He had left her alone, the room empty, the only sound coming from the music playing from his computer speakers seated on his work table. The room was rustic, yet clean, and all him. The room was actually a little detached building, formerly a garage, but converted into a special room. This was his place, his special place where his passions intermingled.....the outdoors, the ocean, old fishing gear, memories of a grandfather, and the desires that pleasure entices. His love of candles was evident, as he had placed many lit candles around the room. The room was small, so the scent and warmth from the candles filled the air. She loved his little chuckle whenever he called this room his "dungeon." She understood the irony in his chuckle, the desires of his heart, the limits of reality, the secret passions easily revealed with barely a scratch at the surface. Hidden but exposed, passionate irony locked away in a little room.
Some would be nervous, left alone, helpless, but she wasn't. She trusted him, relaxed in his presence, surrendered, submitting to his wishes and desires. It was easy to trust him, strong yet vulnerable. Caring but firm. His only thoughts were focused on her pleasure, safety, joy, and the fulfilling of her fantasies. Fantasies not limited by conventional thinking, but set free to wing on the dreams of joy beyond experience. It is here that she finds herself.
The air was warm, not hot, not cold, but perfect against her naked skin. The ropes around her ankles and wrists not too tight, but tight enough to prevent escape. She is bound, hands lashed over her head to the rustic, worn rafters. Her ankles pulled outward, legs spread, ropes secured to eyebolts attached to the rough, exposed timbers of the walls. She had her balance, but was not able to move more than an inch or two. She loved this feeling, helpless, submitting to him...he loved it as well.
The door opened, squeaking a little as it moved, proclaiming his return. Her head perked, her eyes opening wide as he entered his place. This is his domain, his place where he is master. Yet, he enjoyed being in the reverse role, where he submitted. She enjoyed that as well, her time to direct, to watch his pleasure, to be pleased as he squirmed, begging for release. Her mind wandered, actually skipped at full speed as the thoughts flooded through her. So many opportunities in the future, such a challenge to align the stars to make the dreams come true.
As her eyes focused, she could see him carrying a bag, black, big, his bag. She smiled at the sight, and licked her lips, savoring the possibilities that would be coming her way. The contents of the bag rattled and settled as he placed the bag on the counter. He was humming along with the song playing on the computer, a happy song, his humming quiet, yet very present in the room. She watched him intently, dreaming as he opened the zipper of the bag, revealing the treasures hidden away.
She was intrigued as he removed a butter warmer, complete with a little tea light candle. Once he had assembled the apparatus, he lit the candle and placed the little ceramic dish over the small flame. She smiled as he poured lavender scented massage oil into the warming dish, knowing that the oil would heat, becoming warm, nearly hot, she quivered as her thoughts anticipated the warm luxury of the oil on her skin.
Reaching back into the bag, he removed a little metal pan, similar to a cooking pot like one would use to cook vegetables, but much smaller, with a little pour spout molded into the rim. Seeing her eye the pan, he walked over to her, carrying the pan, revealing it to her. His voice clear and strong as he told her that the pan was a butter warming pan, the spout perfect for pouring. But she could see that the contents of the pan were solid, and red in color, not like any butter that she had ever seen. She recognized the contents as wax, and felt her nipples begin to harden at the thought of hot oil covering her skin, only to be topped by the hot wax that was sure to follow. She excitedly yearned for the sting that is quickly replaced by the exotic warmth of the wax as it covered her nipples and breasts. He was smiling as he looked at her beautiful breasts. Small nipples, perfectly shaped, breasts that surrounded them in exceptional beauty. She giggled to herself as she could see his cock begin to harden and push its outline against the fabric at the crotch of his pants.
Plugging in a small little hotplate, adjusting its temperature to the very lowest setting, he placed the pan over the little burner, anticipating it heating the solid mass of wax into a molten delight. A cooking thermometer was placed nearby, as he was very careful about the wax temperature, assuring its pleasure and not its injury when applied to oiled skin.