Your mouth should be ready for my use.

Crawling to my feet, my slave is going to be turned into a human ashtray to save me from having to find one myself. Smoking a long, white cigarette, I flick my ash into his mouth directly on to his tongue. The taste of the ash reminds him of his place to me, providing a use, a service. And nothing more.

He is an object to be disregarded, ignored if I desire. I enjoy smoking in peace, and my ashtray must learn this if he wants to impress me with his servitude. Finally stubbing the lipstick-stained cigarette stub out... Show more