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A Fetish and Fucking

September 3rd, 2009

You all know Master made me quit smoking on my birthday.  Apart from the fact that He’s really not big on the smell, He worries about my health.  Even after quitting for five years, I still had breathing trouble.  And when I started smoking again, by the end of the six months, I was coughing and sputtering all the time whether or not I had a cold.

We like to hike pretty rough terrain.  Hiking is painful when you smoke.  Especially when it’s cold out.  For the six months I smoked, by the time we would get to the top of even a small hill, I’d be doubled over for at least five minutes trying to slow my breathing and ease the knives shooting through my lungs.  Or, if it was cold, unfreeze my mucus covered bronchioles.

Tuesday night, Master offered me a pack of cigarettes in exchange for wearing red lipstick.  I jumped at it.  I didn’t quit smoking because I didn’t like it.  I quit because He wanted me to and because it’s getting more expensive every year.

So… Master has a smoking fetish.  That’s hot! If only smoking wasn’t so unhealthy and stinky.

Tuesday night, Master also handed me Brigit and told me to go to town.  At one point, He laid on the bed between my spread legs and just watched me fuck myself.  I have bruises up and down my right thigh from Him pinching me.  He flogged and caned me a little bit.  But mostly, He watched my red lips puff on the end of a Newport 100.

It was the best fucking of my life.  Holy shit, can that man play me like a fine tuned piano.  It’s amazing.

And now I’m all horny thinking about it again.

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