The two heat sources met, and she groaned her pleasure as she felt the creeping fingers of the chrysanthemum heat run down either side of her sex.
She was already warm and slick and swollen, but she grew impossibly more so. Color streamed into her sex as her heart worked maniacally to send more blood there.
Another moan escaped her lips. It was all she could do to release the pressure building within her, the powerful, near-violent lust that was pooling inside.
He began to knead her flesh like he had done so before, only this time on her stomach and her lower abdomen. She shuddered and shivered as his hands stopped just shy of her mound, as they traversed just shy of the pit of soft and silken flesh in between her leg and her heated, longing sex.
She knew she was being teased, her physical senses manipulated, and goose bumps erupted on her body as if to cry out ‘touch me!’
His hands moved to the jutting bones of her hips, and his fingers lightly trace down her inner thighs, tracking the warm oil in their wake, and she was reminded of the wake left by a jet ski in the sea. She moaned and hummed at him, giggling slightly, just waiting for the moment that he would make contact with her pulsing, hungry sex.
She could feel his fingers down by her knees, tracing down the insides of her thighs, all the way to the arches of her feet. She laughed as his finger followed the curve, and wanted to move her foot away in ticklish recoil, but couldn’t because of the binds.
She leaned forward, her stomach crunching, and bucked her hips upward. It was an invitation into her warm and wet heaven, and she wiggled her hips at him, begging him inside.
His spare hand went and hovered over a candle, and he began to warm it. She felt his warm touch cupping her magnificently, and she moaned out her pleasure. Slowly his finger ringed her anus, its delicious warmth spreading upward through her sex. He brought his finger up one side of her outer lips, before gently circling her clit.
And she squirmed in heavenly delight.
She felt him draw figure eights, around her clit, across her folds, around her anus. Her breathing was quickening, and her heart rate was speeding up. She rocked her pelvis slightly on his fingers, relishing pressing herself against his light and teasing touch.
He continued to draw the eights over her pulsing pearl and puckered button, and ever so rhythmically, and ever so methodically, and she could feel within her a pressure building, a kind of need.
Then slowly, excruciatingly slowly, he lifted his fingers off her.
“Do you want to come, girl?” he asked her, and she could see him taking in the sight of her body squirming having lost its source of stimulation.
“Yes!” she hissed hoarsely.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, please. Yes, please!”
“You can only come, my dear,” he said, and a grin spread on his face. “When I give you permission.”
“Okay, okay,” she panted.
“And tonight you will call me Master.”
“Yes, Master,” she breathed.
“Do you want me to touch you again, girl?”
“Yes, Master, yes!”
The return of his fingers to her clit was electric and somehow relieving, and she jolted in bliss as he began to draw the figure eights over her sex again. With his other hand, she watched him retrieve the warming pan of wax and bring it over to her.
His fingers left her again and she moaned her disapproval. He plucked the thermometer from the pan and looked intently at it.
“Perfect,” he announced, before his eyes met hers. “Now we just need this,” he said softly to himself, before pulling out a small paintbrush from his trouser pocket. He grinned at her, and she hummed back at him, her mind flirting briefly with the fear of the hot sting that was soon to come.
She watched as he dipped the paintbrush into the pan. He was slow, methodical, like how he touched her. He treated the paintbrush with as much care, with as delicate fingers, as he treated her.
She awaited his next move, smiling at him.
“Clarissa,” he said quietly, calling her name. She looked at him and there was something different in his eyes. She watched as he turned over the brush in the hot wax, end on end on end.
“Yes, Master,” she whispered.
“I have to tell you something. It’s sort of a surprise.”
“What is it, Master?”
“In fact,” he says, lifting up the paintbrush and dribbling a tiny stream of wax over her wrists. She writhed beneath its sting, but did not sound out the pain. “In fact,” he repeated, “I think I’ll show you.”
“Show me, Master?”
“Any minute now, Clarissa.”
She waited, wondering what was to come. A knock at the door was heard, and she gasped at him, eyes wide.
“Come in, please,” he called out.
“Master?” she asked, wondering who was there. She was exposed, naked, oiled.
She was hot and wet and wanting.
The door opened but she could not see who was there. A faint smell of perfume reached her nostrils, a subtle scent. She heard the sounds of heels on the floor. The woman was walking into the room.
Clarissa gasped as the woman came into view. She was a rare beauty, the mixture of a boyish face, angular cheeks, thick lips and short black hair that so often did not mesh well. The woman was perhaps of mixed heritage, and Clarissa found herself wondering who this was.
The woman’s eyes were cast down toward the floor, and Clarissa recognized her obedience immediately. Her obedience to him
.
He was the Master of two tonight.
“I can’t see you yet,” he said, and immediately the woman began to undress with careful and quick efficiency. Each piece of clothing she removed, she neatly folded and placed atop the counter. As the woman’s thin body came into view, Clarissa could not help but admire her. Her breasts, though small, were perky and clung to her chest. Her stomach was flat and the faint hint of muscle could be seen. Her hips were wide and her legs thin and long, and though the woman was not especially tall, her naked appearance gave off that impression.
Her skin was of a strange shade, not quite pale, not quite tanned. Her nipples were extremely dark, and they were large and flat-topped, like pencil erasers. Clarissa watched as the woman removed the last piece of her clothing, a small pair of black panties, and she folded the underwear and placed it on top of the pile of her clothes. Her sex was tightly groomed, and the hair there was jet black.
The woman then put her hands behind her back and clasped them, and stood with her thighs spread slightly apart.
Her eyes were still cast down toward the floor.
He set the pan of wax back down on the warmer, and Clarissa watched as he took the new woman’s hand and walked her around Clarissa’s bound and naked body.
“Admire her,” he commanded, and the woman looked up, her eyes roaming the exposed body before her.
“You’ve been instructed, correct?”
“Yes, Master,” the woman said, and Clarissa heard a strange kind of melody in the woman’s voice.
“So please begin.”
“Yes, Master,” the woman said, and slowly she climbed up onto the counter where Clarissa was bound. Clarissa felt the press of the woman’s cooler skin against her own, oil-slicked heated skin, and she exhaled a soft sigh.
The woman placed her arms beneath Clarissa’s head and lifted her up into a deep and passionate kiss. Clarissa returned the kiss, nibbling on the woman’s thick lower lip, smelling the woman’s breath, slightly sweet as if she had just been eating chocolate.
The woman broke the kiss and began to drag her lips down Clarissa’s glistening body, kissing down her neck, over her collarbone, down toward her breasts where she took one of Clarissa’s nipples into her mouth and sucked on it lightly.
Clarissa could feel herself beginning to melt, like the wax had done so in the pan. The woman’s touch was stimulating, and the woman was obviously practiced. Clarissa moaned as the woman’s teeth closed in lightly on her stiff nipple, and she bucked her hips slightly, as if to give direction.
The woman recognized the invitation, and Clarissa gasped as she moved quickly down her naked body, until she was completely off the counter and positioned just inches from her heated sex.
“Sit on this,” he commanded, and he brought a cushioned stool over to the end of the counter.
“Yes, Master,” the woman whispered, and she took her position in between Clarissa’s legs, and instantly was upon her with an array of gentle kisses, licks, sucks.
Clarissa moaned ass he felt her bud manipulated by the woman’s deft tongue, the warm wet and powerful muscle moving firmly up one side of her clitoris and down the other. She felt the woman’s tongue work inside her, drag up her slick sex.
She moaned deeply, her body already on the edge, so very near. She felt the woman’s fingers find their way inside her, and she was lost in the flow of it all, being taken downstream to the inevitable pool of pleasure into which she would plunge.
Suddenly a swath of hot pain was slashed across her left breast, and she cried out and opened her eyes to see her Master wielding the paintbrush. He cut another swath of heated pleasure across her right breast, and she squirmed in delight.
The third swath was laid on both her nipples, and she yelped at the heat and she moaned as it cooled. Hot to warm. Sting to soothe.
The woman continued to work relentlessly between her legs.
Hot wax. Hot tongue. Stinging and soothing and pleasure and teasing. The tongue circling her clit. The paintbrush circling her nipples. The fingers moving in and out of her, quicker and quicker, harder and harder.
Her mind whirled and her eyes rolled back and she could see the end in sight. She was nearly there…
Clarissa exploded with an enormous orgasm, and the sound of her pleasure filled the tiny room. Ecstasy convulsed through her body in wave after wave, and she pulled hard on the ropes, and he slathered her in hot wax once more. The tongue didn’t stop. The fingers didn’t stop. The paintbrush didn’t stop. The heat didn’t stop.
Clarissa screamed out again as a second climax shook her violently. Her whole body convulsed and spasmed at once. She pulled at the binds that held her wrists until they hurt.
She felt another gush of heat as he poured the remaining wax on her, and her breasts and nipples and stomach and armpits were bathed in a ferocious heat. The fingers drove her through her second orgasm until it began to ebb, and slowly they retreated, and slowly the tongue stopped, and slowly the wax cooled.
And Clarissa was a panting, heaving wreck on the counter, and her lips spread into a grin, and she hummed at him, telling him of her pleasure with a single sound, of the deep, intense and organic climax that had rippled through her every nerve ending.
“Okay,” he said to the girl, and she nodded and moved the stool to the corner of the room and sat on it. Clarissa watched as he removed his clothes, and she saw that the woman was watching too, her lips opened slightly and her breathing quick and shallow.
He removed his clothes slowly, steadily, and his muscled body came into view, the harsh shadows created by the flickering flames of the candles strewn across the room highlighting his toned and hard body.
His manhood was hard with desire, standing large and erect.
Clarissa watched through heavy-lidded eyes as he came toward her and untied her wrists, as he lifted her carefully, pressing his cool skin against her hot skin, feeling the wax and oil lubricate their bodies. He kissed her deeply and passionately, and she let him take her mouth and explore it.
She knew that he was waiting just a little longer, knowing that she’d still be sensitive. She returned the kiss teasingly, occasionally sucking on his tongue or biting on his lip.
They kissed for minutes, and she could feel herself readying again. Being held in his powerful arms, the gentle firmness with which he impressed himself upon her.
He was telling her of his desire for her through physical touch, an ancient language.
She knew that he could sense her readiness, but she moaned softly into his mouth, a gentle nudge. He responded immediately, and she felt him slip into her effortlessly, and she moaned at she felt his thickness fill her, as she felt her sensitive sex ignite.
She heard him groan softly, and knew that her tightness, her heat was playing on him. He had been watching for so long. She knew that it wouldn’t be long.
Slowly he began to make love to her, and her moans of pleasure became more intense, more urgent. His hands ran up and down her back, holding her body, pulling her tightly onto him, embracing her as if to claim her, as if to say she was his and only his.
She was lost the flow again, quickly, and their bodies pressed against each other and she knew from his breathing that he was in bliss.
His thrusting became more forceful, more urgent, and he pushed into her deeper and deeper as his groans began to quicken and become louder. She moaned for him, knowing that her body could not possibly climax one more time so quickly, but replete in that knowledge, satisfied.
It was his turn now.
He groaned loudly as he thrust into her deeply and powerfully in slow succession, once, twice, three times more before his eyes twitched shut. She felt his manhood flex inside her, and his groan of ecstasy filled the tiny room, and he ejaculated his hot and sticky seed inside her.
He slowed down, breathing heavily, and once again took her mouth for a kiss. She kissed him back, feeling herself clenching around his manhood.
She was spent. So was he. She only vaguely noticed the woman in the corner, face bunched up in pleasure and hands running circles around her glistening sex. She only vaguely heard the woman’s near silent orgasm, the convulsing shiver of her body, the shut eyes and pared mouth and breath expelled all at once.
She was only vaguely aware of the woman as she got dressed and left the room and clicked the door shut silently behind her.
She felt him growing smaller inside her, and he slipped out of her. He untied her binds and lifted her into his arms effortlessly, and carried her out of his dungeon, up the steps, and into the bathroom. She watched him from below as he moved with purpose, as he smiled down at her, as he laid her gently into the tub and began to fill it with warm water.