Melting Point

Drip....

Drip...

"Dammit." The wick base slid off center, sticking to the far side of the mold. Karen set the pan of wax back on the stove, intending to detach the base before the sealing layer she'd been pouring was irretrievably lost. Luckily, she was alone in the house, or Jeff would have come running at the sound of her curse, and would have smiled that beautiful and terrible smile at her, the one that told her he was amused with her. The look that told her she'd get a delicious spanking later, a reminder to pay attention to her task. But it would also be a gift, that spanking; he always knew what she needed, and he always made her feel like it was

good

to want it.

She'd been daydreaming again, her mind wandering off, as usual, to all the fun they'd have with her candles when she finished them. In four years, she still hadn't trained herself not to let her attention wander; it was the only problem she ever had when she poured her votives. Chuckling to herself, she mumbled, "All your fault, baby," as she realized how much time she spent fantasizing about Jeff: his loving heart, delectable body and, particularly, his wicked mind.

Immediately she grinned broadly, partially in appreciation of how good she had it, and partly in a kind of inward directed sarcasm, silent laughter at her continual amazement about her husband and what they shared. She had these little epiphanies about how much he meant to her all the time, and she knew it; nevertheless, each one felt like a brand new discovery. God, that man made her feel like a giddy teenager, and she both hoped and feared that he knew it.

She realized she'd been spacing out again, and gave herself a mental shove to get back on track. The wicking had now hardened, and she had to pry it loose to start over. Keeping her focus this time, she poured more sealing wax, taking care to let it set up this time. She wouldn't rush again and risk spoiling her own efforts.

She began slowly adding the wax. It was a faint lavender, the color barely perceptible, and smelled of vanilla. Just the smell of the molten paraffin made her pussy damp with arousal, even when she intentionally focused on something else. Karen wished she could make the color brighter, but the dye raised the melting temperature of the wax, and her most tender skin couldn't withstand the heat. Not yet, anyway. Satisfied with the her work, she put the remaining wax on the stove again before it started to solidify, knowing she'd have to top off the large mold as the lavender lava settled and thickened, and tiny air bubbles rose to the surface and burst.

While she waited, she unmolded the previous days' effort, a fresh set of the low-heat candles she was using to train Jeff when he submitted to her. He too was growing to appreciate the feel of the liquid wax dripping onto his bare skin, the shiver it sent up his spine when she stopped teasing him with droplets and poured a steady stream down onto his stomach or back. They were ready to go, and she felt a little tingle of physical memory as she pictured how she'd use them.

#

Several days before, she'd used the last of her previous batch, melting them down in their cups while Jeff watched with glittering eyes from the archway. His eyes flitted between hers and the small flickering fires, his bare body stretched taut against the wall.

When he gave a slight shiver, there was a brief jingle of steel from his cuffed wrists, hanging from the hook just below the ceiling. She ran her hands down his body, and he flushed pink, avoiding her eyes, embarrassed at his nudity so unavoidably on display before his fully clothed wife, but more aroused by it. When Karen cupped the base of his cock in her hand, he gave a small moan that further inflamed his humiliation. It was exquisite torment, his growing erection throbbed in her hand as he continued to swell, causing the cockring he wore to draw achingly tight.

Content with his response, and very pleased by the mixture of emotions she saw playing across his face, she reached for one of the candles. Standing only inches from his exposed flesh, she slowly tipped the glass cup, allowing a single thin line of wax to spill over and into her open palm. Jeff gasped, though she was silent. He looked up into her face, eyes plaintive.

"Do you want this, baby?" She spoke slowly, allowing the words to hang in the air, giving him the chance to decide he was ready for what she had planned, the incredible sensations she would create for him; it was time for him to surrender to his fantasy. Sometimes, he had a hard time letting go, giving himself up to receiving all that she could give him. But this time the answer was immediate.

"Yes." Nearly a whimper.

"I can't hear you." Her tone was resolute and confident but soothing, the voice of a guide. Both were growing more aroused with each passing word, every tiny glance that passed between them.

"Yes, please." With her free hand, she lightly tweaked his nipple before leaning into him and taking it in her mouth. She held the candle away from them as she teased him with her tongue and lips, sucking his nipple as if it were a cock until he began to twitch with small waves of pleasure. They knew each other so well.

"Sorry, baby. I got distracted. What did you say?" Her eyes danced with merriment as he tried to speak from within his orgasmic cocoon, worked to shake off the sudden rush of sensations he'd let himself be taken by. Jeff's skin grew warmer and his whole body flushed as she gently reminded him of his place; she was right, he realized. He did get lost in the moment, and he did desperately want her. At that moment, he felt he would have done anything to please or impress her, anything she wanted, so long as he would finally get to cum for and with her.

"Yes, please. Please...want.." In the rush of emotions and desires, he blurted words, whatever came to mind. He was no longer capable of embarrassment or directed thought. He just...wanted. There was no end to the thought; that was all he knew. He desperately wanted her, and the torturous tease he would relish withstanding at her hands.

She bent down to set the candle on the floor between his spread ankles. "I don't want to ruin my clothes, now, do I?" Her wink was barely perceptible before she dropped the open blouse from her shoulders, exposing a red satin bra that picked up the candlelight and made her pale skin glow. Jeff could only stare as she kicked off her sandals and turned her back to him, pulling down clinging bottoms with agonizingly slow movements, bending from the waist to give him a fuller view of her ass and long legs as she unveiled herself before his helpless gaze. Together, they were dancing on the edge of control, torn between a desperate desire to fuck wildly and without reservation and a deeper yearning to make it last, this barely contained passion between them.

Their sex hadn't always been such an intricate thing; in the beginning, it was usually tender and sweet, but often clumsy and timid. She didn't like her body; he didn't think his cock was big enough. She thought respectable women didn't like sex as much as men; he feared she'd think him less manly for his involved fantasies, thought she'd judge him for not just wanting to jackhammer away and finish, like the men in movies always seemed to do. Both hid at least some of their desires for fear of rejection. Neither was quick to trust nor wanted to lose the other for saying the wrong thing about sex, the

bad, deviant, unforgivable

thing. At the time, such a ridiculous thing had seemed truly possible.

Their attraction to each other was strong, though, and they learned the responses and sensitivities of each other's bodies. The difference that knowledge made in their sex life was nothing compared to what they found when they finally started talking about their fantasies, becoming sincerely intimate and sharing their most hidden sexual selves. The trust that developed between them as they talked and turned each other on, even as they occasionally laughed about their own emerging kinkiness, seemed to remove all judgement and make every forbidden variation they discussed or tried seem beautiful. Those moments of connection infused everything about their life together, solidifying their bond to each other through an intoxicating combination of passion, trust, and real friendship. It was the secret they shared, and it created an energy that hummed between them constantly, even when there wasn't the remotest hint of sex in their activities or conversation.

With restraint and self-discipline, that power could be cycled and recycled between them, merging with the sensations they brought each other's bodies, growing more urgent by the moment until it became a nearly continual bliss. Over time, they pushed each other further with sensations, sometimes attempting to further develop their ability to stretch the moment of orgasm into a lingering Tantric state by allowing one to lose inhibitions and self-control, entrusting themself to the restraints their partner would apply and the discipline they'd enact. Whomever remained free and in control would win respect and at times a kind of awe as they held themself in check and choreographed the couple's lovemaking in pursuit of a magical moment of pure connection and true eroticism, an utter openness to each other.

None of this was at the forefront of their thoughts, of course. At that moment, his eyes and mind were split between the woman he loved and the fire he feared; they were inseparable desires, intertwined in the flickering light. She though primarily of Jeff and the precious torments he had brought her; now was her time to pay them back in kind, and she wanted more than anything to make it beautiful.

Standing before him clad only in shining red wisps of satin, she again held the candle in her hands. The achingly slow removal of her clothing had given the soft wax time to melt and collect, and it was time to begin. Reaching for him with her left hand, she traced a thin line down the center of his freshly shaven chest with a short but manicured nail. Staying in the center, she slowed her hand as the reached the inches above his engorged cock, bringing the melting cup closer to him. As her finger traced the end of the line, reaching the throbbing head, she gently tipped the candle's holder, allowing a thin line of white fire to trickle down from his collarbone. He gasped aloud, but whether it was from the hot shock of the wax or her sudden, firm encircling of his erection in her hand, she couldn't have said. In truth, it was probably both. That was, after all, the whole point.

"You are so beautiful." She whispered these words to him over his low groans. Stroking him gently in her soft hand, she continued, "I know you hate when I say that, that you think a man can't be, shouldn't be, beautiful. But you are. You are beautiful to me, and beauty like that is for everyone, not just women." She looked him in the eyes, so close that he had little choice but to return the gaze, trapped by her proximity, and her power. "I love you." She spoke the words slowly and distinctly, making sure he saw the truth of the words reflected in her eyes. As the last word hovered in the air, she tipped the cup again.

Heat poured down his shaking body, saturating his senses. Cooling quickly, it became thicker and slow over his stomach. Knowing what was to come, she wrapped her hand firmly around the base of his cock, preventing his orgasm, but also providing a barrier for the wax to settle against. The last soft trickle stopped against her flesh and sealed there, hardening quickly.

Seeing that their toy was spent, she set the cup aside, freeing her hand gently from the wax dam she had created. Jeff panted with arousal and anticipation, uncertain of what was to come next, but deliciously certain that their game was far from over. She moved briefly out of his sight, returning almost instantly with a fresh melting cup and a chunk of ice. She set the cup at his feet before straightening up and peeling the hardened wax from his chest. Starting at his collarbone, Karen traced the slightly red line of the fireway with ice, sending shivers down his body. She stopped peeling the wax at his waist, and began running the ice over it quickly, cooling it in place and teasing him with the cold he could

almost

feel through the slick barrier.

She held the ice at his pubic bone, small droplets warmed by his body heat and dripped into the wax dam just above his cock. Looking in his eyes, she asked the question they both needed to hear. "Baby, are you ready?" His look was plaintive and full of need. He nodded slowly. "Say it," she commanded.

"Yes."

She kneeled at his feet, venting her hot breath only inches from his still-hard cock, teasing him with the tiniest preview of what she had in mind. Picking up the candle, she leaned forward, taking him in her mouth. She pressed forward slowly, until she could feel the cockring he wore brushing her upper lip. Using her tongue, mouth, and lips in a way they had perfected through years of pleasing each other, she pulled slowly back, milking his orgasm from him slowly until he was at the brink. Her mouth stopped at the softly pulsing head and she tightened her lips around it, working him with her tongue. Now safely distant from the flame, she moved the wax-filled cup to the dam and began to pour.

The end came in a quickened blur of melting. As she emptied the fiery contents onto him, the lava collected behind the dam before melting through it, spilling its volcanic wake down the length of his shaft as he screamed. In her mouth, she felt him throb as the rush came. They were connected in the act, the wax stopping at her lips, but the trail continuing down his cock as he came in her mouth, coating her tongue with his own explosive burst of release. His knees buckled under him, and he was dimly grateful for the cuffs which held him in place, for the fire in his shoulders which let him know that the hook was holding, that he could lose his footing without falling down.

As the moment faded away an unmeasurable length of time later, he spoke. "I love you, Karen." He voiced the words most profoundly in his heart, surprised to find his voice ragged, unaware of the power of his previous cries, only dimly aware that he had opened his mouth at all.

"Thank you," she answered as she began to free him from his restraints. The words hummed between them, responding to so many feelings, many of them unspoken.

#

She heard the front door and shook herself back to the present. The lavender candles were ready to be finished, and she was relieved to put this task to bed, looking forward to spending the evening with her husband. As she poured the final layer, she heard the scattered noises of Jeff's homecoming and settling in, and looked up to see his face in the doorway to her studio.

"Honey, I'm home." He did his best Ricky Ricardo, making her smile, as he always did. "Hmm, what's this?" He waggled an eyebrow at her mockingly, moving around behind her while her hands were still occupied with the pan and the molds. "Is that vanilla I smell? Oh, Lucy, you got some 'splainin' to do."

She giggled as he worked his rough hands up under her loose t-shirt, fondling her full breasts as he pressed his body up against hers. "But, Ricky..." she started, unable to finish as he slid his hands into her shorts, teasing her moist sex.

"You been thinking about me, baby?" He growled the words in her ear, his hot breath melting her knees and making her ache with the need only he seemed to understand.

"Always." It was true, and they both knew it. She counted herself lucky to have gotten the pan back on the stove without incident. "You been thinking about me?"

"What do you think?" he asked her, pressing his growing erection into her ass, pulling her firmly against him with loving but unyielding hands.

Karen gave herself to him, melting under his touch in the way only he could make possible. For Jeff's part, it was good, as always, to be home.