It was still covered in a little bit of dirt as she lay it down in front of my knees. I looked up curiously to see a knife in her hand and my eyes went straight back to the ground as a thousand fearful thoughts traveled through my head. But then she tapped the blade's handle against my head and my Mistress’s soft voice said “peel it boy. That’s going up your arse”. I picked up the organic treelike looking root item in front of me and studied it. It had bits hanging off it like when you drop an egg into hot water and the shell cracks, allowing bits to spill out, but underneath the bubbly curves, I could make out its phallic shape.
I began to cut bits off it, and caught the smell of ginger in my nostrils as the pieces hit the floor. My Mistress stepped closer and with the toe of her shiny, black boot, kicked a piece away from my work area. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her luscious body bend over and pick it up. She walked around behind me and began rubbing it behind my ear. I stopped for a moment as a moist patch gave a light tingling sensation and jumped a little as her voice, just inches from my ear said “keep working boy. Just making sure you have no allergic reaction to it”. I kept peeling the ginger root, revealing its moist inner substance and trying not to be distracted by her booted toe between my naked arse cheeks until, finally, I thought it was ready. I offered it to my Mistress. After a quick inspection, I was ordered to remove some square edges still prominent on the trimmed bulb.
She sat down in her favourite throne like chair by the window with a wry grin on her face. It’s the look she gets when she knows that I don’t really know what’s coming. The length of the ginger root didn’t seem like anything much to worry about to me. I figured from its shape that only about 3 inches would go into my arse, then she ordered that I insert it. I reached for the lube and had my hand smacked. My Mistress explained calmly that lube would coat it and reduce the figging sensation. I giggled as I thought she meant the frigging sensation. Miss doesn’t swear much (unless she’s about to cum…. so…okay, she does swear lots!)
I pressed its point slowly into my arse, and as it started penetrating, I thought “frigging hell”. There was an intense burning sensation, but not quite like burning. I caught my breath and tried pushing it in further. The lack of lube clearly making this carved root difficult to insert. I used my other hand to part my cheeks as it wiggled in deeper, and the deeper it went, felt like the deeper I was being dragged into a dark tunnel. A tunnel full of sex and other things erotic. All swirling through my head. My cock began aching with pleasure as I tried to keep my hands off it. Reality faded off into the distance with only my Mistress’s voice guiding me through the dark tunnel with its soft velvety walls that echoed my moans of pleasure. The ginger now fully ablaze with delight on my anal walls was so intense. I knew I didn’t have permission to stroke, so my hands clawed at my stomach, ripping at my own skin. I was in my own world, aware that my Mistress was there somewhere. I heard her voice say “clench your arse down on it boy”. I tried and no matter how hard I concentrated, I just couldn’t and with a shuddering voice, replied “I can’t Miss”. Her response was “good, it’s working. You may stroke boy”. That dark erotic cave engulfed me fully as I began to stroke and at the end of that tunnel was my Mistress’s shiny boot. I writhed and moaned as she watched me. My body out of control begging to cum. With permission, my cum erupted and left me as a crumpled, used heap on the ground at my Mistress’s semen covered boot.
I guess boot cleaning is my next task!
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