You thought I was kidding when I told you I wanted to tie you to my bedposts. You playfully agreed to wear a ballgag, assuming a girl like me wouldn’t really have something like that, especially not waiting in the nightstand. That’s why I made sure the tethers were in place before I brought out the ballgag and secured it in your surprised mouth. You didn’t realize my tethers came in a set of four and weren’t quite expecting to look as though you were about to be drawn and quartered on my bed. There’s apprehension in your eyes and I think I like it.
“Are you sure you don’t want a safe word?” I ask, smirking, and you nod in response. “At least say ‘stop’ once so I know what it sounds like with that in your mouth.” You shake your head, no. “Fine, not my fault if you are left with permanent damage then,” and the conversation for the night is ended.
I stand up and turn the lights out, knowing that my eyes will adjust to the darkness much better than yours. It helps that I made sure you weren’t wearing your glasses or contacts. I also have the advantage that this is my room. I know exactly where I left the candles and the matches. I pretend to fumble in the nightstand looking for them and hear you gasp as the feather I have in my hand brushes lightly against the inside of your thigh. I place the feather down, out of your sight before striking a match and lighting the cylindrical, black candle in my hand. I leave it burning on the nightstand and pick up the massage oil next to it.
The scent of peach fills the air as I pour a small pool of the oil into my palm and then rub my hands together before smearing them over your chest. You keep your eyes on me, just watching. I straddle your waist, hold the bottle of massage oil above me and squeeze… the oil squirts onto me in a clear stream just below my collarbone and drips down my breasts. Even with the red rubber ball in your mouth, the corners of your lips creep up, betraying a smile, as I rub the oil in my own skin. I’ve purposely used too much oil and my skin shimmers in the candlelight. I lean past you for the candle and let my tits dangle, gleaming just above your face.
As I sit up straight again, I run one hand down your chest to see if your skin has absorbed all the oil, and smile as I feel you, slick beneath my palm. I hold the candle in my other hand, lift my hand from your chest to dip my fingertips in the melted wax, and lightly caress your face while the wax is still warm. You close your eyes as I touch your face.
So peaceful, so content, so still… hot wax drips onto your right nipple and your eyes snap open as you emit a muffled, involuntary cry. I drip hot wax on your left nipple while you watch. You flinch a little, but remain quiet this time. I grin, but say nothing as I pour the remaining melted wax on your sternum. Some of it runs down you, forming warm estuaries that stop short of the sheets, just barely. I drag a finger lazily through the wax that hasn’t solidified quite yet…
~Asherah
posted @ 5:44 AM
