Sordid Summoning
by test715

(Warning: Contains F/F facesitting and fart torture)

Fuck me, it's really come to this… Alys sighed as she paced the Roundtable Hold. I’m truly desperate enough to inhale the flatulence of others on the mere off-chance doing so bolsters my resilience to Malenia’s rotten gas… She pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned. Suppose it's time then, to choose whose gas I shall imbibe first… Don't think I should jump straight to Millicent… Nepheli, perhaps?

“Um… Excuse me.” Alys’ rumination was interrupted by soft-spoken Roderika.

“Oh, sorry.” Alys suppressed her inner turmoil and smiled apologetically. “Was my pacing disturbing you?”

Normally whenever Alys passed through the Roundtable Hold, Roderika was a pleasant, calming presence amidst a world of shite. One of the precious few people she knew who hadn't met a terrible fate, had a deathwish, or prided themselves on desecrating corpses. It was for these reasons (besides the obvious embarrassment) that Alys didn't want to involve the spirit-tuner in her disgusting task.

“Oh, no. It's not that. It’s just… Hm…” Her voice trailed off; unsure how to best phrase herself.

Alys frowned. In retrospect, the spirit tuner had been giving her wary glances as of late. She initially wrote these off as Roderika merely picking up on her dour mood courtesy of her many deaths beneath Malenia’s gassy arse, but perhaps there was more to it than that…

“Is something wrong, Roderika?” Alys tilted her head slightly. “Do you need me to fetch you some sort of spirit-tuning equipment?”

“Thank you, but no. It’s just…” Roderika shifted around uncomfortably. “As a spirit-tuner, I often overhear what your summons have to say. I don't mean to eavesdrop, truly; I genuinely can't help it. Normally yours are pretty quiet, but as of late one of them seems rather… agitated. The Albinauric woman, Latenna.”

“Really?” Alys tensed up. Calm down… Doesn't mean she knows everything. “And, um, what exactly is she saying?”

“She says that you summoned her to fight Malenia, and that the swordswoman was… well…” Roderika lowered her voice and blushed. “...flatulent. And that you used her as a distraction while Malenia did vile things to her, until she had enough and turned against you. And that from that point onwards, you’ve met all manner of horrid ends beneath the demigod’s rear.” She awkwardly cleared her throat. “That's the short version, at least… with a considerable amount of profanity left out.”

Fuck, she knows everything. Alys winced. “Oh yeah… that.” She sighed and slumped her shoulders. No point in denying it… “Does she fear I’ll summon her again then? If so, tell her not to worry. I’ve elected to defeat Malenia solo, or not at all.”

“No, it's not that. She also mentioned you were undergoing a… “unique” training regiment. One that, if I’m to understand correctly, entails inhaling the gas of various women to build immunity to Malenia’s rotten wind?” Rokerika’s cheeks reddened as she averted her gaze. “Latenna was hoping to, well, enlist me in the effort. I believe she wishes to see you humiliated. I just wanted you to know that if this truly is your wish, well… that I’d be willing to oblige you.”

“Oh.” Alys eyes widened. “You’re… volunteering to fart on my face? Are you sure? I appreciate your, erm, willingness, but I didn't take you for the type.”

“Oh, I’m not. However… while it does seem a bit… undignified, without you I never would've become a spirit-tuner, or met good Hewg over there.” She gestured towards the blacksmith, who was thankfully too focused on his work to overhear their conversation. “If you truly believe inhaling my wind shall help you on your path to become Elden Lord, then I shall assist you without hesitation or judgment. I promise, you can count on my discretion.”

“Hm…” Alys pursed her lips. Had hoped to keep her out of this, but suppose there's no point now. Would be a waste to turn away a volunteer… I bet a dainty thing like her barely even stinks, so she might serve as a good baseline. “Very well. Let’s find a private chamber in the hold so we don't disturb Hewg, or attract any undesired attention. Believe I know just the place. Shall we?”

“Right now?” Roderika’s eyes widened. “Oh. I hadn't expected you to accept so readily. Lead the way then.”

— — —

Alys guided Roderika to an old, abandoned storage room in the Hold, then locked the door behind them. The odds of anyone stumbling onto them was exceptionally low, but better safe than sorry.

“Alright…” Alys sighed as she lay down in the middle of the room. “Let's get this over with.” As she stared up at the ceiling awaiting to be smothered, however, she noticed her volunteer hesitating. While Roderika was nowhere near as shy as she was upon first entering the Roundtable, this remained quite a ways outside her comfort zone.

“Forgive me but… I’m unsure how best to proceed.” Roderika rubbed her arm anxiously. “Should I sit full-weight upon your face, or merely hover above it? And would you prefer I undress, or remain clothed?”

“What I’d prefer is not doing this at all - but here we are.” Alys sighed. “Unfortunately, whatever you think would be worse for me is probably also what would be the most effective. Just go as far as you're comfortable with.”

“...As you say.” Roderika pulled down her pants and panties just enough to expose her pale rump, draped her skirt around Alys’ head, then sat down.

The first thing Alys noticed as her face disappeared between Roderika’s soft cheeks was that the spirit-tuner was far more voluptuous than expected. She supposed it made sense that someone who spent all day sitting down would have a fat arse, but Alys had never gotten the opportunity to notice her figure until now - when it was smothering the entirety of her face. A shame she couldn't appreciate it in better circumstances, as a clean, shaven arse was a true rarity in the Lands Between.

The second, and far less pleasant, thing Alys noticed was that Roderika’s crack was also sticky with sweat. This came as some surprise, as of all the arses she considered for sitting on her, Alys had expected Roderika’s to easily be the cleanest - smelling of flowery oils befitting a noblewoman of her station. Not at all like that of an unwashed barbarian.

“Eugh…” Though Alys didn't wish to make Roderika feel bad, she couldn't help but groan at the pungent odor. “It’s… damper than I expected.”

“Apologies…” Roderika blushed. “I sweat when I’m nervous…” She leaned forward to allow Alys to speak easier.

“N-No need to apologize!” Alys did her best to mask her disgust. “It's an arse, it's supposed to stink! That's the whole point of this, after all!”

“...That’s true, I suppose.” Roderika conceded. “It's just… I’ve never done anything like this before. Sitting on someone's head just to fart on it, that is.”

“Likewise, I’ve never let someone fart on my face either…” Alys suppressed a cough. “Not that Malenia cares one bit for my willingness…”

“Oh dear.” Roderika paused, unsure what small talk, if any, would be appropriate in the given circumstances. “So, Malenia then…” She spoke up, deciding to feed her morbid curiosity. “She truly pins you down and forces you to smell her-”

“-I’d rather not talk about it.” Alys interjected.

“...I understand.” Roderika cringed. “Why you don't wish to speak of it, I mean. I don't mean to imply I can relate to your ordeals in the slightest.”

“...Consider yourself lucky.” Alys grumbled. “No offense, but I’m not really in the mood for small talk right now. I’m trying to disassociate, but every time you speak it reminds me of whose arse is in my face. The less I have to think about it, the better. It's rather difficult to look someone in the eye after spending an extended period of time staring into their brown one.”

“Oh, alright… Just one last thing then. I can't break wind on command, so you might be down there a while. When the time does come to release it though, would you prefer I warn you, or should I just… do it?”

“...Just do it.” Alys grimaced. “No sense in keeping me in anticipation.”

“Very well.” Roderika gingerly sat back down on Alys’ face. She felt bad about putting her sticky arsehole right against Alys’ nostrils, but reminded herself this was the Tarnished’s bidding.

For a while there was naught but awkward silence, save for the sounds of Alys’ muffled breathing and Roderika occasionally clearing her throat. Alys began wondering if she should just call it quits and seek out someone more flatulent, but before she could send Roderika away there came an audible gurgle from the spirit-tuner’s bowels. It seemed her lunch had finally caught up with her.

Although Roderika didn't warn Alys explicitly, her soft grunts and flexing arsehole weren't exactly subtle. Sure enough, after a few moments of straining the spirit-tuner’s hole opened up and covered Alys’ face in a blanket of hot, heavy gas. While the fart was perfectly average in terms of length and volume, the skirt draped over Alys’ head ensured not a bit of it would go to waste.

Well… Moment of truth. Alys fully exhaled as she prepared to sample Roderika’s gas. It's not infecting me with scarlet rot, so I at least have that going for me… Not that that’s a particularly high bar to clear, but still…

After a brief countdown in her head, Alys forced herself to inhale deeply and fill her lungs with gas. She only managed to get halfway through her breath, however, before the rotten stench forced her into a coughing fit.

“Marika’s tits…!” Alys cursed between coughs. “Smells like a bloody sewer…!”

“Are… are you okay?” Roderika addressed the heaving lump under her skirt. A silly question to ask someone who was so obviously not okay, but she wasn't sure what else to do.

“I’m fine…!” Alys lied. “It’s just… more potent than I expected…! Especially from a noblewoman…”

“Oh.” Roderika blushed, unsure if she should take that as an insult or compliment. “My servants never complained about my wind before…” Her shoulders slumped. “...Though now I wonder if they were perhaps just being polite?”

““I-I’m sure it's just something you ate recently…!” Alys tried to reassure Roderika. “I don't think that- ACH!” The tarnished sorceress gagged as the spirit-tuner let one rip in her mouth. “FUCK!” Alys dug her nails into the floorboards as her coughing devolved into retching. “My bloody mouth was open…!”

“You told me not to warn you!” Roderika responded defensively.

“I know, I know…” Alys wrinkled her nose. “I’m not angry at you, it's just…” She paused to retch. “I expected you to be the easiest one, yet already I feel lightheaded!”

“You feel faint?” Roderika furrowed her brow. “Does… that mean it’s working then?”

“Fuck if I know…!” Alys coughed. “But if this doesn't build up my tolerance, I don't know what will…! Would be nice if there was a way to speed this up though, so I only have to suffer for minutes instead of hours…”

Roderika thought a moment. “Would you like me to… increase the intensity then?”

“...What does that mean?” Alys raised her brow; not that Roderika could see it.

“While I only have so much gas within me, you have in your possession a myriad of spirits who would follow their summoner's command. With your permission, I could restore some of them to flesh and blood for a while so that they might lend their… assistance. Latenna in particular seemed rather eager to take out her frustrations upon your face, but I’m sure there are others who would suit our purposes as well.”

Roderika paused. “I know it's not my place to decide, but… if you truly wish to hasten the process while also maintaining discretion, then that seems like the way to do it. Who better to keep your secret than the dead? If the variety of gas also matters, rather than mere quantity, then this does seem like a reasonable choice to make, unpleasant as it is.”

Reasonable. Ha. Alys scoffed bitterly. There's nothing ‘reasonable’ about this. All the same, I fear I’ve come too far to desist now. Disgusting as it is, I need this plan to work. Otherwise I’ll have debased myself for nothing, and remain at an impasse with Malenia.

“...Do it.” Alys sighed, before quickly adding. “But only women. I don't want some hairy-arsed bastard or grotesque beast on my face. That's where I draw the line.”

“Very well.” Roderika nodded and stood up, allowing Alys wipe off her sweat-covered visage. “Let’s start with…” She pursed her lips as she mentally perused Alys’ collection of spirits. “...her.”

Roderika rang her spirit calling bell, and an imposing figure appeared before them. A tall, hooded woman clad in black scale armor and bearing a knife - none other than Tiche of the Black Knife assassins. Once summoned, she wasted no time getting to work - stripping off all armor save for the hood which shrouded her face. The speed and silence with which she undressed was rather impressive.

“Oh my.” Roderika covered her mouth and gasped. “She’s certainly rather… intense.”

“Oh fuck.” Alys’ eyes widened as she recalled how she obtained Tiche’s ashes - by breaking into an evergaol and slaying her beloved mother, Alecto. “Uh, m-maybe we should choose someone el-”

“Silence.” Alecto growled; her voice surprisingly smooth and sultry for one who’d gone so long without speaking. “I’ve been your pawn long enough - forced to bear witness towards your idiocy for what felt like a lifetime; each death more humiliating than the last. I can only fathom being forced into your possession is some sort of… divine penance for my sins.”

“But now?” Tiche stepped on Alys’ chest, pinning her to the floor. “For this briefest of moments, you are mine. And I shall relish inflicting all manner of violation upon your wretched visage; my own dignity be damned.”

Without missing a step, Tiche turned around and sat on Alys’ face. Though the Black Knife assassins were known for their graceful movements, Tiche had opted to forgo any such elegance in favor of unceremoniously dropping her full weight onto Alys’ head.

“Mmphh…” Alys groaned miserably beneath the assassin. Tiche’s weight might not have been enough to crack her skull, but it almost certainly gave her a concussion. Such was the pain that Alys almost forgot about the toned, slender arse she was pinned under.

Almost… But not quite.

While Tiche’s butt did admittedly smell better than Roderika’s sweaty arse, Alys got the distinct impression this difference would be short lived.

“On my mark, inhale.” Tiche commanded; caring not a bit for her seat’s aching head. “Refuse, and I shall pry your mouth open with my knife and defile your tongue instead.”

“Mm-hm…” Alys whimpered affirmatively, knowing better than to call the bluff of the infamous assassin. If she and her kin could slay Godwyn’s very soul, there was no telling what she could do to a lowly Tarnished. Sure, she was currently under Roderika’s control… But better not to test the limits of her obeisance

“Good.” Tiche leaned forward and relaxed her hole, which was now directly aligned with Alys’ nostrils. “Breathe in… now.”

Alys began to inhale the same moment Tiche’s arsehole opened up; sending a stream of toxic gas straight up her nose. Unlike with Roderika, Alys managed to suppress her gag reflex until her lungs were completely filled. Not because Tiche’s stench was less than the spirit-tuner’s (quite the opposite), but because her fear of the assassin managed to overpower her considerable disgust.

Only after Tiche’s deep, bellowing fart sputtered out did Alys dare to gag. While the Black Knife assassins were known for their discretion, the same could not be said of their flatulence which was flagrant in both sound and odor. Tears filled Alys’ eyes as she retched with her entire body. Tiche’s gas might not have been as deadly as Malenia’s, but hers were undoubtedly the next worst thing.

There were no subtle or complex undertones to the assassin’s gas - it just smelled like an overflowing sewer. How Tiche’s gas managed to reek so strongly of shit despite her stomach presumably being empty post-summoning, Alys had no idea - and was in no condition to ask either.

“Oh dear…” Roderika coughed as the gas dissipated towards her. She might not have taken the brunt of it like Alys, but it didn't take much of the assassin’s potent wind to make someone nauseous. “Could you maybe be a bit more… selective with whom your wind affects? This room is stuffy enough as is without having to account for our flatulence.”

Tiche turned towards her summoner for the first, addressing her with a curt nod. “Hmph. Very well.” She squatted over Alys’ face and addressed the unfortunate Tarnished. “Open your mouth. Now.”

“H-Huh…?” A near-unconscious Alys blinked slowly. “W-What did you-” She was interrupted by Tiche dropping down onto her open mouth. From there, she didn't even have a chance to groan before her cheeks were inflated by Tiche’s wind.

“Oh my…” Roderika blushed as Alys writhed and choked down the assassin’s flatulent barrage - making noises that reminded her of the wails of the Dung Eater’s victims. She considered recalling Tiche, or telling her to ease up a bit, but ultimately decided against it. If Alys wanted to hasten her training, then so be it. That was her decision to make (and almost certainly regret).

Roderika instead sat on the floor and attempted to clear her mind, so that she might regain enough focus to summon another of Alys’ spirits. Though given the less-than-pleasant ambiance of echoing flatulence and muffled retching, she expected it to take some time before she was ready to summon again.

— — Later — —

Thankfully Roderika’s focus recharged just as Alys was beginning to fear Tiche might use her as a chamberpot. The spirit-tuner rang her bell; sending Tiche back into the beyond mid-fart and summoning a new woman to take her place.

“Bloody hell…” Alys coughed weakly and rubbed her head as she sat up, her voice hoarse from exertion. “Who is it this- OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” Alys fell backwards the moment she recognized who was looming over her. None other than Finlay - the Cleanrot Knight who, in a truly legendary act of devotion, single-handedly carried Malenia from Caelid to the Haligtree after her fight with Radahn.

Besides the obvious issue of seeking assistance defeating Malenia from the very same woman who went through hell to save her, there was also the unpleasant detail that the Cleanrot Knights were each afflicted with their mistress's scarlet rot. Though they hid their symptoms admirably, continuing to be fearsome warriors in spite of their infection, Alys had no doubt their rot would make their wind truly horrid.

On one hand, rot-afflicted gas was exactly what Alys needed if she was to gain resilience to Malenia’s (if such a thing was even possible). On the other, she needed to be careful Finlay didn't kill her (whether accidentally or deliberately) and reset all the progress she made with Roderika and Tiche.

“Fear not, Tarnished.” Finlay looked down and addressed Alys, her voice surprisingly warm and gentle. “I don't bear you any ill-will. In truth, I pity you.”

“You… You do…?” Alys apprehensively raised her brow.

“Indeed. To think a scrawny thing such as yourself could even hope to slay an Empyrean… That you would grow desperate enough to debase yourself completely and utterly in pursuit of what is perhaps the most ill-conceived plan in the Lands Between…” Finlay slowly shook her head and tutted. “You are no threat to my mistress. You are a small, delusional woman whose time and effort would be better spent elsewhere.”

“...What?! Not a threat?!” Alys gasped indignantly. “You… You're just trying to trick me! Telling me I don't have a chance so I’ll give up and spare Malenia! I SLEW RADAHN FOR FUCK’S SAKE! I’M STRONG!”

“Truly?” Alys could tell Finlay was smiling behind her mask. “You slew Radahn in single combat?”

“Well… not exactly… But-” Alys looked away, flustered. “Damn it, I won't be talked down to by some half-rotted, walking corpse! What do you know of me, or my struggles?!”

“More than you know, Tarnished.” Finlay spoke with deadly seriousness. “For I too have experienced Malenia’s wind in all its terrifying putridity. You think hers foul now? Imagine how they were immediately after she bloomed. Now imagine slinging her over your shoulder, arse next to your face, and carrying her across the continent as her unconscious body wantonly broke wind whenever the urge struck her.” She shivered in her armor. “That, is true horror.”

Alys opened her mouth to speak, but could not conjure any retort. “Just shut up and fart on my face already…” She grumbled.

“Very well…” Finlay sighed, lightly perching atop Alys’ face.. “I shall indulge your ignoble request, but know I do so merely because I feel it would amuse Malenia - distant as she may be.”

“Keeping your armor on, huh?” Alys scoffed. “What, scared you’ll soil yourself by accident and wish to spare me?”

“Yes.” Finlay replied flatly. “Regrettably, my ailment makes me prone to sudden, violent expulsions from both ends. While I’m mostly able to control my continence, albeit with considerable effort, I could not guarantee your safety should the barriers between my arse and your face be removed.”

“O-Oh.” Alys’ smile vanished. Either Finlay was an excellent liar with a dry and disgusting sense of humor, or (far more likely) she was telling the truth. “Uh, in that case leave it on then…”

“As I thought.” As Finlay relaxed her sphincter and unleashed a cacophony of wet, sputtering farts onto Alys’ face, Roderika gasped as she realized the Cleanrot Knight’s gas was actually visible - appearing as a low-hanging cloud of scarlet miasma covering the floor. Though disgusting, the gas’ heaviness did at least make it so the spirit-tuner would be spared of the stench.

The same could not be said of Alys, however, whose face was quickly enveloped by the fetid smog. “F-Fuck…!” She wheezed as the cloud of rotten gas settled over her. While not nearly as potent as Malenia’s vile flatulence, Finlay’s stench was still more than enough to burn her eyes and lungs, as well as give her traumatic flashbacks to her time beneath the demigod’s rear. Try as she might, there was no chance Alys would ever forget the sickly-sweet aroma of her festering flatulence.

One aspect where Finlay’s gas outshone even Malenia’s, however, was in its wetness. Such was the vile sputtering that, were capable of opening her eyes, Alys feared she’d witness an unseemly stain forming on the leather arse crack of Finlay’s under-armor.

“Did you just soil yourself?!” Alys retched. “I thought you said you were able to control your own damned body?!”

“Don't worry, it's merely gas. If I’d soiled myself, trust me…” Finlay chuckled softly. “You’d know.” She grunted softly and let loose another fart, much to Alys’ dismay.

From that point on, Alys’ memory became rather hazy. The more gas she inhaled, the sicker and more lightheaded she became, until she was lost in a daze of seemingly endless flatulence. She wanted more than anything to put an end to her odorous hell, but had grown too weak to lift her arm. She tried several times to call out to Roderika for help, but was unable to even open her mouth without entering a retching fit.

Right when Alys began to fear she'd succumb to the rotten miasma and undo all her progress, however, Roderika intervened and sent Finlay back to the beyond.

“...Are you alright?” Roderika looked down worriedly at Alys and fed her a preserving bolus. “I know you said you wanted this, but… things were looking rather grim. You’d lost the energy to even writhe and were just… lying there.”

“Eugh…. Don't… worry… Never felt better…” Alys croaked - face pale, eyes red, and airways congested. Considering that she was paradoxically shivering and hot, it was obvious her time under Finlay had given her some sort of fever. Eating the bolus helped somewhat, but there was only so much a rudimentary cure could do. Not to mention her concussion courtesy of Tiche’s arse.

“...Do you still wish to continue then? You seem in need of rest.”

“No… Keep them coming…” Alys groaned. “Might as well do it now, so I can later write this whole thing off as a fever dream… Just so long as there's no more rot.”

“I… Okay.” Roderika sighed as she rang the bell again. This spirit was the one responsible for involving the spirit-tuner in the first place, none other than the Albinauric archer, Latenna.

“Oh. Hey.” Alys gave a tired wave, then let her arm flop to the ground. “If it isn't the bitch who shot me in the foot, after vowing to join me in battle ‘to the bitter end’...”

“I vowed to fight beside you - not be used as bait for a flatulent demigod!” Latenna snapped. “That wasn't honorable battle, it was… I don't even know what to call it! But don't pretend you wouldn't have done the same in my position!”

“Look, I don't really give a shit anymore…” Alys sighed defeatedly. “You want to fart on my face or what?”

“...Very well.” Latenna huffed. “I’d hoped for a bit more groveling, truth be told, but I suppose this will have to do.” She clumsily crawled onto Alys, lifted the back of her dress, and made herself comfortable atop the Tarnished’s face.

Alys winced as Latenna not-so-accidentally elbowed her stomach during her mounting, but otherwise didn't resist. Not that she could’ve done anything even if she tried, given the state she was in. Unpleasant as the scent of stained, unwashed undergarments was, Alys had to admit Latenna had a fine arse for someone incapable of walking.

Judging by her relaxed position, Alys could tell Latenna was intending to stay where she was for quite some time. With no control over her lower-half (and by extension, bowels), she was unable to force out her gas and instead simply let it flow out of her as needed.

Besides being a bit bubbly and eggy, hers were rather average all things considered, which was just fine by Alys. If anything, her gas was a welcome palette cleanser after the horrors of Tiche’s and Finlay’s revolting arses. Though this relief was undercut by a one nagging fear which lingered in the back of Alys’ mind…

Wait… If she can't control her wind… How would she avoid soiling herself on my face?