Her pussy glistened in the soft flicker of the taper’s flame.

Red wax dripped down the candle’s length, as if begging to dance across her skin.

I pressed my wine glass to my lips. One more sip. Juxtaposition of cold glass with hot breath. That was all it took to convince me.

I grabbed the black silk drawstring pouch off the sofa table. She was sprawled out, blindfolded, just as I had left her on the rug in front of the fireplace, wrists bound behind her back, legs spread wide. My lips touched hers tenderly, a whisper that I had returned to her side.

I rested the bag on her left hip, and removed one of the many clamps that it contained. I chose a standard wooden clothespin first. Unadorned. I was determined to have her complete attention, and it seemed as good a way as any to go about that. I kissed her again. More harshly this time. And then let my mouth move to the side of her neck, kissing and sucking and biting interchangeably as she began to moan.

My mouth lingered, as my fingers found her pink nipples. Blushing and erect, they didn’t require my touch, but how can one ignore the invitation? They danced with my fingers, twisting with me and leaping skywards. Their color deepened with the focused intent and without a word, I fastened the first pin to her right nipple. She gasped. I knew that sound well; it meant that sensations were quieting her mind. Her focus was shifting to her body, to what she was feeling, to me. As her gasp gave way to more moaning, I followed suit with her left. Playing off of the building intensity. Creating layers. She was mine. And that only added to her beauty.

I continued caressing her body, playing with the clothespins that I had already placed and adding more all around her breasts and even clamping the lips of her pussy so that the candlelight had a more pronounced effect against her shimmering wetness.

When I was satisfied with her body as canvas, I grabbed the taper candle that yearned for her. The first drippings that kissed her ivory skin caused her back to arch into the air. A smile made its way across my lips. “Did I give you permission to move, slave?”

My question made her body tremble ever-so-slightly. “No, Master. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” she said.

“Good girl. You may enjoy the sensations that wash over you, but if you wish to arch your back again, you must ask permission. Remember you are not to cum, slave, until I let you. And I know that you wouldn’t want to upset me this evening.”

Something changed in her after listening to my words. It was as if she relaxed into the trust that we shared, the love that she had for me. Her body was gorgeous before, but now it seemed to glow with her submission. So beautiful with the wax sweeping over her like a second-skin…

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