They say there’s no smoke without fire. I have another motto: ‘there’s no smoke without fear’. I love a good smoking fetish session especially when it’s combined with my favourite pastime: reducing a male slave to a quivering jelly of fear. Nice fear though – the kind a worthless slave has been put on this earth for. And they love it.
A recent session of mine involved some of these favourite ingredients – leather, pain and smoking. I’m not a natural smoker – too careful with my health for that – but if it’s for the greater good i.e. reducing a man to a human ashtray, then I say, smoking can be good for you.
My slave arrived on time at La Oubliette with a clear set of instructions. These entailed laying out his appropriate outfit: a full-face gimp mask, leather chaps and mittens. He was ordered to strip, put this uniform on and be ready with his back to the dungeon door. He was at no time to see his mistress but I told him, ‘be assured, though your sight be denied, your other senses will be fully stimulated, not least the sense of touch.’
He did as he was told. Well, did he have a choice? I had adorned my body in a tight-fitting, black catsuit and a pair of wicked leather boots whose high stiletto heels gave me a towering appearance – not that he could see me. Wordlessly, I tied his mask tight – there are no eyeholes and no nostril holes either. The mask has a narrow slit around the mouth but this too can be closed shut. I decided not to do this as I was in the mood to torment that slavering slave’s mouth. Did I ever tell you that mouth and tongue torture is a growing favourite of mine?
I began by paying close attention to his cock, balls and nipples. I attached some wickedly sharp steel clamps to his waiting bollocks. They quickly became weighting bollocks as attached some heavy things which pulled his testicles ever close to mother earth. I then took a keen interest in his nipples by clamping on a pair of vicious biters. He moaned but it had no effect on me – well in a way that’s not true: a slave’s moaning is music to my ears. I love it.
I then put on my leather gloves and placed my hand tightly over his mouth thus sucking the air out of him. I giggled as I observed him wriggle and struggle for oxygen. Blinded, in pain, breathing in the last pockets of air which were filled with the animalistic whiff of cow’s leather – what a treat for the slave. As a very experienced breath taker, I knew exactly when to release the hand. He took in a huge gulp of air. I smiled.
Next he was ordered in no uncertain terms to hit the deck. Sitting on my mistress settee (red leather of course), I ordered him to lie on the floor. I placed my leather boots on his naked torso making sure my sharp heels found their way to the nipple clamps and the ball weights. I heard the moans again and felt that all was right in mistress’ world.
Feeling relaxed on my sofa, I decided it was time to light up his life – and I mean light up. I took out a cigarette (a long, stylishly thin French smoker). I saw his body quiver as he heard me clicking on the cigarette lighter. He knew what was coming.
I drew in some deep inhalations of smoke and bent down to exhale into his narrow mouth hole. Then I replaced my leather-clad hand over that opening and made him take in the smoky air. True, I held my hand there a little too long and he started shaking in breathless panic. Of course, I always know when to let go.
As the ash on the cig grew, I ordered him to stick out his tongue which I proceeded to use as an ashtray. I stubbed out the cigarette on is worthless tongue and ordered him to swallow the fag end. He did as he was told. That was sensible as the Oubliette is very well equipped with instruments of punishment. In fact he hadn’t done such a good job on the ashtray front so I ordered him to stick out his tongue. I gave it a few smacks with the back of my leather hand. He was lucky not to have it clamped.
I was ready for a second cigarette but first played my heels over his face. He knew what to do – took them into his mouth to suck on them in worship of his Mistress. I ordered him to go on to his knees and give my boots a sound licking. He largely did as was told but occasionally fell below expectations which earned some hefty slaps across his masked chops.
I don’t know what came over me but I felt like giving him a little reward. Actually a huge reward – the chance to use his tongue on Mistress’ leather crotch. He did this with plenty of vigour so there was no need to slap his tongue this time.
As my cigarette began to burn out I chose to use the hot embers on his cock but first putting the fag end nearer and nearer to its goal. Again he moaned as the hot cigarette ash got near to his bell end. I cruelly teased him before moving the cig up to his waiting nipples. He was certainly having a hot time in La Oubliette.
The session ended with another order to swallow the remains of Mistress’ cigarette. It was, I told him, a great honour to swallow something that had been in his Goddess’ mouth.
As the long session came to an end, he was relieved of the nipple and ball clamps and told to dress and leave. He never saw my face but must have felt my presence on his singed bits for a few more hours or days to come. Warning: smoking can damage your health!