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I removed the Wartenberg wheel, returning it to the tray with a soft clang of metal on metal. I turned from him, my hand staying in contact with his skin for as long as possible, but I needed both hands for this next part.
I took the green candle, my favorite by far with its brilliant deep forest color, and lit the wick carefully. I let it burn for a few seconds, the wax pooling at the core for a moment. Holding the candle up a few inches, I tipped it over slowly, letting the pooled wax drip carefully onto the inside of my forearm, testing the temperature and splash radius. I knew these candles well, but never would I use such things on a submissive without checking it first, just in case.
“Time to test those words in truth, pet,” I whispered to him. His eyes nearly glazed over as he saw the candle. His body prepared, stretching out further and finding a comfort in the table below him as he grounded himself for the intense play. He was well-versed, just as he said he was.
I let the wax pool inside the candle a while longer before I began my work. I had laser focus as I poured the wax slowly, dripping it in small droplets across his torso.
He gasped. And then the most sensual groan rumbled from his lips as his body relaxed into the heated pain. He nearly melted into the table below him as I dripped and poured along the muscular ridges of his body.
He was the canvas, and I was the artist. But what a fucking beautiful canvas.
I lit another color, and another, letting them burn on the table beside me as I began to make patterns of colored, melted wax against his skin.
Little drips that hardened almost immediately.
Longer pours that pooled onto his skin in thick circular patterns.
Over his chest and down his abdomen.
Across his thighs and up the insides of his arms.
I decorated him, painting him with all the intent and passion of a master artist. For that’s what I was in that moment.
As I switched from dark green to black to a deep charcoal gray, and then to a deep wine-hued burgundy, he became my masterpiece. The wax dripping and layering into the most beautiful mural since the Sistine Chapel itself.
He groaned and shifted under the painful drips and pooling puddles, his cock twitching, leaking, and begging to be touched all the while. As I moved the candle over his body a few inches above his skin, my hand wrapped around his length. With teasing light strokes, I fanned the flame of his arousal, his slick pre-cum coating over him and easing my way.
He gasped lightly, groaning as his eyes found mine. I refused to turn away from his heated gaze.
“Please,” he barely whispered, his voice ragged and hoarse as he trembled beneath my touch and my torture. I could feel my own arousal dripping through the lace of my panties and beginning to coat my inner thighs with desire. I had never been this aroused by a submissive before — and that was saying something.
I felt him pulse in my hand, his breathing growing rapid and ragged as he neared climax. But I wasn’t about to allow that. That was not on tonight’s agenda. No, now more than ever, I wanted him on edge, needy for more.
“Please. Please, Lady Luxe. Please!” He began to beg, pleading with his eyes, his words, and his fucking body for that blessed release he so obviously craved. I smirked wickedly, removing my hand from his cock slowly, teasingly, and setting the candle aside.
I leaned over him, a breath away from his face. Kissing was a hard limit for me in scenes and in my dynamics — save forehead kisses. But I let my breath fan over his face as I spoke.
“No.”
I reached for the knife on the tray, its sharp blade glinting under the soft overhead lights as I brought it to his skin. With unerring control, I began to peel the hardened wax from his body. Letting my other hand trail light touches along his over-sensitized skin. Bit by bit, the wax fell to the ground to be swept up later.
His body trembled and shook beneath my careful, precise touches, the blade never piercing his skin as I took great care in my work.
When all the wax was removed, I set the blade down, running my hands along his skin to find any spots I had potentially missed, feeling the waxy residue still coating his skin like a thin film to be washed off later.
I saw him relax, his grip on the massage table loosen, thinking the scene was over. I grabbed a few pieces of half melted ice from the cup, holding them over his body as the icy liquid splashed and dripped over his skin.
“Lady Luxe.” His tortured groan shot straight to my already aching pussy as he struggled to remain still. His eyes were glazed over, his submission deep and pure. I ran the ice along his body, holding him on the edge of sensitivity and torture for just a while longer. I wasn’t ready for this to end. Not yet.
Finally, the ice melted, and the scene concluded. I grabbed the bathrobe he had given me from my bag.
“Up you go, pet,” I said, guiding him to a sitting position. He looked dazed and slightly shaken as he allowed me to wrap the robe around his body. I walked around the table, tying the robe together and offering him my hand as he slid off of the table to the floor.
With a look towards Erin, I guided Septus away from the main event space and back towards the aftercare room. I had arranged for her to handle cleanup for me so that I could attend to my submissive in aftercare.
Aftercare we both desperately needed.
CHAPTER8
