Fluttershy's Fart Slave

The first hour went decently well.

With your newfound purpose for fart sniffing, you managed to keep huffing up stinker after stinker without losing hope, but eventually, after enough time had passed, spend doing nothing but smell sour, eggy, cabbagy methane, your nausea overtook your free will and you desired to escape her nasty plot, now more than ever.

You wanted to be able to stay out of your own concession, but sadly, sickness made it near impossible to take her foul scents. Luckily, your free will didn't matter, as you were tied up with no way to escape her farts. You were glad that you were bound, because if you weren't you would have disappointed your stinkstress, and that is an unforgivable crime.

Also lucky, was the fact that you were far too weak to struggle in your dazed, nauseated state.

If you could have, you would have done it out of instinct, and the extra energy needed could easily have cost you your life. There was not enough oxygen in her farts, for you to just move around all you wanted and expect to come out alive.

More importantly that your life, however, if you were to struggle, you could have woken her up. You were expendable, her sleep was important.

Your train of thought is broken by a particularly nasty stinker leaking out, giving you new air to breathe, and reminding you that fart sniffers shouldn't waste time on things such as thinking, they should just to smell stink bombs.

And you do. You breathe up the monstrosity, crying in disgust as you feel its foulness in your nostrils.

You're suffering more than you're in bliss now, but you don't care, you push through it, you deserve to suffer for your beautiful fart queen.

You sniff some more.

Eventually, her movements become sporadic, and she moans and whines in her sleep. She sounds scared, like she's having a nightmare. You want to comfort her, but that is neither possible from your current position, nor is it your place to do so. Talking to her without being asked is above you... That's for worthier beings, friends and family, to help her with.

In her fear, she wets herself a little and you feel the golden, sour liquid against your lips.

You open for her and let it leak in, the acidic feeling and sour taste increasing your torment further.

She calms down from her nightmare and it calms you a bit as well, but her calmness comes at a price.

Since she already peed a little her relaxation causes the rest to come out, and your small stink suit is filled with urine, submerging your entire face.

You're hit by panic as you can't breathe in her foul farts, your mouth and nose both filled with urine.

You hurry and drink as much of it as possible. It burns the back of your throat, and it's as sour a citrus fruit. Your stomach is disagreeing with you as you slurp your owner's strong piss, but if you were to stop, you would drown.

You were currently residing in an ocean of Fluttershy. A sea of urine enveloped all of your senses, and as much as you hated it, suffered through it, feared it, and felt degraded by it, you loved it as well.

You manage to drink enough to free your nose, just as another fart allows you a foul but lifesaving breath.

After a seemingly endless torture session with your life on the line, your princess of farts is finally awoken by the singing of birds outside. It's morning. You survived. You're alive to be tormented further. She releases you from the stink suit, and your weak head drops out onto the soft mattress alongside a bit of urine.

The smell of fresh(-ish) air, as it blows across your free face is the greatest pleasure you've ever experienced in your life. You're proud of yourself for getting through the night, you're happy for her. She got the pleasure of a whole night of stinking on you, and she got to keep her fart-slave.

You look at her meekly, trying your hardest to find words from your weak, nauseated lips.

"Thank you for the torture, my stinky queen. I deserve much worse."