A SLAVE'S JOURNAL, CHAPTER 5
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My ass was raw from the spanking, and I had to shift around to get comfortable. I felt extremely vulnerable and a little awkward, lying naked on the floor, looking up at the fully-clothed professor. “Have you ever played with wax before?” he asked me softly. I shook my head, not really understanding what he meant by that, but guessing at the answer. I was much more of a novice at this kinky stuff than he probably suspected. I was pleased that I was performing so well despite my inexperience. |
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The professor slipped away and returned with a lit red tapered candle. I felt a jolt of fear go through me, as I imagined him viciously snuffing it out on my skin, and the third-degree burn that would ensue. But he hadn’t caused me bodily harm thus far; surely he wouldn’t start now? My curiosity and arousal forced me to stay put and keep my mouth shut. |
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I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. Taking in my worried expression, he said, “Just relax,” in a kind tone. I closed my eyes and waited. The suspense was terrible. Finally, a sudden searing drop landed on my belly. Then another, and another. It was like hot rain. I let out my breath in a hiss, trying to adjust to the sensation. There was a slow peak of sensation with each drop--I just felt the weight of the drop at first; then the heat built and built to a pinnacle, and finally faded away as the wax cooled. More and more wax fell. When I tensed up, whimpering and squirming, I noticed the heat would ease off a bit. Opening my eyes, I saw Professor Blackthorne was moving the candle up a little higher and then lower each time, playing with the edges of my pain tolerance. |
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I looked down at my body. The paleness of my skin contrasted sharply with the red wax. It looked slightly absurd to me, as if I had some strange tropical disease, and I giggled a little. A sharp look from the professor and a hot sudden deluge of wax directly on my nipples wiped the smile off my face. The heat stabbing and soaking my nipples was pain and pleasure all at once. I didn’t know whether I was squirming from distress, arousal, or both. Then the hot drip, drip, drip traveled slowly downward over my belly and toward my cunt. Thank goodness for pubic hair--only a couple of drops made it through onto my labia as I bit my lip and tried to retain my composure. What would it have been like if I had been fully shaved? The thought was terrifying and intriguing. |
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“You look lovely in red, my dear,” Professor Blackthorne broke into my reverie. He smiled almost as if to himself, no doubt thinking of my punished ass and my blushing cheeks as well as the pattern of wax that adorned me. “Thank you, Sir,” I replied. The response was automatic, now, almost comforting. “You should thank me,” he said, with a touch of rebuke in his voice. |
He lay down next to me on the floor, still holding the lit candle. “I was supposed to be grading papers tonight, but here I am spending all this time and energy on you, a know-it-all brat of a student who came by for no other reason than to scold me.” “I am sorry, Sir,” I said, and I meant it.
“I mean to make you sorry,” he murmured, and released a gentle cascade of red-hot wax directly on my pussy. As I thrashed around, gasping, he continued: “And I mean to make you entirely mine.”
