Figging

As I have recently posted, Love and I engage into a couple of new games at present, because we both feel we need to get back on track with our BDSM-relationship and John took the opportunity to introduce me to some new and some abhorred things. Figging belongs to the second category. I really hate figging, as I hate all games connected with substances that burn on my skin like hot pepper sauce or lube / ointment with chile. But John likes it. He says, it’s a pleasure to watch me mourn and wriggle when I can’t fight the affection of getting burnt. Uhm, yes. But I want to make it clear that John never burns my skin with fire or cigarettes. Plants that cause the skin to burn usually don’t have any negative effects on one’s health unless you get a heart attack after eating them🙂

Last week Sir came home with a bag from the grocerystore. He had bought ginger. The mere existence of this alerted me, as we do not eat it regularly and had not planned to cook with it, but Sir made me wait for three full days and savoured my anxiety. Then finally he had decided it was time to release me, or sort of. The beauty of an BDSM-relationship to me lies in the fact that my Dom always finds a good reason to punish me, if he wants to. I’m totally dependent on his good mood and if his mood’s not that well, it might hurt or get annoying. It’s a bit arbitrary for sure, but all in all it puts me into my place, I think. I savour being helpless.

So when Sir came home he found the bathroom sink was not as clean as he had wished it to be. When dinner turned out to be served when still a bit hot, he grabbed my hair, pulled my head back and asked with this calm voice I love so much: “Didn’t you consider I might burn myself?” No, Sir, I’m sorry, Sir. He smiled faintly and I got a stiffy. He reached out for his fork, put some food from his plate on it and forced it into my mouth. I burnt my tongue a bit, but not bad. “It’s too hot, right?” Uhm, yes, Sir, at least a bit. He repeated the feeding, bis this time with food taken from the middle of his plate. Now I burnt my tongue. “A bit?” No, Sir, it’s too hot, I am sorry. “Son, I’m working really hard and when I come home, I want to find everything nice and neat in its place.” It turned out a not so clean sink and a slightly too hot dinner were not his opinion of a well-kept house. He strengthened his grip and pulled me closer towards him, then brought his mouth close to my ear and whispered. “You seem to have forgotten a lot, son, haven’t you?” I nodded and felt precum dripping into my boxers. “I’ll bring everything back into your mind, don’t worry.” He instructed me to go to our bedroom, undress and lie on the bed.

When he followed, I lay there naked and breathing hard. It was the very first time we would play one to one in a serious manner again since Leo left. I was a bit afraid and I was horny. In the past weeks and days my willingness to prove myself had grown and I was eager to demonstrate my regained submissive behaviour. On the other hand, I had a hunch of what John would put me through to make my punishment as uncomfortable as possible.

He came to the side of the bed, just saying nothing. He examined me closely, then reached out for me and touched my lips, my nipples, my ass and my genitals, at least all parts he considers to be his. I felt exposed and rated. No wonder human beings feel uncomfortable or even degraded when others appraise them. Thoughts were running wild. Does he still like what he sees? Am I dirty, do I smell? After a while that seemed to stretch in silence, he told me to lie on my stomach with my cock facing downward. I did. He touched my bell-end with his fingertips, realizing the precum I had lost. “Seems you’re hoping for something”, he said and I could hear him smile. I swallowed and admitted I was. “Hold yourself open for Daddy, honey”. Ugh, there it was. That word. And all came back to me. The long struggle to accept my feelings for him, our approaches in Father-son-roleplay. I did as he told me, spread my cheeks and exposed myself to him. He just stood still, watching. I could feel his fingers on my legs, wandering upward, touching my ass, my cunt. He spit between my legs. One thing more I had not accepted before. When he did, I knew he did to make me feel humiliated. He succeeded. I felt something cold on my cunt and Love working it up my ass. At first, I thought whatever it was, it was ok, but it needed only 30 seconds to make me realize it wasn’t. It burnt like crazy and I wanted to get rid of it. John laughed. “It’s hot, innit?” Yeah! He let me have it for a moment, then took it out to show me. It was a peeled gingerroot. Of course it was.

“Thought I should set your arse on fire to get you to do your chores”, he smiled. I knew I was lost. He tied my hands to the bed and did the same with my ankles. Then he returned to me, spat between my legs again and replaced the ginger. The burning sensation, which had not vanished meanwhile, increased again, itching simultaneously. It felt like having a burning coal inside of me. Maybe Sir let the ginger rest for one minute before removing it. My ass-cunt was burning and I was gasping for air. “Mh, nice” was his only comment. He stroke my ass very tenderly, but instead of making it better, he made it worse. The ticklish strokes were too much for my nerves and seemed to increase the pain. John sat down beside me, petting my back and my legs. I was leaking precum like crazy. After perhaps 3 or 5 minutes, the sensation faded. Again he spat between my cheeks and worked the ginger up my cunt. We repeated the game. Before he put it back for the next time, he gave me a hard spanking, using a wooden brush. Now my ass was burning inside and outside. I was out of control.

He replaced the ginger, kissed me and patted my head, shoved a comforter between my lips and left me. When it started, I thought I could take it. The gingerroot seemed to have become a bit tamer. I thought I could take it for about one minute. Then it started to burn like hell. I really thought my skin was burnt by fire as fire-injuries don’t hurt more. I spat out the comforter, groaning and grunting, looking for an escape, only that there was none.

I guess these were the most painful 40 minutes in the past two years or so. I was sweating like hell and trying not to stop breathing. The burning was even worse when I moved, so I tried to keep still. I could not. It felt perverted, but although it hurt that fiercely, I was aroused. It seemed Sir had found a way to fuck every part of me without even being there with me!

When Love returned, I was done. I had shed tears, I was thirsty and felt sore. My ass-cunt was still pulsing and burning, but the sensation was that bad that it had somehow gotten numb. Sir removed the gingerroot, inspecting my hole and making a joke about the big stains of precum on the sheets. He came to my side, undressed, and I was keen to welcome his cock inside my mouth. He presented me with a load of piss and made me drink it. I know I couldn’t have loved champagne more. He then made me suck him and finally put on a condom to protect himself from ginger sap and fucked the brain out of me. It hurt very bad and I was tempted several times to use our safeword, but I did not. I told myself I had begged for a punishment and that I would endure anything he inflicted on me. He began touching my cock, rubbing it softly while fucking me. But it would have been too easy if he would have allowed me to cum. Instead, he ruined my orgasm perfectly, making me dribble all my cum on the bed and then licking it up.

I guess that won’t have been the last time we played figging. Moreover, I fear there will be more to come as John pondered aloud on the question whether inserting horseradish oder peppermint candy bars inside my ass-cunt might burn as well. I guess they will.

http://www.xtube.com/watch.php?v=uuPem-G860-#.VLV-ECuG_Uc

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