Has anyone noticed the chestnuts are falling from the trees? Must be fall. When Love and I took a nice short walk this week, I found him collecting some chestnuts, which made me smile and wonder. John’s not sentimental and usually he doesn’t care about pretty nature objects the way I do (I like to use those things as offerings for Lord Shiva or as decoration for rituals with my friend W). But I didn’t ask why he only collected those which had their shells still on. Now I know.

Yesterday evening he set up a plastic container on our kitchen counter, filled it up with cold water and put the chestnuts in. But first I didn’t see this, because he had sent me to the bathroom to put on nice make up and do my hair. Well, and to dress up 🙂

When I came into the kitchen, there popped up several question tags above my head, but he told me what he expected from me: I had one minute to collect as many chestnuts as I could out of the water by using my mouth only (it’s a popular game for children, called bobbing, in case you might not know). All chestnuts I would not be able to catch would be used later, but he didn’t announce for what.

I was hesitant to do what he wanted. I had just spent 30 mins to dress up and should now ruin my face again? He chuckled, looked at his watch and told me “Time starts now”. So I had not much time to think about the whole thing and got started. There was no chance to keep myself from getting soaking wet and the chestnuts were so hard to catch. Their spikes hurt my tongue and lips. In fact, I just caught two when he told me the time was over. “That was pathetic”, he resumed, and he was true.

“Okay, we’ll try again”. He asked me to put the chestnuts back into the container and stopped another minute, but this time he filmed me with his cellphone. Ugh. I did a bit better and ended up with 4, but I struggled with mascara dripping into my eyes and my hair bring wet to the parting. When John looked at me, he burst out in laughter and told me what a “fine lady” I was. I felt completely humiliated, but of course I reacted to that with lust.

He grabbed me by the hair, pressed my face down to the counter, while he pushed away my skirt, pulled down my panty and made me open my legs. I knew what was to follow, but I wasn’t prepared for the pain. It’s not just that those shells were spiky and it hurt unbelievably to have them shoved up my cunt, they were also really huge and I felt them stretching me. It was really painful and I wouldn’t recommend that to persons new into BDSM.

He managed to shove 3 up my cunt, than I was burning in pain and cried out for him to stop. He thankfully did, then pulled me down to the floor and over to the kitchen table, where he seated himself to enjoy a BJ. He took a lot of photos of me there, telling me how disgusting I look, mocking at my precum dripping clit and kicking my balls with his foot.

Well, when I thought getting the chestnuts inserted was hell, than I had to revise my opinion when we tried to remove them. Oh boy, that was beyond. The spikes somehow were like barbs inside of me and at some point I started bleeding. But John didn’t mind and just kept working them out of me, telling me to press or to pause, mentioning that this was like assisting with labouring, uhm. I felt so humiliated and painful that I had a stiffy all the time and was ultimately aroused. Finally, when the last chestnut was out, he gave me a good rubbing with some ointment, telling me that there was no way to push that ointment deep enough into me by using his fingers only. So I was fucked relentlessly while still kneeling on our kitchen floor, being situated between bloody chestnuts and a puddle of water. When he was pounding me, he said “C’mon, you like being raped, slut, don’t ya?”. I just nodded and sprayed my spunk all over the place.

Later, when I had cleaned myself and the kitchen, while John was seated cozy in the living room, he told me that soon it would be time for those edible chestnuts to fall. I hope he won’t repeat this treatment, because their spikes are even worse… I snuggled up inside his arms and let him cuddle and kiss me. He said he found it awesome to fuck me while I bled, because he had to think of popping my cherry. I guess that was just romantic for a masochist then, but I felt in heaven. Nevertheless, I’m still bleeding and loving that.


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