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"Barbecue" (femdo, F/M, torture)


"You rest, now, love.  You did very well today, everyone
had a marvelous time, and I'm quite proud of you.  Now
you don't have to do anything but rest for a couple days", 
she said.

"Thank you, my Lady", he weakly replied, before she smiled
at him and stroked his hair and then turned out the light 
and proudly strode away.

He wouldn't have any trouble obeying her.  Not that he
ever did, but right now there wasn't a lot he could do
but rest, after the day's ordeals.

A barbecue she'd said.  A nice traditional way to celebrate
the opening of the summer season (however unfortunate it
might be that the same day also served as the day to remember
war dead).  He was used to serving at her parties, sometimes
in some unusual ways.  But she'd told him that he wouldn't
have to do anything at this event, which upset him a bit until
she assured him that he'd not done anything to upset her and
that he was in quite good standing with all her friends, and
that had nothing to do with why he wouldn't have to do anything
at the barbecue.  He'd sought to know more but she shut him down.
Hers to know and his to do, if she didn't want him knowing more
that was her privilege and his privilege was to serve and obey
her.

He helped with the standard preparations, and with some
unusual ones, including digging a long bit and setting up
a turning spit and getting a lot of wood, all this in addition
to readying the grills and getting charcoal for the burgers
and franks and steaks.  She seemed to have something ambitious
in mind but she wouldn't say what it was.  He certainly mixed
up a lot of two sorts of barbecue sauces for her.  He mentioned
as politely that he could that he didn't think much of the sauces,
the one was too sweet and the other too hot and both were too thin, 
but she shushed him.

When the day came he was quite busy setting up and greeting her
guests. Things were somewhat rushed, since the guests were coming
rather early, he thought.   She'd invited all kinksters to this 
party, all femdoms and their submissives whether male or female, 
and since everyone was kinky he wasn't extremely surprised when she 
instructed that he would be meeting people naked except for shackles 
and handcuffs.  The handcuffs were a nuisance but he'd learned how to 
do most things while his hands were cuffed in front of him.  No one 
found it strange that he was walking around naked and chained and the 
looks and smiles he was getting were all friendly and indulgent.  At 
least the looks from the dommes were; some of the submissives were 
giving him rather quick smiles and not saying much.  Perhaps it was 
awkward for them that he was the the only one undressed so far.

So far he'd been working plenty, which was fine with him but he
wondered what she'd meant that he wouldn't be serving today. If
he was going to be busy a quick bite would be nice, she'd not
let him eat last night or any breakfast and the enema she'd given
him suggested he'd be doing anal play today, not his favorite
but whatever pleased her was his pleasure also.  But when he asked
if he should get a quick snack so he could serve throughout the
day, she just smiled enigmatically.

"Now that everyone's here, and the preparations are all complete,
you won't have to do anything else today, boy", his Mistress
told him.  He looked at her quizzically and she just said "Heel"
and walked past him with him following a step behind and to her right.

Several femdoms followed them, eyeing him rather wickedly.  His Lady
stopped and turn and said "Chains off" and the ladies near him
quickly got them off him and she said "Down", and he knelt and she
said "prostrate" and he lay before her face down, and a couple
women knelt by him and began binding him, rolling him over as required.
Being tied by several eager femdoms was an exciting experience.
Being vigorously scrubbed and hosed by them was less pleasant but
still interesting.  

It was when they spread the plastic on the grass, and laid many
ropes across it, and then took the spit from where it rested
and laid it atop the ropes that he finally suspected.  When
several women picked him up and carried him to the spit, he
knew.  What did she have in mind ?  Even if he had been finding
a lot of Dolcet cartoons for her he knew that neither she nor
any of the women evilly leering at him would hurt him - well,
they wouldn't do anything permanently damaging.  And the fact 
they were tying him - very tightly - to the spit instead of
impaling him on it meant this wouldn't be a literal reproduction
of a Dolcet scene.  But when they lit the mix of mesquite and
other woods and some herbs in the long pit and watched him
watching the fire burn, he couldn't help wondering if he knew
them as well as he thought.  He saw one woman handling an
apple eagerly and then saw it cored and a cord put through
it, but no one approached him yet.  Perhaps they were waiting 
for him to protest or question.  Well, they'd have a long wait,
he'd not question or object to his Lady's decisions regarding
him (not that it would make a difference if he did, which made
his forbearance easier).

He thought, perhaps wishfully, that they seemed impressed
with his acceptance (though some seemed disappointed that
he wasn't expressing more fear), and they didn't use the
apple on him as several of them hefted the spit and carried
it to the pit, the fire in which had burned down some,
and put the spit in place over it.  However much he trusted,
the look on his face as he was carried to and placed over the
fire was gratifying to the sadistic sisters, because however
much he tried to stay silent he couldn't help being scared
and couldn't help wondering if it was really possible.
Not in front of some many witnesses - but it was a much smaller
number of people than she usually invited, and it was unusual
for her to invite only kinksters - and only, he was realizing,
very hard core ones - to this event.  None of her family or
neighbors were coming.  Still, she wouldn't... no, she wouldn't.

The flame was low enough not to be burning him, but he knew
it would if he stayed like this long.  Hanging from the ropes
he rather regretted not have lost some weight, all his weight
pressing on those sharp but fortunately not smaller cords
around him was already becoming unbearable and breathing was
difficult (the smoke didn't help, though even without it he'd
suffocate from his own weight hanging against the ropes eventually,
so the issue of smoking being unhealthy for a person wasn't foremost
in his mind).  But then both problems were solved, for a moment, 
when his Lady began turning the spit and the heat touch a different 
part of him and for a short time his weight was laying against the 
spit instead of against the ropes holding him to it.  Which wasn't 
very comfortable either but it didn't last long.  Which would seem 
to be what made his situation just barely bearable.  As long as
the spit turned he got some chance to breath and his front
and back each got successive moment's relief from the heat and he
didn't burn.  But he had to keep moving constantly or he'd burn
or suffocate of both, and his Lady couldn't turn the spit all
day.

But it seemed she wouldn't have to, as she stepped away from it
and another domme took it, and his Lady bent at the knee to look
him in the face and ask him "Do you accept your fate ?" and he
swallowed, or tried to, and croaked out "Yes, my love", risking
being somewhat impudent in addressing her as if he were her equal,
but if he was right about her he had nothing to fear - well, 
noting but prolonged agony, which actually was rather fearsome -
and if he was wrong about her he had nothing to lose.  She smiled
and walked away, saying "keep him turning, we want this to be a
slow roasting".

She went back to socializing with her guests as his eyes followed
her, at least during one part of his rotation, noting that she
was barely looking at him at all even if many others did (though
he couldn't see how much she watched when his face was the other
way, then turned away as he started coming around, nor did he realize
how many reflective surfaces were positioned around the yard in which
the spit and pit could be seen).  Even with the turning his skin was
retaining heat from when it was over the fire and was a bit hotter
each time it passed over the heat than it had been the last time,
so no matter how they turned him he would still cook if left on the
spit for very long.  If she didn't take him off the spit or do something
soon... well, if she didn't, then maybe this really was the end.

Could she really be doing this... no, don't be silly, it's not possible,
he knew.

But he was so damned hot....


"Let's marinade the man, now that he's heated up nicely - not
that you aren't always hot to me, boy - start brushing that sauce
over him", and several people began brushing the sweet, and,
thankfully, chilled sauce over him.  Thin enough to spread even 
when cold, it went over his burning - or nearly so - skin and 
chilled it enough to make the heat bearable.  Sweet enough to
attract insect, this would be a minor annoyance (fortunately 
he wasn't allergic to bee stings, and since he couldn't move he
wasn't likely to get stung) amidst all the other discomforts.
More of a problem for him was that the brushes giving him lifesaving
coolness also tickled terribly, especially when used on the soles 
of his feet, which, never being exposed to direct heat, didn't need 
the cooling effect, but that wasn't stopping one of the dommes from 
brushing his feet quite diligently.  Oh, damn, he thought, it hurts 
to laugh when tied like this; he wondered how to get this discovery 
out, since talking hadn't been easy even before the brushing started, 
but he saw enough wicked laughter from the observers to know that 
they already knew this.

They started laughing even more, and he wondered why, and then saw
a second bowl, and as the sauce from this bowl was brushed over
his cock and poured over his balls and the futile attempt at squirming
that the tickling had caused were greatly intensified but against
these tight cords were equally futile, but his struggles and moans
*were* successful at entertaining the guests as he felt a terrible
burning in his loins, one more literally the the one his Lady usually
caused and much more intense than the heat from the fire had been
causing.

So now, when he was able to think, between the frequent distractions
of those brushes and the intermittent mind-filling pain from the
hot sauce on his cock and balls, he knew that he'd been silly to
even briefly wonder if his Mistress might have meant this as a
farewell party for him, that she'd of course planned it all so he
was in no danger - ah, well, no danger of death or lasting injury,
though plenty of danger of terrible pain which was going to get
worse the longer this went on and how long could she mean that
to be, and when his mind could work, when neither the brushes 
where driving him crazy nor the ball-burning making him scream
(however hard it was to scream when he could barely breathe,
he did have a mouth and he must scream), nor the rising heat
of his skin making him think only of when the brushing would come
again, when he could think he realized why people had arrived
so early and when he was turned the right way he could see no
grills had been lit yet, so this was meant to be a long event.

And no danger, well, it wasn't as if there was no danger.
Without being constantly turned and frequently cooled, it
wasn't a risk of death on this spit, not unless 100% probability
can be called a risk.  Would they manage to keep someone with
him all day... if they didn't he was certain to die.

Which perhaps should have filled him with dread, but in
the bizarre workings and strange gratitudes of the submissive
mind (or at least this perhaps especially strange and bizarre
one) it left him feeling touched and secure and cared for,
knowing that, as they had been so far, all day and into the
evening there would alway be two femdoms standing close by
him and working very hard to keep him alive, and that before
the day would end all of them would take several turns caring
for him.  And enjoying his suffering, which would be immense
even without the tickling and the hot sauce on his balls.
Of course they put on a front that it was all sadistic
interest on their part, in the early hours asking him three
or four times if he wanted some water for each time that
they gave him any, gleefully refusing him the other times
he said "yes" but always making sure he stayed hydrated enough
to endure this, and later as his mind became to overwhelmed
by the varying but unrelenting pain for him to think or speak
they just squirted water in his mouth and were more openly
concerned as they checked him, thinking they didn't need to 
maintain the appearance of being purely sadistic (but not
being able to think or speak didn't mean not be able to see 
or remember and before he did lose perception he would have
several fondly remembered images of vicious femsadists
looking over him with care and concern and fondness between
periods of sadism and some memories of his Lady's proud and
loving looks as he disappointed some dommes and thrilled
others by never once asking for mercy.


When they decided it needed to stop and lifted him away
from the pit and untied him, he couldn't remember.  And
sadly for him, he barely remembered so many people
licking/sucking the sauce off him nor the laughter of
the dommes when the femsubs had to suck his cock and
would go gasping in search of milk, or icewater when they
realized that someone had emptied all the milk containers.
But he'd come around enough to remember his Lady and a couple
friends washing him and rubbing him and pouring water into
him as they praised him, and he'd remember that for a long
time.