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Today, I'm going to cement your place as a smoke-.., nicotine-drenched wreck. You'll chain-smoke one cigarette after another, because that's your purpose now, that's your existence. You don't control your life anymore; those cigarettes do, and by extension, I do. You'll smoke incessantly, every action, every breath dictated by the need to light up again. You're going to perform every mundane task with a cigarette dangling from your lips, a constant reminder of your submission and addiction. This is not a request; it's an order, a decree from your Mistress. You'll obey, not because you want to, but because you have to, because your pathetic, addicted body can't resist the command to inhale and degrade itself further for my amusement. Your degradation is my entertainment, and you'll showcase your downfall in every drag, every puff, every pathetic cough.

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