(mh=U28JAEjeqA6hTmTd)8.jpg)
Bound at the ankles and wrists, the fart-slave kneels, his head bowed, awaiting his master's pleasure. The master, clad in black latex, paces, his boots clicking on the hardwood floor. "You know why you're here, don't you, my little fart-slave?" he asks, his voice a low, menacing growl. The slave nods, his eyes downcast. "Yes, Master," he whispers, his voice barely audible. The master stops, his boot pressing down on the slave's neck, pushing him into the floor. "Louder, slave," he snarls. The slave takes a deep breath, his voice ringing out, "Yes, Master. I'm here to fart for your pleasure." The master smiles, his eyes gleaming with sadistic glee as the slave begins to let go, his body convulsing with each fart, the room filling with the scent of his humiliation.