As the workday dragged on, mistress Tatjana felt the familiar yearning for a cigarette creep up on her. She knew she shouldn't but, being the boss, she couldn't resist the temptation to indulge herself every now and then. With a sly grin, she stepped out onto the balcony and pulled out a slim silver case from her pocket. Inside were her treasured cigarettes - long, slender and redolent of expensive tobacco.
She took one out delicately between her manicured fingers and then, with a gesture that spoke volumes about her dominance, she snapped her fingers and summoned her slave. The poor, pathetic wretch stumbled out onto the balcony, his eyes instantly drawn to the glowing end of the smoke she held between her fingers. His gaze dropped to the floor as he bowed his head in submission.
"Slave," she purred, her voice like silk wrapped around a knife. "You will serve as my seating cushion while I smoke this cigarette." She didn't need to explain further – her word was law, after all. The slave knew better than to question her commands.
With that, she stepped forward and pressed the business end of the cigarette between his lips, forcing him to take a deep drag. He coughed and spluttered but managed to silence himself before she lost her patience. Meanwhile, she lit the cigarette with a gold-plated Zippo lighter that she casually flicked open with one hand.
As the smoke began to curl around them, mistress Tatjana sat down on the slave's stomach, using him as a soft, squishy seat pad. His eyes widened in pain as she ground her hips into his chest, but he dared not make a sound. She placed the ashtray on his face, pushing his head down into an even more submissive position.
She exhaled slowly, the smoke drifting lazily upwards towards her face. Her long, silk-covered legs dangled over the side of the balcony, teasing him with the occasional brush against his skin. With every drag of the cigarette, she felt more powerful, more in control. It was a heady sensation, one that she didn't plan on giving up anytime soon.
"Do you like being my seating cushion, slave?" she asked, her tone dangerously soft. The slave forced himself to nod, his eyes never leaving the ashtray on his face. Inside, he was screaming, both in pain and in desire. This was a level of submission that few could withstand, but he knew that resisting would only make things worse.
Mistress Tatjana continued to dominate him with her butt, grinding into him rhythmically as she smoked. It was a sensual dance of power, one that left him both aroused and terrified. He knew that if he could just survive this moment, he might be able to find some semblance of peace. But for now, all he could do was endure.
