Nipple

"You’re smiling.” Daddy said before reaching out and grabbing both my nipples, “You enjoying yourself are you?” He asked twisting my piercings in opposite directions.

Unthinkingly I screamed a yes, his twisting stopped for a moment before giving me a rough shove pushing me onto my back, “Stay.” He commanded before leaving the room.

He wasn’t gone long but when he came back my heart skipped a beat, my father held in his hand a small paring knife as he approached me, “Don’t flinch, I don’t want to stab your tit.” He said, then smiled, “Yet.” He added.

I felt the rush of genuine fear at his words but did as he bid and lay still on my back, my bruised and battered tits on display. He took the pairing knife and knelt over my belly, his cock ridged and dripping reached my lips as his balls sat on my belly button.

I didn’t dare move as he very slowly lowered the knife in one hand to poke my nipple with the tip, I felt like I was going to start, to jump at the sensation but managed to hold back. The knife was not pressed hard enough to cut, or pierce, but it was causing a depression in my firm nipple.

Dad then showed me his other hand, in it there was a small bright red vegetable, it took me a moment to process what it was and just as recognition of the chilli pepper crossed my eyes he flicked the knife to the side.

The light motion across my nipple stung and I moved to sit up, but a growl from Daddy stopped me. Instead I looked down at my nipple. There was a line of red, as thick as a playing card across my nipple.

Casually Dad snapped the chilli in one hand and then slowly, so slowly lowered it towards my nipple. As he did so he put the knife down. I watched as the chilli came closer to me, my heart racing, I knew the sting of chilli in a cut so I knew what I was in for, it was the wait which made it difficult.

Without saying a word he lowered the chilli, slowly, very slowly, the fine amount of blood pooled on my nipple as he continued to lower the chilli. The whole time I could do nothing but watch. The chilli had no further to go then a foot, and yet it seemed to take forever, the nearer the chilli got, the slower it moved. I didn’t know if that was my imagination or some new **** my father had concocted but it happened.

Nearer it came, ever nearer until it was only half an inch from my firm nipple, the blood perched upon the tip. Gently, like a feather gracing the skin he put the broken half of the chilli to my nipple and turned it, then he pushed further, grinding it into my cut nipple.