OTHER THAN MY PEN-NAME, EVERYTHING HERE IS TRUE!
It’s Time You Learn About My Thigh Scar And My Hottest Wax-Play Session EVER!
NON-FICTION | BDSM | EROTICA | ZROTICA | BONDAGE | FORCED ORGASMS | WAX-PLAY | LGBTQ
It was my week to bottom, but I still planned all of this week’s, Friday Night BDSM Session. I wanted wax! Lots and lots of hot wax! My partner, Cathy, wasn’t a fan of dripping it. But was willing to tease and crop my helplessly bound flesh.
So I needed to be creative, and came up with what turned out to be, my hottest wax-play session ever. I ordered the two dozen light pink motive candles several weeks ago, and masturbated to the thoughts of things to come, more times than I can remember.
I headed down to our basement storage area close to an hour earlier, to get ready. We loved playing bondage games in our bedroom, chair ties in any other room, but when we were about to get messy, it was always the storage area for playtime.
We added a locking doorknob to this room, just to intensify the Slave’s sense of being even more helpless. Trust me, it works! We’ve even done chair ties in there, while whoever is topping, can really mind fuck the bottom. Like inviting friends over, that walks past that door to get drinks from the basement fridge.
You’re bound helpless, in the dark, less than a dozen feet away, as you hear them laugh, talk, and often, test the doorknob, before heading back upstairs. I swear they know something is going on in this room, but they’ve yet to ask.
Back to my wax-play prep. All the smaller motive candles have yet to be lit. I have them all lined up within reach of our bondage table. I have one extra big pink candle, that is lit and forming a large pool of melted wax, for me to use as… candle glue.
One by one, I do a smaller pour of the hot wax on the front top of my thigh, and quickly push and hold a motive candle in the fresh and hot puddle. Yes, each pour is hot as fuck, but so is the growing hotness within my pussy!
Overall, I had an approximately two out of three, success rate, meaning every third candle or so, I had to pour even more, before quickly pushing the next candle into the puddle.
By the time Cathy came down, I had all two dozen motives in place and ready to be lit. Holy Fuck! Every second of waiting was torture, but eventually she showed up, and preceded to give me very, a-matter-a-factly, commands.
“Lay down, Slave. Give me your wrists. Ankles, babe. Are we gagging you? I think we should gag you. So, you have something to bite down on when you spill the hot wax.”
In the next five minutes, I went from being able to change my mind, to being completely at her mercy. I’m about to experience a torture of my own devious design. A bondage predicament I’ve been craving for some time.
Once the straps on my ankles, wrists, and neck were locked on, and locked to the eye bolts in the table, Cathy added my favorite style of gag. A panel gag with a yummy leather insert.
Normally, she’d add straps at my knees, forearms, thighs, biceps, waist and more. But the goals for this was to allow my body to move, wiggle, struggle, and spill hot puddles of wax onto my flesh.
Cathy looked curiously at the number and placement of the candles, wax glued into place. They’re on the front of my calves, thighs, stomach, cleavage, arms, ribcage and more.
With a bit of a worried look, she asked, “All of them? Are you sure, Z?”
I nodded, yes.
“Well, okay, slave.”
Starting with the one at the top of my right thigh, she alternated left thigh, right thigh, left thigh, and right thigh. Down toward my feet, then moved onto my stomach, rib cage, cleavage, and arms. Feeling the heat and seeing the glow, was so intense, along with the smell of freshly cut peaches.
It intensified further once Cathy turned off the lights. My body is tensed up and sweating, as the first touch of Cathy’s fingers brush across my upper thigh. I jerked, and only the tiniest of splatter escaped the candle’s pool, because they just started burning a minute ago.
“Slave, once those fill up, you’re going to need much better self control, unless you want hot waves of wax attacking you. Just remember, Z. This was your plan. I’m just here to tease and crop you.”
I cannot tell you how much of a sexual experience just a lover’s voice can be, during a bondage session. A good verbal tease, torment, or mind fuck from an expert like Cathy is priceless in endless ways.
As the two-dozen candles increase the sizes of their puddles of hot wax, Cathy sets her riding crop down, with its tip, resting on my skin. Her now free hands, move to my breast and pussy,
Her right hand is rolling my nipple between her fingers of one hand, while her index finger of the other, is poking, prodding, and pushing my swollen clitoris around, as juices from my pussy drip onto the table. Enough I can feel the wetness on the backs of my thighs and ass.
With no warning, she pinches my nipple causing me to lift my left shoulder, chest and bicep up, as waves of hot and painful pleasure splash onto my flesh. These hot bites cause me to jerk again, release more splashes from other candles.
“Oops. You shouldn’t have moved, Slave.” Adding a smirk of pride to her comment.
Her fingers are now bringing me so fucking close to an orgasm. With my body bound loosely like this, will lead to waves and splashes galore! She totally knows and is looking forward to that moment.
“Remember, Z. Your idea. Any spilling of hot wax will be on you.”
Nice one. I can’t wait until next Friday for a little turn-a-bout torturing.
The battle has been going for almost ten minutes now. She is working, licking, teasing, and even giving my clit tiny bites with just her teeth! I am shuddering the smallest I can, trying to not cum, but can’t hold out much longer.
“Just give up, Z. It’s going to happen, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”
I try my hardest to let off some steam, in the form of tiny-gasms. Cathy sees my nostrils flaring, and can feel my kegel muscles trying to process my pleasure, without a full flailing of my body.
Knowing what I’m doing, she slides three fingers deep, thumbs my clit, and riding crops my tits until my body betrays my mind! Each jerk and spasm causes a wave of hot wax to free itself from its pond, and splash down on my sweat covered skin!
That hot splash intensifies my orgasm, causing another more extreme jerk and splash, and so on! I bit down on my leather insert, as this rush of pleasure pain brings me close to passing out!
The hot wax splash fest goes into overdrive, because I can’t stop myself from moving! My body is fighting against everything happening, just as much as it’s fighting to experience even more! And then, Cathy just stops…
I’m in shock, and a complete fucking wreck of helpless flesh. I thought for a moment, that it was all over, but then Cathy reminds me why, I love her more than life itself.
“You spilled it all, bitch. I’ll be back in ten, so they have time to fill back up.”
OH MY GOD!
Those ten minutes was the longest ten minutes of my life, and Cathy comes back in, relaxed, quiet, and drinking a fresh smoothie she just made for herself.
“Not full enough. I’ll be back in five.”
Oh my fucking God! She’s killing me!
I finally stopped jerking, shaking, and spasming from my after-gasms. Had she not come back when she did, I would have fallen asleep. Putting her smoothie down right next to me, making sure the cold and wet touches the side of my stomach. I didn’t flinch, but fuck did I want too!
Back to her magic fingers, bringing me right to the edge again, all the while, doing the lightest of taps with the tip of her crop, on top of my magic shell of wax. It didn’t sting, but I could always feel each and every hit.
Knowing me so well, she can tell I’m seconds from losing it, so, as always, she does the unexpected. {SMACK!} Hitting right above my pussy, the wax breaks and shatters, as my body goes into a second, even more violent flailing and flopping!
Splashes of hot wax make it onto my forehead, as more of it hits Cathy on her cheek. Staring hard into my eyes, worrying only of my pleasure pain experience, she never flinches, as the wax drips down toward her neck.
Again, she works me until I’m exhausted, before commenting, “I’ll see you in fifteen.”
You don’t need to mention, the idea of leaving a helpless lover, covered in 24 lit candles, alone and struggling, is not safe. Trust me! We never did the light and leave thing ever again. We were lucky one didn’t break loose and light our bondage table on fire, along with me.
As far as getting away, unscathed? Well, that didn’t happen. On round three, the candles were getting very short. Especially, the one on the top of my right thigh. I felt it getting hotter and hotter, even though I wasn’t spilling it.
The pain increase to the point I signaled to Cathy with my most serious and grumpy, enough already look. My eyes directed her, along with my grunts, to that candle, which she quickly blew out, along with the rest.
Even with the flame out, it continued to burn my leg. Once unbound, I yanked it off, to discover something about motive candles. There are small metal plates inside the base, used to hold the bottom of the wicks in place.
I learned the hard way, once the wick is short enough; it heats that plate, melting the wax between it and my upper thigh. Yup! I got burned. Which with cream, did get better, but still left a scar.
Not one large enough to cause faces at the beach. In fact, no one has ever found it on their own, without my guidance. I know it’s there, and Cathy knows it’s there. Until this moment, it’s been our secret.
Do I regret getting burned like that? Not for a fucking second! That night remains the hottest wax-play session I’ve ever had. On top of that, I have a subtle little reminder, that is damn near an outside g-spot when Cathy silently touches it with one finger, and gives me a half smile.
Zotes: Almost every one of my stories, have bits and pieces in them from my real life experiences. Several of them, like this one, are Non-Fiction. A description of my session as closely as I can possibly make it.
Now, you may ask: What about the more extreme things, Z? Like tortures or castration? We all understand the difference between per-meditated and accidental? Don’t we?
If you want to know if I’ve ever bound a cock and balls so fucking tight that it started to lose blood flow? Of course. Have I ever left it on so long to do permanent damage? Ask One-Nut-Charlie 😅😂🤣
Of course I haven’t! I’ve never met a guy, as far as I know, who actually wants their balls removed. They crave being in a position of absolutely zero power. Realizing someone, in a second, could take their balls, solidifying just how helpless they are. Which, believe it or not, is a form of relaxation.
“Don’t forget to Clap, Comment, and Share, and I’ll try not forgetting you’re tied up helpless, naked, and sexually frustrated in my Safe-Room.”
