Cigarette

It had never smoked, never fancied it, it hadn’t even tried. Unless you counted the one time.

Maybe there was a second time to come.

She sat above it, it at Her feet naked and collared for Her. No eye contact, it had been a lovely evening, sharing gin and tonics, chatting in the bar, catching up again after so long. 

She was as poised as ever, knowing exactly the effect She always had on it, both as a friend and confidant and as its Owner.

It had kept Her drink topped up seamlessly, not too many but enough that She was slightly merry. 

They had gone back to Her room. It supporting Her in Her divine heels. Her knowing how it couldn’t keep its eyes of them.

She had taken Her seat while it stripped and knelt. It had fixed Her another drink. And then She had produce the cigarettes from Her bag. She had thrown the lighter on the floor in front of it.

It heard Her opening the packet. A post-drink cigarette. The image of Her smoking was imprinted on its brain from that very first use. 

She leant down to it, cigarette between Her red lips, it stuck the lighter, She inhaled, the cigarette glowing. As She exhaled into its face She announced. ‘It’s going to be a better ashtray from now. I don’t expect My smoke to come back to Me. It will inhale it all, hold and then turn away from Me to exhale. It will take My ash and it will swallow. It will remain silent.’

She took another drag. It opened its mouth as She brought Her lips close to it, smoke swirling in Her mouth, She blew the smoke into its open mouth, lips teasingly close, watching it intently. It held the smoke until She nodded, then expelled away from Her. ‘Mmm Good Boy’

She took another languid drag, repeated the process and as it exhaled pulled the leash, ‘tongue’ - it put out its tongue as She deposited Her ash - ‘swallow’ the taste, Her waste on its tongue, it swallowed. She grinned.

As She sipped Her gin and smoked Her cigarette She told it what She would be doing with Her slut next, when She was ready. It swallowed ash and took Her smoke, trying to touch lips but always held just apart. ‘You’re My slave not my boyfriend remember!’

As She reached the end of the cigarette She played with it, burning its chest hair which She kept for that purpose, before putting the final stub into its mouth and closing it.

‘It needs a drink’. She took a drink from Her gin and tonic and an ice cube. ‘Open’ she dropped in the ice and then spat Her drink into its mouth.

‘Good boy. Dear me, Mistress could become a chain smoker if the ashtrays are all as entertaining. Now ready the bed, Mistress is going to settle somewhere more comfortable and it can clean its mouth after I’ve showered… I’ve another use for that now’