I surely knew I was in trouble when Master returned from a walk with a hazel rod. He called it a gift because spring has sprung and put it in our tub to make it more flexible. I spent the rest of the day in pure horniness, but Master ignored my blushed cheeks and my attempts to seduce him. Ugh. That’s still a thing I cannot comprehend at all, why he’s able to keep that calm and controlled in prospect of what we both know will follow sooner or later…
When I prepared dinner, Master came into the kitchen and advised me to carve a ginger “uvula”, as he calls it. I could feel precum dripping in my pants right away, but as I’m in my Birdlock since January, I can’t help myself and am completely depended on Master’s moods. Yeah, and I like it 🙂
I did as he told me, but when I had hoped for some relief before eating, I was wrong. As usual, Master ordered a coffee served in our livingrom after dinner. He lounged onto our couch and began reading the newspaper, while I did the dishes. When I was finished and returned to him, it only took a gesture and a snap with two fingers to make me undress and kneel in front of him, allowing to rest his feet upon my back. Still reading, he incidentally uttered I should put my breast on the floor and present my ass. He did not take notice of me at all and just kept reading. I tried to calm my breath and my heartrate, but I felt so exposed and humiliated, I thought it’d only need two strokes to make me cum. As if he had read my thoughts in his newspaper, he got up and returned with the ginger plug I had carved. He spit between my legs and shoved it up my ass. I’m not into spitting at all, but it’s quite humiliating when Master does that instead of using lubricant. He then returned to his newspaper, packing his feet upon me.
I will never get used to figging. There are a lot of sensations I have gotten used to, like hot wax, like being denied, but ginger is really evil. When it is first inserted, one is seduced to believe he can take it. “It’s not that bad”. But after half a minute or so, the root begins working on your insides and it gets worse until you think you are on fire. I could not help it, I had to mourn. As the sensation grew worse, I started to move. “Keep still”, he demanded, but simply I could not. I shook and wriggled. “Keep still, son”, he repeated, but although I really tried, i did not manage. He gave me a few more moments, then got up and left the room. I could hear him going upstairs and I knew that he was fetching the rod.
I like these moments of contemplation. Master often leaves me alone for a short (or even longer) period of time, before we really start. It allows me to indulge in the pleasure of awaiting whatever he may inflict on me. It makes me feel helpless, but in a good, kinky way. I like to know he’s in control.
When he returned I had burst out in sweat as the ginger had reached the maximum of his burning and itching. Master knelt down beside me and when his warm hand touched my shaking thighs, I shook even more. He kept cuddling me for a few seconds, before he demanded: “Count to 100”. When the first strokes hit my skin, the sensations were very intense. Caning is the most intense form of spaking anyway, but combined with figging, it is just vicious. Master made me count up to 30 very quickly, so that my skin got hot and red, then lowered the speed and made me feel every single hit hard. I was whimpering and begged him to put out the ginger, but he pretended not to have heard me and continued the caning. Up to 70, it was more or less bearable, but then my skin was so sore that I thought I could drop. But of course Master did not let me. He ignored my pleas and left the ginger in place. The last 15 strikes were given extra-heavy and I burst out in tears. “Please, take off the ginger, Sir. I took it like a good boy, but I can’t stand it any more”. I literally could hear him smile, then felt his warm fingers on my skin. He took his time, but finally released me. I was so glad.
He gave me some time to calm down. I think these moments are essential when power-playing, because otherwise I’d soon be too exhausted which would keep us from fully savouring what we do. In these moments I can come back to myself. Severe pain sometimes causes me to drift away, and sometimes it is the only way to fully be by myself. It’s hard to tell what it will be like before we start.
Anyway, when I finally had gotten back to myself, Mastered asked me to get up. He walked around me, examining my face and my bruised buttocks. He seemed contented. “Make your nipples hard”, he demanded, and I did. He places the clover clamps on them. Well, in some way they are as vicious as the ginger. They hurt right away, but the pain they cause deepens and gets more intense the longer they stay in place. Master began kissing me while fondling my nipples with the clamps on. It’s a kind of perverted feeling, that combination of soft and wet kisses and these soft, almost accidental touching of my nipples. If I had been without the Birdlock, I guess I could have squirted…
Master maneuvred me to the couch. He took a seat, while I kept standing straight, his face very close to my wet and crumpled cock. “Looks like you’re having fun?”. Yes, Sir, thank you. He took my cock in one hand and examined it, putting it from side to side, pulling a bit, stroking my balls accidentally. I was so horny! He brought his mouth close to the Birdlock and touched the plastic very quickly with the tip of his tongue. I burst out in sweat. He smiled, then repeated the licking, more intense this time. It made me crazy! “Such a pity you can’t feel it, huh?”. Uhm, yes, Sir. He began blowing me off or blowing the Birdlock off and I could not feel anything. Ugh!!! His fingers returned to my nipples, fondling them, and the itching sensation, the burning on my backside and the look of his tongue and lips on my cock without the slightest possibility to feel anything made me mourn. Please, Sir…please… He did not react to me, just kept on and on. I could not take my eyes off him.
“On your knees”, he demanded, and I was glad to welcome his cock with my mouth. It’s odd, but being denied is attenuated by blowing him off. Master knows I’m doing the best I can because I regard this as a kind of replacement for being blown off myself. To be honest, having him inside my mouth restores a bit of power and control. I’m to decide how I move and tease him, although Master is well aware of the fact that I like to play around, when I can feel he gets more aroused and then tells me to fucking do my job right. He enjoyed the BJ for a while, every now and then pulled on the clamps and made remarks about my caged cock. It was a sort of coming really to breath again after that severe caning, but my mind was thinkg it over and over again whether or not I would be allowed to cum that evening.
Finally, Master told me to kneel on the couch and when he fucked me fiercely, my buttocks began to hurt and burn again which made me even more wanting to cum so desperately. Instead of seeding me, he poured his cum all over my raw ass, which made the burning even worse. Then he made me rest in that position to allow it to dry and helped a bit by massaging it into my skin. Ugh! Then he came to rest on the couch, smiling at me and kissing my face. He fondled my nipples again, which were also raw by now, then took off the clamps and rubbed my nipples to ease the sensation.
Well, and that was all for then. He allowed me to come back to breath and centre myself, then stood up, uttering that a drink would be fine, before he left me. I was still kneeling upon the couch, horny like hell, hurting like hell as well and with no prospect of relief. Today I’m still horny and he did not touch me again. Ugh.
http://fagthing.tumblr.com/post/26503278707/corkfuxbud-fuckin-beautiful-think-you-sir (yeah, such a good boy!)