Organic Bondage Lessons With Derrick

By Hannah Hush

I shivered in the cold. It was December and I was wearing a scandalous little plaid schoolgirl miniskirt. The white shirt and tie combo seemed equally ridiculous to me, but at least it was covering things up. I’d never gone outside with such a small amount of clothing on in my life. I wish I could tell you I didn’t know why I was doing it. I did. I had been going to the gym obediently every day for weeks. Nothing. Derrick wasn’t even there. What a huge let down. So when I got the letter in the mail ordering me to come to his house tonight dressed in a tiny schoolgirl outfit, I couldn’t say no. How I had managed to find a schoolgirl outfit big enough to cover my ass and breasts on such short notice, you don’t want to know. As I looked up at the place where Derrick apparently lived, I made the final decision to go inside and there was no turning back.

“Good news, slut! I’ve decided to cure you.”

“Cure me?”

“Come, now. You’ve always wanted to be normal, haven’t you? You wished you could go through life without thinking slutty thoughts and doing slutty things, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then come to my bedroom. I’ve got some plants that will be good medicine for you. If organic bondage won’t cure you, then nothing will.”

Just as I entered his bedroom, he bent me over his bed and, quickly shoving my panties aside, plunged his hands between my legs.

“Just as I suspected, the little whore is all wet from the anticipatory trip over here. We’ll have to fix that with a shower before we begin. Oh, and next time, obey me when I tell you how to dress. I told you to wear a schoolgirl shirt, tie, and skirt. I didn’t say you could wear panties.”

He shoved me violently under the spray, my face getting all wet. He started with hot water and scrubbed me everywhere with one of those rough bristle brushes that people use to clean under their fingernails. Then he switched to cold water and paid particular attention to my pussy, trying to get it as clean and dry as possible. He toweled me off with one of those really cheap towels that seem to be more knots and rough spots than not. Leading me back to the bedroom, he threw me onto the bed.

“I’m not going to tie you up for this slut. That would take too long and give you time to get all wet again. Instead, I’m going to tell you to hold absolutely still, and if you’re really a good little girl you will want to obey me enough that you’ll succeed through the pain. That is, if there is pain. If you cure yourself, then there won’t be any pain at all.”

I held absolutely still as he went to the nightstand and unscrewed a jar of some weird clumpy substance.

“We’re starting in the minor leagues. This used to be Tabasco sauce. I dried it out. It’s not dry enough that the sauce has lost its potency, but it is dry enough that it is too viscous to pour.”

He used a spoon to scoop out a large amount of the sauce and positioned it at the top of my clit. He patted it down a little, but didn’t put any sauce anywhere else.

“There. As long as you aren’t wet, you will feel nothing. However, if you get a little wet, you will supply the extra liquid to make the sauce burn your clit like fire. If you get very wet, you will supply enough liquid to make the sauce fluid and gravity will pull it down off your clit, across your entire cunt, and it will pool in your asshole. So I suggest you think pious thoughts if you want to be cured, bitch. Oh, and you should know that the main ingredient is jalapenos. Water only spreads them, so you won’t have much luck washing it off. The pain is local to the mucous membrane, so you won’t have much luck with a general anesthetic like Tylenol, especially since those take at least a half hour to absorb and take effect. It will hurt intensely for about an hour and there will be nothing I can do about it. That means there are no safe words, bitch. If you hurt, it will be your own fault because you choose whether to think erotic thoughts.”

Then he slowly took off his clothing in front of me. The clothing was more of a sticky peel off in the places where it had gotten splashed with the shower water, like the sleeves. The bedroom was backlit softly and the damp spots on his body glistened very slightly from the angle of the dim light. When he was completely naked, he climbed onto the bed and crawled until he was near my head. He kneeled upright there and I could see up his body as he looked me in the eyes and started to rub his hand slowly down his chest and down toward heaven. I thought it was strange, yet undeniable that heaven should be located in a downward direction. He cupped the situs of his masculinity and I bit my lip as I watched him slowly swell. He started to slowly rub himself. He closed his eyes and started telling me what he was thinking about. He was describing a beautiful woman and I wondered if he had deliberately chosen a different body type and hair color than mine to humiliate me. I had felt certain he liked blondes, but apparently not. I watched him and listened to the cadence of his voice and slowly felt the pain and fire spread down my pussy and toward my ass. He shot his seed across my chest. Finally he clenched the fist of the hand not on his cock and shook his head back and forth. Inwardly, pleasure warred with disappointment, pain, and embarrassment. Seeing his face while he came brought great pleasure. Knowing that once again I wasn’t getting any cock brought disappointment. The pain was intense all across my pussy, and I was embarrassed at my own ineptitude at controlling myself and my own thoughts. After basking for a few moments, he opened his eyes again and climbed off the bed. He spread my pussy with his hands and made tssking sounds while he looked at the little pool of wet around my asshole.

“Voila, spicy jalapeno juice. That pain will last for about forty-five minutes more. When the pain ends come find me in front of the living room TV for your next lesson in piety.”

When the pain had finally dissipated, I went to find him watching TV. He made me kneel on the floor in front of him because his show was in the middle. It was Fox primetime, so there was a massive ass load of unnecessary commercials every five to seven minutes. At the first commercial break he cast about with his eyes in boredom and roughly rearranged my body so I could be his footstool. At the second commercial break, he declared I was a lousy footstool and rearranged me on the couch so that he could rest his beer can on my back. He warned me that I’d better not shift and spill and went back to watching TV. When the show was finally over and he’d viewed every commercial ever created by capitalistic mankind, he moved his beer, grabbed my hair, and hauled me to my feet. He half dragged, half led me to the bedroom. He threw me back on the bed and warned me again not to move. He left the room and when he came back he was wearing those housewife kitchen gloves for washing dishes and carrying a paring knife and what I recognized from high school cooking class as a “hand” of ginger root.

“This is what the British call ‘figging,’ slut.”

He sat down on the bed and began peeling the ginger root. The smell of ginger filled the room. He carved off one of the curved fingers from the hand and then carved a slight indentation around the base. He ordered me onto my feet, bent over the nightstand. As he inserted the ginger finger into my ass, I realized that the carved indentation at the base was to create a plug, and the natural curve of the finger fit nicely in the bend of my ass.

“In a few minutes, you’ll find that the ginger secretes a substance that causes pain. In the old days, they used to insert ginger up inside horses, just like I’ve done with you, and it would make the horse hold his head and tail high. The buyer would think the horse was younger because of the high head and tail, and an older horse would become more valuable. You can be a more valuable woman, too, if you’ll just repent. The basic object of this lesson is to teach you not to clench your whore muscles whenever something is inside your whore holes. Whenever you clench, the secretion will be faster and the pain will increase. Now, you will straighten up and turn around. Do it slowly so that you don’t break the organic plug in your ass and make it harder to find and retrieve later.”

I turned around and straightened up.

“Put your hands behind your head, elbows bent, and roll your shoulders back so that you’re thrusting your tits out at me. Remember, if you’re a good girl, you’ll want to obey me and keep still. If you’re a bad, squirmy little whore, I’ll have no choice but to tie you up. Of course you realize I can’t make your no-clenching lesson easy. That wouldn’t be true repentance. You’ll keep your eyes closed, so you can’t see things coming.”

He began to slap my tits back and forth with his hands. They bounced painfully up and down with the impact. I struggled not to clench, but it was a losing battle with each unexpected blow. Every time I clenched I felt the pain in my ass increase. After about five minutes of slapping, my face burned in shame as I felt the starchy root finally snap in my ass. I knew he could see the blood in my face even in the darkly backlit room, because he stopped beating me long enough to bend over and check my ass. When he found the broken ginger finger, he pronounced me a failure for the second time, fished it out, threw it away and went to wash his hands so that the secretion wouldn’t be accidentally spread to his eyes or anywhere else.

When he returned, he had on gardening gloves and had a potted plant in his hand and he said, “This is your third chance, whore. This is the ‘common stinging nettle,’ renowned throughout Europe and North America. It is a part of the genus Urtica, and what I am about to do to you is called urtification. You see, the plant is covered with silica ‘hairs’ like little two millimeter hypodermic needles. On contact, the tip of the needle breaks off in the skin and the skin is injected with a combination of serotonin, histamine and acetylcholine. Tell me, did you develop a serious rash after we met the last time?”

“No sir.”

“Good, that means you aren’t allergic to my beloved houseplant. I rubbed some of it on you very discretely at our last meeting. Remember never to play with other Masters without me, whore. New Zealand’s varieties of stinging nettles can be fatal and it would be a shame if you fell into the hands of an ignorant slob, although it would be divine retribution for your betrayal.”

He cut off part of the plant and began whipping me with it across my tits and down my belly.

“This lesson is just like the Spanish Inquisition. All you have to do is confess your sins, in great detail, convince me of your atonement and promise never to sin again and I’ll stop whipping you. Of course, if you do that, you’ll never be able to see me again, since you’ll be a good little girl from then on.”

He continued to whip me with each part of the plant until my diminishing reaction convinced him that the hairs had all been deactivated. Then he would cut off a new part of the plant and start all over. When he finally ran out of plant my whole body was covered in patches of red bumps.

“You didn’t confess. The pain will last about six to seven hours and again there is nothing I can do about it. Then there will be around five hours of intense itching.”

He left the room and returned holding an ice cube tray.

“This is your final chance, slut. I have carefully set the thermostat to 70, looked up the melting point of ice, and calculated the mass of the ice cubes. We of course can then figure out the rate of expected melt of the ice cubes given the final piece of the puzzle that anthropology texts have told me the average temperature of the Caucasian female ass while inside a 70 degree room. Of course, if you’re a slutty little whore, the ice cubes will melt too fast and we’ll both know you’re incurable.” [Editor’s note: anthropologists actually conducted these tests to measure core body temperature retention of various races that dwell in various climates. Wild, isn’t it?]

He dragged me into the bathtub by my hair, bent me over, set the ice cube tray in front of me. My eyes widened as I saw the little tiny frozen nettle leaves inside the ice cubes. He smiled and winked at me. He inserted seven ice cubes up my ass, rubbing them along my body first to remove sharp edges. When he was finished he put a cheap waterproof watch in front of my nose and stood back to watch the cold water dribble down my pussy and disappear into the drain. As the time wore on, I began to shiver, my knees ached on the tub, and the fact that his eyes were on me made me excited and certain I would fail this test too. When I finally felt the water stop dribbling down myself, he spanked me a couple times and I clenched. I flinched, expecting intense pain to begin at any time. I felt nothing. Derrick began laughing.

“Oh, that was a good mind-fuck. Freezing destroys the stinging properties of the nettle. You totally believed me, though. As if I would bother with intense mathematical calculations on your behalf. We both know you failed though. You’re incurable, so I had better give you what you need.”

He yanked me out of the top and lobbed me at the cold bathroom tile floor. He held me down and started rubbing my clit. The ice cubes had melted away some of my wetness, and the rubbing was uncomfortable at first. Then the discomfort morphed into ecstasy. He shuddered and thrashed on the floor in orgasm. He kept rubbing. I tried to squirm away. He held me down and kept rubbing. I came again and the process repeated itself. He smiled and laughed every time I tried to wiggle away and he smiled wider whenever I erupted in climax.

When he finally lost interest, he grabbed my hair, dragged me to my feet, out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, across the living room, and straight out the door. I heard the door slam behind me and found myself naked on the outside of his house. My eyes widened and I quickly covered myself with my hands. Derrick’s door opened again and a ball of schoolgirl clothes sailed out. As I scrambled to retrieve the clothing I heard him say, “Be sure to leave soon. I’ve got a girl coming over later.”