( Custom audio! No names!) Discovering your unique penchant for women's elongated tongues, particularly those of ebony beauties, presented an opportunity too tantalizing to resist. In a dimly lit room, the ambiance shifts; the air thickens with anticipation and a hint of malice. Your confession, vulnerable and raw, lays the perfect groundwork for an evening you hadn't anticipated. With a wicked gleam in my eye, I lean closer, my breath foul, a deliberate choice to enhance your discomfort. The humiliation begins not with words, but with action—loogies hocked and spat directly at you, targeting your face with precision. My aim is unerring, especially towards your nose, ensuring the viscous liquid is unavoidable, smearing it across your skin with a deliberate, taunting slow motion. The verbal onslaught accompanies each spit, mocking your fetish, degrading your desires. As my tongue extends fully in front of your face, it's not just a show of physical dominance but a psychological one, a punishment tailored to your deepest, darkest fascination. The question of whether you'll be allowed to rid yourself of this degrading mask lingers in the air, thick with humiliation and the stench of my breath. The power dynamic is palpable, with you at my mercy, wondering not just about immediate relief but also about the long-term implications. Will I command you to wear this spit facial as a badge of shame out in public, you to display your humiliation to the world? Or will I grant you reprieve, allowing you to cleanse yourself of the physical evidence, yet never of the memory? The intrigue of your fate hangs in the balance, a testament to the depth of your submission and the extent of my control. As the evening progresses, the final act of domination awaits, a culmination that promises to etch this experience into your psyche forever.