Confessions of a smoking TV tart. Part 1 SeXStoRY

"What did you feel like tonight, in the car park?" he asked. It was uncomfortable for me, tied to the back of the chair, upside down. 'It was such a buzz, the adrenalin was incredible. I've never felt more alive.' I answered, the rubber bonds gently squeaking in my discomfort. "Why?" I pondered for a while, before answering. 'I love knowing that when I dress in all my heavy makeup, the plastic and rubber, and the come fuck me boots, it gives guys a big hard on. It's a big compliment that I'm doing things right.' My master reached into his big holdall on the bed, and then sat in the chair backwards, legs astride, overlooking my vulnerable, quivering arsehole. "And what about the smoking?" My legs were starting to ache, dangling above my head, and my bent back hurt. 'I don't know what it is, but I think, first of all, there's something so erotic about the glossy red lips, sucking on the phallic cigarette.' I paused, as I felt a cool liquid being poured on my arse. "Continue, slut." 'Common prostitutes have that image of standing on street corners, fag in hand, waiting and parading, as purveyors of pleasure. Implying that tarts who smoke will do anything. Fulfil your ultimate fantasies.' Master now started slowly and gently insinuating a dildo into my arse. My hole tingled, welcoming the erotic intrusion. I moaned gently, enjoying the feeling, as above my slutty made up face, my cock started to engorge for the umpteenth time tonight. "What fantasies do you have?" he asked........