“Promise me you’ll use your safewords if you need to?”
His hand forbids me from nodding, so I have to speak. “I will, Sir.”
“The candles are soy wax,” Hamish says. “They burn at a lower temperature. The wax will feel hot, but it won’t burn your skin.”
“That’s a relief.” Not that I think for a second that he’ll ever do anything to hurt me, but it’s good to hear the safety precautions he’s taking all the same.
“When you’re ready to start, take the towel off and lie on the bed on your stomach.”
“Yes, Sir.”
I take a breath, stand, remove the towel, and hang it on the back of the door. I put my glasses beside the ice bucket and then lie in the centre of the bed on my stomach. Hamish cuffs my wrists and ankles first, spreadeagling me on the bed.
“All good, Archieosaurus?”
I choke out a laugh. “Yes, I’m good, but this is going to be a lot less sexy if you keep making me laugh. Maybe drop the ridiculous pet name until after we’ve played?”
He leans down to kiss me. “What if I forbid you from laughing?”
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to help it. Sorry, Sir.”
He runs his hand over my arse, and I know what's coming. I cry out as he slaps me hard. Then he rubs the now tender skin until the sting and heat fade away.
“No pet names until after,” he agrees. “But next time don’t question me.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He blindfolds me next, securing it with a firm knot. I love this moment when my other senses start to go into overdrive as I'm shrouded in darkness. I can hear every rustle of the sheets, feel every movement Hamish makes on the bed. I can hear our calm breathing and the gentle thud of my heart. Anticipation builds up within me. Although I know the gist of what this play session will involve, I have no idea what will come first. Will it be heat or cold? What part of my body will Hamish touch first? I hold my breath, waiting.
Hot liquid droplets hit my back, right between the shoulder blades. I wince and tense, flexing my body as much as my bonds will allow me to. More drops follow the first two, creating a path of scorching heat down my spine. I moan and whimper as each drop sends a shock of pain through my skin. Heat gives way to a pleasant warmth, which then cools and hardens on my back. Hamish repeats the process, dripping wax from the top of my spine down to the small of my back. There's more wax this time, the heat more intense. My muscles ripple as I strain against the bonds, and each hot splash makes me bite out a throaty groan. My breath comes in harsh pants.
“Are you okay?” Hamish asks.
I nod but realise that isn't enough. "Yes, Sir. Green."
The next sensation I feel is bitter cold on my shoulder blades. He works two huge lumps of ice over my skin, creating patterns in a mirror image on each side of my back. I shiver and shudder, my teeth chattering as I try to grasp the change from hot to sudden cold. Before I can adjust, the ice is gone, and wax splashes over the backs of my thighs.
“Oh, fuck,” I moan as my legs spasm and slap against the bed. “Green,” I add just in case he thinks I’m in distress.
The heat is painful, but the residual warmth is soothing. I'm caught in a cycle of pain and pleasure as more hot drips rain down on me. My cock is hard, and each tremble or rock of my body rubs it against the mattress, arousing me even more.
The ice comes again, this time on my arms, and I’m back to shivering. The cold has just as fierce a bite as the heat, perhaps more so, because it lasts far longer as he massages the cubes over my skin.
My nerves go haywire as he switches back to the wax, dripping it on the coldest parts of my skin. The temperature shock is even more pronounced, and I arch my back and neck and let out a cry.
“Fuck!” I’m panting again, and my cock is so fucking hard. My eyes are watering, and I’m not sure how much I can take, but I don’t want him to stop. “Green. Oh, fuck, Hamish, this feels so good.”
He chuckles, and then a new sensation hits me—hot and cold at the same time. Ice glides over my arse cheek while wax drips onto my shoulders.
“Oh, fucking hell,” I moan.
I flop like a seal on the bed as I try to arch my body closer to these delicious and conflicting sensations. The set wax on my back, arms, and legs is tight over my skin. Each time I move, it cracks softly.
“Do you like that?” Hamish asks.
“Yes, Sir, so fucking much.”
“That’s good,” he croons. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”
