I decided to go to the fetish night on a lark; the weather was perfect for outdoor dining, and I had just gained a significant, unexpected amount of money, so a celebration was in order. I dressed Beverly for elegance in a simple velvet-black dress that gave a hint of her cleavage, with a buttoned slit on one side, and high heels. No panties, of course. She was to wear a WonderBra to make her C cup a little more enticing. As I have said, I am fond of owning ladies, not sluts. I gave her one of the velvet chokers I had bought her, and the clasp with my last initial that she would use to fasten it. Both fashion accessory and a discreet symbol of her submission, it’s silver, with a small diamond in the upper corner. Perhaps I would make her submission a little more public; it would depend on the crowd at fetish night. One of the frequent mistakes that young boys playing at BDSM make is that any submissive can be treated like their submissive, so I preferred not to tip Beverly’s hand.
As she stepped out of the bedroom, dressed quite elegantly, I mulled what smoking accessories she would use tonight. "Beverly, bring me your holder case." She gave me a quiet, "yes, master" with bowed head, and sashayed to the den. She has about two dozen cigarette holders, several in the same exact style, ranging in length from 3 to 14 inches. The duplicates hold different diameter cigarettes. She opened the custom-built case for my inspection, and held it while I made my choices. I picked her 3 inch black holder for Shermans, the 5 inch violet and black holder fitted for Mores, and the 14-inch black stem, with gold bowl More holder. She kept the shorter holders, while I put the longer one in its own case. "Tonight, my dear, you will be smoking Mores at the club, and Virginia Circles at dinner." She bowed her head in acquiescence, and walked away, ass swaying invitingly, to return the case, and prepare her smoking accessories. When I dressed her like this, she knew that she needed to select cigarette cases and matching lighter for the brands I selected. She also knew that she would have ample opportunity to excite me tonight. If her performance was outstanding, maybe it would get her laid when we returned home. (Although at that point, an average show would be enough.)
We went to an Italian restaurant for dinner. We waited for a patio table; the evening weather had held, and it was as beautiful as promised. I didn’t let her smoke during the half-hour wait, which she should have expected since I knew she wanted one. Finally, we were seated in a corner near the front, one that afforded several other tables a fine view of Beverly. "Wait until the wine arrives," I told her. Her eyes reflected surprise and disappointment, but it’s always good to keep them guessing. I leaned across the table as if to share a confidence, and unfastened a couple of the buttons on the slit in her dress. There was a middle age man sitting at another table facing us, as well as a table with two young couples at a slight angle. "Legs, slowly, right over left." Beverly crossed her legs as ordered, with a slight flush. Someone would have had to have been looking really hard to detect the brief flash, but the possibility was there, and that excited her.
The wine arrived, and once the waiter had poured it, I nodded at Beverly. She casually reached into her handbag, removed the silver case, the 3-inch holder, and placed them on the table. After taking one of the brown Virginia Circles from the case, she deliberately, carefully, fitted it into the holder. I leaned forward to give her a light. Beverly drew on the holder, held mid-stem between index and middle fingers, and opened her mouth, snapping the smoke back into her lungs after an instant. Raising the holder to ear level, with a bent elbow and gracefully limp wrist, she tilted her head back, and slowly exhaled a stream through her lips. Perfect. She looked at me for approval. I gave her a brief nod, drawing a smile in response. Beverly took another drag, exhaling slowly, enjoying the act as much as the smoke. After two years of being my slave, she had pretty much mastered the art of smoking. She had been an eager pupil, taking lessons from Katie and coaching from me.
We chatted about her current class in 18th Century British Literature while we waited for dinner. Our relationship as master and slave is not obvious in public, unless I am in the mood for it. Since it’s something that can easily be misinterpreted by outsiders, frequently discretion is the better part of valor. Dinner was excellent, and the crème brulée for dessert outstanding. We each had wine left in our glasses, so we dawdled pleasantly. She reacted to the small hand signal I gave her, and prepared another cigarette for smoking. I left the table, headed for the indoor bathroom. This also gave me a chance to watch the masterpiece discreetly from out of her line of sight. She was sitting relaxed in her chair, legs crossed right over left, with the holder and cigarette almost vertical, again held high by her ear. She casually brought the holder to her mouth to take a slow, easy draw, and french-inhaled a ball of smoke. Lazily lifting her head while she held the smoke, Beverly turned her head away from the patio and exhaled. I looked around for any other spectators. She had caught the attention of a busboy, the middle-aged man, and one of the young men from the two couples. I smiled, and after watching her next drag and exhale, returned to our table. "Three," I whispered. She beamed. We left shortly thereafter.
We arrived at the club a little after nine-thirty; it was early enough to find a good table. She put a More in her long holder and waited until we got to the door for me to light it. The doorman waved us in, giving me a look that said, "You lucky SOB…" We found a table and ordered drinks. The long holder drew attention to Beverly; several of the college kids were watching her intently, possibly without even knowing it. A few of the girls stared openly. Her self-confidence never wavered; she had the air of a domme as we looked for a free table. Finding one, we sat and ordered drinks from a cocktail waitress dressed in PVC, and waited for the place to fill up. It only took five minutes for the first guy to hit on her. He knelt, and quickly asked, "Mistress, may I serve you?" ignoring my presence.
Beverly shook her head. "No," she smiled with amusement. "Slaves do not choose their mistresses. Go away." Katie had prepared Beverly for this sort of thing; women with cigarette holders are usually thought of as dommes, not subs. After a couple of uncomfortable public experiences that Katie and I had, we had to figure out how to put her submissive away for the few moments it would take to interact with another person. As the club filled, Beverly and I watched with amusement as kids played at the BDSM game. She allowed one young boy to light her next holdered More. (I later found out it was his 21st birthday and he had been put up to it—had I known, I would have let her give him a present he wouldn’t forget.) The 14-inch holder gets a lot of attention, and my slave was enjoying it, putting on a regal smoking show for any fetisher into holders and elegant women.
When she lit her third More of the night, again in the 14-inch holder, I leaned over and nibbled at her throat as she raised her chin to exhale. Beverly trembled slightly, and I ran my hand lightly down her spine, making her squirm a little and sigh. My hand ran along the top of her ass, and she adjusted herself to give me access to her leg. I undid the buttons on the slit of her dress, and ran my hand along her bare leg. I gave her a kiss on the cheek. "You are a marvelously sexy smoker, cream rainbow." She blinked as I continued to stroke her leg. That’s the phrase that starts her on an orgasmic climb; she can’t help it; it’s a Pavlovian response. "Take another drag for me, pet." Beverly obeyed, exhaling deliberately in a long stream. "I enjoyed that. That was very nice, can you tell?" She put her hand on my pants and felt the bulge. "But I think that you’ll want to put that out quickly." I whispered the second phrase. She gave a soft whimper, her eyes slightly wide. "Because I’m going to make you cum now, slave." I gave her the third phrase. Beverly took a hurried drag, put the cigarette out and dropped the holder on the table. She tried to give me a kiss, but I whispered the final trigger phrase in her ear. (You didn’t think I’d actually tell you the words that make her orgasm, did you?) Her legs snapped shut and her face turned red. She vibrated for about a minute, biting her lip, eyes tightly closed.
"Whewwww…" she exhaled, her eyes rolling around in her head for a few more seconds. "Thank you, master," Beverly said, waiting for a kiss, which I of course, granted. I let her recover for a few minutes, then commanded her to use the shorter holder for her next cigarette when she was ready for a light, I lit it, then sent her to the bar for drinks. She wiggled away, carrying the holdered cigarette as a lady should.
My contemplations of Beverly’s ass were interrupted by a feminine voice. "She’s marvelous. Is she yours?" I turned and saw a gorgeous, milk chocolate-skinned young woman smiling confidently at me.
I smiled back, "Yes, she is." Anybody who notices our relationship in the middle of fetish night, especially with Beverly looking all the world like a domme is interesting. "Would you care to join us?"
"Thank you," she replied. "I would enjoy that. Let me get my drink." I could tell that this woman was into the scene; I hadn’t ever seen her before though. She came back a few seconds later, and slid into our booth. "And you are?"
"My name is Tom, and my pet is Beverly."
"She’s well trained. You’ve done a wonderful job. My name is Vendella; I’m a lifestyle domme here on business until Thursday. I saw the ad, and thought this might be entertaining. I’m a little disappointed that there are so many amateurs here. Do many scene folks come and play here?"
"No, this is too public for us. We come as spectators usually, and not very often. Beverly and I are celebrating some good fortune. I thought it might be fun. I like to show her off in public."
"She’s a marvelous lady, Tom, worth showing off," Vendella said with sincerity. "I’d like to meet her if I may. That was a nice trick with the orgasm." I was impressed. Nobody else had noticed. We talked a little bit about her business in town until Beverly returned. "Hello, Beverly, my name is Vendella."
"You will address her as ‘Mistress’, pet. Is that clear?" Vendella smiled at the instant respect.
"Yes, master. Hello, mistress."
"I was complimenting your master on his training skills. You are quite the beautiful, elegant lady." Beverly blushed, and head bowed, said a soft thank you. Vendella turned to me. "Smoking with accessories is very rare these days. You’ve spent a great deal of time in training this lovely young thing." She removed a long thin case from her purse and withdrew a slim cigar. Beverly stood up, walked around the booth, and lit it for her. "Thank you, Beverly. She’s attentive, too." Vendella took a draw on the cigar, inhaling the smoke, making a controlled exhale through her nostrils.
"Smoking fetishist?" I asked, and Vendella nodded while savoring her next draw. She did a combination nasal-oral exhale that made my pants a little tighter. "Me too. That’s why Beverly is so adept with accessories. She’s been properly trained with regards to smoking and my specific interests."
"Can she do nasal exhales?" I said sure. Anticipating the next command, Beverly started to reach for her holder and cigarette case. "No," Vendella said, extending her cigar, "with this." My slave gave me a brief questioning look. I allowed her to call this one on her own, saying and doing nothing. Beverly took the proffered cigar, and took a slow draw on it. She finished the draw with a small snap-inhale, then began to exhale through her nose and mouth. Closing her mouth, she let the rest of the smoke flow through her nose, eyes sparkling at the end of the stream. I was almost ready to take her on the spot. "Mar-velous…" Vendella whispered. Judging from the expression in her eyes, she was almost ready to do the same thing.
I made a snap decision, and rearranged us so that Beverly was sitting next to Vendella. "Tease her, pet," I whispered. "Show her how smokeplay is done with a cigar." Eyes dancing, Beverly put on a sexy smoking show for Vendella, complete with french-inhales, snap inhales, and smoke rings until the cigar was more than half-gone. My pet had done a good job of heating both of us up, although I think Vendella was more affected than I was. I reached over and unfastened the slit in Beverly’s dress. "She’s wet, Vendella. She liked doing that for you."
I felt another hand touch mine. Vendella and I looked at each other, and our hands began to play with my slave. Beverly went into orbit, and had a difficult time keeping this orgasm quiet. A few people were watching us, but I ignored them until Vendella and I had finished driving Beverly over the edge. I explained, "She’s my slave. I can do whatever I want." Since much less discreet sex was going on in the club elsewhere, what we had just done was tame. I checked my watch; it was getting late. "Mistress Vendella, here is my card. Feel free to call, and we’ll get together for dinner with a scene friend of mine before you leave." I could tell that she was turned on, but she accepted the card with a smile, understanding that tonight was over. "If things go well, maybe Beverly can be of service to you," I smiled while Beverly blushed. My pet understood exactly what that meant.
"Thank you very much. I enjoyed this little get-together. I have a business dinner tomorrow, but Wednesday I am free after five or five-thirty," Vendella replied. She pulled out another cigar for Beverly to light. I made Beverly use the long holder for a More, and smoke for Vendella again. Vendella watched the performance with interest, having to re-light her own smoke twice while Beverly finished her More. I thanked Vendella for her assistance in making Beverly cum in public, in front of an audience, and hoped that she would call on Wednesday.
Katie smiled and lit an MCD. "I specialize in psychodrama and fetishes, especially the smoking fetish." She eased her chest forward to exhale slowly, looking at me purposefully. It had been a while since we’d been together. "Slave Lucky here adores the way I smoke. He is most generous in his devotions to his Mistress." Her client, dressed in a suit and tie, turned bright red.
Vendella nodded. "I have one guy who comes to see me whenever he can. His thing is getting fucked with a strap-on while I smoke a 60-ring. He thinks he wants to be my permanent slave and enter the lifestyle, but since he moved out-of-town, it’s not going to work. Besides, I don’t think his wife would understand." She stopped to watch Katie, head tilted all the way back, send a creamy stream straight up. "I must say that you smoke exquisitely."
Katie smiled at me. "Tom used to be my dom. I was originally a sub, and he taught me what he liked to see. When I became a domme, I never realized the impact it would have on so many. It’s a total power trip." The rest of the conversation meandered pleasantly; then Katie allowed Vendella to play with her client, and I gave Beverly the job of being the sexy smoker to make them both hot. Halfway through her first Virginia Slim 120, I was hot. Katie took care of me.
Back at our house afterwards, Beverly and I talked about the evening’s experience. She said it pleased her to serve Katie in such an indirect fashion, while she was turning me on. She was surprised at the number of smoking fetishers there were, and had been surprised that Vendella had been so affected. "But you are a smoking lady of refinement, elegance, and sophistication. Plus, your submission to her with the cigar was very exciting. You gave yourself to her—that was what initially excited Vendella."
Beverly cuddled against me. "Master," she said, "I don’t know why I want to do the extra things for you, but I really do. It makes me happy. Especially when I please you."
I kissed her tenderly. "You have pleased me immensely this week, Beverly."