Candle in the Wind

This is probably the longest I’ve gone without an orgasm since a year ago February. I know it’s a self-induced penance for my stubbornness combined with my mouth getting me into trouble and pissing him off as I seldom had. However, as I pull myself out of the bath and go lie down on the bed to cool down, I want nothing more than to come. I clench my fists, willing them to stay at my side. I can’t help it. I gently let my fingertips glide over my flesh, flushed from the bath. What am I doing? Sure, he hasn’t said that I may not come, I have made that decision myself. Until he feels he wants to touch me again, I will not let myself come. I lie back and close my eyes. I try to will my desire away. I focus on my breathing. Slowly in, slowly out. I need to shut down my brain because all it’s doing is shouting at me now! now! NOW! I try again. Slow my breathing, slowly my heart rate, focus on his displeasure with you. The desire drains away. I lie there, spread eagle, on offering for whenever he chooses to accept it.

A sound wakes me. I open my eyes, but I see nothing. I panic for a brief moment until I hit on the realisation that there is something covering my eyes rather than my eyesight failing me. A small sound to my left and the light smell of sulphur. I strain my ears to pick up any clues, any ideas as to what is happening around me. Then I hear it, ever so slight, the step of a foot, followed by another step. Approaching. Definitely approaching. I go as if to turn towards the sound and it is only then, as I take full stock of my body, that I realise I am now actually tied, spread eagle to the bed. I am helpless to whatever may come.

I wait. Senses on edge Waiting. Not sure where this is going. Then it hits my flesh and I suck in my breath as the unmistakable light burn of hot wax lands just above my navel. I still and wait. Will it be just that one, and then he will leave me here, or is there more to come. I wait in limbo, listening for any sound, any clue as to what might happen next when the next drip lands, just above the other, and another above that one. Part of me wants to jerk away from the drops, but a bigger part of me wants to arch my back to get closer to the heat, to feel that burn that is both pleasure and pain in one little minuscule drop.

Then it begins, in a steady pace, drip, drip, drip, making a trail of hot wax that leads from my navel to the valley between my breasts. As he reaches the apex, I wonder what will come next. I bite my bottom lip, hungry with anticipation, and then I feel it. Not a single drip, but a steady stream of hot wax, tracing in a circle just above the base of my left breast. No. That wasn’t it. Not a circle, a spiral, winding its way around my breast and then going around again. I thrash, and moan and my breathing comes fast and heavy. ‘Yes, yes,’ I beg, I whimper, but not for him to stop, I want more. I want to take whatever he wishes to dish out to me. As the spiral winds upwards, I have no doubt what will be coming soon and just as my mind makes the connection, the stream stops. Then, I wait. ‘Please, sir, please.’ I wish he could see my eyes, see the apology written there as well as my need. Not just for the sweet little kisses of pain, but for him to want me. Drip. I moan louder. Drip. A quick exhale from between my lips, each drop working together to completely cover my very hard, very excited nipple. Then, nothing. I listen. I wait.

Footsteps. He’s moving. Is he leaving? Leaving me here? Tied down? In need? As my mind urges me to call out, to scream at him not to leave me, I know it’s not the right thing to do. That’s not he wants of me. He wants my obedience. I bite my lower lip harder. I can feel the water in my eyes starting to pool. It’s fear of him deciding he doesn’t want me, buried deep in my heart, that fear. The fear that it isn’t me. That I’m not enough.

As my fear starts to spiral in the darkness, the next drop hits. My body is torn between an exhale of relief and an inhale of pain. A strangled sort of hiccup sound comes out of my mouth. With the next drop, my fears clear, everything tunnels in my mind into the one thought. Taking this pleasure, accepting this pain. Each drip seems to fall precisely between the previous drips, creating another trail from navel to the cleft between my breasts, but this time, when the steady stream of hot wax comes, it spirals up and around my right breast, culminating in the single small drops that eventually covers my right nipple. For the first time that night, I hear his voice. ‘Blow.’ I purse my lips and blow as if there is a birthday cake in front of me. As I hear the flame flicker, a drop of hot wax lands on my chin. Either he has taken the candle away or else I was successful in managing to blow out the candle. I lie there, trying to figure out what will come next, but what I cannot deny is the arousal that was already on a slow simmer before I awoke is now rising in temperature with each and every drop.

Again, that strange sound and the smell of sulphur. I place it now. The striking of a match and then, I guess, the lighting of yet another candle. I furrow my brow, confused, uncertain. What now? What next? I’m utterly perplexed when the next drip lands on the top of my foot, I can’t help it, a small yelp escapes before I can smother it. Never before had we put hot wax on my feet. It was unexpected, painful, but good, still good. I brace myself for the next drop and when it comes, just up from the last, the pain seems even worse, and I manage to piece together a coherent thought. When you tense, it’s worse. I coach my body, begging it to relax. He’s going much slower now, methodical. Each drip lands almost on top of the previous one. My body starts thrashing, I’m moaning, but I can’t make out what I’m saying. Begging for mercy or begging for more, I just don’t know, but there’s a steady stream of pleading flowing out of my mouth while at the same time my hips were thrusting upward, hungry, needy, desperate to be filled, used, satiated.

The wax continues its patient, little march up my foot, then my leg, up my thighs and then the drips bend turning in towards - No! Oh good Lord no! Not! Not! Oh fuck no! Please sir, please, no. I can’t get the whine out of my voice, the cracking that comes along with it as each and every drop gets closer and closer. I thrash, knowing how stupid that is but at this point the pleasure from the pain is too much. I can’t stay still. One wrong twist, though, and I’ll be the one to pay.

Then, it stops. My mind is flailing. My body, jerks and arches up. I pull with all my strength against the bonds that hold me. I must touch myself. I must come or else I’m going to explode. Still, nothing happens. Nothing comes next. I tell my mind to calm. As I feel my frenzy start to settle, I feel it. Drip. Onto my right foot. Drip. Just above that one. The endless march up my leg begins on the other side. By the time the wax hits my knee, I’m no longer coherent, I can hold no thought in my head. I kick and pull and thrash and thrust, I writhe on the bed but I’m not trying to get away, I’m trying to get closer. I want the drips to come faster to assuage this desire that is burning through me and on me. As the trail bends in towards my cunt again. I am swearing and begging and promising anything and everything I can think of just please let me come. Again, it stops. It doesn’t matter, I’m too desperate now, too inflamed. I only feel the need, the want, the desperation.

Two fingers slam into my cunt without any warning. I scream as I try to clamp down and hold those fingers there. For the second time that night, I hear his voice. ‘Wet’. My clenching is to no avail. His fingers slide out of me. I feel the emptiness inside me. I scream in frustration. I am in no fit state as I thrash and grind and grunt in need. I feel his hand again, pulling my cunt lips apart, the cool air brushing against my exposed clit. At the same time, he pushes downward with that hand, pinning me to the mattress, far stronger than me. My head flies back and forth against the pillow. As that single solitary drip of searing hot wax lands on my clit, I scream as my orgasm rushing over me, throwing my body skyward as my shoulders dug into the mattress beneath me. Another drip and a whole new wave washes over me. With the next drip, my scream returns, louder, stronger but it’s pure pleasure this time as I come again and again. I lose track of my mind and I fly.