Flaming Cooter OF DEATH

I mean "Flaming Cooter OF FUN", of course.

Master said that we should do the Flaming Cooter of Death at the play party last night because I still had some stubble from not shaving very well.   The idea took off like wildfire (ha), and since Mystique was all set up for fireplay it was going to happen. 

Honestly, I thought I had done an ok shaving job, maybe not perfect, but I know very well that it does no good to argue.  I think I need better razors.

Flaming Cooter of Death, though????

When I started shaking my head and making "Ack, help, no" noises, he changed it to "Flaming Cooter Of FUN", in order to reassure me.   
Let me ask you, gentle readers, would that reassure YOU in the slightest?  

Myst told me to strip and lie on the table, which was covered with a fire proof welding blanket.   I could see a crowd starting to gather.

Master pushed my legs apart, Mystique placed flash cotton right on the spot.  I bit my finger to keep from yelling.   Or crying.

"Don't get so wet you put out my fire cotton!" Mystique warned.

"Click." went the lighter.  

"Click" again, playing with my mind.

"Click" :  then a flash of bright heat, I shrieked, and it was done.

 Some joker in the audience said "I missed it, can you do it again?"

  Gleeful sadistic chortling followed. 

"Of course I can.  There is still stubble on here".   Smack, smack, smack on my cunt:  felt sooooo good.  My back started to arch.

Master pushed my legs apart again, held them down so I couldn't snap them shut.   I was shaking my head, saying "No, no, no".

More flash cotton was set in place.  I bit down on my finger again.

This time, as Mystique lit the cotton, Master gave me the command to come, and I did, arching and moaning as the heat of the fire hit me.  

Flaming Cooter of Fun, indeed.
Did you know that welding blankets are 'Dry clean only?'