Being my personal human ashtray is a privilege. My loser slave holds an awkward pose as my footstool because its more comfy for my goddess foot this way. Whenever I snap my manicured fingers, he has to open his mouth and receive the ash from my cig! I dangle my shoe a little in front of his face, letting the rush of foot smell fill his nostrils, this keeps him hopelessly enslaved and ready to obey my every little command. slaves have to form whatever object I desire at the moment, adding to my life of luxury–thats the point in owning one!
