be any emergencies coming up."

I nod.

"Earthquake I guess; maybe." He continues, looking off blankly. "Anyways, you're expected to be waiting on your knees for your Mistress when she walks in."

I do exactly as he says, demonstrating and showing him how obedient I can be.

"That's great; however, I know that can get quite painful. So, we installed these...well, they're just red Christmas lights; on the ceiling here."

I notice the unlit strand of Christmas lights, lining the edges where the wall met the ceiling; it was affixed, poorly, with clear packing tape.

"Jackie, can you turn on 1?" Dale said into his shirt.

With a moments delay, the red Christmas lights turned on and illuminated the room in a spooky red haze and dropped heavy shadows under Dale's eyes. A man who looked harmless and touristy, now looked like a serial killer.

"See? Now we'll turn those on when the client is coming back here, so you don't have to be on your knees for hours waiting. The flatscreen is locked on a domination-based content menu during a session but...Jackie, you can turn off 1 now; thanks," he says, rubbing his head.

The red hue goes off and Dale again looks like a decent but odd man.

"In between sessions the screen is full operational satellite TV and Internet. Remote, keyboard and mouse are tucked behind the screen. You can also use your phone as all three, just download...uh...what's it called, PowerTV. It'll connect automatically. Oh, but don't let any clients see you with the phone; it ruins the illusion. Just like the button," he says, pointing again to the red emergency door opening button. "There should be space behind the TV where you can stow it."

I nod again, I understanding. I went into this thinking the wrong way; I expected more paperwork, contracts about signing away rights but this was more about rules. And nothing legally binding, just like guidelines that you can break anytime but it would be disrespectful to do so; but that would be the worst offense of it, disrespect. Nothing punishable or enforceable. Likely this dungeon fantasy stuff already skirted some legal line.

"Last chance to back out," he said, smacking his hands like a sharky car salesman.

"I'm staying. I'm committed."

"Alright, that's what I like to hear. Okay, well, have fun; remember, when the lights go on, your knees go on the floor," he says, walking towards the door.

"I got it; oh wait!"

"What?" He says, turning but only putting his head in the room; he rest of him remaining in the pleasure hallway.

"Is it both guys and girls here?"

"As slaves, yeah. But we only serve women. Safer that way."

I look down, a bit disappointed.

"Is that okay?" Dale asked, genuinely.

"...yeh...yeah. Yeah."

He nods, "Okay." He darts his head back out the door and closes it; I hear the loud, clanking of the lock.

And I waited; it was two episodes of Parks & Recreation before the red Christmas lights went on. I quickly grabbed my phone to change the channel but it suddenly flashed to a domination video menu with all kinds of content; I couldn't help but get a little turned on by the thumbnails of a woman with her butt in another woman's face, grabbing the back of her head and forcing her deeper inside. I reached down to touch myself but I remembered I had to get on my knees. I already heard the clanging of the lock, when I fell to the floor and scrambled to my knees.

And I did it, just as the door swung open, I was out of breath but on my knees; as expected. In the doorway was a rather large woman; she had an enormous rump and wore a rather loose sweatsuit ensemble. Looking closer I noticed careless, likely, food stains on her gray sweat pants.

She smiled when she saw me; her eyes almost seemed to light up with surprise.

"Well, well, well, looks like my toilet is waiting for me."

Toilet. Was that commonly used? "Yes Mistress."

"That's good. Crawl over here, I have a gift for you."

I did as the woman asked and crawled near her.

"In my butt, slave!"

I stick my head against her crack and then push in like saloon doors that never close. Suddenly, I'm hit with a familiar, intoxicating aroma; thought at the same time putrid and disgusting. It was was like...the woman in the store. Could this be her?! Or did all asses smell like this? I had no idea, this was a first for me, willingly.

I retched loudly in her butt; "That's pathetic, slave! I haven't even farted yet."

I felt her bend forward, flashes of the store came back to me, but this time a loud trumpeting, wet fart blasted against my nostrils.


"Ahhhhhh, I held that all the way here, toilet; just for you! So the least you can do is sniff it up, quickly!"

I moan in physical and sickening pain, but still flair my nostrils deep and groan as I suck up a deep, sewage-like smell that makes me lightheaded.

"Oh, slave; you're not doing a good job; I'm feeling faint from all this...aroma," the Mistress says, in faux concern.

I try inhaling deeper but I cough; but it doesn't matter, she was doing something else.

I felt my legs bend back and quickly release before they broke as the woman sat back until her ass cheeks were flush with the floor, my face, painfully wedged in her butt. To make matters worse, she separated her cheeks to ensure my nose popped up flush against her asshole; ensuring I wouldn't miss a thing, or at least be the first line of defense for her putrid gas.

I panted, trying hard to keep myself from vomiting inside this stink cave that was this woman's butt. I mean, Mistress; she's a Mistress. I'm a slave. I have to respect her.

"Slave," she says innocently, "Lick my butt; it feels a little moist."

"Yes Mistress," I say, muffled by butt.

I stick my tongue out to lick her and immediately gag.

"What's the matter, slave?!" She says, pinching my leg really hard.


I yelp and involuntarily inhale deeply, getting more than a full blast of fresh flatulence from the Mistress' butthole; it descended upon me, in her ass, like a net but contained the smell like a jar. My head was spinning; my nostrils practically bleeding from the hot, dry abuse. I gagged, I coughed. And the Mistress just laughed.

"I still don't feel your tongue, bitch!"

Through tears, I shakily try to lick her pulsating anus. My tongue recoils and shudders; I gag again. But I go again, running my tongue along the rough ridges until I have to gag.

"I want you deep in there, toilet!"

I take a try at piercing her butthole with my tongue but, as soon as I do, I feel a soft, putrid surface on the other side that makes me sick. I hold back vomit.

She giggles, "That's why my farts smell so bad toilet. I need to shit."

I whimper, fearfully. Did she mean toilet, literally? I wasn't sure now.

"Don't worry; I won't use you; unless you really piss me off!" She says, sternly.

"Ye...yes, mistress."

"Awww, does that scare you?"

"Yu...yes mistress."

The woman, slowly, rolls her body off of mine. I pant and gasp; breathing in oxygen again for the first time in several minutes. My throat is dry and raspy; my tongue slightly stained brown on the tip and my nostrils heavily bombard with eggy gas. I try to lift my head but my neck is incredibly sore, no doubt from having a tremendous weight on it. Slowly, I start to lift it.

"So do you recognize me? I mean, you must; my smell is...quite distinct, shall we say," the Mistress says, chuckling.

My eyes go wide; I'm not sure what the correct, subservient response is.

"Oh, it's okay; we're done. You're free to speak to me like a person now. Just...not too close; you smell awful," she said, a wide smile on her face.

I was flabbergasted in the moment, suddenly, I didn't know what to say, "You're as beautiful as i imagined."

She laughed, "Do you really mean that? I told you, you can stop being a slave."

"Oh, I know; you...I've just...ever since that day I've gotten a thing," I look down, shyly; a little afraid of insulting her.

"It's fine, you can say it."

"...bigger butts."

The Mistress laughs, very caught off guard; not expecting that response.

"I meant women."

"I know dear;" She still laughed. "So were you always a fart pervert?"


The Mistress' face turns a bit worried, "Oh...well, it wasn't...our..."

I look at her and smile.

"Oh. Well. Good then. I mean, to be honest, that, in the store, was an accident...I just, didn't notice you."

:I know it probably was; still, it hasn't stopped me thinking about that day, or you."

The Mistress smiles politely, but awkwardly.

I look down, trying to find the courage; I felt stupid...but I had to ask, "Would you consider it?"

"Consider what?" She seemed confused.

"Dating," I responded.

"What?! A slave? I don't think so," She said, matter of factly.

It was so quick and yet, just like that, it was like a shot in the heart. Like being rejected by your true love; I wanted to die right there.

The Mistress sighed, exasperated; "Do you know how much you are?"

"What?" I ask, tearing up.

"Do you know your price tag, slave?! I'm taking you home with me to be MY slave; do you understand that!? If you're lucky, maybe I'll let you feel up my pussy with that big nose of yours but that's it! Understand?!" She said roughly, tugging on my nose and yanking it by the nostrils.

I nod, fearfully. I no longer had any choice in the matter; there'd be no backing out now.

She lets go of my nose, "You're useless! Don't move an inch; I'll be right back, and when I do, you belong to me, understand?"

I nod, smiling.

"Yeah, you like that, don't you; disgusting bitch! When I get back, we'll discuss my rules." She leaves, slamming and locking the door behind her. I look at the closed hatch next to the door. Then I look to the floor and smile. And I'll remain there until Mistress returns.

But I didn't stay with her forever. After a few months, she traded me; I was kind of hurt at the time. I was stupid to think she loved me at all; I forgot what Dale had said, I was an object now. People would do whatever they want with me. Still I cried. I remember what she said:

"There's nothing personal about this. I'm your owner and you're my slave, therefore, I'll do whatever I want with you and you'll keep your grateful mouth shut!"

And she turned and farted on me. Long and loud; she almost never gave me those silent ones like she did at the store. She seemed to enjoy the brassy, big farts; flapping through my nostrils. She held my head there for a minute before releasing me and never looking back.

I sigh, tiredly, "But you were there, you knew that part. And now I'm here; with you."

The somewhat plump woman in an elegant dress, lays on her hand, looking sleepy; and yet she still looks at beautiful as the Goddess that she is. Her voice is a bit horse at first, having not spoken in sometime, "Well! That's a very long story; I thought maybe you'd just hit key points when I asked about your first fart experience. But that...that was like a story; with dialog and everything. You've made the gas in my belly ten times worse than when you first got here."

I look down sheepishly; smiling to myself.

"Maybe that's what you wanted anyways," The Goddess says, smiling.

I know I'm beaming when I look back up, "Maybe..."

"Well then," The Goddess says, seductively, "Come over here; I want your face to really feel how painful this is for me."

I waste no time in bringing my head over and down to the Goddess' seat and welcomed the potent, strong embrace of her ass to my face.


The smell was thick, overpowering my nostrils with a strong stench of eggs and cabbage.

The Goddess laughed; she caressed my long, straight hair and occasionally used it to pull me deeper into her thick butt.

It was in the warmth of her ass, sniffing her gas, that I felt loved. As fucked up as that sounds.

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