This is an account of my last time getting into a bit of wax play with my beloved Bad Kitty. I find I have an easier time writing when I treat the post like a letter to my love. Onward to the tale of wax and blindfolds.
I lay on what will someday be our bed and shiver in anticipation. I hear the first strike of the flame before the candle is lit but all I can see is darkness. The blindfold is very practical; candle light gives me migraines. However, it has my senses on high alert. Suddenly there is a splatter of scalding hot liquid on my chest between my breasts. It pulls my breath from me. I know there will be much more but I do not know when or where. You, my bad kitty, are silent and focused on the task at hand.
We have played with wax before and instead of begging for a blindfold, I rolled on my stomach and you had dripped wax all over my back. My pain tolerance was very high and the wax covered me quite a bit before I couldn’t take anymore. This time will not be the same. The wax already seems hotter and the sting is even more severe.
The next drip sends it’s knives deep into the skin on my stomach. i cannot see a thing. The darkness and silence around me is only broken by the hiss I make each time a new drop hits. I am being stabbed again and again. The sharp heat lingers longer each time. I can only imagine the red splotches on my pale skin. My pain tolerance which has carried me to hell and back suddenly breaks and the next drop feels as though my skin will melt away. I tell you to stop and hear you blow out the candle.
I linger in the darkness and silence, my skin feeling prickly and agitated. The wax holding me down, for to move is to force it to break apart. If left long enough like this I could grow to wonder if you have snuck off and left me lying naked and covered in white pools. If I didn’t have a plane to catch tomorrow, I’d return the favor but our time together is short and there are a few things I cannot go without.
I reach up and remove the blindfold. You sit beside me, your blue eyes still sparkling with concentration as it is now time to remove the wax. I inhale deeply and fully take in the sight of your damascus steel blade as you begin to carve. My first image after emerging from the darkness; my love precisely and carefully scraping the drippings from my skin. When I return home, I will open my eyes many times and you will not be there so I already begin to long for you. I store the image in my mind and pray that you have stored the image of my nakedness, my burns and once the blindfold is lifted my desire in your mind too.
Alas, no picture of the blindfold so have a picture of the knife
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