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“Red means you’ll stop?”
He nods. “The play will end. Immediately.”
“So, I call red if I’m hurt?”
“No,” he speaks over me. “That would be when you would use your safe word, Sasha. Red means you’ve had enough, it’s become too much, and you’re physically and mentally incapable of going any further. It does not imply that you are hurt.”
“Red is end game.”
“That’s right.”
Gazing deeply in his eyes, I search for something. Anything.
Although, there’s nothing.
He’s in his zone, incapable of emotions. And here I am,feeling, begging for mercy, wanting nothing more than to be untied and dismissed from his playroom. There’s no escaping him. I cannot give in to the horror he’s unleashed upon me.
I will not back down.
I need to do this.
The blindfold is secured around my head, cutting out the light. I’m as helpless as one could be.
“Are you ready, Sasha?”
A rush of adrenaline pumps through my system.
“Yes, Sir.”
There’s a hot sensation beside my belly button, and it subsides so quickly I don’t even have time to react. Then, there’s another, much sooner than I had anticipated. Instinctively arching my back, I tug on the ropes, stunned by the feeling. This is so unfamiliar, erotic.
With each drip of wax, all seeming to connect in a path, I’m overtaken by waves of euphoria. The purest rush of bliss. Traveling from my belly, to my ribs, the beautiful torment continues.
I am infatuated.
“Green,” I purr, squirming.
“How does it feel?”
“Incredible.”
“Do you want more?”
Whimpering, I take my bottom lip between my teeth. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
The wax trickles along my chest, torturously making its way to my breasts. My body is trembling, and my thighs are wet. I am more aroused than I ever thought possible. Hissing, from just the right amount of discomfort, my arms stir above me.
My endorphins are released, consuming every fiber of my being, and I am enthralled. The excitement of not knowing what to expect next has me begging for much, much more.
Suddenly, something sharp presses against my skin, and trails along my ribs.
The knife.
The warmth of the candle wax returns, and my muscles relax. It’s soothing, yet exhilarating, as it lightly travels in circles around my breasts. The second the wax falls onto my puckered nipple, hardening around it, I cry out to him.
There’s a hot drip against my inner thigh, and every nerve is on edge, spiraling out of control. My clit is swollen, and my pussy is throbbing, pleading for more of his delicious attack.
