Did I say you could stroke? I have full control over you, me and my smoke. The way I press the filter of my Marlboro between juicy lips, then exhale a cloud of smoke is all that it takes to send you into overdrive. I know you are hard. But you're not allowed to stroke; at least not yet. Remember why you're here: to please me. So open up your mouth and consume my ash. You want to feel close to me after all, so you obey, no questions asked - like a good boy. If it makes Goddess happy... and in your quest to stand out, you become easy to manipulate. Just like a puppet. I flick my cigarette. Delicious, isn't it? I hear you gratefully chewing through the ash... *crunch, crunch*. You're aware that there are many others out there who are willing to go above and beyond for me. And you're desperate to pass the test. However, was the effort enough to get you my attention? x