made it back to the car. Once inside, he turned to me
and said, “Okay. So I’m dying. Tell me.” I blushed. This was kind of hard to
talk about. I suddenly understood why he was so reluctant to verbalize his
fetish the night I asked him, why he had to show me instead. It’s one thing when
you’re in the moment, turned on and ready. It’s another to speak about it
candidly.
“Well.
I don’t know,” I muttered. “I guesss… Uh… I mean… Fuck. Well.”
“Spit
it out,” he laughed, starting the engine.
“This
is all probably going to sound pretty mundane to you, since you’re so experienced and all. But. I know I am
more into the physical aspects than any of the humiliation stuff,” I rambled.
“Oh,
so you don’t want me to call you a whore and spit in your face?” he said
sarcastically.
“No,
I would really rather you didn’t. What else, uh, being restrained looks
incredibly hot, but that kind of goes with the territory. Um. Hot and cold
sensations. Hot wax, ice cubes in, uh, delicate places seems like
something I could get into. Clamps…”
“Nipple
or genital,” he interrupted, excitedly.
“Um.
Both, probably,” I continued, “Also, I’m intrigued what the sensation would be
like for you to… like… strike me. My nipples. Maybe my clit. That might be too much though, I don’t know. Would have to play it by ear. That’s
all I’ve got. And the stuff we did that first night. That was incredibly hot. If I think of anything else, I’ll let you
know.”
“I
can definitely accommodate all of that. Did you want to try this tonight?” he
asked, licking his lips and glancing back and forth from me to the road.
“I’m
down,” I responded. I was weak in the knees.
Back
at his apartment, he led me to his bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed.
“You
should probably take off your dress. If I do it, I’ll probably destroy it. I
kind of want to tear you apart,” he whispered in my ear.
“Do
I have to call you ‘Sir’ or something?” I asked.
“No,
please don’t,” he laughed, “but do leave your heels on.” He walked out of the
room. I slithered out of my dress and draped it across the chair in his room. I
left on my lacey bra and panties. He could tear those apart if he wanted to. I
positioned myself seductively on the bed. He burst back into the room with his
arms full. He sat several candles on the nightstand and lit them, and then
turned off the light. “Are you ready?” He asked. I nodded and bit my lip.
“Take
off the rest of your clothes,” he demanded. I complied silently. He pulled my
arms above my head and tied them together with red twine. He reached to the
nightstand, pulling several cubes of ice out of a glass. He touched them to my
skin. Sharp, stinging cold traced its way down my collarbone. He let the ice
graze one nipple, and then the other, making them even more erect. He let the
ice slide down my abdomen, and stopped to run it in circles around my clit. My legs
jumped as several cubes slid inside of me. He pushed against my pussy with his
palm to keep them inside. He picked up one of the candles, and hovered it above
my breasts, letting me feel the heat from the flame. He blew it out, leaving a
sickly smoke to linger in the air. I watched with anticipation as he gently
tipped the jar, allowing liquid wax to trickle out the side, onto my exposed
chest. I cried out. The sensation
made the top half of my body jolt as I tried to sit up. He grabbed my hair to push my head back
down onto the pillow, covering my mouth. “Don’t move,” he whispered. He now
held my head down by my hair as he reached for another piece of ice.
He
ran his thumb across my lips, smearing my dark lipstick across my face. He
traced the outline of my lips with the piece of ice and let it fall into my
mouth. He kissed me, taking the ice back with him. He let go of my hair as
and said, “Okay. So I’m dying. Tell me.” I blushed. This was kind of hard to
talk about. I suddenly understood why he was so reluctant to verbalize his
fetish the night I asked him, why he had to show me instead. It’s one thing when
you’re in the moment, turned on and ready. It’s another to speak about it
candidly.
“Well.
I don’t know,” I muttered. “I guesss… Uh… I mean… Fuck. Well.”
“Spit
it out,” he laughed, starting the engine.
“This
is all probably going to sound pretty mundane to you, since you’re so experienced and all. But. I know I am
more into the physical aspects than any of the humiliation stuff,” I rambled.
“Oh,
so you don’t want me to call you a whore and spit in your face?” he said
sarcastically.
“No,
I would really rather you didn’t. What else, uh, being restrained looks
incredibly hot, but that kind of goes with the territory. Um. Hot and cold
sensations. Hot wax, ice cubes in, uh, delicate places seems like
something I could get into. Clamps…”
“Nipple
or genital,” he interrupted, excitedly.
“Um.
Both, probably,” I continued, “Also, I’m intrigued what the sensation would be
like for you to… like… strike me. My nipples. Maybe my clit. That might be too much though, I don’t know. Would have to play it by ear. That’s
all I’ve got. And the stuff we did that first night. That was incredibly hot. If I think of anything else, I’ll let you
know.”
“I
can definitely accommodate all of that. Did you want to try this tonight?” he
asked, licking his lips and glancing back and forth from me to the road.
“I’m
down,” I responded. I was weak in the knees.
Back
at his apartment, he led me to his bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed.
“You
should probably take off your dress. If I do it, I’ll probably destroy it. I
kind of want to tear you apart,” he whispered in my ear.
“Do
I have to call you ‘Sir’ or something?” I asked.
“No,
please don’t,” he laughed, “but do leave your heels on.” He walked out of the
room. I slithered out of my dress and draped it across the chair in his room. I
left on my lacey bra and panties. He could tear those apart if he wanted to. I
positioned myself seductively on the bed. He burst back into the room with his
arms full. He sat several candles on the nightstand and lit them, and then
turned off the light. “Are you ready?” He asked. I nodded and bit my lip.
“Take
off the rest of your clothes,” he demanded. I complied silently. He pulled my
arms above my head and tied them together with red twine. He reached to the
nightstand, pulling several cubes of ice out of a glass. He touched them to my
skin. Sharp, stinging cold traced its way down my collarbone. He let the ice
graze one nipple, and then the other, making them even more erect. He let the
ice slide down my abdomen, and stopped to run it in circles around my clit. My legs
jumped as several cubes slid inside of me. He pushed against my pussy with his
palm to keep them inside. He picked up one of the candles, and hovered it above
my breasts, letting me feel the heat from the flame. He blew it out, leaving a
sickly smoke to linger in the air. I watched with anticipation as he gently
tipped the jar, allowing liquid wax to trickle out the side, onto my exposed
chest. I cried out. The sensation
made the top half of my body jolt as I tried to sit up. He grabbed my hair to push my head back
down onto the pillow, covering my mouth. “Don’t move,” he whispered. He now
held my head down by my hair as he reached for another piece of ice.
He
ran his thumb across my lips, smearing my dark lipstick across my face. He
traced the outline of my lips with the piece of ice and let it fall into my
mouth. He kissed me, taking the ice back with him. He let go of my hair as
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