"Does a hot cigarette on your clit make you wet?"

 “Does a hot cigarette on your clit make you wet?”

“Does the thought of a hot cigarette on your clit make you wet?”

That was the question which was put to me; and the answer was that it did.

My name is Justine, like in the Marquis de Sade book. I am a goth. Yes, there are still people who put on white makeup and black eye shadow, and listen to bands like Fields of the Nephilim and the Sisters of Mercy. I was eighteen years old at the time that this story took place.

I should say, before we get any further into this perverted tale, that, at the time, I had long been interested in pain but not had the chance to really explore my masochism. I think that it had all started when I had read the James Bond book Thunderball. There’s a scene in the book where a woman is tortured with a cigar, and ice, alternately. Ian Fleming doesn’t really go into details. But I did in my minds eyes, imagining what it was like to be tortured with a cigarette. That was where my interest with pain started, with me always in the role of the victim, never the torturer. I had fantasies for years of being tortured, sometimes with whips or branding irons, by cruel men, such as pirates or Nazis. But as I reached adulthood the men were replaced by cruel women, as I realised that I was a lesbian, and that men didn’t really interest me.

Until I moved out of my home to stay at university, though, I never had a chance to do anything about my lesbian masochism. But as soon as I had a laptop, and I was somewhere where my parents wouldn’t spy on what sites I checked out, I began trawling the internet for tales of young women being abused by sadistic older women. I was especially looking for stories involving cigarette torture, for that was my thing. I found a few, but not as many as you might think. My favourite, at the moment, is Paris 1944 by Crowley (which is why I have asked him to publish my tale).

Anyway, basically I am a lesbian slut in search of a milf to inflict agonising cigarette torture on the soft parts of my body. Not that I’d had much experience of pain (and I still swore volubly whenever I stubbed my toe, or caught my funny born). But those were the images which filled out my fantasies; and the idea of some cruel woman torturing my pussy with a cigarette always made me wet. So, when the question was put to me, it was like the person doing the asking was looking into my soul.

At the time I was in a lesbian bar, the first time that I had been in such a place. The person who had posed the question was a stocky woman in her fifties. She had a bit of a hatchet face, with short black hair. But that was okay, as it made her look mean. She looked like the sort of person who would not be merciful. And I wanted somebody who would go all the way, and not show any mercy when she was torturing me, no matter how much I might beg.

“Yes.” I said, in reply. I think that surprised her. I guessed that every time that she had asked that question in the past she’s got a very negative response. But I wasn’t like most people.

She stared at me, as though she could not believe her ears. So I confirmed what I had said.

“Yes, the thought of a hot cigarette on my clit makes me wet.” I said.

“If you come with me that is exactly what you will get, slut.” she said, putting emphasis on the slut. I don’t think that she could believe her luck. I was – and still am – a pretty hot university girl, even if my tits weren’t as big as her matronly charms. And I had answered in the positive, maybe ready to fulfil one of her fantasies.

“Tell me what you will do to me if I go with you.” I said.

“Very well. I will chain you to my bed, in my soundproofed playroom. Your legs will be spread as wide as they will go, painfully wide, in fact. You will be chained down so tightly that you cannot move. I will sit on your face, while you bring me to orgasm with your tongue. I should warn you that it takes a lot of skill to make me cum, so this session will not be quick. Oh, I will have your cunt lips clamped open, so harshly that you will be scared that they will tear. Your clit hood will be taped out of the way. Then, while you perform cunnilingus on me, I will burn your body with cigarettes. I will burn your breasts and your nipples. I will burn them all over. I will burn your thighs and your stretched pussy lips. I will burn you on your mound. I will burn you inside. I will keep on burning you until I cum, using as many cigarettes as necessary. These touches will be glancing, to cause pain but no lasting injury. But when I begin to cum it will get really bad for you. When I feel the beginning of that wonderful thing called an orgasm I will put out my cigarette on your erect clit, perhaps permanently damaging it, and your ability to have orgasms. That is what I will do with you if you come home with me.”

By then my pussy was sopping wet. If I had not been so naïve maybe I would have run a mile. But my brain was being ruled by my libido.

“Okay, let’s go.” I said.

We got an Uber, as we had both been drinking. We didn’t talk in the taxi, as if we had started talking about pussy torture the driver would probably have driven off the road. I was driven out of the town, out of the suburbs, to a very large house, almost a mansion. This woman had some serious money.

“Come into my lair, said the spider to the fly.” she said, as she paid off the Uber driver. I went into her luxurious house, feeling increasingly nervous. Was I really going to do this? Let her burn me with a cigarette? I had to be crazy to trust myself to a strange woman I had met in a pub. What if she was a serial killer?

But I was turned on. One of my fantasies was about to come true, and my libido would not let me quit. It controlled my brain, and quelled my doubts.

The woman – I hadn’t actually asked her name – led me up a double staircase, and along a carpeted corridor to a locked room. My host produced a key, and opened the door. We walked into her playroom.

I had an overwhelming sense of blackness from the room – which is pretty cool if you are a goth. There were no windows. Presumably they had been bricked up at some stage. The walls had been painted black. The overhead light was red. There was a large double bed dominating the centre of the room. I could see chains attached to the four corners of the bed. The chains had ratchets so that they could be tightened. The bed was covered with shiny black latex. I guessed that I was not the only victim who the woman had brought back here.

I heard a click from behind me. The woman had locked the door.

“Get undressed. I want to see you.” she ordered. And it really was an order, not a suggestion. This was a woman who was used to being obeyed.

I stripped off my clothes very quickly. My heart was in my mouth, and it was beating very fast. I was a little scared. I turned to see that my host had already divested herself of her clothes, throwing them onto the floor. Like me she shaved off her bush. But she was stocky, whereas I am very thin. Her breasts were a lot larger than mine, though, with big, brown nipples, unlike my little pink nubs.

“Get on the bed.” the woman said. I climbed onto the bed. The black latex was cool and soft against my skin. I lay down on my back, spreading out my limbs, so that she could put padded leather manacles around my wrists and ankles. As she was ratchetting the chains which were attached to the manacles was when I began to have serious doubts.

“Look, I’m not sure about this.” I said, as my legs were spread painfully. There was no way, from that position, that I could get free.

“Don’t worry.” the woman said. “If you like pain you’re going to love this. Scream as much as you want. Nobody will hear you. This room is fully sound-proofed.”

I made a few half-hearted pleas for release, but the woman ignored me. She had me just where she wanted, and she wasn’t letting me go, not until she had had her fun.

When she had tightened the chains almost beyond my limit she attended to my pussy. She attached a crocodile clamp to the top of my right labium. The teeth were very sharp, and I yelped when it closed on my sensitive flesh. The clamp was attached to a long chain, with a ring at the other end of the chain. My captor arranged the chain so that it stretched out to the side, the ring hanging over the side of the bed. Then the sadist hung little lead weights from the ring, until I feared that the clamp would be pulled off, tearing the cunt lip as it went. But she knew the limits of the flesh, and the clamp – and my cunt lip – held. It was very painful, though. Three more clamps, chains and weights were attached to my poor punished pussy, at the top and bottom of my lips, so that, with my legs spread, I was wide open. I knew that anybody looking would see the pinkness within. The only way that my pussy could have been spread wider would have been if she had used a speculum on me.

Then she got some back tape and held my clitoral hood away from my clit, taping the hood down, so that my clit was revealed. My little man in the boat didn’t seem bothered by the position he was in, as he was quite happily getting hard. Yes, in a way, I was anticipating the torture to come.

The woman placed an ashtray and a packet of cigarettes on a table next to the bed. There was a lighter there, as well, and I hoped that she limited the burning to the cigarette as a lighter would have been too much. I didn’t want anything burned away.

Then I lost my vision as the woman climbed on my bed and sat on my face. She held her arse cheeks open, placing her anus over my mouth.

“Rim me.” she said. “And make it good, if you know what’s good for you.”

Her anus was not that tight. I was able to force my tongue inside her, tasting her musty arsehole. I began working my tongue in and out, fucking her arsehole with my tongue, and licking all her crack. At least she was clean.

Meanwhile, there was the faint scent of tobacco smoke reaching me, indicating that she had lit up a cigarette. Then I felt a pain along my ribs, as she trailed just the very tip of the cigarette along my pale skin. The touch was so light and so brief that it was just a little pain, with no real damage, and no long-term burn.

As I ate out her arse the cigarette trailed all over my torso. The fiery trail of hot ash went along my ribs, into my armpits, around my small breasts. So far she avoided the nipples, though. Then she leant forward to contact the ash with my legs, burning me the length of my legs.

Unable to see what was happening, my mind retreated into fantasies, of some vicious torturer laying glowing branding irons all over my body. Yes, I’m a sick puppy at times.

The woman adjusted her position, finally, after having smoked her first cigarette. She now put her dripping cunt over my mouth, as she lit up cigarette number two.

“I warn you that I do not cum easily.” she said. “It takes a long time and a lot of skill to make me cum. And I will carry on burning you until I do cum.”

Great. Anyway, I used all of my skin on her cunt. And she used all of her sadism on me, burning my breasts with the hot ash, spiralling inwards on my breasts, a hot trail going all of the way across my pale flesh to my areolae. The cigarette lingered a little longer as it went, and I was pretty sure that it would leave minor burns, but still nothing which would not heal. The pain lasted, though, even after the cigarette moved on to a new portion of flesh. The pain of burns linger.

Eventually the little ember touched my nipples, held at each one for less than a second.

“You don’t know how much self-control it took not to stub out the cigarette on your nipples.” the woman said. She sounded very turned on, and her voice had deepened, and become sultrier. “If you ever come back to see me they will be tortured to destruction. Your nipples are mine. I will burn them with cigarettes. I will pierce them with red hot needles. I will burn them off with branding irons. I will…”

It became almost a stream of consciousness, as she said all of the terrible things which she would do to my body if she had the opportunity to do so. Listening to her rant was a turn on, I had to admit, as some of the terrible things which she suggested mirrored the sort of fantasies which filled my mind while I masturbated.

The second cigarette was used purely on my breasts. For the third cigarette she moved lower. At first she just singed my inner thighs with the hot tip of the cigarette, making me yelp into her hot cunt. But she worked her way inwards, until the ember of the cigarette made direct contact with my stretched labia. With each touch I had to stop licking her, for fear that I’d bit her – and I’d hate to imagine what she would do if I did that. But I don’t think she minded. I think that she was getting more pleasure out of hurting me than I was giving her with my tongue.

She gave me little black marks all over my pussy mound and cuntlips. Then the cigarette dipped between them to burn me inside my open cunt. By then I was sopping wet, and that was probably the only thing which saved me from serious injury, as she trailed the burning ash over every bit of my cunt walls that she could access. She was still ranting her fantasies of torture as she burned me, telling me that she was going to get a speculum so that she could burn my cervix, and so on. These words, more than the pain, more than servicing her with my tongue, was pushing me to the edge of my own orgasm. All that I needed was a touch to my clit and I would have cum.

Then I forced my tongue as deep into her cunt as it would go, and she shrieked out her orgasm – and stubbed out her cigarette on the end of my erect clit, holding it there. And the agony forced me over the edge, into my first paingasm, as I fainted, overcome by a strange combination of pleasure and pain.

When I recovered consciousness I had been released, and some salve had been put on my burned clit. It was badly burned, but the woman told me that it should recover. I hoped that she was right.

I got dressed, feeling exhausted, the pain of the burns still lingering. It would be a long time before the pain went away. I called an Uber to take me home.

The woman gave me her phone number if I wanted to visit her again. But she warned me that next time would be worse. She basically said that she would be happy for me to become, eventually, her permanent slave. But that if I chose that, then, one day, she would burn my clit away, so that my only pleasure would be in suffering pain. I got out of there.

Well, that encounter was month’s ago, and my body has just about recovered, even my clit. And I am now staring at my phone, and her number, wondering just how bad a second visit might be…

The End