The Wall
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Chapter 1
The situation in which I now find myself is something I never dreamed would ensue when I began corresponding with Ariana. It started seven years ago as a brief e-mail correspondence and has now become my life.
But I must here digress, in order to give the reader some background information about me that relates to this tale. It will sound a bit weird to those of you who have never had a fetish.There has always been something about women smoking that aroused me. I always thought of girls who smoke as being daring and sophisticated. I somehow knew that this feeling would never go away.
And when for the first time, at age 18, I saw a lady smoking a cigar, this “fetish” (It would be some years before I was aware that this is what I had) changed and deepened. It was just an actress on a TV show, and it was only a cigarillo, but I was turned on as never before.
My imagination ran wild. The “brazenness” that had always been part of the allure of women smoking cigarettes in public was immediately dwarfed, in my mind, by this. The very idea that a lady could publicly smoke a cigar and not be the slightest bit shy about it just struck me as incredibly sexy and powerful. It stimulated the deepest part of my sexual psyche. (In those days, the vast majority of women just did not smoke cigars or pipes, and even cigarette smoking was considered “unladylike” by some.)
I began to seek out the few newspaper or magazine pictures or articles about female cigar smokers (and to a somewhat lesser extent, female pipe smokers). I read Thackeray’s Vanity Fair and was astonished to find that just reading the cigar scene got me so hot that I had to masturbate.
I was that rare person who perused men’s magazines not for mere nudity, but for the possibility that I might find a picture of a lady with a cigar. More so than in men’s magazines, I found these pictures in (still, very rarely) magazines such as Time, Life, or in fashion magazines. I perused thousands of magazines over the years, always hoping to find that one special cigar-smoking lady. Seeing a picture of Gina Lollabrigida smoking a cigar in Time still lives in my mind. Each of these pictures was treasured by me.
I had a small collection of pictures clipped from magazines that I kept well hidden, and they were looked at every day. I would watch television with the hope that I might see a commercial for Tiparillos or Tijuana Smalls. I watched Westerns and spy shows, hoping that I would be rewarded for sitting through the tedium by even a brief glimpse of a lady with a cigarillo.
After awhile, as I started dating, I always dreamed that I would find a cigar smoker to fall in love with. Around that time, some of the more adventurous girls would sometimes smoke tipped cigars as an affectation. Some of them probably even knew the effect it had on the boys.
Eventually I did fall in love and got married to a beautiful girl who had been a friend for some time. Alas, she smoked only cigarettes, and at first I didn’t have the courage to “come out.” One night, after a few glasses of wine, she asked me if there was anything that really, really turned me on. With some trepidation, I told her. Her response, which cemented my love for her, was to say “I guess we’ll have to keep a humidor under the bed.” All I can say about the next twenty years is that they were heaven sexually.
Children resulted from this union and, of course, they took priority over everything else in life. My wife and I were able to have our little adventures (always involving cigar smoking) when the kids were small, but at some point it became too risky to continue our cigar sex adventures in the house, so we had to settle for the occasional weekend when the grandparents could take the kids or the few times we could get away alone.
Like many marriages, after 20 years ours became a bit stale and boring. We still had sex, but the wild nights of previous years had become a memory. When having sex, I began to imagine other women smoking cigars. It always had the intended result, but it just wasn’t the same.
Then came the Internet. When I had my first taste of Netscape Navigator, I was awestruck. What an amazing invention! And then one day the thought came to me: There must be pictures out there of women smoking cigars. Going into AltaVista (this was years before Google) I typed in “cigar” and “woman.” The results astonished me. I was compelled to take the next two days off from work.
Chapter 2
Over the next few years names of female cigar smokers such as “Tika” and many others lingered in my brain. These ladies were actually catering, on purpose, to men like me! I searched out and enjoyed all of the offerings of the day (very meager by today’s standards) and searching for pictures of ladies smoking cigars became my favorite hobby. Of course I never saved anything on my hard drive—with only one computer in the house, I couldn’t take any chances.
Time moved on and the Internet grew tremendously. I was tiring of looking at posed models and longed for real-life pictures, which, thanks to Cigar Aficionado and the resulting cigar boom of the nineties, had begun appearing. I had joined a few MSN and Yahoo groups and one day saw a group of pictures called “candids,” posted by a man to whom I remain eternally grateful. This was what I had longed for! I started looking for these types of pictures.
Eventually, I found an amateur photography site that had thousands of pictures of regular, normal girls and ladies smoking cigars. It was not a smoking fetish site, but for me it was. I looked forward to the monthly (or so) updates and figured out how to find the latest pictures out of the thousands posted, seemingly at random. I began to save the best pictures, hiding their location on the hard drive as best I could.
Some of these early pictures were of excellent quality, both in content and photographic excellence. I decided to post some of my favorites to a Yahoo group devoted to cigar-smoking women. The reaction I got astonished me. So many people contacted me about the pictures that I couldn’t believe it. People were apparently not aware that so many such “candid” cigar pictures were out there. The most enthusiastic person to write me about the pictures was, to my surprise, a woman. Ariana.
Our first correspondences were about the pictures--where did I find photos of such quality, in such quantity, et cetera. Over time, we became long-distance friends, discussing everything from culture to politics. We were able to discuss personal things such as family and relationships. I found that Ariana is bisexual and that she smokes her pipe all the time, and she has at least one good cigar each evening.
Over the years, Ariana repeatedly asked me if I would like to come to England (I live in the United States) and photograph her with her pipes and cigars, as well as make videotapes, which I would then be able to post online. Her smoking fetish was, if anything, stronger than my own! Having family commitments, I was never able to go, although the desire to do so burned in me. Our correspondence waxed and waned, and life, if the reader will forgive the cliché, went on.
A few years ago, Ariana moved to southern France. Coming from a wealthy aristocratic family, she was able to purchase a large estate, in which she has enough room to keep her beloved horses. Coming from an ancient noble lineage, she has inherited that nobility of bearing that comes only from generations of breeding.
A very tall woman, Ariana cares not a whit what people think of her. She has smoked a pipe since her teenage years, and has enjoyed the finest cigars since her days at Oxford University. She lives and loves as she pleases and, for her, only the best will suffice. And, as mentioned above, she has a cigar and pipe fetish.
Ariana and I resumed our correspondence shortly before she moved to France. We would exchange e-mails almost daily, and what began as mild flirting became very overt sexual overtures. I was surprised to find myself totally infatuated with someone whom I had never physically met. I felt like a schoolboy in love. Ariana decided that we had to meet. This time I agreed.
As is her wont, she instructed me exactly how things would proceed. I would travel to Paris, where she would book a suite at the best hotel in the city. I would be treated not only to the Ritz, but to the Folies Bergiere, and, on the third night, to a seedy jazz club, in which many of the female patrons would openly be flouting the new French anti-smoking laws with their cigars. Ariana wanted to know if there were any scenarios that I would like for us to role play. It felt like a dream.
If things “clicked” between us, I would be allowed to visit Ariana’s boudoir and would be invited to spend the remainder of the two weeks at her estate. If we turned out not to be suited to each other, I would stay, at her expense, for the remainder of the trip in Paris.
I was informed by Ariana that she does not trust men, so that I would be “restrained” if any penetrative sex were to occur. (With women, Ariana is willing to take a submissive role, but with men, she is always in total control.) This idea turned me on enormously. I agreed to go to Paris last June and made plans to arrange a “business trip,” ostensibly to London, in order to have an alibi for my wife.” The plan proceeded.
Arriving in Paris is something that should be experienced by everyone. The beautiful sight of the city can take one’s breath away. I was a bit nervous with anticipation, but I knew that this was something I really wanted to do. Ariana was now my dream woman and I literally couldn’t wait to see her. As I descended the tarmac, I scanned the sea of faces. It wasn’t hard to spot her.
Standing taller than even most of the men in her extremely high heels, she was impossible to miss, especially with the long-stemmed black pipe dangling from her mouth. I walked up to her, kissed her hand, kissed both of her cheeks, and introduced myself. In person, Ariana was even more attractive than I had imagined, and the picture of elegance itself. After retrieving my bags, we headed to a waiting limousine and thence to the Ritz.
We didn’t talk very long that evening. I was suffering from jet lag and Ariana graciously offered to escort me to my room for a nap. I didn’t awaken until late the next morning. As my eyes opened, I saw Ariana across the room, sitting on a chair with her book and pleasantly puffing her pipe. “It’s about time you woke up sleepyhead,” she said.
The next three days were everything I had hoped for. The two of us hit it off from the beginning, and by day two, I was invited to Ariana’s room for the night. As she had warned me, I was chained to the bedposts by a pair of handcuffs. Ariana then ever-so-slowly removed my garments and apprised my growing manhood. “Not bad,” she noted. “I might have seen a couple of specimens longer than that, but I’m very impressed with the girth. If I allow penetration, I think you will work out.”
That night was absolutely wonderful. I was under the total control of Ariana as she sat astride my face, cigar dangling from her mouth, while she commanded me to use my tongue to its utmost. I happily obliged for over an hour, watching her enjoy what seemed like a hundred orgasms, her love juices spurting into my face. I was wild with desire, but Ariana decided that we would put off “penetration” until at least the following day.
Strangely, I was not disappointed, because I was so horny that I didn’t want it to end. She lay beside me and laughed sweetly as my member refused to get out of business mode. I slept as if I had never slept before.
We had two more wonderful days enjoying the city enormously. Paris’s beauty is impossible to describe, and I won’t waste the reader’s time with my meager attempts. I had one of the finest meals of my life and enjoyed an amazing show at the Folies Bergiere. On the third night, we went to the seedy nightclub, as had been promised. The jazz music was fine and the sight of so many women smoking their cigars kept me at our table in order that no one would notice the nonstop bulge in my pants.
We went back to the hotel feeling very satisfied with the day and I was, for the third time, invited into Ariana’s boudoir.
I was again shackled to the bed and things progressed as before. This night was to end differently though—after an hour of cunnilingus, Ariana mounted me, smoke drifting out of her mouth around her dangling cigar, and, after encircling my throbbing penis with her silken quim, she slowly moved up and down. I did everything I could to prolong the event and, as I was about to come, Ariana gently removed the luscious grip of her beautiful vagina from me. She lit another Cohiba and teasingly blew smoke in my face.
I resumed tongue–pleasing her for another 20 minutes or so, and then she mounted me again. This time it was over within minutes. It was the best orgasm I had ever had—I was, as the cliché has it, “weak in the knees.” I literally would not have been able to walk. “You deserved that, my dear boy. You may sleep now. You are definitely coming with me to my estate tomorrow.”
Chapter 3
With the morning sun lighting up the city, it was time to go. A limousine arrived and our bags were loaded. I felt a bit sad that we were leaving Paris but I knew there were more adventures lying ahead. After a truffle and ham omelet and some coffee, we were on our way.
I regret to say that I slept most of the way, thus missing out, based on what I did see, some of the most beautiful landscapes imaginable. Every time I awoke, I would see Ariana, out of the corner of my eyes, gently puffing her pipe, its fragrant and intriguing aroma sweetening both my nostrils and my thoughts. I felt almost in heaven.
We arrived at our destination and our bags were carried in. The house was a very old and very large mansion, surrounded by a huge expanse of lawn littered with ancient oak trees. She was, like its owner, a grand lady. Later I would be given a tour of the house and grounds, but first I met some of the staff and was served a cup of Earl Grey tea with a bit of honey and was presented with a humidor containing a variety of good Cuban cigars. I chose a smallish Romeo y Julieta and sat back to enjoy myself.
I hoped that Ariana would join me, but she said she would prefer a fresh pipe and chose one from her extensive collection. I watched as she tamped down the tobacco and brought it to life. We sat and conversed about a variety of subjects for the next half hour and then she said we needed to change our clothing. I prepared to unpack my bags but Ariana told me not to worry, that it would be taken care of. She had had her tailor custom make a riding outfit for me.
Her afternoon plan was to go on a horse ride through the estate grounds, another treat that had been promised me. The experience did not disappoint. My riding skills are limited, but with her guidance I had a wonderful time. “What a life!” I thought. “How could I ever leave?” Indeed.
After supper, we removed to the parlor, where we were served coffee and fine French cognac, and once again the humidor was presented to us. Ariana insisted on choosing my cigar for me, a Cohiba Esplendido. For herself she picked a very large Romeo y Julieta. I watched entranced as she expertly clipped the cigars and brought hers to life.
As the plumes of smoke wafted from her lips to the high ceiling, I felt very amourous again. Ariana quickly noted my protuberance and laughed loudly. “My, my, don’t be impatient, Jay. I am a woman who very much likes to go slowly. Relax and enjoy your cigar.” Which is what I did.
Our first night in Limoge was somewhat similar to the last night in Paris and just as wonderful. Ariana invited me to one of her boudoirs, a large, unwindowed interior suite, with two rooms facing each other. One room, the larger of the two, contained a large, beautiful bed and two small couches and some chairs. I noticed that there was a strange kind of door that could be slid out to enter the smaller room. It was a huge steel sliding door with a tiny window. It looked out of place in such a great estate, and I asked Ariana its purpose.
“That’s how I’ll keep you locked up love, after you're mine,” she laughed. “Let’s have a drink and then we’ll see what we can do to entertain ourselves.” She gave me a tender kiss on the lips and our night began.
At this point, I was seriously in lust and dangerously close to being uncontrollably in love. I dreamed I could spend all of my waking hours for the rest of my life watching this beautiful lady smoking her pipes and cigars, going for daily rides, and having our wonderful conversations. And the nights of ecstasy! How could I ever give this up? I knew I had to, but I kept the thought from my mind.
The week went too quickly and the idea of an end was beginning to darken my thoughts. I felt like a schoolboy knowing that his summer romance was about to end. I was deliriously happy, and yet sad at the same time. Adriana only smiled when I told her my thoughts. “Don’t worry, you’ll be staying, love. I’ll see to that.”
I asked her how she could be so sure.
"Because it's what you really want. You just haven't admitted it to yourself yet."
Ariana smiled again, but this time her smile looked subtly different. “What would your wife do if I didn’t let you go home?” I laughed, made a joke, and changed the topic.
I said, “I guess it’s our last night tonight, so do you have anything special in mind?”
“Indeed I do, Jay. Indeed I do.”
That evening, after another sumptuous feast, we sat outside on the porch, enjoying cognac and cigars, Ariana chose for her smoke a rather large Cuban Punch and I watched with bliss as she sat, the cigar dangling seductively from her mouth, as we savored the approach of sunset. We sat and talked for the next hour and a half and she smoked her cigar constantly, occasionally glancing, bemused, at the bulge in my pants.
Finally, as she finished exhaling her last puff, she said, “time to go upstairs. Don’t you have to get ready?” Alas, I knew I did, but looked forward to one final night with this remarkable woman.
We first went to my room, where I planned to pack my things. Ariana told me that it wouldn’t be necessary.
“Everything you need will be taken care of. Tonight you are mine. Please come with me to my boudoir.”
I followed Ariana down the hall, marveling at her svelte figure. I was definitely in love and thought again how sad it would be to leave. I was grateful, however, to have had such a wonderful experience for the better part of two weeks.
We arrived at Ariana’s suite and entered.
“I want this night to be special for you, as it will be your final night of living in such style.”
I could only agree. Ariana pulled another cigar from her bedroom humidor. Dangling a Cohiba from her lips, she lit it expertly, smiling at me through the smoke. She playfully exhaled a stream of smoke into my face. I was well beyond aroused by this point and hoped I wouldn’t ruin things by coming too soon. I was once again restrained to the bed and my clothing removed. Ariana, as on previous occasions, sat astride my mouth, taking her pleasures for about an hour, the cigar hanging in a most erotic manner from her red lips.
After having numerous orgasms and again spewing her juices on my face, she was ready to move to the next step. I was in such a state of anticipation that I felt slightly mad. I was obsessed with the desire to have her beautiful cunt in possession of my rock-hard dick. Ariana got off of me and left the bed. I didn’t know what she had in store for me right then, but nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.
Chapter 4
Ariana rang one of the small bells which she used to summon her servants. I was puzzled when, a moment later, two young women appeared at the door.
“Come in girls, it’s time. Jay, I am pleased to introduce to you Jeanne and Michelle. Ladies, this is Jay.”
I was in total confusion, but then it hit me—Ariana must have planned to have an orgy with me and these girls. I couldn’t believe it. I was awestruck at this turn of events, but I knew by now that Ariana was indeed, a special kind of lady.
“Gag him, Jeanne. And Michelle, please secure his feet.”
The girls did as instructed. I had never really been sexually interested in this kind of thing, but I was getting quite aroused by it. Who knows about these things?
“Jay, this is now your moment of truth. If you follow through with this, it will be the beginning of a new life, a life that you deeply desire in your innermost being. I am not forcing you to do anything. But you must choose. Do you submit to me totally?”
“Yes.”
“And are you prepared to accept my complete ownership of you? That would include forcing you to submit to any act of degradation that I may deem fit, so that you are fully aware that you are my property.”
“Yes.”
Ariana then instructed the girls to disrobe, and their exquisite bodies had my complete, rapt attention. I was rewarded for this by a slap on the cheek.
“Did I give you permission to leer at these girls? Do it again and you’ll be sorry.”
There was a different tone in her voice that was deeply arousing. The three ladies removed themselves to the adjacent room, where I noted with shock that, this time, it was Ariana who was being shackled to the bed. I remembered that Ariana had told me that in her sexual adventures with ladies, that she would take the submissive role.
I watched with a mixture of trepidation and extreme lust while Ariana practiced on each of the girls the same arts that I had recently employed in the pursuit of her pleasure. This time, it was Michelle and Jeanne who, large cigars clenched in their teeth, took turns as Ariana performed extensive cunnilingus on them. It was an extremely arousing sight to be watching and I ached for my turn.
Finally, after what seemed like hours (and perhaps it was), the tryst came to an end. Ariana was unbound and lit her third cigar of the evening, this time a smaller Cohiba. She walked to my bed and I was so, so ready for what was coming next.
“There are a few things I have to tell you Jay.”
“That doesn’t sound very romantic,” I replied.
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
Ariana instructed me on the future to which I had submitted.
“You’re not going home tomorrow morning Jay. In fact you won’t be leaving at all. You are now mine. I have decided that I want a slave. You have passed your audition and so I have selected you.”
She took a long drag on the cigar and smiled.
“Turn him girls.”
“What the fuck, Ariana." The words were barely out of my mouth before I regretted them.
Jeanne walked over and reached for the chain binding my left hand. I immediately tried to somehow strike out at her, but the other two women were there in a second to subdue me. There must have still been a part of me that wanted to resist, but I was mentally powerless.
“You’ll pay for that Jay. We can either do this nicely or not so nicely, but either way, you will end up where I want you.”
Loosening one bond at a time, the ladies soon had me re-bound, but this time facing down. I soon learned the reason for this as I received twenty painful lashes. This is something that definitely did not turn me on and I told this to Ariana.
“We’re not trying to turn you on—we’re giving you chastisement for your impudence and for your attempt to hit Jeanne. You will find that I am a very forgiving mistress. I am not a sadist, but if you need to be punished, you will be. Get used to it. By the way, Jay, I now intend to demonstrate to you how completely under my control you are. You are free to leave at any time, but if you stay, which we both know you will, you will be completely subservient and accept your punishments. And now we will cement our new relationship."
"Jeanne, please bring the lubricant and prepare my slave."
Turning to me, Ariana said, “And, by the way, you told your wife you were going to England. Instead you flew to France with no documented destination other than the airport. She might do some digging and find that you really did go to Paris. And then she will realize that you are a fucking liar and cheating on her. You will be divorced and your family will be through with you. There is nothing left of your former life. Now submit!”
Jeanne began to lubricate my anus with copious amounts of some kind of gel. I trembled inside when I realized what was coming. Glancing to my side, I saw Ariana with a box of dildos, some bigger than my own dick. She chuckled, saying, "Don't worry, my boy, we will begin your training with one of the smaller- gauge implements."
After affixing one of the dildos to a strap on harness, Ariana took my anal virginity, as Jeanne and Michelle watched and smoked. To my surprise, it didn't really hurt and I even enjoyed it. But I was extremely afraid, knowing that at some point, the larger units would be used.
"We're done for now, Jay. That was only a taste of what you will be trained to love. I now own you and you are my pussy slut."
All kinds of thoughts raced through my brain. I was truly at sea and had to figure out a way to escape this situation, but I knew it was not possible because my mind itself was enslaved. I could not resist.
The girls unbound my feet and Ariana told me to get some sleep.
“Don’t worry, my dear man. I like you and you will be treated very well if you behave. And, on occasion, you will have the reward you crave. You would have had it tonight but you didn’t deserve it.”
Before leaving the room she came to the bed and blew a long stream of cigar smoke in my face again. I coughed and she blew another plume of smoke my way as if to punctuate the fact that she was now, indeed, my master . . . my mistress.
“Good night,” she laughed, and I listened as the girls locked the big steel door and retired to the bed in the other room.
Chapter 5
Improbable as it was, I actually slept well. I awoke to the smell of stale cigar smoke and to the sick feeling that, no matter what happened now, my life was changed forever. I had an intense need to urinate but there was no one in either room to call for assistance. After what seemed an eternity Ariana appeared at the foot of my bed. She noticed my tumescence immediately and she also knew that the cause for it was not arousal but the need for a bathroom.
“I hope you slept well Jay,” she said through puffs of pipe smoke. “I need to know if you’re going to cooperate. If not, you will have to leave and we know that you never will.”
I let the idea sink in and realized that she had the balance of power now. Because she had my mind.
“If you give your word that you will do what I say, you will be allowed to use the toilet, get yourself cleaned up, and have a nice breakfast with me. If not . . . I think you can understand.”
“Why are you doing this to me? I really have to pee.”
“We’re not discussing this,” she replied coldly. “Do I have your word or not?”
Realizing that I had no choice and that I would soon pee myself, I gave my promise. I would do whatever I was told.
“Good.” She continued to clench her pipe, taking it out of her mouth only to talk. I warn you, though, that any attempt to break your word will only result in failure. And there would most definitely be unpleasant consequences.”
I was unshackled at last.
After using the bathroom and showering, a servant led me to the breakfast room, where I was met by wonderful aromas from the kitchen and my three companions of the previous evening.
“Good morning, Jay, I hope you slept well.”
It was Jeanne. Her greeting was warmly followed by that of Michelle. It was as if nothing had happened the previous night. The four of us were served breakfast and coffee and we chatted as if we were just friends having a meal. After we completed the meal, Adriana lit yet another pipe, and the other two ladies enjoyed small cigars. They offered me the humidor to make a selection, but I was not in the mood for smoking.
“I’ll have mine later if you don’t mind.”
“If you don’t mind, Mistress!”
“What?”
“You will address us as ‘Mistress’ from now on. You have to understand that we can completely control you and I will not hesitate to use whatever force is necessary to keep order in my home. In return, we will make your life with us as pleasant as can be. You will have chores to do, of course, such as cleaning my pipes, but you will also be free to travel around the estate, at my discretion, get your exercise, and even occasionally enjoy fine Cuban cigars with us. What objection could you possibly have to your situation?”
It occurred to me that this was not a totally bad thing, but I confess I had second thoughts.
“What about my family. I can’t just never see them forever.”
“You have a new life now Jay. How it turns out is entirely up to you. Your family will be fine without you. You don’t really want to be with your wife and your children are now grown. Life is all about tradeoffs. You have traded your old life for a new one with me. At the deepest level of your psyche, this is what you want. I am only giving you what you really want.”
Ariana replaced her pipe into her mouth, tamped down her tobacco, and accepted a light from Jeanne.
I sat there for the next hour, mesmerized by my new reality as I watched Ariana calmly puffing away on her pipe. I chastened myself for being so weak, yet could not deny that I was intensely aroused by the very idea that I was now her slave. Ariana somehow sensed whenever my tumescence returned and it always seemed to give her delight, not just because she knew that she was the cause of this effect, but because she knew that I was a prisoner, not just of her, but of my own desire.
Chapter 6
I had been living under Ariana’s roof for about two months and although I knew that this would never feel normal to me, I had adjusted to my new life and, most of the time, my time went pleasantly enough. Every few days, my often-plugged anus was trained to take dildos of greater girth, and I had even started to get used to that. I was made aware of what a cock cage was. I learned what it felt like to have my private area shaved. I learned what was expected of me and I performed my duties as a good slave.
On some occasions, I needed chastisement, but I accepted that it was for my own good. And I even began to be turned on by it. When I behaved well, I was sometimes allowed the release which I so craved.
One day Ariana came to me and told me her plans for an event that she was planning. There was to be a dinner party in two weeks, to which several of Ariana’s friends would be coming. I was shocked when she told me that I would not be the only slave at the party—Ariana was a friend to several ladies, both British and French, who had their own slaves.
“And believe me Jay, none of them are treated as well as you are.”
She opened a humidor and selected a rather large Romeo y Julieta, clipped it, and toasted the end until it came to life. Puffing the cigar and savoring its smoke, she seemed very tranquil. I longed to kiss her lips at that moment, but I knew that any such initiative would have to come from her. She noted my discomfort as my cock strained against its confinement. I had to hold my breath to make the erection depart.
Blowing a huge cloud of smoke in my direction, Ariana issued her instructions.
“You will be in charge of this Jay. This is another test for you. I want to see if I can truly trust you to handle my affairs properly. You will plan the dinner party, arrange for the guests’ accommodations, plan the menu, and then, on the night of the party, you will coordinate with the other slaves in order to ensure that all of the ladies are well taken care of. Glancing at my crotch cage, she smiled.
“Do you think you’re up for it?”
“Of course, Mistress.”
It was a whirlwind of activity for the next two weeks. I made the preparations, prepared the menu, and took care of all the minute details that go into such an undertaking. I wanted only to please Ariana and used all of my skills to make the event a special one. Time, as is its wont, seemed to fly away. I was confident however, that I had put together the ingredients for a special event. I wanted my Mistress to be happy with my efforts. It dawned on me that I had really taken to my role as her slave and that I was actually addicted to it.
The day of the party finally came and I was ready for it. The weather cooperated by being warm and sunny and its radiance was like a tonic to me. The limousines began to arrive in the late afternoon, and the ladies, and their slaves, were introduced to me. It need not be said, but the ladies all looked ravishingly beautiful in their evening gowns and tastefully applied makeup.
The slaves, me included, were all clad in black tuxedos, all of us eager to please our mistresses. The silent camaraderie between those of us in service was a welcome thing for me, and the others had been instructed that, for tonight, I was in charge. I assigned tasks and divided the labor.
The guests were first offered aperitifs on the lawn. Two large humidors were on hand and all of the ladies indulged in a pre-meal smoke. The scene was surreal—fifteen elegant women chatting amiably as they puffed their cigars, their manservants kneeling close at hand to serve their every need. Hors d’oeuvres abounded and were consumed with relish.
When it came time for dinner to be served, the ladies entered the formal dining room. I had prepared a variety of entrees, including a roasted pig, venison, lobster tails flown in from Maine, the finest steaks, and an assortment of vegetables and breads. Everyone was enjoying themselves immensely, it seemed to me. I was sure that my mistress was proud of me and I felt at peace.
It came time for dessert, and the trays appeared, from which the ladies made their choices. Coffee and cognac were served along with, of course, another round of cigars. Only the largest cubans were chosen this time and the ladies commenced with their smoking. Our mistresses broke off into small groups and couples, cigars hanging languidly from their lips.
I noticed Jeanne and Michelle, looking ravishing as they puffed their Cohibas. They gently teased each other and then embraced in an overtly erotic way. I didn’t know what to make of this, but then I noticed the other ladies also beginning to engage amorously. Incredibly aroused, I dared not deviate from my tasks. The aromas of debauchery and cigar smoke were almost too much to bear, so I removed myself to the kitchen and made sure that the other slaves were busy with their assignments.
The bell rang and we were summoned to the parlor, where it seemed like a giant orgy was about to take place. Ariana was locked in embrace with a local woman whom I had met earlier named Emily. Ariana called me over and started to tell Emily that she would gladly let me service her in any way she wished. Emily apparently knew my entire story and had been told of my prowess with the tongue.
“I’d love to give him a go Ariana, although in my experience no man knows what exactly he is doing.”
Laughing, Ariana ordered me to strip and go to one of the divans. I was extremely embarrassed, having never been naked in front of such a large group of people, but I did as I was bid. My hands were duly bound and Emily sat astride my lips.
“Be a dear Ariana, and get me a fresh cigar please.”
Moments later, a large Punch dangling from her lips, Emily placed her womanhood at the edge of my lips.
“Let’s see if you really can please me.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
My tongue did its mischief and, cigar smoke swirling from her lips, Emily started to come. Ariana was becoming aroused herself and, as Emily was pleasured by me from below, Ariana started massaging her breasts and kissing her with great passion. Emily seemed to explode with pleasure and her juices dripped into my mouth. Ariana looked at my erect member and smiled sweetly. She was not about to let Emily have my penis though—that was restricted territory. Emily dismounted me and the ladies had their way with each other.
Emily’s cigar ash was getting a bit long and her eyes searched for an ashtray. None was in sight though.
“Jay, open your mouth.”
I was about to protest, but I knew it would be futile and I had no desire to be chastised that night. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth. This was my first, but definitely not my last, experience of being a human ashtray.
Emily de-ashed her cigar into my mouth, kindly taking care not to burn me. As I silently gagged, the two ladies resumed their love play, and momentarily, Emily resumed her position with my face in her cunt. She used my lips, my nose, indeed my entire face. The love juices flowed and flowed. The ladies changed positions several times, Ariana seeming to enjoy herself even more than usual.
I noticed that all around me similar scenes were being enacted. The ladies kept blowing cigar smoke in my face to amuse themselves and the night continued in a similar manner for the next several hours. I don’t know how I kept myself from exploding, almost wishing I were still in the cock cage, but I knew by this time how to do what my mistress wished.
Chapter 7
The next morning I awoke, bound to my bed. I thought about what had happened the night before and about all of the events that preceded it. I looked back at my life and pondered if I would ever go back to the way things were even if that were a possibility. I heard the key unlock my door and I took in the beauty of Ariana as she entered, calmly puffing her pipe.
“You did well last night Jay. Very well. I will indeed keep you.”
“Thank you Mistress.”
“Stay where you are, I am in the mood for some stimulation.”
She placed the pipe between her teeth and sat astride me.
“Lick, slave.”
I did, and orgasms ensued, over and over. Ariana eventually arose, put her pipe in the ashtray and left the room. Returning a moment later, a large cigar rested between her lips. She lit it and got on me again, smoke streaming from her mouth. I resumed my tongue-work and Ariana resumed her orgasming. Forty minutes or so later, she moved her most beautiful, limpid, soaking wet vagina onto my longing shaft. Moving slowly up and down, she exclaimed, “You deserve this slut. Excellent job, both last night and this morning.”
“Yes Mistress,” I almost screamed.
As she raised and lowered herself upon me, she took the cigar from her lips and blew plumes of smoke into my face. When I finally exploded, with the most intense orgasm imaginable, Ariana smiled and moved her pussy to my mouth.
“Clean me, slave.” she said.
Repressing my instinct to gag, I sucked all of my own cum from her pussy.
“Swallow it.”
I did, the first of many times.
“You are the best slave I have owned, Jay. You took to your training very well and you are almost completely schooled.”
As this frightening thought sunk in, I replied, “Thank you Mistress.”
“I think that the life of a slave suits you Jay. Would you ever leave me?”
“No Mistress,” I replied.
And I truly meant it.
The situation in which I now find myself is something I never dreamed would ensue when I began corresponding with Ariana. It started seven years ago as a brief e-mail correspondence and has now become my life.
But I must here digress, in order to give the reader some background information about me that relates to this tale. It will sound a bit weird to those of you who have never had a fetish.There has always been something about women smoking that aroused me. I always thought of girls who smoke as being daring and sophisticated. I somehow knew that this feeling would never go away.
And when for the first time, at age 18, I saw a lady smoking a cigar, this “fetish” (It would be some years before I was aware that this is what I had) changed and deepened. It was just an actress on a TV show, and it was only a cigarillo, but I was turned on as never before.
My imagination ran wild. The “brazenness” that had always been part of the allure of women smoking cigarettes in public was immediately dwarfed, in my mind, by this. The very idea that a lady could publicly smoke a cigar and not be the slightest bit shy about it just struck me as incredibly sexy and powerful. It stimulated the deepest part of my sexual psyche. (In those days, the vast majority of women just did not smoke cigars or pipes, and even cigarette smoking was considered “unladylike” by some.)
I began to seek out the few newspaper or magazine pictures or articles about female cigar smokers (and to a somewhat lesser extent, female pipe smokers). I read Thackeray’s Vanity Fair and was astonished to find that just reading the cigar scene got me so hot that I had to masturbate.
I was that rare person who perused men’s magazines not for mere nudity, but for the possibility that I might find a picture of a lady with a cigar. More so than in men’s magazines, I found these pictures in (still, very rarely) magazines such as Time, Life, or in fashion magazines. I perused thousands of magazines over the years, always hoping to find that one special cigar-smoking lady. Seeing a picture of Gina Lollabrigida smoking a cigar in Time still lives in my mind. Each of these pictures was treasured by me.
I had a small collection of pictures clipped from magazines that I kept well hidden, and they were looked at every day. I would watch television with the hope that I might see a commercial for Tiparillos or Tijuana Smalls. I watched Westerns and spy shows, hoping that I would be rewarded for sitting through the tedium by even a brief glimpse of a lady with a cigarillo.
After awhile, as I started dating, I always dreamed that I would find a cigar smoker to fall in love with. Around that time, some of the more adventurous girls would sometimes smoke tipped cigars as an affectation. Some of them probably even knew the effect it had on the boys.
Eventually I did fall in love and got married to a beautiful girl who had been a friend for some time. Alas, she smoked only cigarettes, and at first I didn’t have the courage to “come out.” One night, after a few glasses of wine, she asked me if there was anything that really, really turned me on. With some trepidation, I told her. Her response, which cemented my love for her, was to say “I guess we’ll have to keep a humidor under the bed.” All I can say about the next twenty years is that they were heaven sexually.
Children resulted from this union and, of course, they took priority over everything else in life. My wife and I were able to have our little adventures (always involving cigar smoking) when the kids were small, but at some point it became too risky to continue our cigar sex adventures in the house, so we had to settle for the occasional weekend when the grandparents could take the kids or the few times we could get away alone.
Like many marriages, after 20 years ours became a bit stale and boring. We still had sex, but the wild nights of previous years had become a memory. When having sex, I began to imagine other women smoking cigars. It always had the intended result, but it just wasn’t the same.
Then came the Internet. When I had my first taste of Netscape Navigator, I was awestruck. What an amazing invention! And then one day the thought came to me: There must be pictures out there of women smoking cigars. Going into AltaVista (this was years before Google) I typed in “cigar” and “woman.” The results astonished me. I was compelled to take the next two days off from work.
Chapter 2
Over the next few years names of female cigar smokers such as “Tika” and many others lingered in my brain. These ladies were actually catering, on purpose, to men like me! I searched out and enjoyed all of the offerings of the day (very meager by today’s standards) and searching for pictures of ladies smoking cigars became my favorite hobby. Of course I never saved anything on my hard drive—with only one computer in the house, I couldn’t take any chances.
Time moved on and the Internet grew tremendously. I was tiring of looking at posed models and longed for real-life pictures, which, thanks to Cigar Aficionado and the resulting cigar boom of the nineties, had begun appearing. I had joined a few MSN and Yahoo groups and one day saw a group of pictures called “candids,” posted by a man to whom I remain eternally grateful. This was what I had longed for! I started looking for these types of pictures.
Eventually, I found an amateur photography site that had thousands of pictures of regular, normal girls and ladies smoking cigars. It was not a smoking fetish site, but for me it was. I looked forward to the monthly (or so) updates and figured out how to find the latest pictures out of the thousands posted, seemingly at random. I began to save the best pictures, hiding their location on the hard drive as best I could.
Some of these early pictures were of excellent quality, both in content and photographic excellence. I decided to post some of my favorites to a Yahoo group devoted to cigar-smoking women. The reaction I got astonished me. So many people contacted me about the pictures that I couldn’t believe it. People were apparently not aware that so many such “candid” cigar pictures were out there. The most enthusiastic person to write me about the pictures was, to my surprise, a woman. Ariana.
Our first correspondences were about the pictures--where did I find photos of such quality, in such quantity, et cetera. Over time, we became long-distance friends, discussing everything from culture to politics. We were able to discuss personal things such as family and relationships. I found that Ariana is bisexual and that she smokes her pipe all the time, and she has at least one good cigar each evening.
Over the years, Ariana repeatedly asked me if I would like to come to England (I live in the United States) and photograph her with her pipes and cigars, as well as make videotapes, which I would then be able to post online. Her smoking fetish was, if anything, stronger than my own! Having family commitments, I was never able to go, although the desire to do so burned in me. Our correspondence waxed and waned, and life, if the reader will forgive the cliché, went on.
A few years ago, Ariana moved to southern France. Coming from a wealthy aristocratic family, she was able to purchase a large estate, in which she has enough room to keep her beloved horses. Coming from an ancient noble lineage, she has inherited that nobility of bearing that comes only from generations of breeding.
A very tall woman, Ariana cares not a whit what people think of her. She has smoked a pipe since her teenage years, and has enjoyed the finest cigars since her days at Oxford University. She lives and loves as she pleases and, for her, only the best will suffice. And, as mentioned above, she has a cigar and pipe fetish.
Ariana and I resumed our correspondence shortly before she moved to France. We would exchange e-mails almost daily, and what began as mild flirting became very overt sexual overtures. I was surprised to find myself totally infatuated with someone whom I had never physically met. I felt like a schoolboy in love. Ariana decided that we had to meet. This time I agreed.
As is her wont, she instructed me exactly how things would proceed. I would travel to Paris, where she would book a suite at the best hotel in the city. I would be treated not only to the Ritz, but to the Folies Bergiere, and, on the third night, to a seedy jazz club, in which many of the female patrons would openly be flouting the new French anti-smoking laws with their cigars. Ariana wanted to know if there were any scenarios that I would like for us to role play. It felt like a dream.
If things “clicked” between us, I would be allowed to visit Ariana’s boudoir and would be invited to spend the remainder of the two weeks at her estate. If we turned out not to be suited to each other, I would stay, at her expense, for the remainder of the trip in Paris.
I was informed by Ariana that she does not trust men, so that I would be “restrained” if any penetrative sex were to occur. (With women, Ariana is willing to take a submissive role, but with men, she is always in total control.) This idea turned me on enormously. I agreed to go to Paris last June and made plans to arrange a “business trip,” ostensibly to London, in order to have an alibi for my wife.” The plan proceeded.
Arriving in Paris is something that should be experienced by everyone. The beautiful sight of the city can take one’s breath away. I was a bit nervous with anticipation, but I knew that this was something I really wanted to do. Ariana was now my dream woman and I literally couldn’t wait to see her. As I descended the tarmac, I scanned the sea of faces. It wasn’t hard to spot her.
Standing taller than even most of the men in her extremely high heels, she was impossible to miss, especially with the long-stemmed black pipe dangling from her mouth. I walked up to her, kissed her hand, kissed both of her cheeks, and introduced myself. In person, Ariana was even more attractive than I had imagined, and the picture of elegance itself. After retrieving my bags, we headed to a waiting limousine and thence to the Ritz.
We didn’t talk very long that evening. I was suffering from jet lag and Ariana graciously offered to escort me to my room for a nap. I didn’t awaken until late the next morning. As my eyes opened, I saw Ariana across the room, sitting on a chair with her book and pleasantly puffing her pipe. “It’s about time you woke up sleepyhead,” she said.
The next three days were everything I had hoped for. The two of us hit it off from the beginning, and by day two, I was invited to Ariana’s room for the night. As she had warned me, I was chained to the bedposts by a pair of handcuffs. Ariana then ever-so-slowly removed my garments and apprised my growing manhood. “Not bad,” she noted. “I might have seen a couple of specimens longer than that, but I’m very impressed with the girth. If I allow penetration, I think you will work out.”
That night was absolutely wonderful. I was under the total control of Ariana as she sat astride my face, cigar dangling from her mouth, while she commanded me to use my tongue to its utmost. I happily obliged for over an hour, watching her enjoy what seemed like a hundred orgasms, her love juices spurting into my face. I was wild with desire, but Ariana decided that we would put off “penetration” until at least the following day.
Strangely, I was not disappointed, because I was so horny that I didn’t want it to end. She lay beside me and laughed sweetly as my member refused to get out of business mode. I slept as if I had never slept before.
We had two more wonderful days enjoying the city enormously. Paris’s beauty is impossible to describe, and I won’t waste the reader’s time with my meager attempts. I had one of the finest meals of my life and enjoyed an amazing show at the Folies Bergiere. On the third night, we went to the seedy nightclub, as had been promised. The jazz music was fine and the sight of so many women smoking their cigars kept me at our table in order that no one would notice the nonstop bulge in my pants.
We went back to the hotel feeling very satisfied with the day and I was, for the third time, invited into Ariana’s boudoir.
I was again shackled to the bed and things progressed as before. This night was to end differently though—after an hour of cunnilingus, Ariana mounted me, smoke drifting out of her mouth around her dangling cigar, and, after encircling my throbbing penis with her silken quim, she slowly moved up and down. I did everything I could to prolong the event and, as I was about to come, Ariana gently removed the luscious grip of her beautiful vagina from me. She lit another Cohiba and teasingly blew smoke in my face.
I resumed tongue–pleasing her for another 20 minutes or so, and then she mounted me again. This time it was over within minutes. It was the best orgasm I had ever had—I was, as the cliché has it, “weak in the knees.” I literally would not have been able to walk. “You deserved that, my dear boy. You may sleep now. You are definitely coming with me to my estate tomorrow.”
Chapter 3
With the morning sun lighting up the city, it was time to go. A limousine arrived and our bags were loaded. I felt a bit sad that we were leaving Paris but I knew there were more adventures lying ahead. After a truffle and ham omelet and some coffee, we were on our way.
I regret to say that I slept most of the way, thus missing out, based on what I did see, some of the most beautiful landscapes imaginable. Every time I awoke, I would see Ariana, out of the corner of my eyes, gently puffing her pipe, its fragrant and intriguing aroma sweetening both my nostrils and my thoughts. I felt almost in heaven.
We arrived at our destination and our bags were carried in. The house was a very old and very large mansion, surrounded by a huge expanse of lawn littered with ancient oak trees. She was, like its owner, a grand lady. Later I would be given a tour of the house and grounds, but first I met some of the staff and was served a cup of Earl Grey tea with a bit of honey and was presented with a humidor containing a variety of good Cuban cigars. I chose a smallish Romeo y Julieta and sat back to enjoy myself.
I hoped that Ariana would join me, but she said she would prefer a fresh pipe and chose one from her extensive collection. I watched as she tamped down the tobacco and brought it to life. We sat and conversed about a variety of subjects for the next half hour and then she said we needed to change our clothing. I prepared to unpack my bags but Ariana told me not to worry, that it would be taken care of. She had had her tailor custom make a riding outfit for me.
Her afternoon plan was to go on a horse ride through the estate grounds, another treat that had been promised me. The experience did not disappoint. My riding skills are limited, but with her guidance I had a wonderful time. “What a life!” I thought. “How could I ever leave?” Indeed.
After supper, we removed to the parlor, where we were served coffee and fine French cognac, and once again the humidor was presented to us. Ariana insisted on choosing my cigar for me, a Cohiba Esplendido. For herself she picked a very large Romeo y Julieta. I watched entranced as she expertly clipped the cigars and brought hers to life.
As the plumes of smoke wafted from her lips to the high ceiling, I felt very amourous again. Ariana quickly noted my protuberance and laughed loudly. “My, my, don’t be impatient, Jay. I am a woman who very much likes to go slowly. Relax and enjoy your cigar.” Which is what I did.
Our first night in Limoge was somewhat similar to the last night in Paris and just as wonderful. Ariana invited me to one of her boudoirs, a large, unwindowed interior suite, with two rooms facing each other. One room, the larger of the two, contained a large, beautiful bed and two small couches and some chairs. I noticed that there was a strange kind of door that could be slid out to enter the smaller room. It was a huge steel sliding door with a tiny window. It looked out of place in such a great estate, and I asked Ariana its purpose.
“That’s how I’ll keep you locked up love, after you're mine,” she laughed. “Let’s have a drink and then we’ll see what we can do to entertain ourselves.” She gave me a tender kiss on the lips and our night began.
At this point, I was seriously in lust and dangerously close to being uncontrollably in love. I dreamed I could spend all of my waking hours for the rest of my life watching this beautiful lady smoking her pipes and cigars, going for daily rides, and having our wonderful conversations. And the nights of ecstasy! How could I ever give this up? I knew I had to, but I kept the thought from my mind.
The week went too quickly and the idea of an end was beginning to darken my thoughts. I felt like a schoolboy knowing that his summer romance was about to end. I was deliriously happy, and yet sad at the same time. Adriana only smiled when I told her my thoughts. “Don’t worry, you’ll be staying, love. I’ll see to that.”
I asked her how she could be so sure.
"Because it's what you really want. You just haven't admitted it to yourself yet."
Ariana smiled again, but this time her smile looked subtly different. “What would your wife do if I didn’t let you go home?” I laughed, made a joke, and changed the topic.
I said, “I guess it’s our last night tonight, so do you have anything special in mind?”
“Indeed I do, Jay. Indeed I do.”
That evening, after another sumptuous feast, we sat outside on the porch, enjoying cognac and cigars, Ariana chose for her smoke a rather large Cuban Punch and I watched with bliss as she sat, the cigar dangling seductively from her mouth, as we savored the approach of sunset. We sat and talked for the next hour and a half and she smoked her cigar constantly, occasionally glancing, bemused, at the bulge in my pants.
Finally, as she finished exhaling her last puff, she said, “time to go upstairs. Don’t you have to get ready?” Alas, I knew I did, but looked forward to one final night with this remarkable woman.
We first went to my room, where I planned to pack my things. Ariana told me that it wouldn’t be necessary.
“Everything you need will be taken care of. Tonight you are mine. Please come with me to my boudoir.”
I followed Ariana down the hall, marveling at her svelte figure. I was definitely in love and thought again how sad it would be to leave. I was grateful, however, to have had such a wonderful experience for the better part of two weeks.
We arrived at Ariana’s suite and entered.
“I want this night to be special for you, as it will be your final night of living in such style.”
I could only agree. Ariana pulled another cigar from her bedroom humidor. Dangling a Cohiba from her lips, she lit it expertly, smiling at me through the smoke. She playfully exhaled a stream of smoke into my face. I was well beyond aroused by this point and hoped I wouldn’t ruin things by coming too soon. I was once again restrained to the bed and my clothing removed. Ariana, as on previous occasions, sat astride my mouth, taking her pleasures for about an hour, the cigar hanging in a most erotic manner from her red lips.
After having numerous orgasms and again spewing her juices on my face, she was ready to move to the next step. I was in such a state of anticipation that I felt slightly mad. I was obsessed with the desire to have her beautiful cunt in possession of my rock-hard dick. Ariana got off of me and left the bed. I didn’t know what she had in store for me right then, but nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.
Chapter 4
Ariana rang one of the small bells which she used to summon her servants. I was puzzled when, a moment later, two young women appeared at the door.
“Come in girls, it’s time. Jay, I am pleased to introduce to you Jeanne and Michelle. Ladies, this is Jay.”
I was in total confusion, but then it hit me—Ariana must have planned to have an orgy with me and these girls. I couldn’t believe it. I was awestruck at this turn of events, but I knew by now that Ariana was indeed, a special kind of lady.
“Gag him, Jeanne. And Michelle, please secure his feet.”
The girls did as instructed. I had never really been sexually interested in this kind of thing, but I was getting quite aroused by it. Who knows about these things?
“Jay, this is now your moment of truth. If you follow through with this, it will be the beginning of a new life, a life that you deeply desire in your innermost being. I am not forcing you to do anything. But you must choose. Do you submit to me totally?”
“Yes.”
“And are you prepared to accept my complete ownership of you? That would include forcing you to submit to any act of degradation that I may deem fit, so that you are fully aware that you are my property.”
“Yes.”
Ariana then instructed the girls to disrobe, and their exquisite bodies had my complete, rapt attention. I was rewarded for this by a slap on the cheek.
“Did I give you permission to leer at these girls? Do it again and you’ll be sorry.”
There was a different tone in her voice that was deeply arousing. The three ladies removed themselves to the adjacent room, where I noted with shock that, this time, it was Ariana who was being shackled to the bed. I remembered that Ariana had told me that in her sexual adventures with ladies, that she would take the submissive role.
I watched with a mixture of trepidation and extreme lust while Ariana practiced on each of the girls the same arts that I had recently employed in the pursuit of her pleasure. This time, it was Michelle and Jeanne who, large cigars clenched in their teeth, took turns as Ariana performed extensive cunnilingus on them. It was an extremely arousing sight to be watching and I ached for my turn.
Finally, after what seemed like hours (and perhaps it was), the tryst came to an end. Ariana was unbound and lit her third cigar of the evening, this time a smaller Cohiba. She walked to my bed and I was so, so ready for what was coming next.
“There are a few things I have to tell you Jay.”
“That doesn’t sound very romantic,” I replied.
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
Ariana instructed me on the future to which I had submitted.
“You’re not going home tomorrow morning Jay. In fact you won’t be leaving at all. You are now mine. I have decided that I want a slave. You have passed your audition and so I have selected you.”
She took a long drag on the cigar and smiled.
“Turn him girls.”
“What the fuck, Ariana." The words were barely out of my mouth before I regretted them.
Jeanne walked over and reached for the chain binding my left hand. I immediately tried to somehow strike out at her, but the other two women were there in a second to subdue me. There must have still been a part of me that wanted to resist, but I was mentally powerless.
“You’ll pay for that Jay. We can either do this nicely or not so nicely, but either way, you will end up where I want you.”
Loosening one bond at a time, the ladies soon had me re-bound, but this time facing down. I soon learned the reason for this as I received twenty painful lashes. This is something that definitely did not turn me on and I told this to Ariana.
“We’re not trying to turn you on—we’re giving you chastisement for your impudence and for your attempt to hit Jeanne. You will find that I am a very forgiving mistress. I am not a sadist, but if you need to be punished, you will be. Get used to it. By the way, Jay, I now intend to demonstrate to you how completely under my control you are. You are free to leave at any time, but if you stay, which we both know you will, you will be completely subservient and accept your punishments. And now we will cement our new relationship."
"Jeanne, please bring the lubricant and prepare my slave."
Turning to me, Ariana said, “And, by the way, you told your wife you were going to England. Instead you flew to France with no documented destination other than the airport. She might do some digging and find that you really did go to Paris. And then she will realize that you are a fucking liar and cheating on her. You will be divorced and your family will be through with you. There is nothing left of your former life. Now submit!”
Jeanne began to lubricate my anus with copious amounts of some kind of gel. I trembled inside when I realized what was coming. Glancing to my side, I saw Ariana with a box of dildos, some bigger than my own dick. She chuckled, saying, "Don't worry, my boy, we will begin your training with one of the smaller- gauge implements."
After affixing one of the dildos to a strap on harness, Ariana took my anal virginity, as Jeanne and Michelle watched and smoked. To my surprise, it didn't really hurt and I even enjoyed it. But I was extremely afraid, knowing that at some point, the larger units would be used.
"We're done for now, Jay. That was only a taste of what you will be trained to love. I now own you and you are my pussy slut."
All kinds of thoughts raced through my brain. I was truly at sea and had to figure out a way to escape this situation, but I knew it was not possible because my mind itself was enslaved. I could not resist.
The girls unbound my feet and Ariana told me to get some sleep.
“Don’t worry, my dear man. I like you and you will be treated very well if you behave. And, on occasion, you will have the reward you crave. You would have had it tonight but you didn’t deserve it.”
Before leaving the room she came to the bed and blew a long stream of cigar smoke in my face again. I coughed and she blew another plume of smoke my way as if to punctuate the fact that she was now, indeed, my master . . . my mistress.
“Good night,” she laughed, and I listened as the girls locked the big steel door and retired to the bed in the other room.
Chapter 5
Improbable as it was, I actually slept well. I awoke to the smell of stale cigar smoke and to the sick feeling that, no matter what happened now, my life was changed forever. I had an intense need to urinate but there was no one in either room to call for assistance. After what seemed an eternity Ariana appeared at the foot of my bed. She noticed my tumescence immediately and she also knew that the cause for it was not arousal but the need for a bathroom.
“I hope you slept well Jay,” she said through puffs of pipe smoke. “I need to know if you’re going to cooperate. If not, you will have to leave and we know that you never will.”
I let the idea sink in and realized that she had the balance of power now. Because she had my mind.
“If you give your word that you will do what I say, you will be allowed to use the toilet, get yourself cleaned up, and have a nice breakfast with me. If not . . . I think you can understand.”
“Why are you doing this to me? I really have to pee.”
“We’re not discussing this,” she replied coldly. “Do I have your word or not?”
Realizing that I had no choice and that I would soon pee myself, I gave my promise. I would do whatever I was told.
“Good.” She continued to clench her pipe, taking it out of her mouth only to talk. I warn you, though, that any attempt to break your word will only result in failure. And there would most definitely be unpleasant consequences.”
I was unshackled at last.
After using the bathroom and showering, a servant led me to the breakfast room, where I was met by wonderful aromas from the kitchen and my three companions of the previous evening.
“Good morning, Jay, I hope you slept well.”
It was Jeanne. Her greeting was warmly followed by that of Michelle. It was as if nothing had happened the previous night. The four of us were served breakfast and coffee and we chatted as if we were just friends having a meal. After we completed the meal, Adriana lit yet another pipe, and the other two ladies enjoyed small cigars. They offered me the humidor to make a selection, but I was not in the mood for smoking.
“I’ll have mine later if you don’t mind.”
“If you don’t mind, Mistress!”
“What?”
“You will address us as ‘Mistress’ from now on. You have to understand that we can completely control you and I will not hesitate to use whatever force is necessary to keep order in my home. In return, we will make your life with us as pleasant as can be. You will have chores to do, of course, such as cleaning my pipes, but you will also be free to travel around the estate, at my discretion, get your exercise, and even occasionally enjoy fine Cuban cigars with us. What objection could you possibly have to your situation?”
It occurred to me that this was not a totally bad thing, but I confess I had second thoughts.
“What about my family. I can’t just never see them forever.”
“You have a new life now Jay. How it turns out is entirely up to you. Your family will be fine without you. You don’t really want to be with your wife and your children are now grown. Life is all about tradeoffs. You have traded your old life for a new one with me. At the deepest level of your psyche, this is what you want. I am only giving you what you really want.”
Ariana replaced her pipe into her mouth, tamped down her tobacco, and accepted a light from Jeanne.
I sat there for the next hour, mesmerized by my new reality as I watched Ariana calmly puffing away on her pipe. I chastened myself for being so weak, yet could not deny that I was intensely aroused by the very idea that I was now her slave. Ariana somehow sensed whenever my tumescence returned and it always seemed to give her delight, not just because she knew that she was the cause of this effect, but because she knew that I was a prisoner, not just of her, but of my own desire.
Chapter 6
I had been living under Ariana’s roof for about two months and although I knew that this would never feel normal to me, I had adjusted to my new life and, most of the time, my time went pleasantly enough. Every few days, my often-plugged anus was trained to take dildos of greater girth, and I had even started to get used to that. I was made aware of what a cock cage was. I learned what it felt like to have my private area shaved. I learned what was expected of me and I performed my duties as a good slave.
On some occasions, I needed chastisement, but I accepted that it was for my own good. And I even began to be turned on by it. When I behaved well, I was sometimes allowed the release which I so craved.
One day Ariana came to me and told me her plans for an event that she was planning. There was to be a dinner party in two weeks, to which several of Ariana’s friends would be coming. I was shocked when she told me that I would not be the only slave at the party—Ariana was a friend to several ladies, both British and French, who had their own slaves.
“And believe me Jay, none of them are treated as well as you are.”
She opened a humidor and selected a rather large Romeo y Julieta, clipped it, and toasted the end until it came to life. Puffing the cigar and savoring its smoke, she seemed very tranquil. I longed to kiss her lips at that moment, but I knew that any such initiative would have to come from her. She noted my discomfort as my cock strained against its confinement. I had to hold my breath to make the erection depart.
Blowing a huge cloud of smoke in my direction, Ariana issued her instructions.
“You will be in charge of this Jay. This is another test for you. I want to see if I can truly trust you to handle my affairs properly. You will plan the dinner party, arrange for the guests’ accommodations, plan the menu, and then, on the night of the party, you will coordinate with the other slaves in order to ensure that all of the ladies are well taken care of. Glancing at my crotch cage, she smiled.
“Do you think you’re up for it?”
“Of course, Mistress.”
It was a whirlwind of activity for the next two weeks. I made the preparations, prepared the menu, and took care of all the minute details that go into such an undertaking. I wanted only to please Ariana and used all of my skills to make the event a special one. Time, as is its wont, seemed to fly away. I was confident however, that I had put together the ingredients for a special event. I wanted my Mistress to be happy with my efforts. It dawned on me that I had really taken to my role as her slave and that I was actually addicted to it.
The day of the party finally came and I was ready for it. The weather cooperated by being warm and sunny and its radiance was like a tonic to me. The limousines began to arrive in the late afternoon, and the ladies, and their slaves, were introduced to me. It need not be said, but the ladies all looked ravishingly beautiful in their evening gowns and tastefully applied makeup.
The slaves, me included, were all clad in black tuxedos, all of us eager to please our mistresses. The silent camaraderie between those of us in service was a welcome thing for me, and the others had been instructed that, for tonight, I was in charge. I assigned tasks and divided the labor.
The guests were first offered aperitifs on the lawn. Two large humidors were on hand and all of the ladies indulged in a pre-meal smoke. The scene was surreal—fifteen elegant women chatting amiably as they puffed their cigars, their manservants kneeling close at hand to serve their every need. Hors d’oeuvres abounded and were consumed with relish.
When it came time for dinner to be served, the ladies entered the formal dining room. I had prepared a variety of entrees, including a roasted pig, venison, lobster tails flown in from Maine, the finest steaks, and an assortment of vegetables and breads. Everyone was enjoying themselves immensely, it seemed to me. I was sure that my mistress was proud of me and I felt at peace.
It came time for dessert, and the trays appeared, from which the ladies made their choices. Coffee and cognac were served along with, of course, another round of cigars. Only the largest cubans were chosen this time and the ladies commenced with their smoking. Our mistresses broke off into small groups and couples, cigars hanging languidly from their lips.
I noticed Jeanne and Michelle, looking ravishing as they puffed their Cohibas. They gently teased each other and then embraced in an overtly erotic way. I didn’t know what to make of this, but then I noticed the other ladies also beginning to engage amorously. Incredibly aroused, I dared not deviate from my tasks. The aromas of debauchery and cigar smoke were almost too much to bear, so I removed myself to the kitchen and made sure that the other slaves were busy with their assignments.
The bell rang and we were summoned to the parlor, where it seemed like a giant orgy was about to take place. Ariana was locked in embrace with a local woman whom I had met earlier named Emily. Ariana called me over and started to tell Emily that she would gladly let me service her in any way she wished. Emily apparently knew my entire story and had been told of my prowess with the tongue.
“I’d love to give him a go Ariana, although in my experience no man knows what exactly he is doing.”
Laughing, Ariana ordered me to strip and go to one of the divans. I was extremely embarrassed, having never been naked in front of such a large group of people, but I did as I was bid. My hands were duly bound and Emily sat astride my lips.
“Be a dear Ariana, and get me a fresh cigar please.”
Moments later, a large Punch dangling from her lips, Emily placed her womanhood at the edge of my lips.
“Let’s see if you really can please me.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
My tongue did its mischief and, cigar smoke swirling from her lips, Emily started to come. Ariana was becoming aroused herself and, as Emily was pleasured by me from below, Ariana started massaging her breasts and kissing her with great passion. Emily seemed to explode with pleasure and her juices dripped into my mouth. Ariana looked at my erect member and smiled sweetly. She was not about to let Emily have my penis though—that was restricted territory. Emily dismounted me and the ladies had their way with each other.
Emily’s cigar ash was getting a bit long and her eyes searched for an ashtray. None was in sight though.
“Jay, open your mouth.”
I was about to protest, but I knew it would be futile and I had no desire to be chastised that night. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth. This was my first, but definitely not my last, experience of being a human ashtray.
Emily de-ashed her cigar into my mouth, kindly taking care not to burn me. As I silently gagged, the two ladies resumed their love play, and momentarily, Emily resumed her position with my face in her cunt. She used my lips, my nose, indeed my entire face. The love juices flowed and flowed. The ladies changed positions several times, Ariana seeming to enjoy herself even more than usual.
I noticed that all around me similar scenes were being enacted. The ladies kept blowing cigar smoke in my face to amuse themselves and the night continued in a similar manner for the next several hours. I don’t know how I kept myself from exploding, almost wishing I were still in the cock cage, but I knew by this time how to do what my mistress wished.
Chapter 7
The next morning I awoke, bound to my bed. I thought about what had happened the night before and about all of the events that preceded it. I looked back at my life and pondered if I would ever go back to the way things were even if that were a possibility. I heard the key unlock my door and I took in the beauty of Ariana as she entered, calmly puffing her pipe.
“You did well last night Jay. Very well. I will indeed keep you.”
“Thank you Mistress.”
“Stay where you are, I am in the mood for some stimulation.”
She placed the pipe between her teeth and sat astride me.
“Lick, slave.”
I did, and orgasms ensued, over and over. Ariana eventually arose, put her pipe in the ashtray and left the room. Returning a moment later, a large cigar rested between her lips. She lit it and got on me again, smoke streaming from her mouth. I resumed my tongue-work and Ariana resumed her orgasming. Forty minutes or so later, she moved her most beautiful, limpid, soaking wet vagina onto my longing shaft. Moving slowly up and down, she exclaimed, “You deserve this slut. Excellent job, both last night and this morning.”
“Yes Mistress,” I almost screamed.
As she raised and lowered herself upon me, she took the cigar from her lips and blew plumes of smoke into my face. When I finally exploded, with the most intense orgasm imaginable, Ariana smiled and moved her pussy to my mouth.
“Clean me, slave.” she said.
Repressing my instinct to gag, I sucked all of my own cum from her pussy.
“Swallow it.”
I did, the first of many times.
“You are the best slave I have owned, Jay. You took to your training very well and you are almost completely schooled.”
As this frightening thought sunk in, I replied, “Thank you Mistress.”
“I think that the life of a slave suits you Jay. Would you ever leave me?”
“No Mistress,” I replied.
And I truly meant it.
Madison
- 25.05.2021
- 46
- 0
- Category:
- BDSM
