by Sara Fields
At once, my tears returned unbidden. I pressed my palms flat against the table and then my cheek, trying to rein in the control I had so utterly lost and failing completely. There was no way, not with the strap biting into my bottom over and over. It was agony and I had no choice but to take every last one.
I pleaded my apologies and begged for forgiveness and still the strap lashed against my thighs. I crumpled over the table and sobbed, awash in the burning ache that encapsulated the entirety of my backside.
I cried hard. There was no hiding this from anyone. The court and the king would hear me and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.
His hand pressed against my lower back and I calmed because of it, holding onto that feeling as though it were a lifeline. His thumb traced against my skin, back and forth and even in its simplicity, it soothed me.
“Such a bright red little bottom,” he observed quietly. “Are you sore, baby girl?” I sniffed back the additional tears that threatened to fall.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I whimpered, meaning every last word. I was awash in pain, yet despite it all, my pussy throbbed with need and I feared how wet I was for everyone to see. The king traced his fingertips along the arousal on my thighs and I moaned with shame, realizing how much wetter I was than I had originally thought.
“Good.”
He placed the strap down and I pressed my forehead against the table in relief. When he cleared his throat, I lifted my head to see his hands on top of the covered silver platter.
“Before we came down to dinner, I told you that if you misbehaved that I would replace the plug with something far worse, didn’t I, my little concubine?” he warned, and I stilled.
I’d forgotten his threat. I’d been too caught up in my nerves and anger that it had completely slipped my mind.
“You did, Your Majesty,” I whimpered, staring at the mystery platter with sudden trepidation. I watched anxiously as his fingers slowly wound around the handle to reveal what appeared to be several white-ish roots. There were a few cloths on top of the plate too and when he picked them up and unrolled them, I saw that there were knives wrapped inside.
“Do you know what this is?” he asked.
I swallowed nervously. I didn’t want to answer, though I knew I didn’t have a choice.
“It’s ginger,” I answered nervously.
“Indeed, it is,” he replied.
He slid the plate in front of me and picked up a thick piece of the root. I watched almost in disbelief as he took a small paring knife and started to whittle off the knobs until he rounded it into a similar shape as the plug in my bottom, only a bit thicker. I swallowed nervously as his intentions quickly became apparent. When he was finished, he picked up another small knife and began to score it.
He walked around the table and returned to my side, lovingly pressing his palm against my hip in a silent offer of support.
“This is going to hurt, baby girl. I want you to know that,” he said darkly. I couldn’t move as his fingers delved in between my bottom cheeks, only to grasp the plug and roughly pull it out. I whimpered loudly as the residual ache from the toy ricocheted over me. I peered back at him nervously, waiting for what was to come next.
I stared at the carved piece of ginger in his fingers, watching as he placed the metal plug back on the table. I could feel my pussy clenching in anxious arousal, and I wondered if everyone could see just how turned on and scared that I was at that very moment.
I stilled as he walked behind me. There was no hesitation in his movements as he spread my bottom and pressed the end of the carved ginger plug against my bottom hole. It felt wet and cool at first. He pressed it into me slowly, taking care to insert it gradually. I gasped as the widest point stretched me a bit further than the plug had, feeling the intense burning sensation race up and down my spine, before it began to fade as the ginger settled inside me.
He held his fingers at the end of the plug, twisting it little by little as I lay over the table, spread wide for him to punish as he saw fit.
I didn’t know what to expect and didn’t move when his touch left mine. After a moment, I began to feel a little warm. I swallowed gently, thinking it might just be residual sensation from the spanking and the traitorous arousal racing through my veins, but then it started to settle deep inside my ass. It turned from a gradual—and maybe even a bit enjoyable—warmth to something that kept getting fiercer. I noticed that it was beginning to hurt.
Fuck.
My bottom hole was really starting to burn, leaving no doubt in my mind that it was the ginger itself causing such a terrible stinging sensation. It began gradually and then grew hotter and hotter until it felt like my skin had caught on fire. My hips rolled shamefully from side to side, trying to lessen the burning agony, but it didn’t work. My body tightened around it and the sting intensified. I whimpered and turned my head to face Matteo.
“Oh, it hurts,” I whispered.
This was a very different kind of pain; it went deeper. It throbbed hotter and it left no doubt in my mind that I was no longer in control. It was worse than the spanking because it was constant and never stopped. It wasn’t punctuated by each blow. It went on and on and I was fearful that I couldn’t see an end in sight. I didn’t know if it was ever going to stop.
“It’s supposed to. I scored it to release the juices of the root into your skin far more thoroughly than if it wasn’t. That ensures that your introduction to ginger is not going to be gentle, baby girl. You’re being punished and this is going to stay in your little bottom until I decide that you’ve learned your lesson,” he said sternly, and the crowd erupted in applause.
My bottom hole burned hotter and I squeezed my eyes shut. I had thought it was just going to hurt when he’d pushed it inside me. I hadn’t expected how much it continued to sting the longer it was in my sore little hole.
It just kept building until it was so intense that I wanted to cry from its cruel sting alone. My hips rolled shamefully from side to side and I realized that my arousal had slickened my inner thighs. I was ridiculously wet by being punished this way and I was sure he and everyone else could see it.
Matteo pressed his palm against my aching pussy and slid his fingers up and down my wet folds with ease. He circled my clit and then pushed two fingers inside me. I keened, losing myself in the pain that the ginger wrought and the pleasure that his twirling fingers gave me. He pumped those fingers in and out of my pussy and the crowd roared when I moaned with pleasure. Or was it pain. I didn’t know.
I blushed hard, but I couldn’t focus on the people watching when my bottom hole was burning like this and when his fingers were inside me. He teased me until I was on the edge of orgasm and I realized I just wanted to come, even though I was in more pain that I thought I could ever bear.
I groaned with desire as his fingers pumped in and out of me, but he stilled, and I whined with disappointment. He pulled his fingers free of me and I cried out anxiously as he picked up another piece of ginger that he’d left close by. He whittled it quickly, carving it into a phallic shape and I grew nervous watching him. He scored it just like he had the plug before he returned to me with the new piece in his hands. I swayed from side to side, trying to reconcile with the cruel burn in my bottom and what he intended to do with this second piece.
The moment he pressed it against the entrance to my pussy, I stilled.
No. He couldn’t mean to punish me there too, could he?
My bottom hole already burned from the ginger and now as another piece of it threatened to press into my pussy, I feared what that might mean.
“Wait, please,” I begged.
He didn’t listen.
Instead, he pushed the carved root into me, and I whimpered. The feel of it was cool at first, aided by the copious juice along its surface. I already knew what the ginger felt like in my backside and it wasn’t long before the effects of it started to punish my pussy too. The burn started off gentle but didn’t stay that way for lon
g. He pumped that piece of ginger into me again and again, releasing the juices into my skin. My inner walls fluttered around the ginger, gripping at it like my body did at his fingers or his cock. I whimpered as it warmed more intensely. This was going to be far worse.
This was going to break me like nothing else would.
The fiery burn simmered at first, growing stronger and stronger until I started to scream. The juice dribbled down my pussy, onto my clit and the entire area between my legs felt as though it had been branded with fire. If I had thought the ginger plug had been punishing, it paled in comparison to the scalding blaze that consumed my sensitive little pussy.
I couldn’t keep still as the searing agony pierced into my soul. I was hardly aware of anything other than the pump of the ginger in and out of my pussy and the burning sensation of the root in my bottom.
My back arched as I struggled and even through it all, I could still feel my orgasm edging back, closer and closer until I was on the precipice of release. My screams and moans mixed together and when his fingers pressed against my clit, I lost myself completely.
Pain and pleasure twisted into one terribly cruel intoxicating sensation that threatened to break me into pieces and I feared it would. My thighs quaked hard and I knew that my release was going to be more powerful than I’d ever known.
I whimpered, knowing that when I did orgasm, it was going to devastate me, and everyone was going to see every last second of it. I was going to break hard.
“Please,” I begged.
My pussy blazed hotter, my most sensitive place burning completely from the inside out. My body tensed around both pieces of ginger and I keened.
“That’s it. Come for me, baby girl.”
Fuck. There were those words again.
“Come, baby girl.”
I came undone.
My thighs quaked harder and my release crashed over me like a tidal wave against a cliff. It swept me into an endless pool of bliss, and I drowned in it. There was no longer any meaning to pain or pleasure. Each sensation became one and the same. Both hurt. Both felt good and each one destroyed me just as thoroughly as the other.
“Oh, god, it hurts!” I screamed and the crowd roared as I came even harder. My pussy pulsed around the ginger and my bottom hole tensed around the root plug, and the fiery burn continued to intensify until it became the only thing I could think about. It became my entire focus, even as Matteo forced me from one orgasm to the next.
Pain. Pleasure. Agony. Bliss.
My fingers gripped at the table beneath me, my nails scraping into the surface and the only sounds were my desperate pleas for mercy. The audience was in rapture as they watched him punish me and I couldn’t help myself as I started to cry, but that didn’t matter. He just fucked me with the ginger root harder while he twisted the plug with the other hand, which only made it hurt all the more.
“You’re going to come three more times for me and the court before I give you the chance to make it up to me. Do you know how you’re going to do that?”
“No, Your Majesty,” I sobbed into the table, my voice shaking from pain.
I felt miserably sorry for myself as my most sensitive places burned with a terrible blaze that refused to be put out. Even with all that, my clit pulsed, and my core twisted hard with pleasure and I came to the shameful conclusion that I wanted him to make me come this way.
Again.
“You’re going to use that pretty little mouth. You’re going to give the court a show. If you do a very good job, I just might allow you to beg me to remove the ginger, all with my seed dripping down that pretty little face,” he said darkly.
I gasped and he fucked my pussy with the ginger painfully hard. There was nothing gentle about his movements.
“You’re going to think about that with each subsequent orgasm, little girl, do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I whimpered as the fire began to consume me from within.
There was no stopping the crescendo that burst forth next. He used his hand to fuck me with the ginger while spreading his fingers forward, enough to caress my clit with every last stroke. My body arched and swayed, overwhelmed with sensation and need and everything else that was catapulting within me.
Rational thought was no longer an option. I couldn’t think of anything other than his touch, the terrible burn, and the insane pleasure that was demanding to be set free. I could only feel all of that.
As much as it hurt, it felt like freedom.
In that moment, he showed me that I didn’t have any control, that he could take it whenever and wherever he liked.
That made me want to come.
Hard.
He pinched my clit roughly and the first orgasm of three took hold of me. White-hot ecstasy streamed over me like the sun or maybe even the stars, consuming me completely. I was no longer aware of the sound of the screams leaving my body or the shameful way I was writhing over the table while the crowd watched.
I lay there, taking everything the king demanded of me and I lost myself. I lost my dignity and I found incredible pain and mind-numbing pleasure as a direct result.
One orgasm bled into another and as the next took ahold of me, my eyes rolled back into my head. I panicked for a fraction of a second as I felt it coming, knowing that once it crashed over me, it was going to be harder than the last. That single moment of fear forced me over the precipice into an endless abyss of pleasure that devoured me whole.
I screamed. I cried. I sobbed.
I was hardly even aware of the tears dripping down my cheeks. They didn’t matter. The only thing that did was the pain and pleasure that was my everything.
I quaked with the intensity of it, thankful for the table beneath me as I lost all control of my legs and the rest of my body. My thighs trembled hard and as my second orgasm started to fall back, the third and last one came hard and far more quickly than I was prepared for.
It promised agony, pleasure, and destruction. What I didn’t expect was the sheer devastation of the deepest parts of my soul.
It rose like a storm inside me, swirling around in my veins and making my heart beat so hard that I feared that it might burst out of my chest. I shook and sobbed and writhed, feeling my inner walls squeeze tight around the ginger inside both my pussy and my bottom. The root was scalding hot, but so was my orgasm.
I broke, everything in me obliterated by his palm, his strap, and the ginger.
When my orgasm finally began to ebb away, I sagged against the table. The pleasure faded, but the pain remained. My pussy burned hot, the juices from the ginger dripping against my wet folds. He took it out from my entrance and dragged it along all of me, ensuring that my clit was thoroughly covered with it too.
Then he placed the root on the table next to me.
My pussy still felt scalding hot and I slowly came to the realization that the punishment wasn’t over. If anything, it hurt even more now that I’d come so hard for him in front of everyone else. I whimpered and tried to hold back my tears, but the ginger continued to hurt long after it stopped pressing in and out of my pussy.
I sniffled back my cries, still unable to stop myself from writhing over the table.
“Have you learned your lesson, baby girl?”
I sobbed hard.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I whispered.
“Will you ever disrespect your king in front of the court again?”
“No, Your Majesty,” I moaned.
“Good. Now take my hand, baby girl, and get down on your knees,” he demanded.
There wasn’t an ounce of disobedience left in my body. I forced my weak body off the table, whimpering as my muscles protested every last movement. He saw me struggle and took a hold of my arm, using his strength to lift me up. In all his cruelty, I saw his gentleness then and my heart beat only for him. I tried to hold back a sob and failed.
“Shh. Slowly, baby girl. Take your time,” he murmured, taking my other hand in his. I shook for a moment
before I found the strength to lower myself to the floor on top of the soft fabric of my dress. One knee and then the other. I sagged against him, using his thighs as a brace.
I sucked in a breath, fighting to cope with the fiery sensations between my legs. I gazed back up at him and finally sat back on my heels when I’d slowed my tears, waiting for him to take the lead.
He unclasped his black leather belt and slowly slid it open. He unbuttoned his slacks and freed his cock. My mouth watered as I saw how unbelievably hard he was for me.
He carefully pushed my hair to the side, exposing my neck gently. His fingers traced along my skin and I swallowed, gathering myself even as my punishment continued to burn hot between my legs.
He lifted my chin and I opened my mouth as he pushed forward, taking charge of me.
“Show me how sorry you are, baby girl. If you do a very good job, I’ll take the ginger out of your little bottom and wash the juice off of your sore little pussy,” he said darkly.
I closed my lips around his shaft, looking up at him as I knelt there before him. His expression softened as I suckled him tentatively. For a few seconds, he allowed my hesitant and somewhat reluctant explorations, but before long he cleared his throat.
“You’re sucking my cock like you want more of the strap, baby girl,” he warned.
I tried harder. I swirled my tongue around him, bobbing my head back and forth. He wound his hand around my hair, twirling it into a firm ponytail as he took back control. He thrust into my mouth more firmly and I gagged around his length, leaning backwards as I tried to pull back. His hold on my hair didn’t allow that.
Instead, it kept me right where he wanted me, on my knees with him in control.
For a moment, his thick length made me panic. Quickly though, I learned to time my breath around his thrusts, taking in air when he pulled out and breathing out when he pushed back in. I wasn’t particularly adept at sucking a man, but the more he used my mouth, the more comfortable I became. I sucked harder and more firmly, growing more confident in my actions as he made me take every last inch. I tried to open my throat, losing control of my gag reflex from time to time. I learned quickly though and forced myself to swallow around him, taking him more and more deeply with every last thrust.
