I sit on the side of the bed and rub your cunt gently with my hand as I pick up the ostrich feather. I start running it over your face and neck, then down over your breasts and belly. It feels soft, almost warm to your skin, so sensual and delicate like a million little touches of the tip of my tongue on your skin. "Did you think it might be the feather, my darling?" I ask as I caress you all over, "You do like the feeling of the feather so much, I can tell by the way your nipples are hardening again, don't you?"
As you smile and moan and answer so sweetly that you do like it, I run it right up your inner thighs and over your cunt. I can almost feel you quiver as I do and I notice that you are spreading your legs without even thinking about it as I caress you there with the feather. "No, Darling, it wasn't the feather I had in mind," I say with a sigh, "But I do love it so, I think I will tie you up again downstairs sometime and caress you with the feather by candlelight for quite a while."
Then I pick up the candle and the matches.
Taking my time to increase your anticipation, I touch you with the candle before lighting it. It slides over your skin so easily, especially where there is wetness from the ice cube and your pussy juice flow. I can tell that you are figuring out in your mind what toy I have chosen, but quite sure that you can't tell the difference between this candle and my wooden rod which is about the same diameter and similarly round and smooth. The next moment erases any wonder, however, as I suddenly strike a match and light the candle. I can see your legs quiver as I do this and notice you pulling on your wrist bonds. I do so love to watch you writhe and squirm in anticipation of my next touch.
This time, however, my next touch is not with my hand or finger or the direct touch of a toy. This time the next touch is a drop of melted wax from the candle. I watch the candle form a little puddle around the wick. I watch the flame for a moment too. I've always enjoyed the mystery of flame as it dances on its little source of energy at the tip of the candle. Then, with an evil grin on my face, I position the candle directly over your thigh within an inch of your outer labia, about 6" over your skin and let the first drop fall. It is almost slow motion to my view, but you have no view. From your perspective there is only no pain, then pain. There is anticipation, then realization. In a split second you go from relative relaxation to tight, searing recoil as the drop of hot wax lands just a fraction of an inch from the most sensitive part of your entire body. "OOOOohhhhh," you scream instinctively. I let the first drop lie there, knowing that your reaction is more of a release than from true pain. The wax cools almost instantly and you relax slightly, although your breathing is entirely different now and you tug at your bonds constantly in anticipation of more wax.
"Did you enjoy that, Darling?" I ask softly, "Did you find it difficult to bear?"
"Ohhh, my God, it was so intense for me. So much more than I expected, but it doesn't hurt now, Sir. Are you going to put a lot of wax on me?"
"You know I can't answer you, Darling. You must simply experience each moment of reality and let go of your need to know what is coming next."
With my fingers I open your pussy lips wide; holding them open purposefully, like a doctor might do before inserting a speculum. And positioning the candle just right, I begin to drip the wax one hot drop at a time, like a Chinese water torture, each drop falling exactly every fourth second on your open pussy. I count silently as I let them fall to time them as evenly as possible. Your breathing is measured now by the drops as you suck in air through clenched teeth to somehow try to take the pain like a soldier. With each drop I aim for a new spot on your quivering pink flesh. Drip 2, 3, 4, Drip 2, 3, 4 Drip 2, 3, 4. I aim and count. Your writhing increases. Your breathing intensifies. Your body tightens all over, as if every muscle is trying pathetically to help defend your aching pussy.
I am wondering how much you can take and watching you closely. I never want to go too far. But I do know from testing it myself that as long as the candle is more than 6" above your skin, no true harm will be done. Just when I sense that you are about to let out a scream or a plea for mercy. I stop the dripping.
As your breathing slows and your body relaxes, I speak softly, "Darling, you have pleased me so very much just now. You wanted to scream and beg me to stop, but you didn't and your pussy is still as wet as ever." I run a finger through your waxy wetness as if to prove it to you. "But there is one more drop that will fall on you before we are finished with this. Do you know where it will fall?"
"No, Sir," you reply softly.
"Don't lie to me, my darling. You know there is only one other place I am interested in that hasn't felt the hot wax."
"My clit, Sir?"
