Side effects of obedience (part 12)

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:

Exactly three weeks have passed since I inhaled that hidden smoke on the salon chair for the first time. In that short period, my life changed completely. My morning no longer started with stretching or looking at my phone it started with thoughts of cigarettes.

As soon as I opened my eyes, still half-asleep, my hand would subconsciously go toward the nightstand, feeling for the hard cellophane wrapper of my pack. That first cigarette right after waking up became my main reflex, a need that cut through any morning sleepiness.

My daily routine easily went up to 6 or 7 cigarettes a day. One in bed while the city woke up, one with morning black coffee with Marta on the balcony, two or three during my shift with Lisa at the salon, one after work with Marta, and that sweet, final cigarette at night before sleep, while lying in bed, looking at the ceiling, and letting my mind wander. Yes, I started smoking in my bedroom. In fact, smoking was now allowed in the entire apartment, we bought another crystal ashtray and turned the apartment into a real little smoking paradise.

Addiction was no longer something to question. I stopped telling myself that “I can stop whenever I want.” The realization that nicotine had full control over me didn’t scare me anymore.

Meanwhile, Marta lived in her full, wild rhythm. She started going out heavily again, changing guys, spending nights out, or bringing guys to our apartment.

It was Saturday morning, my day off. I woke up around nine, lit my first cigarette, and walked into the living room. Soon, the front door opened and Marta walked in, still wearing last night’s short dress, with slightly smudged makeup and that familiar, satisfied smile on her face. It was clear where and how she had spent the night.

“Good morning, roommate!” she called out cheerfully, taking off her heels at the entrance. “Get ready, we have a full schedule today. We’re going shopping, and tonight I’m taking you out to the city, it’s going to be fucking fun.”

“Out to the city?” I repeated, taken aback. “Marta, you know I don’t like those places. That club music, crowds, noise, sweat… that’s just not me.”

“Ena, stop being an eighty-year-old grandma!” she interrupted me, coming over and putting her arm around my shoulders. “It’s Saturday. You’re young, you’re beautiful, it’s time to start fucking living! No arguing, we’re going out.”

That evening, Marta literally took matters into her own hands. She cleaned my face, put on a darker, visually more dangerous cherry-red lipstick, drew eyeliner on my eyes, and dressed me in a tight black tank top that highlighted my breasts and waist.

When I looked in the mirror, behind the thin glass of my glasses, there was no longer a quiet student. There stood an attractive, mysterious girl.

The club was packed with people, heavy bass vibrating through the floor, and dim reddish lights. At first, I stood stiffly by the bar, holding a glass and feeling completely out of my comfort zone. But then the bartender poured us our first strong cocktails. The sweet, heavy alcohol soon flowed through my veins, melting away that shy blockade in my chest. After just the second glass, relaxation completely took over. Marta noticed my gaze softening, took a pack from her purse, and handed me a lighter.

“Light up,” she told me, leaning in and shouting right into my ear over the loud music. “Alcohol naturally calls for a cigarette! You’ll see how good it works now!”

I agreed without thinking. I lit a cigarette and took a long, deep drag. Marta was right, the combination of alhocole and hot nicotine in my lungs felt like an explosion. It gave me an incredible, exciting rush of adrenaline.

That night, for the first time in my life, I started chain-smoking. As soon as I put out one cigarette in the crowded ashtray at the bar, to the drinks and the rhythm of the music, my hand automatically reached for another. I smoked seven cigarettes in just an hour and a half.

As the night went on, I noticed I was getting attention. A few guys approached us, trying to start a conversation and offering to buy us drinks. I turned down each of them with a shy but mysterious smile, still not ready for that step.

On the other hand, Marta had no reservations. A girl approached our table, she and Marta talked for a few minutes and then started kissing. I stood a few steps away, intoxicated with alcohol and stunned by the thick smoke, watching them frozen.

The sight completely surprised me. Marta brazenly held a lit cigarette between two fingers, drew a long smoke, and then, while the thick, white smoke was still coming out of her mouth and nose, passionately grabbed and kissed her. I didn’t know Marta was bi-sexual.

I watched that mix of smoke, alcohol, and pure, raw passion. Marta looked unbeatable, wild, and sinfully free under the spotlights in that dark club.

And while I smoked the last cigarette from my pack, darkness slowly fell over my eyes.

I woke up in bed in my bedroom with a terrible headache. I started coughing heavily. I felt around the nightstand for my cigarettes, but the pack wasn’t there. I realized I was sleeping fully clothed. Only my phone was in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw it was past noon. I got up slowly and walked out of the room.

In the hallway stood scattered men’s sneakers. Walking further, I saw men’s jeans, a belt, and a tossed t-shirt mixed with Marta’s clothes on the living room floor. “Another new guy of Marta’s…” I thought without any judgment.

I went to the kitchen and took an aspirin, at the university, we learned it’s good for a hangover. I had never been hungover until today and didn’t know what it felt like. The last thing I remembered from last night was Marta making out with some girl and me smoking all my cigarettes, so I had to smoke Marta’s.

I made coffee and thought about going to buy cigarettes, and then I noticed a red pack sticking out of the men’s jeans pocket in the living room. I took the pack, went out to the balcony, pulled out a cigarette, and clicked the lighter.

The first drag hit me hard, these cigarettes were much stronger than both Marta’s and mine. I kept smoking, looking over the balcony down at the street, and spotted an expensive black car in the parking lot. Then everything from last night suddenly came back to me.

Marta and I were driven home by a tall, large and elegant guy. Marta kissed that girl first, so after she left, this guy approached Marta and they pretended to kiss and touch each other. They even kissed a little while driving. When we got out of the car and entered the apartment, they started to undress and kiss passionately, in front of my eyes, as if I wasn’t there, and I went to my room drunk and with a smile on my face, got dressed and threw myself on the bed and fell asleep listening to the creak of Marta’s bed from the next room, their sighs and sobs.

Suddenly, Marta’s bedroom door opened. A guy walked out, tall, extremely muscular and fit, but completely naked, without a single piece of clothing on. I recognized him, it was the guy from last night.

My cheeks immediately flushed with embarrassment, so I quickly turned my head toward the street, staring straight ahead as if frozen and pretending to watch people passing by.

“Ooh, Ena, you’re already up! I hope we weren’t too loud last night,” the guy called out with a perverted laugh, picking up his clothes from the living room floor. He walked over to the balcony while my heart pounded in my chest.

“I think this is mine.” He took the pack standing next to me and smiled politely. I could smell his scent, a mix of sweat and something else unfamiliar to me.

He walked over to Marta, who had just stepped out of the bedroom, and gave her a quick kiss.

Marta was wearing only tight, thin panties. Her breasts were completely bare, and her thick, fiery red curly hair fell messily over her shoulders.

“You were good, now go. I’ll call you sometime,” she told him coldly, without any emotion, and saw him out of the apartment.

As soon as the front door shut, Marta stepped onto the balcony. She approached me completely naturally, without a trace of embarrassment or any need to cover herself. She leaned in and kissed my cheek.

“Morning, roomie… I mean, good afternoon,” she smiled cheerfully. “Sorry about last night, I was drunk and couldn’t control myself. But that’s life, pure fun.”

“It’s all good, don’t worry,” I said, trying with all my strength to keep my voice from trembling and keeping my eyes strictly on her face, even though my heart was still racing.

Marta then, without asking, reached out and took the lit cigarette right out of my fingers. She put it to her lips and took a long, deep, passionate drag.

I watched her, frozen. Marta stood in the sun, average height, perfectly built, with full, large breasts that noticeably rose and expanded with every deep breath of smoke. She blew a thick, bluish cloud into the sky, her fiery hair glowing in the morning light. A heavy, raw smell of smoke, sweat, and passion came off her.

She looked so powerful, sexy, and wildly free. As she casually smoked my cigarette and stood naked in front of me, not caring about rules, shame, or anyone’s opinion, a strange, unknown feeling crossed my mind. I didn’t know exactly what was happening to me, but at that moment, Marta looked incredibly attractive.

“You really need to completely relax, Ena,” she said softly, handing the cigarette back and looking straight into my eyes with a bold smile. “I saw you at the club last night. You have it in you, you’re just still afraid of yourself. Life is too short to spend it stressed out. Guys are just there for us to have fun with.”

I took a drag from the spot where her lips had been just moments ago, feeling the nicotine and her words flow through my blood.

“Maybe you’re right,” I said quietly, as smoke slowly curled out of my mouth. “Lisa told me yesterday that men should just be used. Maybe it’s time I stop being afraid.”

Marta laughed with satisfaction, patted my shoulder, and headed back into the apartment. “That’s my girl. Now, make us another coffee so you can tell me how you liked your first real night out.”

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Side effects of obedience (part 12)

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