Fuckpig Roast

I got the rope you asked for from the basement. Why are you looking at me like that? You’ve seemed odd all day today and you’re drinking far too much, even more than usual. I barely get the rope unraveled before you grab me hard and put me over your knee. Just when I think I am going to get a fabulous spanking though, you start yanking my arms behind me and tying me up tight. I start to kick but I am no match for you – you grab my ankles and bind them together in no time flat.

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You roll me off your lap onto the floor and I land with a loud thump bonking my head. As the stars begin to clear I see you getting your lighter and a bottle of 151 Rum off the side table. I thought you were going to just take a swig, but instead you took some in your mouth and then spit it at me while lighting the lighter. A huge ball of flame poured over my naked body and singed my skin and hair. I started screaming and tried to roll away but you just kept spitting fire onto me, burning me all over.

I couldn’t roll away anymore, my skin was raw and blistering and it hurt to move. You stood over me, with about a half a bottle left and began to pour it on me. The alcohol burned so fucking bad on my raw skin and you just watched as I begged you to stop. The stinging pain was taking my breath away and just when I thought I couldn’t take anymore, you lit the lighter and brought it down to my body. I tried one last time to roll away, but the flame had already caught. I thought all you wanted was some rope, but I guess you wanted a pig roast.

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