For a short time I had a Master who was an unmitigated slob and lived in pure filth. His apartment had all tile floors and he would flick his cigarette ashes all over the floors instead of using an ashtray. Every time I went there he would make me crawl all around the apartment licking up his cigarette ashes until none could be found. I loved being abused in such an inhumane way!
I share your fetish for Men who smoke. To be one such Man’s ashtray is perfect in every way. For a few precious moments, He allows me to kneel so close to him, to inhale his intoxicating smoke, my mouth open in supplication to receive anything he deigns to give. The warmth of his ash on the tongue, the recipient of what He discards as unwanted residue, even to feel the burning pain as he extinguishes his butt, which i gratefully swallow. It is a privilege to be of even such small use for a God who walks the earth. Perhaps if He finds me adequate, He’ll then allow me to buy his cigarettes, to light them, to splurge on expensive cigars for him at times.
For me, to offer my mouth in service this way is as powerfully satisfying as any other.