Sir poured a few drops more near each other. I suppressed the pain in the same way, by wincing, biting, shutting my eyes tight—trying to disconnect. There was nothing else I could do. He promised if I behaved I’d get to go outside and meet the other girls.I—Oh, fuck, that hurts. That hurts. It’s too hot, too… hot. Fuck. I can’t. No, I have to. I want to go outside. I want to go outside.
The drops became bigger, covering more of my skin, taking longer to cool down and trailing down my back, sometimes to my butt crack. I arched my back the most I could while wincing. Short gasps escaped me, but I had to take it. My chest heaved, dreading every single drop. A layer of sweat covered my body because of the fear but also from the heat.It will be over soon. Just a few minutes.
I was terrified of it getting hotter and blistering my skin. It became more than just drops here and there, he poured, and it slid over my waist and shoulders, then formed like icicles do. He scraped them off as soon as they solidified and poured again over the skin that was already mildly burned, sensitized.
I couldn’t help the hiss that escaped me. Sir pushed something into the wet liquid until it solidified, molding to the object. Wanting to see what he was doing, I looked in the mirror. A long, white candle was perched on my back. He repeated the action, switching between long and short, thick candlesticks, until my back imitated an altar. Sometimes, he’d use so much force the candles broke. He poured more wax between all of them, burying the bottoms so they would stay in place.
There was a click and then another, and when I dared to peek at the mirror again, I saw he was lighting them. If I breathed too fast or thought of moving, I’d possibly set myself on fire.
A large metal can scraped the concrete floor as he pushed it under me. Some of the wax spilled out of the can and whitened spots on the floor. “Dip your breast in it, Little One.”
I hesitated, then remembered his promise.
“Don’t move,” he commanded when my face contorted, my body trembled at the heat, and a whimper left me. Air burst from my mouth in puffs while I curled my toes, scraped my fingertips over the floor, and bit my lip. I couldn’t help but look at the mirror. The candles were the only source of light in the room. Because of my trembling, the flames moved.
The image of me was an unbelievable work of art, but I couldn’t take it. “Sir?—”
“Shhhh…. Remember what I said. Be a good slave.”
I hung my head, staring at the crevices and tiny holes on the floor.
My lower lip, which was now swollen and broken from how much I’d already bitten it, trembled at the burning of my breast.
The heat spread through my body. Fat drops of sweat fell from my forehead. I was about to tell him it was too hot, but he crawled under me and took my other breast in his mouth, sucking on my nipple and biting it until I gasped, and my groan shrank into a desperate whimper. “Yes… Yes… Please…” I cried while my pussy ached for him to plunder. The more he sucked and bit, the more I arched up my back so he could continue for as long as possible. It was the only pleasure I was getting from all of this.
The thought of him leaving me in such a state almost pushed me into a sobbing. My pussy couldn’t help but throb and drip. I wanted him; I needed his dick inside me, to complete me. The insufferable heat and aching at my pussy forced me to pant like the whore I was—for him.
“Lift yourself.” The wax solidified over my breast and dripped from the very tip of my nipple. “Again,” he commanded after scooting out from underneath me and placing the same can under the breast he’d been pleasuring. My groaning at the searing heat was too loud.
Sir crawled back under, and a high-pitched squeal with panting rolled out of me. With my eyes closed, trying to focus on being a good slave for him, I bit my tongue, then my upper lip, and my brow quivered. His hot mouth devoured my clit. The relief was heaven but quickly turned into a hell of aching for more. How was I supposed to stay still with him eating me like this? My eyes rolled back and fluttered closed.
“Oh… Sir…” I panted like a thirsty bitch, and a long loud groan slipped out of me. “Please.” The plea was extremely high-pitched. “Please don’t stop.” In trying not to move to avoid the candles spilling more wax or avoid them falling, I tensed until all my holes were puckered and I was constantly trembling.
With each additional flicking and sucking of my clit, I couldn’t control it, my hips moved an inch so he would take more of me in his mouth. The wax splattered and ran down my crack, burning my inner cheeks, quickly forcing me to readjust back to the previous angle.
“Haaaa… Haaaaaa—Fuck! Issss…” I hissed at the sensations. It was torture; in this position, the stimulation to my pussy was just a tease. I wanted more. It was a difficult lesson in discipline and control, and I was failing.
An almost inaudible moan came out of me every time his lips sucked the bottom of my clit, then pulled hard all the way to the tip. I fisted my hands at only having that thing in my ass, needing his cock in me.
A chill traveled across my body when he suddenly stopped. The ache was killing me. “Mmm, mmm, mmmm,” I whimpered like a starved whore begging for more. The high pitch accentuated how devastated I was to be left so close to euphoria. I calmed my breathing and stayed put like a good slave, like the whore I was, oh-so hungry for cock.
“Lift yourself.” Once again, he removed the can. The wax trailed down my nipple and dripped down to the floor, some of it frozen mid-drip.
He took the can, then left.
With all the effort I had invested into not moving, my knees hurt. I slowly readjusted, opening my legs more so a different part of my knee would have to sustain me. There were no clocks in the room, so I had no idea how long it took for everything to start hurting. Sometimes, I didn’t have a choice and had tomove, and wax meeting untouched skin was the punishment for it.
I started counting, to distract myself and try to figure out how much time had passed.
One … two … three …
By the time the door opened, I’d counted to 3,727. I sighed in relief at the scent of his aftershave. It was obvious he’d had time to shower and shave and even cut his hair. With how my body hurt and shook, needing a break, I couldn’t think how much time my count translated into. Wax dotted the floor around me. Strands of my hair were stuck to my sweaty cheek. Some of the candles had burned fast, and the flame was getting closer to my skin. From the corner of my eye, I watched his white shirt hit the floor, followed by his belt, pants, and underwear.
Sir crawled under me again and pulled me toward him, so I had to incline my back a little. My pussy was practically hitting his nose. I resisted him, but with the slight move, all the liquid wax trailed down to my ass crack. I puckered up as hard as I could, hoping it wouldn’t get inside.
“Mmmmm!” I moaned when the heat accumulated and solidified right there.Then I arched at the burning, gasped, and my scream broke the silence, then echoed into the high ceiling.
Sir removed wax from my clit. Then like a savage, as if he’d been starving for it himself, he sucked and licked at it—hard, fast, aggressive—while groaning and gripping me so hard I was also bearing his weight.
