Tom woke up slowly from a feverish dream of naked flesh and kisses and moans. His throat ached and his body felt sore. As he regained consciousness, he realized several things at the same time.
First, that he was lying on a bed. He was fully dressed and his trousers felt uncomfortably tight around his crotch.
Second, as he moved around, he found out that he was handcuffed to the bed posts.
Third, that he was a place he didn’t recognize. A beatiful bedroom with wide windows, in a building tall enough to offer a view on the entire city.
Fourth, that Sandra was in the room with him. She was sitting at a small desk in front of a mirror. She was wearing nothing but an aquamarine bra and matching lace panties, her long, slender legs cast to one side as she carefully cleaned her face with a small cotton disk. Tom could see the beautiful line of her delicate neck as she had her hair collected in a bun.
Sandra was humming softly to herself, but paused as she noticed, through the mirror, Tom waking up and struggling weakly against his constraints.
She smiled at him. “Hi Tom. Could you give me just a few more minutes? I’m almost done. Please, don’t make a scene as you wait”.
Tom found he could not do otherwise if he wanted to. The mere act of straining his arms against the handcuffs made him feel weak and dizzy. As he spoke to protest, his voice was low and broken, his throat burning so much that he immediately excluded the possibility to scream.
“What… Where are we? What happened?”, he muttered with great effort.
“I’m sorry, Tom”, Sandra answered without turning to face him. “You may be feeling unwell right now. It is always like this, the first few times. You’ll get used to it, eventually. It is nothing compared to withdrawal symptoms, though, so consider yourself fortunate”.
Tom should have panicked, but fear was a distant thing, subdued. He remembered his chance meeting with Sandra now, getting in her car, a cloud of pink smoke, then nothing else. Nothing made sense to him right now, so he stopped asking questions and just stated the truth. “I need to go. My wife. My wife is waiting for me”.
Sandra laughed gently. “This is not the standard procedure, you know? But I have just finished a very long and tiring job, and I just want to have some fun. Relax. Not think for a while”.
She turned to face him, now. She had the looks of a model: delicate features with tall cheekbones, long legs and a thin frame, round breasts perfectly cupped by the elegant bra.
Tom tried to avert his gaze from her. God, she was almost hypnotically beautiful. He could feel the beginning of a hard-on in his already uncomfortably tight pants. “Please. I don’t understand what is happening, but I need to go. I am married. My wife is waiting me for lunch. I don’t want this… Whatever this is.”
Sandra nodded. “Of course. You will be free to go, soon. But I don’t think you will want to.”
“Please. Just… Please. Let me go.”
Sandra’s delicate fingers reached in the drawer and picked something. When she turned, Tom saw she was holding a pink cigarette and a lighter. His heart started racing, his mouth suddenly dry. The room disappeared, and so did Sandra, the beautiful Sandra. He could only see the cigarette, its attraction as strong as a black hole sucking even light from the room.
“… Want one?”. Sandra’s voice snapped him back to reality.
“What?”
“I said”, she repeated, an amused look on her face. “do you want one?”
Tom gulped. This was ridiculous. He had tried cigarettes during high school, but he was never a smoker. He hated the taste. And he never even tried drugs apart from one joint at a party when he was 16.
And yet, he didn’t trust his own voice. He wanted the pink cigarette. He ached for it. So he just shook his head in denial.
“What would you do for it?”, Sandra asked, as if he had nodded vehemently. Her voice was lower now, full of implications. She stood, showing the full glory of her almost naked form.
“Would you beg me for it?”
Tom couldn’t speak. His eyes were fixated on Sandra, and on the pink cigarette in her hand.
“Would you kiss me, Tom?”, she pressed on, as she walked slowly towards the bed.
“Would you lick my pussy if I promised you one puff of this cigarette, Tom?”
She climbed on the bed, still holding the cigarette and the lighter. He could smell her. A sweet perfume. A pink perfume. She raised a leg and straddled him. His cock was now hard, pushing painfully against his trousers. He has never felt so hard in his entire life. It was as if he could rip the fabric of his pants.
She leaned on the paralized Tom, sitting on his crotch, her lips inches away from his ear.
“Would you fuck me for a cigarette, Tom? Would you cum in me?”, she moaned.
Tom needed that. He needed to fuck her. He needed the cigarette.
And yet, he moved his head to one side and closed his eyes shut, summoning all his will. “No”, he replied.
Sandra laughed, and her weight on his crotch lifted, her sweet smell now less intense. She jumped off the bed. “Well said, Tom. Well said”. She laughed again, and Tom risked opening his eyes. She was standing next to the bed. She seemed happy, amused. Was this all a test?
“Will you let me go, now? “, asked Tom, but once again she ignored him.
“Do you love your wife, Tom?”, she asked, suddenly serious.
“Yes”.
“Very good. You didn’t even hesitate. I guess that must be true. Are you happy with her?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you want to fuck me, Tom?
Tom closed his eyes again. “I don’t want to betray her”.
“But you like me. You find me hot. And you want a cigarette”.
She didn’t wait for an answer. “I told you, this is not the standard procedure. Usually we would drag this for much longer. But this is my free time, and this means we can have some fun together, you and I”.
“I told you, I don’t…”
“Do you want to see a lovely trick?”
She put the cigarette between her lips and quickly lit it, letting out a puff of pink smoke. Tom felt a pang of need rise inside himself like a scream. It was impossible. He was not a junkie. He had never even heard about that pink drug until earlier that day. And yet, he was yearning for a taste, his need absolute, total, undeniable. If Sandra had asked him to do something for a puff of smoke right now, Tom wasn’t sure he could muster the will to deny her again.
But Sandra didn’t ask. Instead, she knelt on the floor at the edge of the bed, dropped the lighter, and unzipped Tom’s trousers. Adrenaline filled his veins, and lust obfuscated his thoughts as she reached in his pants and took hold of his dick with one hand, the other still holding the lit cigarette.
His cock sprang to life, and Tom’s eyes widened in surprise. It was harder, thicker than it had ever been. It even appeared longer. Tom prided himself of being well endowed, but this was a cock worthy of a pornstar. “No…”, he whispered. What had happened to him? What was this drug?
Sandra knelt in and blew a large cloud of pink smoke straight on his cock. The smoke engulfed the shaft, hiding it from Tom’s view. It lingered there unnaturally, almost viscous in consistency.
Tom felt a warm feeling on his cock. It was amazing. The cloud of smoke was warm and so thick that it felt as if he had dipped his cock in a jar of warm jam.
Sandra gave Tom a knowing look, a mischievous smile on her lips. She blew another small puff of smoke on his crotch. The air moved as if alive. Tom reclined on the cushion, staring at the ceiling, in rapture. The smoke seemed to swirl around his cock, caressing it, warm and fluid. The member seemed to grow even harder and larger, as if it was absorbing it. The feeling became unbearable, a pressure building inside him, stronger and stronger, until his cock spasmed in the smoke and shot a load of cum that landed on Tom’s chest, followed by many more smaller loads, a veritable fountain of cum that overflowed from his balls until the smoke itself dissipated. As the pleasure subsided, Tom gasped, heart racing. He had never experienced such an intense climax before. He looked down to see his still throbbing cock and a pool of milky cum on his belly and chest, semen coating his public air. The member stayed half-erect, apparently even larger than before, and for a second Tom thought he could see the bulging veins pulsating with a vibrant pink hue.
“Look, mom, no hands!”, laughed Sandra, winking at Tom.
—
It took several minutes for Tom to recover his presence of mind. “What is that stuff?”, he asked, avoiding to look at Sandra.
“This is the only thing you will need, dream, desire for from now on. Well, this, and sex”, Sandra smiled. “But you will find that sex without the smoke to be less than satisfactory after today”.
Tom wanted to cry. To scream. But he felt drained, devoid of emotions. He heard the truth in Sandra’s words. He already longed for the pink smoke. He wanted it on his cock again. He wanted it to fill his lungs. Even the distant smell in the room was filling him with an aching desire unlike anything he had ever felt.
“Why did you do this to me?”
“Oh, Tom, it’s nothing personal, really. I just needed to relieve some pressure”.
Sandra had backed away, was now sitting on the chair at the desk again, casually smoking the cigarette. “I told you, I have just finished a job. I had to recruit Senator Ben Theodorson to our cause. Do you know him? The Republican”.
Sandra gestured vaguely. “It was extremely tiring. The guy lives with his wife and three bodyguards. And, can you imagine, his son – who is 22 years old, by the way – is still at home with mommy and daddy”. Sandra shook her head. “I had to break all of them, one at a time. Starting from the bodyguards. It took me eight days. I am exhausted”.
Sandra stretched her back languidly. “The most difficult one was the wife. She didn’t have one single homosexual bone in her body. It was only on her fourth day of treatment that I managed to get some good pussy eating from her, and only when she was being well pounded by… Who was it? I can’t remember anymore who of the four at that time”.
Tom was speechless. She was clearly a psychopath, a liar. And yet, he felt there was some truth in her words. Sandra didn’t really care about Tom, as she continued her monologue. “It was quite the opposite situation from that time with the Democrat, Leslie Seymour. Tall, black, gay? Yes? He lived all alone in this huge mansion with his partner, a nice guy actually, Paul Phillip. Paul was an instant win. That guy, for one puff of smoke, would do anything, and I mean *anything*. Though of course we still had to go through the standard training. Just to make sure there was no way back for him. But Leslie had an exceptional will. After five days dedicated entirely to break him, he was still resisting. I mean, most people are good to go by the third day, and the fourth is just to make sure. Anyhow, sometimes one needs to get creative. So I asked his beloved Phil to fuck me in front of him. That’s what broke him. Can you believe it? Well, sure, that and having smoked the equivalent of six packs of cigarettes a day for the past 48 hours. And his cock by that time was, well, as huge as a horse’s, constantly ready to spew cum. He was half crazy, really, hanging by a thread”.
“Stop it”.
“What?”
“Please. Stop it. I can’t take it anymore.”
“Funny! That’s what *he* said!”, laughed Sandra.
“Why isn’t it affecting you?”, asked Tom, his voice faltering.
Sandra seemed surprised. “Oh. The smoke, you mean? But it is. It is”.
She stood up and walked back to the bed, standing next to the cushion, her crotch in line with Tom’s head. She put her fingers on his hair and gently turned his head to face her. He didn’t resist.
He was presented with a close-up of her panties. A wide wet patch soaking the lace. When she spoke again, her voice was low, sultry. Devoid of all playfulness. “The smoke affects me as well. Every time I inhale it, I cum a little”.
She hooked the panties with her thumbs and pulled them down. A line of drool connected the tissue to her bare pussy. Her skin was shaven. Tom could see the dripping juice from her tight slit. “Do you want to know what it tastes like?”, she asked.
Her fingers dug in Tom’s scalp, pulling him closer. She moved her basin forward. Tom shut his eyes and mouth tight, but he could smell her. He felt the heat radiating from her pussy. The moisture so close that he could feel it on his sealed lips.
“It tastes like the smoke. It tastes pink”.
And oh, God, he could feel it. The smell of the smoke mixed with her juices. As if she were dripping with it. It was all it took for him to open his lips and drink eagerly from the source, lapping at her slit, while her fingers held his head firmly in place, and she grind her hips against his face.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/dur89h/pink_smoke_2_mc_femdom_mf