Be My Ashtray, with Mistress Kristin
Close your eyes. Listen to me packing my cigarettes. You know that sound, right? Me slapping the top end of the cigarette box against my palm, over and over, relentlessly, to ensure that all the loose tabacco packs right in to each long cigarette.
Open your eyes. I bring the cig to my parted lips. Light me up, I say.
You open the silver lighter, and your finger traces over the inscription: To Mistress Kristin's slave. The flame licks at my cigarette, and I inhale.

Kneel. Open your mouth. You're such a good boy, I say. My ashes descend onto your wet tongue. An ember falls, burns for just a second.
Inhale. You love the smell of my smoke. Tendrils of smoke curl around my hand, around your face.
I'm almost finished with this lovely little cigarette. Where, oh where, shall I put it out?
Call us and discuss ALL of your fetishes! (505) 255-9255
Open your eyes. I bring the cig to my parted lips. Light me up, I say.
You open the silver lighter, and your finger traces over the inscription: To Mistress Kristin's slave. The flame licks at my cigarette, and I inhale.

Kneel. Open your mouth. You're such a good boy, I say. My ashes descend onto your wet tongue. An ember falls, burns for just a second.
Inhale. You love the smell of my smoke. Tendrils of smoke curl around my hand, around your face.
I'm almost finished with this lovely little cigarette. Where, oh where, shall I put it out?
Call us and discuss ALL of your fetishes! (505) 255-9255




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