Monday, June 24, 2013

Sweet or Spicy? The Answer? Spicy!

    I was standing in Julie’s dining room and eyeing the items laid out across the table.  Most of it I was already terribly familiar with, but I knew this was not going to go well.  My Rotating Venus Penis (RVP for short) was lying next to an unpeeled ginger root with multiple fingers and a paring knife.  Just a few inches away was a jar with sliced jalapeno peppers, while my small bottle of Stinging O Oil, a homemade concoction of grapeseed oil, pepper oil, and cinnamon oil waited patiently a bit farther on.  A pair of duck billed clamps, with the rubber protectors were laid out, and last but not least, the two small, steel plates with the nails sticking up.
                “Well?  Don’t just stand there,” Julie said, giving me a screwy look.  “Strip.”
                I swallowed hard. “I’m starting to have second thoughts,” I said, glancing at the jalapenos.  I know I’m a south Texas girl, and I’m supposed to love Mexican food, but understand that real Mexican food doesn’t usually get rated in the upper range of the Scoval Scale.  I don’t mind a little heat, especially in certain spots, but I’m a wimp when it comes to super hot chilli and sizzling fajitas. 
                “It doesn’t matter at this point. You agreed to it and I was dumb enough to say I’d make sure it got done,” Julie replied, crossing her arms.
                I took a deep breath of exasperation, cursing my own stupid, sexual nature.  Finally I shrugged and began peeling off my tee shirt.  My bra went next, and then my shorts.  A pair of pink panties lay underneath and as I slipped them down over my bare feet, I also reached up between my legs and caught the six inch vibrator that was stuffed up inside my slit.  It was off, which was a blessed relief of course, but it had been on for a little bit earlier that day and I was still wet.  The rich aroma of arousal came up from between my legs.
                Julie was licking her lips and I knew she wanted some.  I can tell when she’s horny.  Hell, she had even dressed for the occasion, wearing nothing more than a pair of boy shorts bottoms and a halter top.  I didn’t wonder if she’d get naked. I wondered when.
                “You ready?” she asked.
                I nodded and spread my arms and legs.  Julie started with the bottle of Stinging O, uncapping it and pouring about a quarter of a teaspoon out right above my right nipple.  I smelled cinnamon first and a moment later the cool tingle.  This began to change into a chemically induced heat even as Julie moved to my other breast, working the oil in with her finger.  Soon the tips of my breasts felt like I’d dipped myself in chocolate fondu, or maybe candle wax, and my chest was heaving.  Julie put down the bottle and wiped her finger on a spare kitchen towel.  Then she picked up the duck billed clamps, pinched them open, and set them on my berasts.       
  I won’t lie.  They hurt.  But not as bad as my alligator clamps would have.  Of course this did some interesting things to my libido and as she reached for the RVP I wondered how long I’d have to stand all this.  I was wet enough for the RVP to slide in without artificial lubrication, but Julie poured some Stinging O on the four inch plastic, rotating cock, as well as making sure the base had a glistening shine.  That was particularly evil in my book, because she knew damn well that when strapped on, the base would ride against my clit, rubbing and vibrating against it.  Now it would burn too.  She set aside the RVP and picked up the jar of jalapenos. 
                “Shouldn’t you peel the ginger first?” I protested as Julie opened the jar and fished out a single slice of spicy pepper.
                She grinned.  “Up against the wall, bitch.  You’re about to find out what it means to burn.”
                I grit my teeth, but there wasn’t much I could do about it, short of walking out.  And I would never do something like that.  So instead I took a deep breath and faced the wall. 
                “Squat and spread your legs,” Julie ordered, kicking at my ankle. I almost fell over and glared at her.  She only laughed and I did as ordered, spreading my legs and adopting a stance that looked ridiculous.  Worse, I couldn’t maintain my balance and had to put my hands on the wall.
                “Well, that won’t work.  Just spread your legs and stand straight, but stay up on tiptoe,” she corrected.
                I did and felt my clamped breasts rubbing against the wall.  Julie moved up behind me and slipped the spiked steel plates under my heels.  Now I had to stay up on tiptoe or risk driving a few nails through my heel.  Well, okay… not really. There were too many – like a bed of nails.  But it sure wouldn’t feel comfortable to rest my one hundred and seventeen pounds on those sharp spikes. 
                While I teetered precariously, my nipples burning and throbbing, Julie moved up with the RVP.  With my thighs wide apart, she was easily able to run the plastic cock through my petals, rubbing Stinging O all over my labia and making me hiss as the cool tingle, then the burning heat began working on my sex.  The RVP went in deeply, or as deeply as any four inch phallus could, and then I felt the tingle on my clit.  Julie was strapping it on, making sure it would stay in place and as my hips began jerking from the chemical based torment, she turned the RVP on, full throttle, both spin and vibrate.
                “Tongue out,” Julie said, holding out a slice of jalapeno.  I stuck my tongue out at her, but she pushed on my ass and held the pepper slice to the wall.  A moment later the tip of my tongue replaced her fingers and almost immediately the spicy capcium began burning me.  Julie moved back to the table and grabbed the paring knife while I dealt with the combination of burning calves, burning clit, burning labia, burning nipples, and burning tongue, all while enduring the vibrations and rotation of the RVP.  It was rather intense.
“Brace yourself, dearheart.”  Julie’s voice was right over my left ear and I felt something probing at my back door.  I arched my spine, trying to give her easier access, which in hindsight was probably stupid. Then there was something wet and cool at the entrance to my bottom.  Even as Julie began to push it in, I felt something begin to burn, to irritate the tender flesh.  Julie forced another few inches in and the scorching sensation slid inside me.  I’m not sure if you’ve ever been “figged” before, but in my experience, the operation can range anywhere from “isn’t it supposed to tingle?” to “SHIT! GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT!”  A lot depends on the ginger root.
                These were relatively fresh and while at neither extreme, the peeled ginger root in my ass certainly ranked a bit higher on the “burning scale” than my Stinging O.  My bottom tried to lock tight on the root as Julie worked it in and out and I made a gasping whimpering sort of sound as everything came together.  The jalapeno on my tongue fell.  Good riddance!
                When you are cooking something spicy, the trick is to take a bunch of separate ingredients, and combine them in a way that brings their flavor together.  I’ve mentioned this before, but sexual torture is the same way.  Today’s recipe was simple.
1.       One full sized, well rounded, horny, Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut, well used and sauced.
2.       One slice jalapeno pepper (as hot as possible)
3.       One finger of peeled ginger root
4.       Stinging O oil
5.       Duck bill clamps
6.       One Rotating Venus Penis
7.       Steel spikes for tenderizing
                And I think I’ve already described the directions, right?  So as everything everywhere burned, the heat and the pain and the torment in my calves and heels and tongue and nipples and even my clit and labia, all of it finally combined and turned into a scorching heat that ignited the need inside me.  Suddenly the spinning insanity of the RVP was more than enough to skyrocket me flaming into the night, and the vibrations on my clit and inside me was a simple enough trigger.  The clamps on my nipples were just more to put me through the roof.
    Julie yanked out the peeled ginger root and quickly put a fresh one in even as my calves started to give way and I got to half stand on the steel spikes digging into my heels. I went back up, then back down and Julie used my own exhaustion and discomfort to let myself do the anal fucking, working the ginger root through my backdoor with a grin.
                And then it was too much. I shuddered, crying out.  The explosion hit me like a wall of flame, scorching my soul.  I jerked my hips wildly as I began the orgasm, and Julie wrapped her arms around me, one hand finding the RVP and pressing it up into my clit, while the other found a nipple clamp and began twisting.  The pain rocked me and I the orgasm went from a ten to a twenty on the scale.  I cried out in one long burst of hot sauce and the collapsed, screaming, into her arms.
                Julie hauled me off the spikes and laid me down on the floor.  In seconds her clothes were off and she was straddling my head, her wet sex slipping over my mouth.  I was almost delirious, totally fried mentally, still lost in the sexual euphoria of my explosion.  I felt her hands removing the RVP and I groaned as the buzzing and spinning was lost to me.  But then, even with my tongue up in her slit, reveling in the cool respite from the jalapeno, Julie drove her own tongue down through my petals, licking the cinnamon and pepper oil from my flesh.  It felt amazing and her hands went deeper, pushing my legs apart until she could feel the ginger root.  She wiggled it around, working my bottom as her mouth suckled, bit, sucked, and rolled my clitoris.  It wasn’t long until Julie exploded, soaking my face, and I came again, burning hot.
                So when a girl asks you if you’d like it sweet, or spicy, just remember that heat can come in a lot of ways and do some amazing things!


Breanne Erickson is the author of "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 7."  Check out her stories and read a free sample HERE!

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