Tables Turned

Master and I were having a good night. He was very satisfied with the attention I'd paid to his cock, and I was delighted that he'd turned my ass a nice, bright red. We hadn't been playing together for very long, but our chemistry was so amazing that it was like we'd known each other for years. He could get inside my head and knew exactly what I wanted, what I craved. I could look at him and tell what he wanted and expected of me. We had gone further in our short amount of time together than most go after years in the lifestyle. But nothing had prepared me for what was about to happen to to me, to him, to us that night.

We were sitting on the couch and snuggling after a good hard fuck. He started stroking the leather cuffs that he'd put on my wrists at the beginning of the evening. After a few moments of what seemed to me as thoughtfulness, he began to unfasten them. I was a little saddened by this, as I took it for a signal that the night's play was at an end. I closed my eyes for a minute, to capture and hold the last moments of our intimate evening. I heard a clink, and opened my eyes to find my Master fastening the cuffs on his own wrists. I was confused by this, but I said nothing.

Once he had the cuffs on his wrists, he looked at them and played with them for a moment. He appeared to be satisfied, then motioned for me to stand up and stood up himself. I stood, and he walked over to where he had fastened eye bolts in the ceiling. He held up his arms.

"Tie me," he said.

I looked at him in bewilderment, but the look in his eyes told me that he was deadly serious and expected immediate compliance. I reached up and locked his cuffs to the bolts, first one and then the other. I stepped back and looked at him, wondering what to do next.

"Are you just going to stand there and look at me all night?" he asked.

"N...n...no, Master," I stammered.

"Well...this is your time. I'm restrained. The rest is up to you."

It finally started to sink in at this moment that the tables had turned. The Master had become the submissive, and the submissive had now become the Mistress. The ball was in my court. What did I want to do to him? What could I do to elicit the strongest reaction from him? I thought about this for a moment as I stepped forward and gently stroked his chest. Then I decided what I wanted to do, and stepped away to light a long, red tapered candle.

I gazed into the flame as it flickered for a moment and became steady. As I waited for the wax to pool I looked up into my Master's...no....my submissive's eyes. I saw the reflection of the flame in his eyes, and behind that flame a depth that I wanted to penetrate, guided by the flame I now held in my hand. I saw that the wax was ready, and stepped towards him. He said nothing, but met my gaze as I tilted the candle and let the first drops of the crimson wax fall onto his chest. His gaze remained steady, with only the faintest hint of a flicker in his eyelids.

I continued to drip the hot wax on his chest and shoulders. Master had used wax on my own body several times before, so I knew the feelings only too well. I knew the initial wave of heat that came when the wax first contacted the skin, and the jolt that it sent through the surrounding nerves, all the way to the brain. It was a momentary burn that started on the flesh and echoed somewhere in the deep recesses of the mind. Each drip was new and different, hitting a different space of flesh and echoing to a new corner of the mind, as the sensations thrilled and pushed back all the carefully constructed boundaries and defenses.

After several moments I had made his chest and shoulders a lovely pattern of blood-red trails. His breathing and his body remained steady, and his eyes were half-closed, lost in the intensity of the moment. I knew that behind those half-hidden eyes the dividing line was blurring, and the body and the mind were becoming one. Sensation was becoming thought and thought was becoming sensation. Emotions and memories were connecting and finding expression in the burning drops of hot wax that splattered on his skin.

I stroked my hand across his chest, feeling the mixture of wax and flesh beneath my fingers. I slowly walked around him as I again waited for the wax to pool. When it was ready, I tilted the candle and let a trail of the red wax fall on his shoulder blade. I saw him flex and heard him take a deep breath to steady himself in both body and mind. I continued to drip the wax on his back and shoulders, as I wondered what thoughts were going through his mind and what images were flashing in front of his fluttering eyelids.

I moved back around in front of him and placed the candle down to pause for a moment. He opened his eyes when I began to stroke his shoulders and chest with both hands, and our eyes met. His eyes were clear, like a long corridor winding through his mind. They were calm, but intense and with a slightly-far away look in them. I gazed at him, walking down that corridor into his thoughts and feelings. I saw things long-hidden, parts of himself given form and substance in the trails of wax that now streaked his body like so many knife lines. What had once been locked away inside was now loosed. What was once thought and emotion was now flesh and blood. He wrapped his gaze around me, guiding me through the corridor and showing me the very depths of himself.

I heard a voice echo from the walls of the corridor.

"Do you know why I had you do this?"

I stood in silence.

"Did you think it was an accident? Did you think it was coincidence that I put these cuffs on, that I told you to tie me? No. I wanted this from you. You did exactly as I expected you would."

He stood in front of me, his wrists still tied to to the ceiling. And yet I saw that it was his hand that had guided the crimson wax, not my own. It was his hand that had restrained him. It was his hand that now held the two of us together, merged as one in the corridor of his mind that his hand had opened up and guided me into.

"You do not have me," he said, "You do not have me when I'm free, and you do not have me when I'm bound. It is always my hand that guides, even when that hand cannot move."

I stood, silently, gazing into my bound Master's eyes. At that moment I had more respect and love for him than I had ever had. I felt in that moment completely his. Our bodies, our minds, our souls....all were one, and all were his.

"It is finished," he whispered, "untie me."

I reached up and unfastened his arms from the ceiling. He took the cuffs off his wrists, and fastened them back on mine.

And then he leaned over and blew out the candle.