20th December 2011
It has been a while since we have played with candles and the main reason for that I think is because of the startling mess we left behind in the hotel room the last time we did it. I remember thinking at the time I am so glad we did this here and not at home because cleaning that up is going to be a bitch. You see when you drip wax onto skin it dries and eventually either flakes off or you have to peel it off and it was all these little bits of dried wax that seemed to have got absolutely everywhere.
It is funny though, sitting here writing about this, letting my thoughts dictate my finger strokes I am starting to forget about the mess and remember the experience. I was blindfolded and tied spread eagled to the bed. The room was warm and quiet and he never spoke to me. My hearing was on high alert as I listened to him moving around the room. I remember shivering in anticipation of what was to come, even though I had no idea what it was mind you, his quiet preparation told me it would be special.
The first splash of heat had me hissing through my teeth. It was the shock more than anything I think but as he moved down over my body and onto the top of my thighs he dropped the candle lower to my skin and suddenly what had been hot little pin pricks of sensation now became larger hotter more painful splashes that had me pulling on my ties and begging him to stop. Of course ‘stop’ never achieved anything, in fact I have found it is usually a passport to more.
He decorated my tummy, my breasts, my achingly erect nipples and the tops of my thighs with hot candle wax, jumping from area to area without rhythm or pattern causing me to wriggle and wince and jump beneath each and every splash of heat as I tried and failed to anticipate his next move. The fight went on and on but in the end I remember finding that calm place that comes with acceptance and then drifting off into the sensation, no longer anticipating each and every dash of heat but instead marvelling at them, waiting for them maybe even craving them.
I love that shift in my mind when he uses me as I let go of the fight and reach out for the sensation instead, absorbing them within me and drifting off into myself. It is that place I crave and I am finding as time goes on I am able to find it more often and quicker. I have also come to realise that there is a very good reason for the long waiting gaps in between the experiences he likes to expose me too. I realise now that the longer he leaves these things the more likely he is to find me at his side suggesting them and eventually even overcoming the most defiant part of my submissive nature and just plain asking for it.
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