Download this clip, which features Mistress Jo and Chantelle using their human ashtray. This clip is available for FREE download to my patrons … login to CC member area in order to collect this ‘complimentary clip’.
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Mistress Jo and Mistress Chantelle exude elegance and dominance as they lounge like goddesses on a wide window ledge, their beauty framed by the daylight spilling in. Between them, kneeling in humiliating silence, is their servant; though to call him a “servant” gives him far too much dignity.
He is not a man in this moment. He is a thing. An object. A human ashtray.
His mouth is pried open unnaturally wide by a cruel metal device, stretched until it aches and burns. Every second is agony, yet that agony is meaningless to the two superior women he kneels before. It is, in fact, the very purpose of his existence: to suffer for their amusement.
Mistress Jo is stunning in a black dress slit high to reveal her magnificent thighs; powerful, sculpted, and breathtaking. She casually smokes, crossing her long legs, tapping her ash into his gaping mouth with the kind of effortless grace that makes cruelty look chic.
Mistress Chantelle mirrors her poise, swirling her wine, chatting idly. The conversation is light-hearted and feminine; girlish laughter over shared gossip and amusement. But their humour comes not just from their talk; it comes from the pathetic figure at their feet. As they smoke and sip, they occasionally lean forward to fill their mouths with rich wine… only to spit it straight into his mouth, letting it mix with ash and saliva until he’s choking on their discarded indulgence.
He sputters. He chokes. He suffers. And they laugh.
The difference between goddess and insect has never been so stark.
Mistress Jo presses her stiletto heel into his throat, watching him gasp, then casually drags it across his face, smirking as he flinches in pain. Her heel is a weapon, her laughter the soundtrack of his degradation.
They are divine. Powerful. Effortlessly cruel. And he? He is not even worth comparing to a real ashtray. Because a real ashtray cannot squirm, cannot gag, cannot whimper… and that is precisely what makes this little ritual so much more delicious.
This is more than domination. This is recreational superiority.
