Figging And Caning Together
Annie writes about the time her husband Robert suprised her with a good figging, in Robert’s Suprise. After a bit of a spanking:
Then I felt his left hand opening my bottom cheeks before a cold, wet… thing was pressing against my opening.
“Oh! It’s cold!” I gasped, feeling the “thing” penetrate my unprepared bumhole, stretching a bit, but mostly just COLD.
“I’m sure it will warm up soon, my sweet,” he said with an evil snicker.
I wiggled and squeezed my cheeks attempting to accomodate this new thing when, within a couple of minutes, warm up it did. Then it started to sting…. then burn… Hey!
“Warming up now, dear?” he queried.
“Yesssss, owwww, it burns! What is that?” I squealed, my bumhole starting to feel like he’d inserted a lit BIC.
“It’s called ‘figging’, an old Victorian practice. Fresh ginger root,” he explained.
“Well, take it out!” I demanded.
“Excuse me?!!!”
“Um… please, sir, take it out. Please… it burns!” I pleaded, now wiggling like a worm on hot pavement over the ottoman, quickly learning that squeezing my bottom cheeks just made it worse.
“I think not, m’dear. In fact, it seems to be as effective as promised. I’m quite delighted!”
I clenched my teeth to prevent myself from telling him exactly what I thought of his new “delight” with a string of accompanying expletives. “Pleeease, sir, it REALLY burns!” is what I actually said. I was quite proud of my restraint.
“Now, for that caning…” he announced to my gratitude actually. Maybe it would take my mind off my flaming bumhole. “… to which six more strokes will be added for that disrespectful outburst.”
It didn’t. Six strokes with the cane that I barely felt, my concentration purely on that dastardly THING up my bum causing me such distress. Then six more strokes that I DID feel, only adding to my distress, my ass now ingnited inside and out!
I prayed he would remove that damned root after the caning. Not. Instead he announced that corner time would be appropriate considering my disrespect. Grrrrr. He planted me in the corner near his chair ordering me to hold my drawers open until he told me otherwise. He kept me there for DAYS… well, not really – it just felt that way, all the while the ginger root sizzled.
When he did finally fetch me, he had taken his clothes off and I felt his body pressing warmly against my back, his breath hot on my neck.
“How about I replace that root with something you like a little better, m’dear?” he whispered, nipping my ear with his teeth. I felt his rock hard cock rubbing against the small of my back.
“Yessss, pleassssse” I hissed, pressing back into him, wiggling my ass provocatively against him.