Here's the second part of the story of how I came to love forced smoking. My mother was going out of town, and Maria took the opportunity to "force" me to learn how to smoke. She asked me to come down and hang out at her place for awhile. After some small talk, her bell rang. In walked her friend Julie. Julie was hot, and that night she was dressed in leather pants, jacket, and gloves. She was carrying a gym bag.
Maria told me they had big plans for the weekend. She went to get changed. Julie took off her jacket and gloves and sat down to make small talk. She asked me if I mined if she smoked. I said of course not. I was again mesmerized as she lit her Parliament 100, and inhaled deeply.
Maria came out of her bedroom dressed to kill just like Julie. Leather all around, skirt, boots, and gloves. When I asked where they were going, Maria said nowhere. I was either too turned on or shocked when she told me to sit in the chair Julie just brought into the living room. As soon as I took a seat, Maria grabbed me, and Julie went to work.
They quickly tied my hands behind me, then wrapped strand after strand of rope around me, binding my ankles, knees, thighs, elbows and chest. When I started protesting about how crazy this was, Maria gagged me with duct tape.
Julie walked around front of me, and lit a cigarette, while Maria held my head still. Julie began blowing smoke in my face, and eyes, getting right up near me and slowly exhaling so that my face would be clouded by smoke. Of course I was choking and gagging.
They laughed and said this was nothing, and that by the end of the weekend, I'd not only be a smoker, but their personal slave and ashtray. Although a bit frightened, I was rock hard. Something they also noticed.
After they took turns blowing smoke in my face, Julie said it was time for more extreme measures.
to be continued...
