Human Ashtray in the Home

Your mouth should be ready for my use.   crawling to my feet, my slave is going to be turned into a human ashtray to save me from having to find one myself. smoking a long, white cigarette, i flick my ash into his mouth directly on to his tongue. the taste of the ash reminds him of his place to me, providing a use, a service. and nothing more.   he is an object to be disregarded, ignored if i desire. i enjoy smoking in peace, and my ashtray must learn this if he wants to impress me with his servitude. finally stubbing the lipstick-stained cigarette stub out in his mouth, i viciously rub the burning embers and foul tobacco on to his tongue in a show final show of disgust toward him.   he swallows my ash whenever i please.