Fetish torture from the other side

(by anonymous10j, 07 March 2002)


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Fetish Torture from the other side

I know I'm only thirteen years old and I know you would think I'm just a 
stupid little girl but can you believe this? 

I actually have a deep yearning for a cigarette. This is really weird. If 
you consider I've only been smoking five weeks to the day. 

Oh boy I want - no, let me be truthful. I actually desperately _want_ and 
_need_ a cigarette. The craving for nicotine and the taste of smoke I'm 
feeling are so heady I can't believe how uptight its making me. 

How much worse can it get? Its torment rating at least nine on a scale of 
ten. 

I mean, are you surprised? There she is sitting less than three feet across 
the small table from me and intently inhaling on her cigarette, is my 
smoking mum. Damn her. She is so bloody carefree and happily smoking her 
cigarette and pangs of envy are stabbing into me. Oh Jeeezus, now she is 
exhaling her payload of smoke all over me and I feel so bloody frustrated 

My damn mother hasn't the foggiest idea. She doesn't have the slightest 
inkling how she is making me scream inside. I'm silently screaming curses 
and words to her. Words about me desperately needing to do what she is 
enjoying. In my mind I am shouting at her how I want to light up a 
cigarette and join her in smoking a cigarette. Oh God I want to smoke so 
badly. 

I have been to the dentist this morning and mom has accompanied me. Now we 
have just called on this coffee bar in town. She says she wants a coffee 
and a cigarette before she goes on to work. After she's gone I have to 
remain here till its time for me to go into school for my third lesson 
period of the morning. Of course the first thing my mom does when she gets 
her coffee, she is into her handbag and gets a cigarette. Then right in 
front of me, my mom lights her cigarette. Now she is richly exhaling that 
delicious smelling smoke all over me. I silently scream my need for 
nicotine, but outwardly look away. 

I want a cigarette as well. Unbeknown to mom although I'm young, I'm a 
smoking girl too. 

Jesus, if my mom only half suspected I smoked too, it would be fireworks 
time. It would be even worse if she knew that I actually have at least half 
packet of my very own cigarettes in my schoolbag. 

They are my favourites which are Marlborough reds. Of course my mom would 
be horrified if she knew that only inches away from her nose, her sweet 
little thirteen-year-old daughter has her own cigarettes stashed in her 
schoolbag just waiting for her little nicotine needs. 

Oh God! I need that nicotine and I want to tell mom that I am going to have 
a cigarette. I want to laugh at her shocked expression as my sweet lipís 
clasp around a cigarette. But I know I am kidding myself. I am barely 
thirteen and mom would go ballistic even if I only told her I was just 
thinking about trying smoking out.† I sigh to myself. I wish I was sixteen 
and not turned thirteen. 

Mum is talking about her plans. Her plans for decorating our living room. 
She is talking to me and I feel and smell her smoke laden breath wash over 
me. It is driving me insane. All I want is to light up my own cigarette and 
breathe in my own smoke letting it flow deep inside me and to let its yummy 
bits soak inside me. 

I toy with the idea of simply putting my hand into my bag, pulling out my 
own packet and taking one of my own cigarettes and lighting it up right 
there in front of her. God, I really do. I really am sorely tempted. 

Instead I only fool around in my bag with my cigarettes that are hidden 
from her view and sip my coke. I have to bide my time. Maybe I can have a 
smoke later when she is gone. 

I see a man at the next table watching us. He is really watching my mother. 
I know my mom is beautiful and men often look. But this man is gawping. His 
eyes get intense and squinty whenever my mom is doing something with her 
smoke. You know what I mean, dragging, inhaling and exhaling and that sort 
of thing. Maybe he likes watching smokers. I know I did. 

I used to watch my friends carefully. To see how they did it. Especially my 
mom when I decided I was going to learn five weeks ago. 

Now I'm wondering what that man would think and do if I just lit up my own 
cigarette right now and joined my mom. Oh God, that would be real cool. 
Just imagining my mom and me smoking together is freaky. I can just picture 
my mom smoking her long menthol cigarettes along with me smoking my equally 
long regulars. 

She would do her talking exhales and I would surprise her (and that 
watching man too) by doing the same. Just as good. Maybe even better 
because I've been practising and I love showing off how good I am at 
managing my smoke. 

In fact, to tell you a little secret, I even surprise myself with my 
quality exhales, especially when I'm watching myself in the mirror. Well us 
girls have to refine our smoking technique somehow. 

I often practise smoking at home. Mainly using our huge living room mirror 
to practise being grown-up. Especially when mom's gone out to the shops or 
pops over to her friends. 

Wow the man is looking at me now. He is sort of appraising me. I can tell 
by his face that he views me just as a kid schoolgirl. I wish I could show 
him that I'm just as grown up as my mom. I think he'd probably freak out if 
he saw me smoking. Wow, I'm really tempted now. I finger my hidden 
cigarettes. Shall I take the devil by the horns and take a cigarette out? 
But I dare not, I don't think mom could handle me smoking. Not yet anyway. 
Maybe when I'm fifteen and a lot older. 

Mum doesn't know that she is fucking tormenting me with her sweet smelling 
smoke. To her I'm just her sweet innocent little thirteen-year-old 
daughter: Her sweet pure little schoolgirl child. The same little girl that 
gave her hell with her moaning, going on and on about her smoking. Boy, 
didn't I go on about her smoking habit. I used to tell my mom how gross it 
was to have her smoke stink all over me. I told her. But she didn't take 
much notice. She didn't even take much notice five weeks ago when I stopped 
giving her grief about her stinking smoke. The same time as I secretly 
started smoking myself. She just said something about thanking god that I 
had stopped being so childish. 

My mom examines her watch and realises she is late. She pulls on her 
cigarette and blows her smoke above my head. She is hurrying and she puts 
her cigarette out in the ashtray in front of me, kisses me and leaves for 
work. 

Only she hasn't put out her cigarette. It's still burning. I am on my own 
in this cafe with mom's half smoked menthol cigarette still burning in 
front of me. I can see that there is at least four decent drags left in her 
cigarette. 

It's no good. I have to pick it up. Instantly moms cigarette is in-between 
my fingers and I'm inspecting it. Mom's cigarette ash end is drifting a 
thin delightful column of twisting spiralling smoke. I feel thrilled. It 
feels so right between my fingers. It is all warm and friendly and so, so 
inviting. 

With moms burning cigarette I feel all natural and grown-up. 

†Cigarettes and I are meant for each other. That's what I think and I 
slowly raise mom's menthol cigarette to my lips. I pause to relish this 
moment.† To look forward to my desperate yearning for smoke changing into 
utter contentment when I draw deeply on my mom's lovely cigarette and let 
its wonderful smoke be absorbed deep inside me. 

Then as my hungry lips are about to be gratefully clasped around mom's 
cigarette my eye catches the man. He is staring at me intensely. He is 
staring at me with my mom's burning cigarette hovering between my parted 
lips. I'm flustered. With panic interspersed with despondency I stub mom's 
burning cigarette out in the ashtray trying to make it look as if that was 
my only intention. The staring man looks gutted. He looks disappointedly 
away from me. 

I really feel frustrated. My nagging craving for nicotine gnaws at me 
harder. The man looks disinterestedly to some women coming into the cafe. 

An old blue rinsed lady a few tables away from the man is watching me. She 
might have been watching before. She looks disapprovingly at me and I feel 
annoyed. I think "fuck them", and in a rush of nicotine fuelled need, I 
quickly reach into my schoolbag and frenziedly find my cigarette packet and 
remove one of my own Marlborough cigarettes. 

Hurriedly I manipulating a long filter tipped cigarette into my mouth. 
Cigarette held firmly between my lips; I now search for my lighter. It 
seems to take ages. All the time I feel my nerves on edge and my unlit 
cigarette is bobbing sophisticatedly in my lips giving me a mature profile. 
Its unlit state wafts fresh Virginia tobacco scented perfume into my 
nostrils. 

Fuck! I'm freaking out. 

Relief washes over me when my searching fingers finally feel my cigarette 
lighter. Recklessly I drag it from my schoolbag and flick it madly in front 
of my face to ignite my long unlit cigarette. The bloody thing won't light. 
I try repeatedly to ignite it. Then it sparks and a flame is burning 
waiting for me. 

The old woman's watching me with disgust. I know too, the man is again 
watching me. He is now totally captivated in what I'm doing. He looks as if 
he has won the lottery. 

Me, I don't give a shit, I need smoke. I need smoke deep inside me. 

I'm still unsure. I have never smoked in public and I guess that it showed. 
But my craving is overwhelming and I think defiantly to hell with it and to 
hell with them. I dipped the end of my cigarette deep into my lighter flame 
and suck hard. 

This is pure bliss I think to myself as I feel the warm bitter smoke cloud 
pass my lips densely filling my mouth. 

Opening my mouth a little I breathe the thick Virginia tobacco smoke in. 
It's my smoke and I feel it drawn deeply to the very bottom of my lungs. I 
feel it swirling into every nook and cranny of my chest 

Luxuriously and with satisfaction I deeply hold it there. 

I feel the heavenly nicotine slide relentlessly into my very inner pleasure 
zone. 

Gratification sweeps over me. 

I feel fiercely at one with the smoke elixir that is illicitly sitting 
thickly in my lungs. 

And I'm still holding my smoke inside me. 

I look up and the man is still staring at me. He is totally absorbed in the 
vision I present him. I know he is watching me smoke. I know he is getting 
a kick out of it. He is intensely watching me in the same way as he was 
watching my mom blowing her plumes of smoke. 

I can sense the man wants to see if I can match my mother's plumes. I feel 
excited. I'm going to show him that I'm just as good as mom. My cigarette 
is between my left-hand fingers. Its burning end is drifting rich curling 
smoke. Spiralling heavily and hypnotically upwards. I will exhale for him. 
But first I'm putting my lighter away in my school bag with my right hand. 

My lungs feel full. My chest has taken all the yummy bits from my lungful 
and now the show really begins. 

I purse my lips and gently breathe out through my nostrils and my mouth. My 
smoke that is deep inside my chest wells up past my throat and vents 
through my nostrils. It comes out slowly. Faintly at first then thickening 
into twin vortex's of smoke. I then direct the intense smoke flow passing 
through my throat to my mouth and smoothly my smoke pours past my lips 
turning into a creamy plume. It now tastes thickly sweet and I love its 
torrid fragrance. I love my exhaled smoke. 

I guess I must have taken a lot more smoke than I thought. Because my 
exhaled smoke plume is wonderfully full. I direct my smoke over my burning 
cigarette and my teeming blue exhale annihilated my cigarette's own slow 
drifting spiral of smoke. 

I was surprised at how much my chest could hold. I knew that my smoke 
venting from my little lips was in every way, matching my mom's amazing 
exhales. My smoke plume went on and on. It was a huge living extension of 
myself. Like a giant tongue, it connected a twisting billowing smoke bridge 
from my lips to the man staring at me. 

Only he wasn't staring anymore. 

As my smoke pervaded the air all round him, the man just closed his eyes 
and I can't believe it, but he looks as if he is trying to deeply breathe 
in my smoke with his nose and open mouth. He face looks ecstatic and I feel 
odd. This man seems to want to have what was previously inside my young 
lungs inside his. 

OK I think, if this is what turns this guy on then I'm gonna give him 
something to remember. 

I watch him carefully. His eyes are still rapturously closed, but I'm now 
waiting for him. He opens his eyes slowly and he sees me with my cigarette 
glowing between my lips. I am taking another sensuous drag. I am testing my 
theory and I fix his gaze with my own. I permit him to see a huge curtain 
of freshly dragged smoke float slowly in a huge ball in my open mouth. He 
flinches and I know now my guess is right. This grown man is in my power. I 
feel absurdly mature and heady with wickedness. Even though I am only 
thirteen I am aware that I am the superior one in this twosome. I snap 
inhale and then immediately release a steady solid smoke plume high into 
the air above the manís head. I see his eyes follow my feathering exhale. I 
lick my lips contentedly and his eyes glaze over in pleasure 

I feel wonderful having this adult man slavishly follow all my moves and I 
decided to really treat him. I will let him see my thick smoke disappear 
down my throat 

Still looking at him I slowly and enticingly place my cigarette between my 
lips again. His eyes are fixed on my cigarette and I get a buzz watching 
his eyes narrow as I draw in my smoke. My cigarette glows brightly and I 
feel the smoke flood through its filter filling my mouth with its heady 
bitter warmth. I keep drawing, filling my mouth with the most colossal 
intake of smoke ever. God! I think to myself, can I breathe in this super 
sized stack of smoke? Have I overreached myself? I open my mouth as if to 
take a big bite on some imaginary apple. I do this purely for the man's 
benefit. I knew that huge curtain of smoke would look good and the man was 
certainly appreciative. His mouth sagged open in disbelief. Bracing myself 
I made myself breathe this dense cloud of cigarette smoke down into my 
lungs. The kick was amazing. Just for a transient moment I felt an urge to 
cough. I disguised this with a smile of pleasure and opened my mouth wider 
to show my captive audience how all of the smoke was now deep inside me. 

I smiled at this man and I could feel my dense saturating cloud of smoke 
fighting to flow up and out of my lungs. 

Knowing that every nuance of my smoking, every movement of mine is being 
observed, I delightedly purse my lips and breathe out gently. Twisting and 
tumbling my smoke bursts past my lips in a heavy plume that I knew my mom 
would have problems in matching. Even though my smoke was still rushing 
thickly through my lips I couldn't help but smirk happily at the grown-up 
image I was giving. 

Full of daring, I intentionally direct my exhaling smoke onto and over the 
man. Again the man's eyes blissfully closed as he tried again to breathe in 
my second hand smoke. A rush of predacious excitement washes over me from 
knowing that this adult man was squirming ecstatically under my billowing 
cloud of smoke and I want to show off even more.† 

Taking another lung saturating drag on my hot cigarette I quickly pick my 
schoolbag up and stand up. The man's eyes are still tightly closed. I walk 
the three paces over to him and tap his arm. A naughty wicked demon is 
driving me on. He opens his eyes and looks startled at me standing so 
close. My face is only inches away from his. Full of excited audacity I 
whisper to him if my smoking is OK for him.† I know that my words are 
thickly interspersed with my smoke and I see my bursts of word smoke bounce 
off the man's face. He frantically breathes in my word smoke and his eyes 
close slightly. 

The man was writhing on his chair in pleasure. Only thirteen-years-old and 
I'm in charge and its making me buzz. Taking another smoke drenching drag 
and inhaling deeply I pause. To allow my cigarette smoke to impart its 
nicotine supply into my young body. 

Standing one step back from the man I aloofly survey him. My lungs feel 
overburdened with my chest full of intense smoke. My smoke is telling me 
that it wants out. Still incredibly excited I exhaled my smoke over him 
again. It spews from my lips in an awesome avalanche of grey palpable 
smoke. I can scarcely believe the man's reaction. He leans towards me with 
his mouth open desperately breathing in the smoky contents of my lungs. 

Mockingly I allow the turbulent smoke gushing through my mouth to continue 
relentlessly clouding over him. Soon he is completely cloaked in my smoke. 
Finally, for my coup-de-resistance I lean close to his face. My mouth only 
millimetres from his and I teasingly direct the remnants of my torrid smoke 
funnel right into his mouth. 

He groans pleasurably. I notice his bulging pants. He shakes slightly and 
his knuckles are white gripping his table top. I see the beginning of a 
dark wet patch on his crotch area. I know he has come and I feel awesomely 
naughty. Power corrupts and even at thirteen I feel the intoxication of my 
influence over him and of course, the intoxication of the nicotine coursing 
through my body. 

I am truly and completely carried away and excitedly I draw deeply again on 
my hot cigarette. More smoke fills my moist mouth and gazing over my 
cigarette I watched this helpless man devour the image I am presenting him. 

Suffused with my power I disdainfully and nonchalantly french inhale my 
heavy smoke consignment relishing the delicious feeling of the dense acrid 
smoke being hauled up through my nostrils. Imparting its wonderful flavour 
to the back of my sinuses. 

Seeing the man's watch and the time I start. Realising that I have but ten 
minutes to mask my cigarette scented breath from my form teacher and also 
get to school. I walk quickly out of the cafe into the bright winter 
sunshine. 

Even though I knew I shouldn't I couldn't resist one more publically deep 
nicotine suffusing drag. It was with utter contentment that I allowed 
myself to experience the last heady plume spew past my saturated throat as 
I set off towards school. 


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