Side effects of obedience (part 11)

This story was submitted on September 26th 2026 by Cicada33, author of The road to freedom. If you have a story to submit it’s right here !

This story is a series divided into 15 parts:

For the next few days, everything came down to that one, hidden ritual. Every afternoon I would smoke a thin slim cigarette with Aunt Lisa in the empty lounge, and sometimes I would light another one at the very end of the shift, while locking the door.

My body got used to it incredibly quickly, there was no more coughing, just that nice, soothing feeling of warmth that would relax my shoulders in a second. I counted, in those few days I smoked exactly 12 cigarettes, but I still falsely assured myself that I was not addicted and that I could simply stop at any time.

However, I still wore the mask of old Ena in the apartment. I hid all this from Marta. I was terribly ashamed, after my furious moralizing and howling that I would “never” destroy my health, the very idea of her seeing me with a lit cigarette was unbearable for me.

“Ena, sweetie, run to the corner kiosk,” Lisa said one afternoon, pulling a couple of bills from her apron pocket. “Buy me two packs. I’m down to the last one.”

I felt my stomach instantly clench with a sudden wave of uncertainty. Even though I had been inhaling smoke for days, buying cigarettes was a huge psychological barrier for me.

I walked shyly and clumsily, looking over my shoulder, with the feeling that passers-by were watching me and knew what I was up to, as if I was doing something forbidden by law. My legs were heavy and my palms were wet. When I stood in front of the glass counter of the kiosk, my lips went dry for a second.

“Two packs…” I said quietly, almost in a whisper, the name of the brand. My heart pounded wildly in my chest, summoning that old, nerdy shame.

But, while the saleswoman handed me two unwrapped packs and returned the change, an unusual, intoxicating smile and a rush of adrenaline flowed through that fear. It was forbidden fruit, and now it was in my hands. For the first time I felt that regular, solid shape under my fingers, while the cellophane rustled softly under my trembling fingers.

I returned to the salon holding them like a trophy. I handed them to Lisa, and she took one, deftly opening it, while suddenly thrusting the other back towards me, right into my chest.

“Take it,” she said with a smile. “I think you’ve used up mine a lot. Time for you to have your own supplies, sweetie.”

I was frozen for a second. I looked at the white, elegant box in my hands. A mixture of trepidation and excitement came over me. Slowly, with a slight tremor in my fingers, I took it and pushed it deep into the bottom of my purse. I have my pack… that was the crossing of the line of no return.

The rest of the shift in the salon was dominated by the usual working atmosphere, and the break brought our signature peace. We sat down in deep leather armchairs, Lisa immediately lit her long slim cigarette. The smoke slowly drifted around the room, and I excitedly unwrapped my new pack and opened it. I looked with delight at the neatly arranged white cigarettes in the package, I hit the bottom of the pack with my fingers, the way Marta and Lisa do, and took one out and lit it.

“Tell me, Ena… have you had a boyfriend before?” Lisa asked me, making sure the ash didn’t fall on her apron. “I know about the one from college… what was his name, Ethan?”

“I have,” I replied quietly, drawing the smoke into my lungs. “We were together but he cheated on me.”

Lisa raised her eyebrows, looking at me with her sharp, experienced gaze. “Yeah. So, did you have sex?”

I turned my gaze to the mirror, feeling a slight rush of old, nerdy awkwardness wash over my cheeks. “We didn’t…”

Lisa blew out a long, regular puff of smoke, then gave a bitter, cynical laugh.

“Sweetie… Boys are plain shit. Remember that well. You should just use them for what you need at that moment, take your pleasure and move on. No attachments, no deep emotions, it’s only for weaklings who end up getting hurt.”

She leaned a little closer to me, holding the cigarette elegantly between her fingers.

“And as for that virginity of yours… we’ll have to fix that as soon as possible. You’re a beautiful girl, Ena. It’s just a sin to waste your time and carry that burden with you.”

Those words echoed in my head as I finished my shift and packed up.

When I entered the apartment, I put my purse on the dresser by the door. The bag tipped over, things flew out, and the new, white pack slid across the floor with a loud bang, right at Marta’s feet. Marta was just leaving the kitchen. She paused. She looked at the floor, then at me. I was caught in the act.

“I… Marta, I…” I began to stammer, the heat hitting my cheeks and my face burning with utter shame. “I’ve been smoking. For a few days now, with Lisa in the salon. I wanted to tell you, but I was embarrassed after that morning…”

Marta did not interrupt me, nor did she smile. She just picked up the pack from the floor, handed it to me, and shook her head with absolute understanding, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Ena, relax,” she said softly, patting my shoulder. “Like it’s something terrible. I told you it’s a matter of control and choice. There’s no need to hide anything from me.”

The next morning brought a whole new atmosphere. I woke up early, and the apartment was already permeated with the heavy, rich smell of freshly brewed homemade coffee. I went out onto the patio in my new pajamas, tight cotton pants, and a white tank top that followed every line of my body. I felt different in them, more aware of my curves and my own body than ever before.

The sun was just beginning to break through the morning fog, and Marta was sitting in a chair, slowly sipping her coffee and holding a lit cigarette. The smoke rose lazily in the clear morning air.

“Good morning,” she smiled, pointing to the table. “I cooked for you too.” I sat across from her, crossing my legs, still a bit restrained. Marta took a long drag, leaned her head back and said softly

“You know, this is my favorite part of the day. The morning coffee and the first cigarette. Nothing in the world can replace that peace.”

“I can only drink coffee with sugar,” I said quietly.

Marta leaned forward slightly. “That’s because you drink it alone. Trust me, with a cigarette, black coffee has a completely different, deeper taste. Come on, light it up. You don’t have to be shy in front of me anymore.”

Her words seemed like the official permission I was subconsciously waiting for. I pulled out my first slim cigarette from my own pack. Just the thought of doing this in my apartment, openly and in front of Marta, gave me an incredible surge of confidence and relief. I lit it. The first morning smoke wafted through my body, and then, with the sweet taste of tobacco still lingering on my tongue, I took a sip of bitter, black coffee.

I was stunned. I looked at the cup, then at the cigarette between my fingers. Marta was right. The bitterness of the coffee was not offensive, in my mouth it blended perfectly with the sweet, warm aroma of the tobacco, creating a completely new, rich and mature shade of taste.

The combination of warm caffeine that raises blood pressure and nicotine that gently relaxes the brain created an intoxicating, almost sublime rush of pleasure. I felt every muscle in my neck and shoulders relax, while a warm, pleasant stupor spread through my head.

In the following days, it became our routine. Soon I started smoking Marta’s cigarettes, much stronger, with a fuller tobacco taste. Although they were heavy on my throat at first, I quickly grew to love the powerful, heavy feeling they left in my chest.

Marta and I would sit in the sun in the morning, in tight pajamas, smoking and drinking black coffee in silence. As I drew in deep smokes, realizing how much each inhale pleased me, in the back of my mind all the warnings from my medical books quietly faded away.

The morning coffee ritual changed everything. My daily balance jumped from the modest one to two, without any effort I raised the dose to 4 cigarettes a day. Addiction took deep root in a short time. And I no longer had the desire to stop it.

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Side effects of obedience (part 11)

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