Regret Pt 03

Regret Pt. 03

A/N: This story is a continuation of the previous two parts, and much like both of them, it focuses mainly on facesitting and smothering. If you're not into that this may not be for you, and I apologize for that in advance.

Harry drove the truck to the destination. He pulled over to a side and got out to evaluate his life choices. He had a strong sense of foreboding about going in there. He felt a lot of panic coming on as he had sudden flashbacks of smothering under Mrs. Greene. He considered just running away right there. He mustered up whatever confidence he could and got back in the truck.

It was a large compound with strong security - Mrs. Greene was clearly loaded. He was buzzed in and the large iron gates swung open to let him drive the truck in. He slowly pulled the truck in and heard with dread the heavy gates closing behind him. But he knew that he could climb over that gate or the nearby wall if it came to that.

He pulled up near the house and got out of the truck. A middle-aged man came out to greet him. There was something oddly familiar about him, but Harry couldn't place it. He was sure he had seen him somewhere before. "Hey, I'm Hiram" he said and shook his hand hard enough to break it as Harry told him his own name. He wondered what his relationship with Mrs. Greene was. Hiram looked well-built for someone his age. He helped Harry lift the smotherbench out of the truck and into the house. He was surprised as there was another smotherbench already in the living room. He saw the familiar logo and realized that it was an older model from the same company. They dragged the new one further into a master bedroom.

"Alright well that about does it, I'll be on my way then..." Harry said and made as if to walk out. Hiram didn't say anything but watched as he turned around to leave. He was glad he didn't have to face Mrs. Greene again. He felt relief as he realized soon he could be out of there and be in Regret's apartment! But he didn't get far. Before he got to the front door, he heard a familiar voice echo out through the large living room hall, "Where do you think you're going?"

He froze in his tracks as he heard her. He slowly turned around with dread to see Mrs. Greene standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at him directly for the first time. Her gaze was powerful, locking him in a trance. "I- I've done the delivery and I'm leaving" he said, his voice shaking.

"That's not how this works. Regret called me just earlier to tell me that she changed her mind about selling you. You belong to me now", she said, as she slowly and methodically walked down the staircase. Harry couldn't believe it! Regret had cheated him after all!

As Mrs. Greene came closer Harry felt a very tangible tension rise between them and felt himself slowly backing away from her aura. "I- I've done the delivery and I'm leaving", he repeated stupidly and quickly turned around to find Hiram blocking the front door. He had a solemn expression on his face. It was clear he wasn't getting out that way.

"You can't do this! There's some misunderstanding! Regret told me to deliver this and go straight back! I need to return the truck. I need to go!" he said, his fight-or-flight instinct triggering hard.

"Oh don't you worry about the truck. I'll get Hiram to drop it off. You I have plans for. Follow me." Mrs. Greene said sharply and turned away towards her bedroom. Harry felt his body automatically obeying her and start walking. But he quickly snapped out of it and ran sideways to the corridor instead. He had noticed a bathroom earlier and headed straight for it. He got in, locked it from the inside and opened the window to jump out. But to his dismay there were bars on the window! Who has bars on their bathroom window! He cursed as he heard rough knocks on the door. "You're making this worse for yourself. Come out this instant!", Mrs. Greene commanded from the other side and Harry felt a primal fear rise up inside him.

But he wasn't ready to give up. Like a cornered animal he was now angry. He went to the door quietly, unlocking it without a sound. With a strength he never had before he roughly forced the door open (it swung outwards). He hoped to not hit Mrs. Greene (he still had a fearful respect towards her). Instead he ended up banging the door on Hiram, who yelled out in pain and fell to the ground clutching his head. This was Harry's chance to run away.

Mrs. Greene was in his way. But surprisingly, she stepped aside, turning around to watch him with disappointment as he ran past her. His heart pounded as he got to the front door and opened it. He yelled triumphantly as he saw the main gate he could climb out into freedom.

He was never a good runner but now found himself legging it fast towards the gate. He ignored the truck - let Regret come and get it herself! He was almost half-way there and knew he could get out now. There was no way they could catch him. He shouted in exhilaration as he was now only a few feet from the gate.

Suddenly he was tackled from the side with such a great strength that he got the wind knocked out of him. He collapsed on the ground with the person who had tackled him. This was a man he had not seen before. He looked even bigger and muscled up than Hiram. This guy now had him in a hold, pressing his head to the ground and twisting his limbs like a pretzel to make sure he couldn't move, and was in pain all the while.

With his head on the clean cut grass, he could see Mrs. Greene lazily walking towards them. She looked so tall and graceful, the Mistress of the Manor. She had let down her jet black hair and it was now gently draping her gorgeous boobs. She looked beautiful, despite being so terrifying. Harry felt dread creep up inside him as she got closer.

Within a couple of minutes Mrs. Greene had reached where Harry was on the ground. She crouched on the ground next to his head, giving his forehead a sharp flick. "Got that out of your system?", she asked teasingly as Harry tried his best to break free from the hold. Hiram loomed wordlessly behind her, his nose bleeding from Harry's door attack earlier. He wondered whether he would get revenge.

"Let me go! I was not part of the deal! Call Regret and you'll find out!", he yelled at her desperately. But Mrs. Greene just smiled and ignored him.

"Take him to the old smotherbench. He's proven he doesn't deserve the new one", she commanded the man who was now holding Harry. He obeyed wordlessly and stood up, easily picking him up to move him against his will.

Harry was now getting angry. He was also terrified at the idea of being in one of those benches again. He shouted, "You can't do this! You- you -- you bitc-"

He didn't get to finish as Hiram suddenly reached over and smacked him hard across the face, making him see stars. "Never. Insult. The Mistress." he said gruffly and deliberately as he forced Harry's face to look at him. His ears ringing and his face immediately glowing red, Harry nodded wordlessly and let himself be carried inside.

The two men together got Harry onto the older smotherbench in the living room and shackled him in. He didn't try to resist anymore. He had his chance and he blew it. He had so many chances to avoid this. Why did he agree to do the delivery! It was stupid of him to not use the chance he got to run far away from Mrs. Greene and Regret.

The two men left him alone and went away. They confiscated his phone from his pocket as well. He let out a muffled scream of anguish, banging his head against the sides of the smotherbox in frustration. How could he let this happen!

He absent-mindedly noted that this older model was definitely no Foxline Smotherbench 3.0. It was notably less comfortable, and his head was at a weird angle on the rising platform. Moreover, the bench had clearly seen several years of use. The padding on the head rest had flattened down and gotten pushed to the sides over the years. He felt the center of the back of his head touch hard wood. He wouldn't get any protection from her weight on this bench.

It felt like an hour passed with him just lying there waiting for the inevitable. He gulped as he finally heard the familiar click-click sounds of Mrs. Greene's heels coming close.

"Nowhere to run now. A pain in the ass aren't you?" she asked scornfully as started walking around him. Each time she walked near his head, Harry felt the tension rise. He said nothing, dreading what she would surely do to him.

"You know, breaking-in unruly and disobedient slaves is my specialty. I'll make you into a good one soon. You'll see." she said and stopped near his head.

"Hm" she nodded as Harry gulped but still didn't say anything. She was glad to be done with his excuses. Mrs. Greene didn't wait any further as she quickly turned around and presented him with the ass he had been dreading. She had changed from the store attire, and was wearing a pair of faux-leather pants, luckily without the zipper this time. He watched helplessly as this behemoth of a woman bent down to sit down on his face.

His breathing became frantic and his world grew darker as Mrs. Greene's butt came closer to his face. Surprisingly, he didn't feel much weight when she finally sat down. It was almost... comfortable. This was how Harry had often pictured facesitting to feel like -- a gentle but firm weight that was manageable. But this didn't last.

"Hey, this chair is adjusted for you Hiram. I can barely feel this one's face. That won't do. Come over here and adjust the height for me" she commanded. Hiram came over to the side of the bench and pulled up a crank attached to the side of the old smotherbench. He looked at Mrs. Greene and she got off Harry's face. It was clear this older model couldn't raise the platform with Mrs. Greene's weight pushing down - at least not easily. Hiram grunted as he cranked the lever, moving the rusty gears inside the bench. Harry felt the platform his head was on rise up inch by inch. Unfortunately, unlike in the new model, only the platform rose, leaving his body on the bench at the same height.

Mrs. Greene was still twirling her finger in a circular motion to tell Hiram to keep going. Finally, she decided it was enough. Now Harry's head was a clear 4 inches off the surrounding seat, his neck bent up almost vertically -- he was looking down at his own body and feet. The years of usage had flattened away all the cushioning at the neck edge of the platform, exposing his arched neck to the pointy edge of the wooden platform. As much as that hurt, he knew he had to force his head back on the platform. Mrs. Greene's weight will force that to happen anyway and if he wasn't ready it could break his neck! Harry remembered what Regret had said about the older benches putting people in hospitals.

Frantically, he used his elbows to push back so that he could prop up his shoulders. He kept slipping, but with great difficulty and continued effort, he managed to raise his shoulders to the height of the platform his head was on, and used the friction in his elbows to keep himself from sliding back down. Now he could force his head to lie back down on the platform without straining his neck as much. Mrs. Greene's ass started it's descent immediately once he was in position.

This older model didn't hold his head as snuggly as the new model did, and Harry realized he could actually turn his head to the sides a little bit. He decided to try it out. Maybe if he tilted his head enough, he could breath out the sides of his mouth! He waited until she was almost on top of him, and quickly turned his head to the side without her noticing.

Unfortunately, he had forgotten how overwhelmingly heavy Mrs. Greene was. The moment her weight settled on top of his face, it tried to force his head to turn completely to the side. He knew his neck would break if it twisted 90 degrees while already bent backwards with such strain. He had to use whatever neck strength he had to keep her weight from turning his head to a side. To make matters worse, now only the corner of the back of his head was in contact with the platform, effectively putting all the pressure into that one point. He was sure his head would crack. And after all this, he also realized with desperation that Mrs. Greene's ass was too vast for him to breathe even with his head tilted like this.

He couldn't take more than a few seconds of this angled position and started tugging against his bonds aggressively. Mrs. Greene of course knew that he had turned his head. She had good contact senses in her posterior regions thanks to years of facesitting. She was annoyed at his disobedience, but was happy that he was being punished for it. After making him suffer for his actions for a few more seconds, she decided to relent. She lifted up her ass just enough for a moment. Harry seized the opportunity to quickly turn his head back. He had learnt his lesson.

The moment he did, Mrs. Greene was back on him again. The back of his head still pained from having no cushioning to help sink her weight into. But it was still better than having his head turned. He clenched his teeth as hard as he could to make sure his skull held together - and didn't get squashed out like an oversized egg. Why did she insist on using his tiny face as a seat when she had two giant men around!

The faux-leather pants covering her butt felt cold at first contact, but quickly grew warm as she remained sitting. Harry went into his now-familiar breath-holding routine. God knew when this woman would get up now. After almost a minute he heard Mrs. Greene chuckle and say "Starting to squirm a bit now". She made him fight for it a little longer and slowly got up to let him breathe. He remembered how she was at the store and quickly took a large breath and held it, anticipating that her butt will crash back down immediately. Mrs. Greene laughed as she saw that he was starting to learn. But she didn't sit down, she just stood over him. Harry held his breath and wished she would just sit down already. He didn't want to let it out in case she sat down without letting him breath in again. The fear was almost worse than the real thing.

"Breathe you fool. Luckily for you, I'm not in the mood to smother right now. My favorite show is almost on" she added. Harry immediately felt a huge relief spreading across him as he let go of his held breath.

"Oh my God. Thank you!", he felt himself say automatically. "Thank you, what?", Mrs. Greene responded quickly. "Thank you... Mistress", Harry said hesitantly, quickly realizing what she was asking. It felt weird to call her his Mistress. It was like saying it made it a little true.

Hiram came over near them holding what appeared to be a plastic tube. It was quite narrow but long. Mrs. Greene took it from him and asked Harry, "Do you know what this is for?" He shook his head fearfully to let her know he didn't know. He watched Mrs. Greene take one of the ends of the tube and push it roughly into his mouth. He quickly opened his mouth as she did so. He suddenly understood what the tube was for.

Mrs. Greene didn't wait to see if he'd figured it out. She turned around, bringing her terrifying ass into view again. She took care to center herself since she was planning to sit for a long time.

He felt his skull once again painfully creak with pressure as her familiar weight pressed down on his face again. Her weight was so absolute that he felt nailed down into the bench, unable to even twitch once her weight was on him. She turned on the TV in the living room and changed to the show she was planning to watch. She turned up the volume high enough that the creaks made by the old smotherbench (and his grunts) didn't bother her.

He had been instinctively holding his breath, the same way one does when being waterboarded. But he soon realized that he needed to breathe. He remembered the tube in his mouth and hesitantly tried exhaling some of his held breath to make room. He felt relief as he was able to blow it out with ease through the tube. Sucking it back in was more difficult, but possible. It took some practice, but he soon learned to breathe through the tube. He was overjoyed that he didn't have to keep holding his breath as usual.

But he soon realized that Mrs. Greene didn't like frequent movements under her ass, however small. The first few times he kept breathing back to back. Mrs. Greene got so angry at the movements under her butt that she suddenly lifted her ass off his face, only to quickly drop it back down with force. Harry didn't even register that she had gotten up for a second, he just felt the impact, which bent his nose down flat - almost breaking it. The pain from the shock made him thrash around violently. Without cushioning, the back of his head hurt felt like he was just curb stomped. "Quiet down or I'll take away the tube" she threatened, scaring Harry into holding his breath again and staying silent until she turned her attention back to the TV. Harry realized he'd have to pick his moments to inhale and exhale through the tube. Maybe time it when the TV was loud.

She ignored him for a while after that, watching her show with focus. Harry tried to settle into his new reality. If he was being honest with himself, he was actually starting to like it a little bit. Sure she was much heavier than what he preferred, but she was also sitting on his face - something he had wanted for so long. Her fleshy ass cheeks hugged his face tightly, and on some level, it felt like a big hug. He realized that he could get used to this - especially if he didn't have to hold his breath the whole time. The longer her ass was in contact with his face, the more he felt... devoted to her. He quickly shrugged away those feelings. She was just letting him breathe out of convenience. Soon she'll be back to making him smother and suffer under her.

Out of nowhere, the platform his head was on suddenly gave way and dropped a whole 2 inches down. Like a motorcycle's suspension, his head followed the platform down first and Mrs. Greene's ass followed a few split-seconds later, crashing on to his face again. "Shit!" Mrs. Greene exclaimed as she lost her balance and tried to catch herself by holding on to Harry's shoulders. "Damn this old chair" she muttered. Harry too realized with terror that this old chair was indeed dangerous. His neck had almost broken in that sudden drop.

"Hiram! Get over here. It's happened again!" she yelled out and within seconds Hiram was back. This time Mrs. Greene elected to remain seated for the height adjustment. Hiram grabbed the crank on the side of the smotherbox with both hands, straining to rotate it. With Mrs. Greene's weight it was almost impossible, but Hiram was strong.

Harry clenched his teeth as he heard and felt the gears creaking inside the smotherbox. It felt like hearing chalk on a slate. The platform started rising, slowly forcing his head back deeper into Mrs. Greene's ass. He felt the machinery straining since it had to lift up Mrs. Greene's weight as well, and felt that it could still slip again and drop him down. "Keep it a little higher, in case it drops again" Mrs. Greene said from above and Harry felt his head rise up even further, pushing Mrs. Greene up with his face. Finally, she was satisfied. Harry's neck was now bent at an almost impossible angle.

Mrs. Greene now went back to her show. She ignored him him for the next ten minutes or so, and Harry used this opportunity to get better at this new routine. He also tried to distract himself by listening to the show.

Since it took so much deliberation to get it right without pissing her off, Harry almost didn't notice the time pass. But his body sure did.

Suddenly out of nowhere he realized that the tube wasn't working. He was not able to draw in a breath no matter how hard he tried sucking. He panicked as he wondered whether the tube had gotten bent and tried pushing air out to straighten it out. But it had no effect. He still desperately kept trying and wondered whether he should start struggling again to let Mrs. Greene know. Mrs. Greene didn't pay any attention to him. He started moaning loudly but it was no match for the speakers playing at such loud volume.