A little warmth

I’ve had heat torture fantasies for many years. Hot wax, water, oils: here’s one variation.

My arms and legs were tightly bound to the arms and legs of the heavy wooden chair she’d strapped me to.

“There’s my little toy, so nice of you to sit there for me.” Not that I had a choice.

“I sometimes wondered if I treat you warmly enough” and she left the room.

She’d left behind one of those coils you use to heat up water for a glass of tea or instant coffee. As much as I was sure she wasn’t planning to place it between my thighs I’d never been more frightened. It wasn’t big enough but how else was she planning to ‘warm up’ our relationship.

Back in she came with a large black cup and a few forks. She plugged the heating coil in.

Steadily for a few minutes she looked at me like a wolf must at fresh prey

“I think we’re ready, don’t you?”

A bit of steam arose as she pulled a fork out of the cup. She moved so quickly to my chest I barely had time to catch what it was.

If the chair hadn’t been so sturdy I’d have shoved my back into it as the hot fork touched my skin.

“What lovely delicate pink marks it leaves.” You might’ve thought my chest was a bolt of fabric.

Another fork came out as the first one went back into the smoldering cup.

“Maybe if I place this at a different angle it’ll look like a nice plaid.”

I was too tightly gagged to scream as fork number two went to the exact same place as number one.

For what - thirty minutes? - ten? - how would I know the hot metal worked its patterns into my flesh as he kept up a running commentary on how it looked.

She looked at me with a simulation of sympathy. “Dear, I think you’ll be needing to sit when you pee.”

The fork came down straight between my legs and I really wished I could faint.

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