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My gaze hovers over his shredded abs, his groin, and his hardness.
It’s smooth, veiny, and has the perfect girth.
“Huh…?” I murmur again, moving my eyes to his face.
He removes small drops of hardened wax from my skin before letting more drip on.
“It’s not what I’m talking about… It’s what you’re thinking about,” he says, grabbing my butt again, his fingers touching the wet flesh between my legs.
My bottom flicks up.
“You like that. Of course you do…” he says.
And that’s why I no longer mind the pain.
He massages my butt cheek, a pretext to touch the sensitive area between my legs, and I swiftly ignore the melted wax on my skin, despite the sting, the pain, and the small punishment failing to stop me from reaping the reward of having his touch on my body.
My thighs clench when he wedges his hand between them, touching my entrance.
I roll my hips in a tease.
And he chuckles in response.
“I knew you’d like it,” he says, prompting me to look at him again.
His erection twitches, making my mouth water.
“Why do I have to be tied up?” I ask, eyeing his hard-on.
“Because you want it more that way.”
I move my eyes to his face.
Again, what are we talking about?
He nods softly while I bite my lip.
He is seemingly all riddles tonight.
Although his message is clear. It couldn’t be more precise.
We all want the things we can’t have and strive for.
The obstacles are not only obstacles, physical or otherwise. They test our decisiveness, resilience, and drive.
It’s a fact of life.
You don’t know how much you want something until you learn how much effort you’re willing to put into it and what you’re ready to sacrifice.
Grinding with purpose assigns value to a thing, while the same thing coming easier incrementally loses its value.
I set my cheek against the pillow and let him torment me without saying another word.
The pain comes with pleasure, thusly diminishing the punishment.
He moves his hand between my legs, occasionally touching my opening before dragging his hand to my lower back and farther up to sweep my hair away from my shoulders.
The dripping wax forms a trail across my shoulders, my back, and my arms. I say nothing. Not a peep. No uttering of a complaint.
