Mistress Tiana lounges in pure, effortless luxury, slowly exhaling a cloud of smoke as she enjoys her cigarette. You, on the other hand, are nothing—a mere worm groveling at her feet, pathetically eager for the privilege of a simple meal. But Mistress Tiana is feeling playful. Amused by your desperation, she plucks your sandwich from your trembling hands and drags it through her overflowing ashtray, grinding the bread into a mixture of cold ash, crumpled cigarette butts, and the last embers of her pleasure.
She smirks, holding it up, watching as the filth clings to the food you were so looking forward to. A cruel chuckle escapes her lips as she blows a slow, deliberate stream of smoke into your face. How lucky you are, she muses, that she would even allow you to consume something so intimately connected to her pleasure. Every bite will be a lesson—a reminder of how far beneath her you truly are.
She flicks another stream of ash onto your “meal,” watching as it disappears into the sullied bread, tainting it further with her indulgence. Eat up, she sneers, eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. You should be grateful. After all, it’s flavored with the essence of my enjoyment. Isn’t that what you crave?
The power difference is absolute. She is a goddess, a divine force of beauty, pleasure, and cruelty. You? You are nothing. Less than nothing. A maggot, an insect, a disposable speck beneath her gaze. And yet, she allows you this moment—to share, in the most degrading way possible, a piece of her indulgence. Because even in your suffering, her amusement comes first.