My seat My ashtray My object at My total disposal

Bound and completely at My command, My chattel serves as My personal object. The sight of Me smoking ignites his desire, yet his locked dicklet means nothing to Me. Positioned perfectly, he becomes My seat as I savor My cigarette, his mouth the ideal ashtray. Nothing enters or leaves his lips without My permission. When the last drag is taken, I press the burning tip onto his tongue, relishing the agony in his eyes. This is only the start—My object will endure far more for My satisfaction today.