[EPILOGUE: "Smotherella's Spittoon"]

You awaken yet again in Smotherella's living room, your face now bruised, battered and smeared with saliva and dirt. Your mind drifts as you sit there, your arms held uncomfortably in place by chains so that your body is kneeling at an angle. The rusty claws of your spreader gag keep your mouth open and shackles keep your ankles rooted to the floor.

As you sit there in the dark, you contemplate your failure. You could have had it all. A life of glory and luxury, a harem of slaves, it all could have been yours... but you lost. You whimper alone in the dark for a few more hours until you hear the crowd starting to roar. Then you hear them chanting your master's name.

"SMOTHERELLA! SMOTHRELLA! SMOTHERELLA!"

You already know what's going to happen next. She won another match, and her latest opponent will end up as a **** or another piece of human furniture like yourself - if they survived.

But for you, it means your master will be returning home soon, high on the rush of another victory and eager to share the story of her latest conquest with the fellow Dominas.

And so it goes. Some time passes and you hear the dreaded sounds of Smotherella's footsteps approaching the door. She enters with a couple of her friends, fellow Domina like her. They laugh and chatter around you, all the while ignoring your presence.

Smotherella has stopped talking to you completely, treating you like what you are, a piece of furniture.

A human spittoon, to be specific.

While her friends relax and light up cigarettes, your eyes dart around the room as you prepare for the inevitable. Then, before you know it, Smotherella ashes her cigarette in your mouth, and her friends follow. They all take turns spitting in your mouth and laughing about their conquests. The spit covers your face and blends with your tears. You start to break down as you accept your new life as Smotherella's spittoon.