Page 55 of Pierced

He hisses. But my hand is there, peeling the already hardening wax off his skin. Gently caressing away the pain.

He closes his eyes. Relaxes.

But this time I drip it onto the underside of his hard, round balls and his eyes fly open as his chest comes up off the bed. “Jesus Christ!”

“Shhh,” I say, peeling the wax off. Letting my palm ease around his balls so I can take away his pain.

He closes his eyes again, clenching his jaw, waiting for the next drip.

I tilt the candle over his lower back this time. Hold it like that, letting drop, after drop, after drop spill down and make a line across the dip where his back meets his ass.

I don’t peel it off this time. I let the wax harden, trapping the heat.

This feels good. I know it does. I’ve had this done to me before. It was a reward. And I know he likes it, so he’s very relaxed when I drip it onto his balls again.

“Fuck,” he hisses. His chest rises and falls. Just a little faster than normal.

I don’t reward him for that. I drip onto his inner thigh, letting the wax run down his leg, then the edge of his buttocks, so that it comes perilously close to dripping into his ass, but doesn’t. It lands on his balls again.

“Goddamn it!”

I take his mind off the pain by peeling the hard wax off his back.

Or not. Because it pulls on his skin, leaving a bright red mark, and he wriggles frantically, looking over his shoulder at me with a glare.

I smile and shrug. Then I drip wax across that same line, only this time I peel it off before it’s fully hardened, and softly caress him. Making him forgive me.

OK. I can do this, I decide. I’m feeling better now. Maybe it’s the wine or maybe I just needed to get over that point of no return. I’m not sure. I just know… I’m having fun. And I think he might be too.

So I lean across his body, letting the satin covering my breasts slide along his back as I place my candle into the waiting candlestick. Then I get back in position, take off my long gloves, and reach forward, palms sliding all the way up his back. I drag my fingernails down his taut muscles, not hard, but not softly either, and caress his ass cheeks.

“That was very good, slave,” I purr. “You did very well.”

He smiles a little. Pretty proud of himself. He probably thinks we’re going to fuck now. He probably thinks I’m as turned on as he is and hey, this isn’t so bad. Submission is pretty damn cool.

But then I say, “Now it’s time for the paddle. Because you’ve been a bad, bad boy.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN - PIERCE

The collar hurts. The ties around my wrists are tight and tugging at the skin there. The wax on my back, ass, and balls fucking stings. My cock throbbing and pulsing into the sheets as it fills with blood is uncomfortable and I can feel it in my lower abs.

I love it.

Which brings me to an actual problem. Do I let her know that I love it? Do I show her how much joy this new experience in my life is bringing me? Do I stop thinking about it right now and give over to the moment?

Or. Does that undermine the very point of this exercise? The intention of this entire agreement was that by letting Myrtle have a certain amount of ascendancy over me, she would feel vindicated and we could start figuring out how our relationship might look anew.

Jesus, that’s fucking weak.

What a load of shit. There’s no version of any of this where that story holds water. Our dynamic was fractured by me and nothing can put Humpty Dumpty back together again. But all I guess I really wanted was for a new relationship between us to not be shitty. Because, God knows, this is definitely a new relationship already, and there’ll be no repairing what comes of it.

The only thing I can hope for is that it goes ahead and just breaks us into a million tiny shards, and then perhaps we’ll be able to pick up the ones that won’t cause us to hurt too much and build from there.

Speaking of hurt.

“Oh, fuck!” is the muffled sound that escapes my lips as I bite into a pillow and shake my head back and forth. My fists tighten and my forearms pull against the satin ropes. The smack of the paddle hitting my ass rings in my ears as I half-cry, half-laugh silent puffs of air out of my lungs.

Hazarding a glance over my shoulder once again, I see the paddle in all its glory. It’s formidable-looking. A foot long, black, with the word BITCH in red lettering etched into the part that I presume just made contact with my suddenly tingling ass.