Cigar Man

She paced the room in anticipation - naked. Walking back and forth, her eyes darted anxiously over to the phone waiting for it to ring. She had been given strict orders to be nude next to the phone. When the ring came, she would be given the rest of the orders that she would fulfill before her trip downtown. Nervous, she stopped and looked at herself in the mirror at her body – her breasts full and pert, her ass curvaceous. She examined very square inch of her olive-toned body, waiting for her new Master to call.

Master. This was a word she never thought she would ever use to address anyone. But ever since the phone calls from San Francisco began nine months ago, she fell into his seductive voice. The authoritative, slightly rasped tone that gave her instructions on what to do in every phone call would soon consume her - as she had never thought before she took up a job as a phone sex operator. She took the job as a way of making ends meet and thought it would a source of entertainment and a way to support her creative flair for the arts, as she spoke with distant strangers into the night about sexual innuendos they had been involved in, or that she had done herself. But never would anyone make her pussy as moist, never would a man make her want to get on her knees and beg for his cock to enter into her mouth as much as the stranger from San Francisco.

The phone rang, and a hot flash pulsated down her spine as she quickly picked up the receiver.

"Hello –," she said breathlessly.

"I am here now, I want you to meet me downtown at the hotel. I want you in strappy high heel shoes, pink lip gloss and you have to wear pink panties – the lacy kind."

"Yes, sir," she replied, feeling her pulse quicken, the sweat beading up on her skin.

"I don't want you to be late, come as quickly as possible, pack for the night. And you already know what to do once you get to the hotel. I am in room 115," he said sternly.

He hung up the phone and she went to her drawer to pick out the pink panties interweaved with a delicate lace. She slid them on and it hugged - clinging to her fleshy ass. She then went to the closet and picked out some shoes with leather straps and proceeded to carefully tie up and knot them. She glided over to the mirror and saw the shoes perked her ass up, making it more presentable. It advertised the need to be penetrated. To be disciplined.

She touched up her make-up and put the most important component on her face: lip gloss that would bring out the pink in her lips, making them appear bigger, making them appear inviting for a swelled cock to enter.

A trench coat hung on a door hook and she put it on, tying the belt around her waist, accentuating her figure. She threw the gloss into a handbag, along with her keys and dashed out the front door to make her way to the bus stop down the street.

The October air was damp and cool as she felt the crisp, biting breeze flow underneath her coat, making her nipples harden as they poked through the thin, black trench coat. A man passed by, nodding at her, but his gaze locked into her protruding round bumps of flesh. She crossed her arms in attempt to hide them as the man revealed a smile that masked the thoughts of sexual encounters with the girl.

The bus came up the road and came to a squealing halt, the door swung open in a puff of hot air, lifting her trench coat up enough for the pedestrians passing by to see her legs underneath. She boarded the bus and walked carefully down the aisle where she could feel eyes burning into her. A man with a coarse, black beard and eyes as black as onyx looked at her legs as his penetrable stare smoothly moved up her body. She slid into the empty seat adjacent to him, feeling naked as only a thin trench coat separated her and the men who stared. She felt a small, helpless prey among the hungry dogs who craved and hunted strange and new pussy.

Her thoughts wandered as she watched houses, people and trees blur by her window. Rain began to bead and stream down the windows as she pondered why she became so submissive. What was it that made her want to eagerly please him? This was not just a mere fantasy on her part, but something that she craved to do for him. She always knew, deep inside the recesses of her mind, that she was submissive but it had lay dormant for years until a few phone calls from her Master had brought it to surface. She knew, psychologically, that to be submissive meant the need to want to please, to be used. And to eagerly serve, rather than be served. To be submissive meant to be passionate about serving and pleasing the Master. And that intense willingness to serve and the feelings of love crossed and blurred lines. She knew he loved him. But that, she knew, could only go so far.

The bus came to a stop at her destination downtown: The William Penn Hotel. She walked into the entrance of the hotel where the lobby was immaculate and lined with marble tiling. She walked to the elevator where businessmen and women were waiting for their floor and she suddenly felt like a whore. She came to this realization when she saw the rest of the women there fully dressed in business suits of black and navy blue, and they wore coats over that. Maybe underneath, she thought, they had on sexy lingerie or thigh high stockings, but they did not have just a thin coat of stitched fabric separating them from outside world.

She boarded the elevator and made her way to the first floor where she searched for room 115. She walked briskly down the hallway past fifteen identical red doors when she found it: her Master's room. Panic ensued through her system as she had fleeting thoughts of turning around and leaving. But she was already here and knew the orders that she must fulfill.

She quickly looked around and saw no one approaching in the hallway. She took off her coat and it dropped to the floor – crumpling around her ankles. She knelt down on her knees and knocked on the tall, red door. Her breasts were full, and her nipples were still hard from the cool Pittsburgh air. Her hands were behind her back, her head down as her dark, bobbed hairstyle wrapped around the soft features of her face.

The door opened and suddenly, from down the hallway, came a maid pushing her cleaning cart. The maid stared in bewilderment to find a naked girl in the hallway and almost stopped to ask if there was a problem, but seeing the man in the hotel door entrance made her jettison past. A flush of red marked the naked girl's cheeks when she saw her Master for the first time.

A puff of cigar smoke circled his tall form and she could smell the sickly sweet stench as the smoke blew toward her.

"Crawl inside," he said.

She crawled to the entrance of the room and immediately noticed the lush décor: a bed of dark red blankets and pillows embroidered with gold, twisted rope. A shiny burgundy table held a vase of white orchids and a chair made of brown leather sat in the corner.

She heard music coming from the sound system against the wall and recognized the haunting melody as it pierced through her ears: Mozart's Requiem in D Minor, Sequentia: Rex Tremendae

"Stand up for me now," her new Master said.

She did so and for the first time, met his blue-eyed gaze. He walked behind her and started to run his hands across her bare back, then around to her breasts where he squeezed them and pinched the nipples tenderly at first, then roughly. She felt his hot breath in the back of her neck that immediately sent shock vibrations down her spine straight to her pussy. She moaned slightly and closed her eyes.

"Open your eyes," he whispered into her ear, "you will keep them open and obey everything I tell you..."

"Yes...I will...", she breathed.

"Yes what?", his voice tensed and he smacked her ass with a strong, open hand, sending a sting of pain and a message of seriousness.

"Yes sir.."

He then moved away from her and walked over to the leather chair in the corner of the room. She stood there, looking at her Master and took note that he was dressed as if he had just come from a meeting – dark trousers, a white button up oxford shirt and a blue tie. He took one of his Cuban cigars from his shirt pocket and motioned for her to come stand before him. She did so obediently, wondering what he would ask of her next.

"Turn around and take your panties down mid-thigh," he said.

Carefully, she rolled down her pink lace panties and left them there, awaiting her next order. It was then that he told her to bend over and place her hands on her ass cheeks to spread herself open. And she did so, spreading herself and exposing the most vulnerable openings on her body. She felt like a whore. She felt so subservient. She felt fear as well, not knowing the consequences if she were to reject his rules.

He then ordered her to come closer to him as he sat in the chair and waited. She backed up and it was then she felt his hot breath against her skin and he traveled his mouth on her thighs, her ass, her glistening pussy. She felt the stubble and abrasiveness of his salt and pepper beard rub against her tender skin. She felt something insert into her pussy and he told her to leave it there for a moment as he stood up to walk over to her ear. He grabbed her straight, soft raven-like hair and pushed his lips against her ear:

"Are you my whore?', he asked with a domineering snarl.

She nodded and told him, yes, sir, that she was and he told her if she were to ever serve another Master without asking his permission first, the consequences would be dire and severe. He then walked to her cigar-filled pussy and pulled the cigar out, taking a long sniff across the width and then licking it. He said that it tasted like a whore now. He put the cigar back in his pocket and took his forefinger, injecting into her pussy like a hot syringe.

"Is this my pussy?", he asked.

She told him that it was, and in her mind knew that it was only his, as she had only wanted him inside of her all those months past. He took his finger out of her pussy, and transferred it to her ass – reaming it around, feeling it's tightness wrapping around him. She felt violated, but loved the control of her Master's touch, his words and the feeling she had of being completely drunk and enveloped in his power.

"I want to demonstrate to you how I am going to punish you if should ever disobey me.... now get on your knees", he said to her sternly.

She got down to her knees whereas he instructed her to push her ass up and arch her back. He went over to his suitcase and got out a leather strap and walked back over to her mouth, telling her to open and bite down. She did so and tasted the leather on her tongue and her full glossed lips wrapped around it. She looked straight ahead and caught the glimpse of herself and her Master in a mirror across the room. It showed her Master sliding his belt from his trousers - a thick, black leather belt, and she heard the clinking of the buckle. Her muscles tensed, a sick feeling churned at the pit of her stomach.

She watched intently as he doubled up the belt and brought it up in the air, bringing it across her ass with a final blow. He brought it up again, whipping her over and over until a tear came rolling from her green eyes, trailing down her cheek and onto the bitten leather strap. She could feel the heat emanating from her ass, knowing it was strapped red.

It was then that he walked around to her face, taking the strap from her mouth and threw it to the ground. He slapped her once across her face, making her cheek hot and flushed with humiliation as he told her to open her mouth and keep it open. Her heart beat a fast tempo knowing she was being trained, but fearing and anticipating his every move.

Her mouth was agape and he told her to remove his trousers and to keep her eyes open at all times. He worded his instructions to her with such precision and exactness that she felt fear for messing up, so listened as carefully as she could. He wanted her hands behind her back at all times, mouth wide open, lips always glossed, eyes wide open. She was to kiss his balls lightly and tenderly. She was to pleasure his cock with only her mouth. And she did so, first taking her lips and grazing them tenderly across his balls as he felt her soft lips, and her soft skin pressing against his. He felt her lips were soft as a flower's petal and threw his head back and moaned that she was his slut. And she felt like his slut too, aching to please him.

He ordered her to put her mouth on the head of his cock and she did so, keeping her mouth wide per his instructions as he grabbed a handful of her hair and pushed her wet, slippery mouth down onto his cock. She hungrily sucked, feeling him pressing into the back of her throat where she struggled to breathe and tears, once again, formed in her eyes as she was forced every inch. But her pain was his gift. And her reward would be the hot, white juices that would erupt onto her. She craved this. To be covered with his cum would be the next best thing to him loving her. And she would work hard to achieve just that. As those thoughts ran through her head, he began to percolate and he pulled her hair back, watching his juices flow all over her pretty cheeks, her full, glossed lips and in her black silken hair. It was accomplished for both of them.

Dusk melded into darkness over the city. She had changed into some white cotton panties that hugged high on her hips. She still wore the high heel shoes she arrived with. They shared a quiet dinner in the room and some glasses of chardonnay that dulled her senses, but made her relax as she felt the alcohol warm her throughout. It especially warmed her pussy and she watched her Master eat, drink and smoke the cigar that was inside her earlier. She loved watching the smoke billow from his lips as he seductively wrapped his lips around the tip of the cigar, heaving in the smoke and blowing it out in her direction. As they looked into one another's eyes, he told her to stand up now and to put her arms up in the air.

She stood up, and teetered on the heels she was wearing as she was still tipsy from the chardonnay, but did as her Master instructed for fear of more whipping blows to her body. He stood up and took from his pocket a pair of silver, metal handcuffs that he clasped onto her wrists and instructed her to go over to the bed and bend over the side. She walked over and kneeled in. She felt the softness of the hotel sheets on her face as she waited there in position waiting for what her Master might to do her. He went over to his suitcase and brought out a seven- inch dildo, shaped in the likeness of a man's cock that even had balls attached to it. He walked over and shoved it in her mouth, and told her to keep it there between her freshly glossed lips.

Walking behind her, he took down the white cotton panties as they fell toward her ankles. Then he took two of his fingers and inserted them in her ass, making her wince in pain, but she gave into him as she felt under the spell of his seduction. He told her to get her ass up higher and to arch her back as he loved to see the curvature of her back and more so, loved seeing her ass fully exposed to him, ready to be used. He kept his fingers inside her, wiggling in such a way that she moaned out in a muffled sound through the dildo and felt herself opening up to him. It was then that he took down his pants and took his turgid cock in his hand and began to push it inside her tight ass. The pain was intense and it felt as a blade had shot inside her as she struggled to get away as much as she could. He grabbed her hips and pulled her back as she wiggled and moaned, trying to breathe as he pushed all his weight on top of her, pinning her until she gave into him and he forced his way through. Sweat began to emerge on her back and bead on her forehead as it dripped, signaling the intensity she was feeling inside. He pushed his way deeply inside of her, making her take every inch. She was ravaged, she felt as an animal being torn from the inside out as he pumped and pulled her hair, even biting her on the back of her neck. Tears rolled from her eyes as she felt abused, but loved him all at the same time. Waves of emotions intertwined - she loved it, but hated it. Hated being his whore, but submitting to his every whim. Loved being fucked like an animal, but hated being objectified. Dichotomous feelings ripping through her soul like a razor- pendulum bringing her to the point of thinking she was bi-polar. The highs. The lows. No in betweens. And he pushed and prodded her until, once again, his hot cum seeped deep into the recesses of her ass.

And he got up.

And he left her there.

Watching his juices flowing out in streams from her, he walked over to the window and opened it, and lit his cigar as he turned to watch the smoke dissipate into the dewy air.

And she lay there. Face down. Feeling raped. Feeling ravaged as a delicate rosebud after a hurricane.

In the morning, she got up as he lay there sleeping. She gathered her things and walked over to kiss him first on his hand, then his forehead. She put her heels back on, then her trench coat and without having showered, she left the hotel room to catch a bus back home. She could smell him all over her, the mixture of cigar smoke, his body scent, his sweat, his cum. She felt him inside of her, still. She knew this would be the closest he would ever come to loving her as she disappeared back into the crowded city.