Alec and Brianna (5 of 10) [MF] [Dark] [Smoking] [Running] [Smoking-voy] [Fdom] [prost] [Roleplay]

BRIANNA

“You made good time today – only 47 minutes,” you casually comment. “I was thinking about that 5K coming up in February…” you pause.

“What about it?” I ask, taking a final drag from my cigarette.

“I bet you could do the half-marathon instead…if you wanted to. A 5K isn’t a challenge for you. Why not do the half-marathon? You’ve got 6 weeks to train for it.”

I eye you curiously. You’ve never been particularly interested in my running before, and you’ve never challenged me to take on harder runs. I don’t entirely trust you, but you’ve stimulated my competitive nature. “You know I did a couple triathlons before we met,” I brag.

You pass me your pack of cigarettes. I absently take one and start to smoke.

You smile as I play into your hand. “How did you feel when you were done?”

“It’s amazing,” I say, smoke streaming from my mouth. “The adrenaline rush is wonderful. And you are tried, but you feel so energized…” I stop to take another drag from my cigarette.

“So do a half-marathon in February then.”

“Okay. I will,” I am beaming as I accept your challenge.

ALEC

Over the next few weeks, you push your daily run to longer distances and it seems to be good for you. Each day you are more eager than the last. And the cigarette habit doesn't seem to be getting in your way. You are proud of that. It's your way of showing me you're still your own boss.

What you don't know is that I've been doping your insoles. Wearing those shoes with a long sweaty run is giving you a dose but good. You become addicted to the running because you are addicted to the shoes. So while your daily cigarette count is down, your nicotine intake is going steadily up. The longer you spend running, the worse it is for you.

This has me all hot and bothered, but I can't tip my hand just yet. I am all smiles and encouragement as far as the race is concerned. But I realize something has occurred that I had not anticipated. I have gained an addiction– not to nicotine– but to watching you smoke. The way you light up, the way you inhale, the expulsion of your breath– I adore it. And your smoking less is beginning to tell on my nerves. I find I am thinking of you when you are not there– is she smoking right now? How many has she had?

Like a cliched husband I start to watch internet porn, but not the usual kind– the kind in which women smoke. There doesn't have to be any sex in it, just the steady overwhelming use of tobacco by women as sultry as their habit. I find myself shouting at the screen: "Do it! Do it! Suck it in you bitch!"

I put in an order for certain electronic equipment.

And finally I find myself dialing a phone number I have not used in a very long time.

A strident female voice "Who is this?"

"It's me."

A pause. Then laughter. "I told you you would be back. You're rather rich now aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Then it'll cost you."

She reels off the particulars and then there is just a dial tone.

I am distracted all week, but you are so into your running that you don't notice. That is lucky for me. On the day before I am barely myself. That night I try to exorcise the demons by making passionate love, but you are strangely withdrawn. Afterwards you light up our cigarettes and say "Well, that's two workouts I've had today." I roll over and groan.

The next day, I complete my assignation. The room is dark and hazy, light filters from the blinds. She is there: her leathers a dark red. A cruel cigarette holder between he lips, the tip of the burning ash mesmerizing in the gloom.

"Ember."

She looks up sharply.

I correct: "Mistress Ember."

She makes me count the money out on the table, undress, then kicks a chair over for me to sit on.

"I read all about your wedding in the paper. Is this the first time you've cheated?"

"What the hell do you–" I snap, then, "yes."

" 'Marry Her In Naples'– what is she like? An innocent? She doesn't know about you does she? What you enjoy?"

"I don't want to talk about that."

"But you will." I can hear the rustling of paper as she rolls a new cigarette. See the darting of her tongue as she licks it. "You came here to talk about the things you like."

"I wasn't that way– not before–"

"Before my lessons? Darling, you were just waiting. I have my choice of honies. I didn't even charge you at first." She tosses the cigarette to me. "First one's free."

Reluctantly I light up.

"I bet you're trying to break her aren't you? Repeat what I did to you? Aren't you?" I hear the click of heels as she walks forward. "Aren't you?"

She slams the cigarette holder down on the table with a snap "Aren't you?!"

She brings up a bottle. Begins to squeeze it around in my lap. "Specially formulated menthol." She says, "and enough nicotine to kill a man." I begin to stroke. I watch her light up and kneel between my legs. I watch her beautiful lips suck at the holder. I watch as she blows cascades of smoke over the tip of my cock.

"Now that", she says, "is a blow job."

BRIANNA

As you are meeting with Mistress Ember, I am five miles into what is supposed to be a ten mile run. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I mutter to myself as I dash along. I feel like I need a cigarette – bad – but I’ve been doing five mile runs all week without this feeling. Maybe it is something else. But I can’t seem to take my mind off smoking. My heart feels like it is slogging along. My muscles feel strained. And I have a nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I press forward for another mile, and then exclaim, “Ah, fuck it,” as I change course to head back to the house. I left a pack of cigarettes on the front terrace wall, knowing I would be hungry for one when I got back. My body feels like it is barely moving. I pick up the pace, knowing that the faster I run, the faster I can have a soothing smoke.

Finally, I reach the terrace. The wind is blowing, and it takes several clicks of my lighter before the flame takes hold. “Oh, thank you!” I utter as I exhale the first cloud of smoke. I take several more inhales in rapid succession. With the edge taken off my craving, I go back to wondering, what is wrong with me today? I continue to smoke greedily until the cigarette is gone. I place the butt in a nearby urn, light another, and then begin my cool down stretches.

As I walk toward the house, I still have a subtle, nagging need for more nicotine, but I brush it aside. I am unnerved that I have already cut my run short to smoke. I make my way inside; startling our housekeeper, who did not expect me back so soon; and take a seat on the couch to remove my shoes.

“Would Miss Brie like some water?” the housekeeper asks, taking my shoes from the floor.

“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Jeong,” I answer, turning my attention to the magazine lying on the table. I fail to notice Mrs. Jeong’s eyes grow wide as she examines my shoes.

Mrs. Jeong is a little Asian woman. It is hard to tell how old she is, but she stands no more than 5 feet tall. She is a heavy smoker with a terrible hack and has been your housekeeper since before we were married. It was she who you entrusted with doping my shoes. Today’s running shoes were new – a purchase which I failed to mention to you, and consequently, they were not laden with nicotine like the others. Mrs. Jeong runs quickly upstairs (getting quite out of breath in the process) to correct her mistake.

“Here you are…Miss Brie,” Mrs. Jeong pants as she hands me a glass of water. I notice that she is still holding my running shoes. “Won’t you go…for another run?” she asks, breathing heavily. “You were not gone long.”

“Thank you,” is all I reply as I take another cigarette from my pack. Mrs. Jeong leaves the room, coughing several times once she is in the hall. I hate to hear her cough. “I hope I never sound like that,” I reflect as I pull a cloud of smoke into my yearning lungs.

I stretch out on the couch as a nicotine-induced calm sweeps over my body. I take leisurely puffs from my poison rod, casually tapping the ashes off in the ashtray on the table. It’s hard for me to remember not smoking, but a part of me is still conflicted – especially after today. I like to smoke, but I wish I didn’t need to smoke.

ALEC

That weekend I send you out of town to a luxurious spa called Club Cendres. You think of it as an excellent time to try to avoid the habit, but of course they have their instructions for special clientele. While you think you are doing rather well taking a two day holiday from smoking they are plying you with nicotine mud baths and poisoned drink.

In the meantime, I am using the weekend to install the equipment I ordered– cameras and microphones for every room in the house and a command center behind a locked door in my study. I don't know what drives me to do it, but the idea makes me incredibly hot. Mrs. Jeong watches the workmen and smirks, but she is obedient as always.

When you return I tell you how much I've missed you and take you right on the couch in the entry way. I watch you light up afterward and realize that it is the motion of your lips that I have missed. Inhaling smoke one puff at a time, polluting yourself so willingly. I tell you I have work to do and disappear into the study.

Like a boy with a new toy, I zoom in on your mouth, watch you smoke casually and unawares. Follow you from room to room. I am coming before I have hardly touched myself. I feel shame, but also pride of ownership.

I watch into the night. And the next day. Then it is no longer enough.

I dial the number. "Mistress Ember… I need–"

"Foolish boy, I know what you need."

She sends me a girl. A dead ringer for my wife whom she must have seen in the papers. Dark hair, brown eyes. Slim hips, small piquant breasts, an elfen face. Slender fingers and a seductive mouth. I know the features so well. The girl never speaks, but her intuition is perfect. Mrs. Jeong leads her in the back way to my study. She kneels and begins working my cock. She works it in time my wife's breath on the video screen. Slowly… in, out. Excruciating sensation. It is perfect torture.

In the next few days I become intimately familiar with my bride in ways she could not imagine. I watch every gesture, each nuanced motion associated with your smoking habit. It becomes entirely a sex act for me, as if you were masturbating using the cigarette as your toy. I am the sexual voyeur and you are my subject as you work your way through one smoke after another. Any programming Ember left undone when she was finished with me those years ago is completed now. I am completely enthralled.

When outside the study, life progresses somewhat more normally. I am still encouraging you to run. You are working your way up to ten miles a day and we are upping the dosages accordingly. I made Mrs. Jeong rather sorry for her mistake with your shoes and she will not make it again.

Our actual love-making begins to drop off due to my having found a more powerful substitute. Luckily you are caught up in the excitement of preparing for the race.

Now just three weeks away.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/2p3acd/alec_and_brianna_5_of_10_mf_dark_smoking_running