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I get a real sense of power from it, and not just because I’m the one in control. It’s deeper than that. Watching a grown man tremble as I lower myself onto him, feeling his nervous breath against my skin right before I let one rip… there’s nothing like it. The shudder that goes through him, the way his eyes water but he doesn’t dare look away, it’s intoxicating. He’s paying me to own him completely in that moment, and I relish every second of it. And honestly? The money is great, but what really gets me off is the irony. These same guys who talk down to women in boardrooms or act like they’re above us are literally handing over their credit cards so I can fart directly into their open mouths. They want to be humiliated, put in their place, and they’ll pay top dollar for the experience. If that doesn’t prove how fragile the whole idea of male dominance really is, I don't know what does. Sometimes after a session, I'll just shake my head and laugh. You run the world? Really? Then why are you on your knees thanking me for making you smell my gas? The cognitive dissonance is almost too funny to be real. But hey, if they're willing to pay for it, I'm more than happy to provide the service… and enjoy every second of their delicious humiliation.