Sniff Addiction in the Chaldain Abyss
Introduction:
Seduced into buttsniffing by the mysterious girls of Chalda leads to an addiction for a nobleman’s wayward son.
Shadi was the eldest son of a Sandavan High Judge and if he studied well and kept his nose clean, he was the likely successor to his father’s high position. He had done well with those things until his 22nd birthday when he began to have feelings and passions that he could not explain.
Since his youth, he had enjoyed the storytellers and their great tales of life in those other cities and especially the tales of Chalda and of surreal blue-eyed demon-vixens and super eagles snatching men from the ground. Shadi didn’t believe it all, but nonetheless he wondered if a measure of truth might have conceived many a tale. Perhaps the stories were more to keep Sandavan boys from wandering to the strange and foreign charms of their neighbors, especially those of Chalda where the females had those dark and mysterious eyes and smooth aloofness.
As he grew into a young man, the storytellers began speaking of sexual tales and most were of Chalda where it was alleged that every form of sexual perversion that any person could desire could be found in the depths of Chalda’s many dens of iniquities because, according to legend, the Chaldains nodded their heads to any sex act of any kind, involving willing people, no matter how taboo or forbidden it might be elsewhere. Of course, the storyteller with the greatest tales became a crowd favorite so who knew what was true and what was not?
Shadi wanted to know, partially because he was a student of the judges who required evidence and fact, but if he was to be honest, Shadi would have admitted that those sexual urges within him caused him to desire things forbidden and thirst for the perverse, even though he could not define exactly what those decadent activities entailed.
He was not afraid, not of the calamities professed by the storytellers, and certainly not of anyone from inferior Chalda. Besides, he was the son of a Sandavan High Judge, so there certainly had to be immunities for him.
And so, wise or foolish, Shadi began practicing the Chaldain dialect and he sent his family’s attendant to purchase Chaldain clothing from the common market that bartered daily just outside the walls of Sandava.
When the night came, he slipped into the earthen-tone clothing of the Chaldains and then he slipped into their city. He had no idea how to find any den of iniquity or much of anything else in Chalda so he moved slowly down one dimly lit street and then heard noises that led him to a side street. He waited and listened.
“You are looking for something interesting this evening?” asked a voice from a shadowed doorway before a girl stepped into the light of a single overhead lamp. She was wearing a see-through top that came down to her thighs and Shadi could see that her body was shapely. “There are many pleasures here. You are from North Chalda District, no?” she asked. “I have not seen you here before.”
“N . . . No,” Shadi replied. “Central District,” he lied. “No, I haven’t been here before, at night. I mean, like this.”
“And you have come at night because your are looking for strange pleasures? You are a young man and I can see in your eyes that you have passions; strange passions. Everyday they become more difficult for you to manage.” She came closer. “A man like you has exceptional needs. I am right?” When Shadi found himself unable to respond, she continued. “I will help you. You will come with me.”
He had no better plan. He didn’t know where to go in his quest and he had no idea what his sexual quest was, so he followed her. She moved ahead of him and walked slowly and seemed quite sure of herself. His eyes were glued to the two bulbous mounds of her butt as they ebbed and rocked before him. Was there anything more beautiful than the round, full buttocks of a female when she is walking? They moved in waves like the slow waves of the sea and they were visible through a thin and transluscent material that revealed skimpy black panties. Those panties clung to her butt cheeks, but even more, they clung to his eyes.
She led him down 13 steps to a heavy wood door and she turned to him. “I see you are quite interested in my buttocks.”
Shadi was not accustomed to such bold speech, especially by a female, and he blurted, “I . . . No. I mean. I don’t know. I have never engaged in anal sex. I . . . I . . . No, that is not my ‘thing’.”
She stepped to him. “That is fine, but then, what is your ‘thing’?” she asked almost seeming to mock him.
“I . . . I don’t really know.”
“Well, you like girls’ butts so for now, we will just go with that.”
She knocked on a hardwood door and announced herself to an eyeball on the other side of a peephole. The door opened and she led them through a dank lobby that was fogged with some kind of blue and unscented smoke that emanated from an unknown source. Chaldains reclined and talked and embraced and took little notice of their newest visitors.
“My name is Amara,” she said. “And, what is yours?”
“Cleotis,” he lied.
“Cleotis,” she responded. “Yes, I suppose. That is a common name in these parts. You will do well here, of that I am sure.”
“How?”
“What?”
“How can you be sure.”
She moved her face so close to his that he felt her warm breath on his mouth. Her eyes were fixed to his and her head went slowly side to side as if searching the breadth of his internal being. And then she whispered, “Because I know.”
She led him to a hallway and through one of many doors. He found himself in a three-sided box with the open end looking out upon a central floor that had a great deal of the blue, scentless fog. The box was about ten feet wide by ten feet long. It was made of dark and old wood with a floor that was padded and plush. There were abundant pillows and various items of silk. There were other cubicles but only a couple were occupied and none were clearly visible through the blue fog.
Amara snapped her fingers and two very young girls, dressed similarly and with butts just as round, joined them. “There is a show for you. You will enjoy.” Then, she put a dark cigarette to her lips and lit it. The scent of its blue smoke was sweet. It was not at all like cigarette smoke but rather it seemed like a form of passion-provoking incense. She offered it to Shadi but he declined. His head was already in enough turmoil without adding foggy drugs to it.
She offered it to the young, young girls and they gleefully toked on it with enthusiasm and didn’t want to give it back. “They are much too young for this smoke,” Amara advised, “but they are permitted when they are here because everything is permitted here.”
She put the smoke stick to her mouth again and sucked in the passion of its fog. She exhaled, then sprung at Shadi swiftly and planted her mouth on his lips and drove her tongue into his mouth. She kissed him fully while holding his head so he wouldn’t rebel, which he didn’t which became a matter of concern for him.
When she backed away, his head felt lighter. He felt warmed but not on the outside. His eyes watched as her breath sent tiny and pristine particles of chrome-silver mist into the air and some blew near him and he was certain some of it joined with him when he breathed in. She handed the smoking stick to one of the young, young girls and her eyes widened as she sucked in the smoke and exhaled and then . . . suddenly . . . she leaped forward and grabbed Shadi’s head and she kissed him fully on the mouth also. When she pulled away, chrome-silver mist particles from her mouth blew toward him. The other young, young girl did the same and he felt himself falling down a strange cavern in which his senses were fully aware but his willpower and resistance had become drastically inept.
“I have called for a dancer,” Amara whispered, her fog-mist feeling like an effervescent sprinkling in his ear. “You will enjoy. I will show you what you don’t know.”
“Wh . . . What don’t I know?”
“You don’t know what it is you like. I will show you, with my dancer.”
“How can you know something that I don’t even know?”
“Because, I have looked into the eyes of many men. You will enjoy.” She clicked her fingers and the two young, young girls leaned into him. He could feel their nubile bodies against his and their breath caressing his face as they whispered amorous things to him, things that would become blatantly sexual as the evening wore on; things he would never imagine young, young girls ever saying.
Music began. It was Chaldain music but darker than most. If sensuality was its melody, then wickedness was its harmony. The dancer appeared. She was barefoot with a red anklet. She wore a light aqua-colored halter, a bare tummy, and black panties visible beneath a see-through skirt that extended to her upper thighs. She was brown-toned with black hair pulled back to a hair tie before spreading like a waterfall to the center of her back. Her legs looked long and smooth and slender except for her calves which burst outwardly with muscle. She danced on tip toes and clicked finger symbols. She seemed much like a belly dancer except her movements were almost all the sensual grinding of her hips. She had Chaldain features, except for her eyes which were unmistakeably Persion. She danced about the central floor and neared a couple of men on the opposite side where she danced suggestively for a few seconds before moving on.
She came to Shadi’s cubicle and she dazed him with her undulating hips. One could suggest he was “hip-notized” were it not for the seriousness of both his situation and the dancer’s unsmiling face. She looked down at him while her hips serpentined a mere four feet from his face.
Amara puffed another burst of fog-mist from her strange smoke stick and she locked her mouth to Shadi’s once again and kissed him fully. She breathed her mist into his mouth then whispered, “You will bow down to her. You will worship her.”
Fear raced through Shadi but it surrendered to the mist she had breathed into him. Then, he realized that while Amara had been blurring him with her kisses and fog-mist, the young, young girls had shackled him, not to make him immovable but rather to make him inescapable. He could move, but not very much. And, he had an additional problem because while his reaction had come with a burst, it had also stolen most of his stamina. In fact, for every burst of protestation, he felt he was losing three bursts of stamina. The more he rebelled, the more he was doing himself in.
“What have you done?” he managed to ask.
“It is for your good. You will see. I know. Struggle if you will but it is inevitable now. Soon we will get on to things but for now, you will watch her.”
Shadi protested, ‘NO! I won’t! Unlock these!” But then, he felt instantly breathless and listless.
“You will watch her. You will watch her now.”
It was useless. The more he struggled, the more Amara and the young, young girls blew their fog-mist at him and that mist was pulling him further down the abyss of surrender.
Amara clicked her fingers and the dancer began to slowly undulate as near to Shadi’s face as before. He felt weak. He was surrendering. But he couldn’t. It would be such shame. He was Sandavan. He was the son of the High Judge.
But then . . .
then . . .
He couldn’t believe it! Amara had circled her finger in the air and the dancer was beginning to turn. She was turning away. She was . . .. she was turning her butt . . . her butt . . . she was turning her butt to him! He raged then immediately suffered exhaustion. Were they kidding? They expected him to . . . They wanted him to . . . Amara actually thought that HE–a Sandavan male–would worship the dancer’s ass? He raged again only to fall deeper into weakness. The music stopped and so did the dancer.
“Just watch. Just watch Shadi,” Amara said.
Shadi? SHADI!?
“Why did you call me that name,” he asked, his insides shaking with fear.
“Because you are Shadi, son of the High Judge.”
“How . . . How . . . No I’m not!”
“Oh but you are. For now, if you expect to have your life back or any part of it, you will watch our dancer. Do you understand?”
“Then . . .. then you will let me go?”
“Yes.”
“How long do I watch?”
“Until the end of the song. About four minutes. Surely you can survive that.”
Four minutes? Hell, of course he could. He was strong. Four minutes to trade for a lifetime of freedom was more than enough motivation.
“If you don’t struggle much and if you watch very well, you will be free to go.”
Amara clicked her fingers and the music began and the dancer began to dance. It seemed slower and more suggestive this time. Once again, she turned slowly. Shadi was alarmed. Her butt . . . Her butt was amazing. It was so round. It moved like nothing he had ever seen. It amazed him. It dazed him.
One of the young girls whispered fog mist and words into his ear telling him how much she liked guys who liked girls’ butts. The dancer with Persian eyes moved toward him. She was three feet away. His eyes . . . he hated that he couldn’t move them away. He was entranced. He argued within himself. He believed he could break away but if that was true, then why hadn’t he already done so? The dancer was two feet away. Her butt . . . her round round round butt . . . those butt cheeks … they rose and fell … like slow waves. She was ONE FOOT away! One foot!
Amara put her hand on the back of his head but didn’t attempt to control him. She snapped her fingers and the music stopped and so did the dancer who stood with her left leg straight and her right knee bent, a posture that accentuated the roundness of her left butt cheek.
“Kiss,” Amara said.
“What?”
“You must kiss. Kiss her ass.”
“No, you said–“
“I said you must watch until the song is not over, but it is not over. The song will not continue until you kiss her right here (pointing to the dancer’s left butt cheek). Therefore, if you do not kiss her butt, the music will not play and you will never leave.”
“You can’t do that!”
Amara laughed. “It is all so simple. You kiss her ass, I start the music, and you are free to go. Kiss Shadi. No one will ever know.”
He wrestled with his dilemma but even more, he wrestled with the demons inside of him that wanted to kiss that dancer’s ass. It was awful. It was terrible. If anyone found out . . .
Amara’s hand nudged gently on the back of his head. “Kiss Shadi. Just one kiss. Right here.” Her finger pushed into the butt flesh of the exotic dancer and Shadi nearly passed out seeing the magic of her soft yet taut butt flesh. Amara nudged again and the two young, young girls urged him with sexual whispers and promises that no one would ever know.
And then . . .
It was too late. He could feel the heat from the dancer’s ass. He was so close he could see nothing but her left butt cheek. Amara and the girls were gently pushing him forward and he had lost the resolve to resist. He knew that kissing her ass was his only hope for escape while at the same time he sensed it might also be his greatest step toward capture–captured by the strange lusts that were always within him. It was a crazy irony that he would be released by them while being captured by himself.
He kissed. He kissed the dancer’s butt cheek. Amara and the young, young girls expressed joy and glee and approval and urged him to kiss the dancer’s ass again and again and again, which he did.
Amara returned her lips to his ear. “You have done well. We will continue to the end of the music.” She clicked her fingers and the music began and the dancer moved, this time slower than before. Her feet didn’t move; just her hips. She bent more than before and the sight of her womanly hips and her gloriously round butt spreading made him breathless. But, he had to survive this! He couldn’t give in to the girls and even more, he could NOT surrender more to those rising lusts.
The dancer moved backward to within inches of his face. She slowly pulled her panties down. Her bare ass—yes bare!–was right in front of his face. Amara clicked her fingers to stop the music again. The dancer was posed before him, her feet spread and her back arched as she was bent over before him.
There was silence. He stared. He had no idea what to do. He hated the lusts that drove him–those lusts that depleted his ability to flee.
Then, he felt Amara’s breath in his ear. She whispered one word.
“Sniff!”
“Wh … Wh … Wh …?”
“I said ‘sniff’. Sniff her butt. You must!”
“Wh . . . Wh . . . Never. You can’t make me ever do that,” he managed to say although with stuttering difficulty.
“I don’t have to make you.”
“Wh . . . What?”
“I am not commanding you, I am giving you permission. You will sniff her butt on your own. It is what you crave. And, you have permission. It is what you want. It is what we want. It is what she wants. Sniff her butt!”
Shadi struggled. Anguish consumed him.
“Do it now, Shadi. This is your only chance. If you do not sniff her butt now, you will never have the chance again. Do not miss out. Sniff her butt or she will leave forever. Sniff, Shadi. Sniff her butt!”
The young young girls began the same kind of talk in his other ear and when Amara’s hand bumped the back of his head, he was helpless to stop it from moving forward. His nose went to the dancer’s rear-end and in between her round butt cheeks and then . . . then . . . then, he sniffed. He sniffed her butt. His nostrils were almost touching her anus and he sniffed and he sniffed and he sniffed. He felt as if his head was beginning to float away. He was fully away of his nose in the dancer’s ass and the smell that was taking possession of him but he felt distant. It was as if his entire being had somehow been absorbed in the dancer’s ass. He couldn’t stop. He wanted to but he couldn’t. He sniffed. He sniffed her butt. He filled his cells with the smell of her ass. He felt he was in love. He felt he might not ever stop.
But the dancer suddenly changed things. She pulled away and then strutted through a far door and out of sight. Shadi felt devastated. What kind of cruel game were they playing? She had teased him and lured him and he was hooked on sniffing her ass and then she just left!
“If you are good, she might return. Tell me that you liked that. You loved that.”
He was panting and nodding. The young, young girls giggled at his demise.
“You want to sniff more of her butt, Shadi?”
Despite his prestigious heritage as a Sandavan and the son of a High Judge, he gasped, “Yes! Yes. You must . . . You have to bring her back!”
“And, what do you want to do? Say it, Shadi. Say the words.”
“I want . . . I want to . . . I want to sniff her butt. Please!”
“Very good. You are like the others. They come seeking perversions but once they have smelled our butts, they are hooked.”
She stood and bent over while tossing her gossamer-like skirt over her hips to expose her black-pantied butt and she demanded, “Prove your addiction, Shadi! Sniff my butt!. Sniff my butt!”
Instantly, his face was inserted into her dark and mysterious cavern covered only by the thin black panties and no matter what anyone might think or say, he had to have that smell; the smell of a Chaldain girl’s rear. He sniffed. He HAD to have that smell and he sniffed and he sniffed and . . . she pulled away. She pushed him over and onto his back. The young, young girls took turns squatting over his face and sticking their pantied bottoms over his nose and he inhaled and was feverish for more. They moved away from him.
“You want more, don’t you?” Amara asked and he begged for it. “Your cravings will always be with you. You have done well and for that you are to be rewarded.”
She clicked her fingers and the dancer returned. She was dressed as before except with no panties. She danced and gyrated and teased and he lusted and craved and begged and when the dancer was pleased, she bent over and spread her ass in front of his face and she spoke for the first time. “Sniff. Sniff my butt! Do it now!”
He plunged forward and buried his nose deep in her cheeks and he inhaled her nether scent. He sniffed and he smelled and he breathed in and then she told him to stop sniffing. “You will keep your nose there. You will sniff when it is the right time. That will be soon. You will know when. At that time, you will breathe in deeply. Do you understand?”
It was awkward because his face was still lodged in her ass, but he nodded.
“Very well. You will know when. Then you must sniff deeply.”
How would he know when? He waited. It seemed like ten minutes. It was probably more like ten seconds. What if he never knew when?
Then . . .
Then . . .
Then, he knew.
His nose was lightly pressed to her ass hole. Then he felt it. Air. Warm air. He knew what it was. She had farted in his face! But, he was helpless. He was addicted to her scent; to their scent. He inhaled. He was sniffing her fart and it was intoxicating and addicting and it pushed him further into the abyss of depravity as he inhaled her gas and then, she farted again, only this time, it was a full and airy fart that seemed to last for a full minute. He smelled it. Amara and the young, young girls laughed.
The dancer pulled away and turned around quickly and bent down to put her face of fury to his and in slow and firm words and a stern voice she said, “YOU are going to worship my ASS!”
He struggled but his own lust held him captive. He shook his head. He couldn’t muster words.
“YOU!” she repeated, “Will worship my ASS!”
Again he struggled and shook his head.
The dancer with the Persian eyes softened her voice, “Do you want to smell my ass ever again? Of course you do. You must have it. You cannot live now without it. You will beg and I will say ‘no’, unless you worship my ass!’
“Wh . . . ” Shadi stammered. “Wh . . ..”
Amara leaned in close to him once again. “She means, worship her ass. Do you know what that means?”
He shook his head slowly.
Amara continued, “It means . . . (she paused) . . . it means for you to kiss her anus. Kiss it. Kiss it with passion.”
Shadi protested. He could never do that. He WOULD never do that. It was beneath a Sandavan to kiss like that. But, Amara reminded him that he wouldn ever again imbibe of the dancer’s scent nor of Amara nor of the young, young girls and, in time, Shadi’s desperation caused him to hang his head and silently agree.
The dancer stood strong before him, her buttocks near to his right cheek. “Are you ready?” she asked with triumph in her tone. She slowly bent over, then more bending, until her cheeks spread and her ass hole was clearly visible. She aligned herself with Shadi’s face and told him to look. He knew there was no point in resisting because he had already lost the war within himself. He looked. Passion rose within him. It was unreal. He had never imagined . . . never bargained . . . never . . .
“Kiss my ass!” the dancer demanded. “NOW!”
Like a forlorn and scolded puppy, he brought his helpless face to her ass and his lips puckered and he pushed himself toward the “mark” and his lips pressed to her anus and he kissed the dancer’s ass hole. “Say you love it! Say it!” she demanded and he sheepishly admitted to her that he loved it and after a dozen kisses, he admitted to himself that he loved it. With that internal admission, he threw his past and his future to the side in one swipe of sensuality and locked his mouth to her ass hole and he kissed and he kissed and he kissed. He kissed with such passion that an onlooker might think he was making out with her ass hole, which he was.
Amara pulled his face from her ass and presented her own posterior and that of both the young, young girls and he worshipped all of their asses by kissing their scented and tight rosebuds.
He didn’t know how long it all went on, but with dawn came a new hope for him that the tumult was over; the storm had passed; that he had gotten to the end of Amara’s song and it was time for him to return to Sandava and the real life with a prestigious future that awaited him. When Amara appeared, he said he was ready to leave and she called him foolish. He reminded her that she had said if he did what he was suppose to until the music ended, she would let him go free and didn’t she remember making that promise? Amara said, “Yes, I did make that promise but you see, I lied. Lies trump promises so I suppose you lose. You will remain here for weeks until you are trained. You will see your people but only when we are ready. Do you understand, fartface?”
In the coming weeks he was permitted to sniff the dancer’s rear-end but only after he had sniffed whatever girls had been selected for his daily training. If that training included farting in his face, then he was obliged to confess his love of that airey scent from each girl who did it and he was required to kiss the ass hole of any girls who so requested, and to admit his passionate love for the rear-ends of Chaldain girls.
By the day, he fell further into the pit of buttsniffing and fart smelling and ass worship, but not because of his Chaldain tormentors but because of himself. Amara had known from the beginning that he was “one of those” — strange and perverse ass addicts — and he was slowly descending into the pit of his own filthy lucre. Every time he sniffed Amara’s butt, he fell further. Everytime a young girl farted in his face, it took him down a notch. Everytime he kissed the dancer’s anus, he went even further down and all of it was leading tp the deep and dark and depraved part of who he really was— a buttsniffing, fart smelling ass worshipper.
Then, a special day came and he was led before the people of Chalda. He was put on display and they called out that here was the Sandavan male and the son of the High Judge and he was sniffing Chaldain girls’ butts and begging them to fart in his face and he was kissing their ass hole and professing devotion to the dancer and all of it to the glee and delight of the Chaldains.
Yet even more humiliation lay in store for him and he could not prevent it because he had fallen so far and become so addicted to the rear-ends of Chaldain girls.
He was taken to Sandava!
He cried out in agony to kill him rather than make a spectacle of him before his own people and especially his father, the High Judge. He pleaded and begged and tried to resist but Amara reminded him that if he did not do as he was told, he would not be permitted to buttsniff for hours and perhaps never again.
They led him to the bartering marketplace just outside the walls of Sandava and they announced that they had a “show” for everyone present and they would permit time for others to be called into audience.
Fifteen minutes later, they put Shadi on a platform and while spectators watched and Sandavans were stricken with horror, the dancer turned her shapely bottom to Shadi’s face and he pressed his nose to her butt and he sniffed her butt and proclaimed his love of her scent. He did the same for Amara and the young, young girls and a half dozen other Chaldain females. The dancer then sat on his face and let many full farts, almost all in succession while the Sandavans were beside themselves with shock and disgust. Amara and the young, young girls combined for many additional farts and when they were finished, Shadi admitted that he was addicted to their farts and there was no reversing his addiction–and–that Chaldain girls ruled because of their superior butts and irresistible smells.
He knelt behind a dozen Chaldain females, beginning with the dancer, and he worshipped each of their butts and professed undieing love for each and he kissed each one of their ass holes — his mouth, right where they shit– while Sandavans shrieked in disbelief and then began leaving the area because they could not bear to watch any more.
The Chaldains took Shadi back to Chalda and rewarded his good behavior by laying him on his back in the square so that every Chaldain female who so desired could sit on his face and fart. It was a reward far more gratuitous than Shadi could ever have hoped and he lay there for hours and loved it all so much. His eagerness made him the most popular buttsniffer for the girls of Chalda and he worshipped their asses in public often.
Word was given to his father, the High Judge, and after ranting and raving, he commanded the Chaldains return his son or he would command that an army be sent to deliver his son back to Sandava and back to his senses. However, the Chaldains advised the father that Shadi would never leave Chalda no matter how many armies came for him and if they forced his return to Sandava, he would just leave for Chalda again. “He knows where he belongs. He has experienced our superior posteriors and once a man like him has smelled us, there is no turning back. Your son has become our buttsniffer and you can do nothing to change that.”
Shadi lived long and well despite never becoming a High Judge which was appropriate because he had certainly not, by any means, kept his nose clean. However, he did gain quite a measure of esteem when he became a “face”– a throne– for the dancer and Amara and the young, young girls and their courts who became highly honored for their conquest of Shadi. Although he never became a High Judge, he did become a chair-face for the highly-honored females of Chalda and for him, that was much, much better.
