I like knowing a masochist’s reactions firsthand through facesitting.
Simply sitting on a masochist’s face does not give me a sense of domination so much as it allows me to exhale deeply from within. It relaxes me.
I sometimes wonder why pressing down on someone calms me to the point that my heart feels enriched.
But when I hear muffled moans from beneath me,
or when I sense the subtle moment their once-still body begins to tremble from lack of air,
the sadistic switch inside me flips instantly.
When they wish to belong to me,
when they fear being discarded,
I want to compelled to uncover just how far they can be reduced to a being without rights.
I don't want to release a masochist who has silently served as my chair, stripped bare in both body and mind.
When a masochist looks up at me,
I'm murmuring, “Heaven,” in perfect ease.
But when I look down at them,
I see a flushed face and vacant eyes, desperately enduring.
I believe this contrast is the true beauty of facesitting.
It is difficult enough merely to become mine, especially when I'm so exacting by nature.
At times, while they were in the "Chinguri"position （they lay on their back with their butts and legs lifted into the air, their anus fully exposed）I would take them anally as they simultaneously served as my face chair.
What did it feel like to be used as furniture while drenched in humiliation?
At other times, I trapped their nose between the flesh of my butts and, without warning, drowned them in my golden shower while still wearing my panties.
Because it began without a word, they seemed filled with fear.
And yet, they still wish for me to remain seated forever.
To be positioned beneath me, weakened both physically and mentally, is said to be their pleasure.
As the torment accumulates, their thoughts lose rhythm, and it appears as though they are surrendering of their own accord.
I prefer to look down and observe them in that state — or deliberately ignore them.
I'm aroused by their vulnerability.
Even when I know their limits, even when I have grasped them to their deepest layers,
they still say,
“Please have a seat.”