I stand before you, a vision of control, as I leisurely light my cigarette. With each luxurious draw, I invite you to serve as my living ashtray. Your role? To catch the ashes as they fall, a symbolic gesture of your devotion and your willingness to be used by me. Every time I drop my ashes into your mouth, your tribute is burned, much like the paper that encases my cigarette. It's a visual representation of your desire to burn your money for my pleasure, to quite literally have me stand on your cash as I dominate you. As I smoke with an almost predatory sensuality, my eyes lock onto yours, gauging your reaction as you surrender to your role. With each puff, you're reminded of your place beneath me, your purpose to serve and to suffer the sweet agony of your submission. The game is simple: the more you pay, the more ashes you collect, and the weaker you become under my relentless gaze. Your surrender is my satisfaction, and I revel in the control I wield over you.