“Smoking kills. If you’re killed, you’ve lost a very important part of your life.”
I’ve written about this before, but it’s been a couple of years. I was asked about it twice just within the last 2 days so I’m sharing it again. :)
How I Quit Smoking, an essay by me. Alternately titled “Cigarettes and Sadists: An Awful Combination” ;)
When people ask him how he got me to quit, he says “Well, she said she wanted to quit so I said okay cunt. that’s your last cigarette. ta-fucking-da.”
Which isn’t *quite* how I remember it.
He helped me a lot. Though I suspect that I had I not gotten to the point where I said I want to quit, he’d have kept on indefinitely with his sadistic game of making me beg for cane strokes for a measly 1/2 a cigarette that I then got to ‘enjoy’ standing outside in the snow.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?
It started literally almost the day we met. Long before I wore his collar. Even before we’d made the jump from submission to owned. It began by him forbidding me from smoking during the times when I smoked the most: While driving and when I was online. I chain-smoked during both activities, so, for a couple of weeks, I was able to break that habit without also having to deal with the agony of nicotine withdrawal. I could still get my ‘fix’, just not right when I wanted it.
Then he systematically started cutting out all the other ‘trigger’ times. If I wanted to have that first morning smoke with my coffee, he made me wait. First 10 min, then 20 min, then an hour– until eventually I stopped craving that first morning smoke with my coffee.
I couldn’t smoke in the car at all, or in the house at all. Being forced outside into the elements made crawling out of bed for that after-sex cigarette more trouble than it was worth. Plus, I already knew that I could fight the craving because I’d been doing it for weeks already.
After I’d had a few weeks of that, he started cutting the smokes that I could have in half. I could still go outside an unlimited amount of times for a cigarette, but only a half a cig at a time.
After a bit of that, he then limited my daily amount of half cigs. I forget the number now, though. Maybe 10 to start? Then he cut THAT number in half.
Next he started making me bargain for those few half-cigs by getting cane strokes. I think it was 5 strokes for each cig? And since I’m totally NOT a masochist, I’d often choose to forgo the smoke and spare myself the pain.
Okay so I’m really a masochist (you caught me), HOWEVER, 5 hard strokes with no warm up and outside of any scene or connection hurts like a bitch. I really did often choose to skip the smoke and save my ass.
All of that took about 3 months. Prior to meeting him, I’d been smoking 1 to 2 packs a day of Marlboro lights since I was 15 years old. I was 33 when I met him and he started this. 18 years of serious addiction. And can I just say that I loved to smoke? I rully rully did. I was not a reluctant smoker. I enjoyed smoking.
Now here is where we get to his version of the story, wherein he says “she said she wanted to quit so I said okay, that’s your last smoke, cunt”. (yeah. he royally sucks at the story-telling)
3 months into his quit-smoking techniques I was down to 2, maybe 3 half-cigarettes a day, that I had to smoke outside in the wind, rain, and snow, AFTER getting my ass caned. And I did finally say “Oh my God. I want to be done with this now.” And he DID say “Okay. That was your last cigarette.”
And it was.
That was seven years ago and I haven’t had so much as a single puff of one since.
I don’t know that his mission was necessarily to get me to quit. I think he just got off on the control and the ‘game’ of it and he’d have kept making it harder and harder (for me) and more fun (for him) for as long as I was willing to ‘play’.
Smoking a cigarette is the first thing I always want to do when he pisses me off. That’s an act of rebellion that, like cutting my hair, would get me kicked to the curb, fer realz.
There are other things I’ll do when I’m mad, like go to the bathroom without asking (oooh. I’m hardcore, y’all), but if I smoked? ~shudder~
/essay. :)
Uncategorized | kaya | 
Monday October 17th, 2011 7:05am
and think of the cazillions of dollars you all could rake in if He could package that routine!!!
Gods knows it took me three tries to quit…i started after being “done” for 7 or 8 years…and gods i loved smoking…
The third time stuck only because my first son (adopted) came home at 15 months from India, and got sick all the time those first two years…and i couldn’t smoke in the house, and it was too cold outside. Wimpy smoker, i just quit. and it sucked.
25 years, and i still long for a good, strong drag sometimes…
nilla
nilla´s last [type] ..Southern Justice (1)
Great story. I quit to have healthy babies. And it was so damn hard. I’ll never go back cause I would be hooked again instantly.
sin´s last [type] ..Craving
what if your Dom smokes ? whats a subbie to do ?? we are long distance now..but moving to 24/ soon.. any ideas ?
Sugar-
what if your Dom smokes ? whats a subbie to do ?? we are long distance now..but moving to 24/7 soon.. any ideas ?
Sugar-
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