"Leaning back just like that," he said as he cupped his hand on my sore breast and gently pushed my back against the windshield.
Next he produced the pack of cigarettes and lighter I keep stashed in my underwear drawer (and I thought I'd pulled that over on him -- oops).
Very dramatically, and -- hell, I have to say it, sexily -- he proceeded to put the cigarette to his lips and light it.
[Now for part 3:]
---
At this point, I am almost stunned out of my pain. I am also turned on by the way he looks, taking a long, slow drag from the cigarette, not to mention I'm turned on thinking that he has had to plan this out to some degree. He didn't just find me by accident. He may have spotted me from the window, made a plan, gone through the house to get the implements he'd need… The next thing I see him produce from his miraculous pockets is a wrapped tampon. He wedges the cigarette between his two forefingers -- another maneuver I find visually erotic as hell -- while he unwraps the tampon. I'm watching him sore as hell, horny as hell and baffled as hell. He takes out his pocket knife and does something to the tampon. Some cutting. He puts the cigarette back between his lips, squinting as the smoke hits him in the face, and my cunt does a back flip. My Lord so turns me on. And what he's doing with that cigarette! He's really turning my vice against me, now. Before I know what's happened, he has opened my pussy lips, found my vaginal hole, and inserted the tampon. Still holding my lips open, he pushes his finger up to the first finger joint in my vagina. My nipples are hardening, yet I find myself strangely embarrassed by this, with the neighbor presumably overhead and My Lord embarking on this more intimate play right in front of him. My neighbor and I haven't had ten verbal exchanges since me and Lord Bryant moved in -- the guy is still a virtual stranger. And here I was being pried open and prodded in a very personal way right in front of him. Yet I am such a ball of pain/horniness/confusion that I can't even get the words "What are you doing, my Lord?" out of my mouth. I'm docile and I take everything he does to me dumbly.
"Good girl," My Lord says, eyeing my pussy up through its still-parted lips. He pats my legs open wider, takes another drag on the cigarette, flips it between his fingers so that he's now holding it, filter away from him, like a pencil. "Do you trust me," he asked -- but in a kind of business way.
Yes, my Lord," I say.
"Good. Then toss your head back the way you do when you're posing like a tart," he says, "and don't dare look at what I'm doing or you'll get a pussy whipping. Is that clear?"
"Yes, my Lord." A tart? The nerve! Didn't he know elegant from tawdry? I feel cheapened. But again, the debasing image turns into this wash of arousal. I want badly for the neighbor to have heard my Lord call me a tart. Filthy tart. Is there no end to where I will sink? I toss my head skyward. I like how that lifts my breasts. I imagine my nipples are pointing like hounds' tails at the neighbor.
My Lord reaches between my legs with his left hand. I can feel him pry my pussy fully open, stretching the hole, while with his right hand, he edges the cigarette butt towards my opening. I feel him insert a finger into me, like he's searching for something. Next, I can feel the butt in my juice, filter-end first. I can feel that it must be sticking straight out of my pussy because the warm filter presses against my clitoral hood from underneath. I can't tell if the butt end has entered me or not. I want to clench my cunt so I can feel where this thing begins and ends -- did he slide it into my hole? -- but I'm afraid to dislodge the cigarette.
"Spread your legs," he mumbles, wiggling the filter and waiting, I suppose to see if it sticks. I can only feel it at certain points of contact in the horny parts of my pussy. "I'd hate for you to burn your legs just so your cunt can have a smoke." I spread my legs as wide as I can.
He thinks this is funny!
I'm terrified. I'm thinking the mouth of my vagina is going to get burned with smoke. I'm thinking ash is going to fall on my open vulva. I'm thinking the cigarette is going to drop out and fall and char-grill my already scorched ass.
"I will allow your cunt to have a smoke," my Master says. "But not your lungs. And I hope you find that satisfactory." He moved in then and seized the tips of my breasts and started twiddling, squeezing and playing them. Like a maestro on his instruments, he knew my breasts intimately, and he knew me. I wanted to squirm my legs together to relieve some of the build-up in my clit, but of course I couldn't. I found myself wondering if a flow of juice pouring out of my pussy would wash away the cigarette butt.He let go of my breasts to tap on the cigarette and flick the ashes into the cup of his hand. Then he went back to manhandling my tits and making me moan. Not only was I on sensory overload, but I was on fantasy overload too, as my Lord played my body I pictured my neighbor staring down, dick in hand, at my exposed pussy smoking a cigarette. You already know I am obsessed, so I feel free to admit that I found the image both ridiculous and, well, hot. Damned fucking hot. And this poetry I tell myself: My soft, fleshy vulnerable pussy, violated by this broody, destructive thing. Slow, stealthy henchman of death, whispering at my mindless opening! Also hot. Who can explain it at all? I should probably just leave it, admitting it makes no sense. But, you see, My Lord knows me. His intuition somehow grasps all this with no need for words. (But will he let me smoke from the mouth from now on?)
Suddenly, however, I start to the heat of the cigarette.
"It's going to burn me," I whisper hoarsely, gazing into his eyes. I see both his lust and his power and I am immobilized with a twisted kind of desire.
"What did I tell you about smoking?" he asked.
"That it disrespects me and it disrespects you -- which is worse. Are you going to let it burn me?"
"Do you disrespect your Lord?"
"No, my Lord. No."
He put his mouth on my breast and sucked as the lips of my pussy heated up and I groaned into another dimension.
"Maybe the filter will stop it from burning your cunt," he said, taunting me.
But it was burning, I thought. It was burning. Burning like ice. And I was numb. And I pressed my trembling legs open, wider, letting the cigarette do its worst because my Lord was making my breasts shiver like heaven and my neighbor was staring at my helpless shivering body, whipped and invaded, drinking me in, I imagined, stroking to my submission, and my smoking hot pussy, and he was cumming buckets.
[To be continued…]
