Sarah and Stephen’s story began here
Sarah twisted awkwardly to gaze at her bottom, though it was a futile exercise- both because she was no contortionist and because the subtle twinge she felt as she squeezed her cheeks told her enough about its condition. She was in no right state for spanking today. Under normal circumstances (when had a bruised bottom become normal?) she would have enjoyed the lingering souvenirs of her last session, but today was different.
Stephen was on his way.
She had texted him a few days earlier, warning him that she would likely still be marked, asking if he would rather postpone his visit. She’d felt incredibly guilty, even though he had encouraged her to play with others as part of her exploration. Though she was beginning to come around to the idea that this poly-something-or-other was a healthy, positive thing, some old thought patterns still told her that it was cheating. Not necessarily for the simple fact that she had been spanked by another, but that she had timed it such that she was not fully recovered before her date with Stephen- a date they had arranged more than a month previously.
She had thought it wouldn’t be an issue to meet Stephen the weekend after the workshop. The previous weekend’s event was supposed to entail simply an afternoon course of ropework; she hadn’t anticipated that there would be an after-party, or that she would be invited.
Or that she would play- or that the play would be one of the heaviest, most intense, and most rewarding, spanking sessions she had yet experienced.
She had no regrets on that account, and even Stephen had seemed impressed at what she had taken, how she had taken it, and, most importantly, how she had reacted. Rather than the fear that had followed from her first intense session with Stephen that left her somewhat questioning her future as a spankee, this experience had left her hungry for more. And eager for Stephen’s visit.
Her bottom, though, that would be a problem.
Stephen had assured her that it wouldn’t though, that he had other things that he would do with her. She had a few ideas from their prior discussions, but still, she had to wonder. . .
But her wondering was brought to an abrupt end by the buzzing of her phone announcing Stephen’s arrival. As always, she felt like a small child filled with glee as she ran to meet him with a big hug. That much, at least, she could do regardless of the state of her bottom.
“Let’s see the damage then,” Stephen requested, their mugs of tea newly-drained on the coffee table. Sarah blushed. No matter how many times he had seen her bottom before, there was always an acute sense of embarrassment at baring herself to him, an embarrassment that only deepened when she felt his hands, cool and gentle against her bruises.
“Fairly well marked,” Stephen remarked.
“Sorry,” Sarah began.
“No need to apologize,” he assured her. “What would you like to do today?”
Sarah was tempted to suggest a heavy strapping just for cheek, but bit down on the suggestion- for all she knew he would take her up on it. “We had talked about candles,” she started.
“And are you still interested?” he asked.
Sarah nodded eagerly and he smiled. “I can most certainly do that. We’ll need a sheet- or a towel. And something to peel it off with- a knife is most fun. And candles.”
Sarah scampered off to gather the supplies. The candles she had ordered months ago, and had been anxiously awaiting Stephen’s next visit when they might try them. She remembered her discomfort at collecting the package from the post office when they arrived, fearing that the content might be clearly marked on the package and that the postmen might read something more into “candles” than most people might.
As it turned out, the packaging was discreet. The smell was not. The description online had advertised “scented candles for BDSM”. She had not anticipated them smelling quite so much.
She passed the candles to Stephen, along with a lighter, and could tell from his expression that he was just as unimpressed with the scent as she was, before shuffling off again in search of the rest of the supplies.
She returned with a large towel and a thin plastic spatula. “I don’t think a knife is a good idea,” she explained as she passed it to him. “I’m too ticklish. I trust you, I just don’t trust myself to hold still.”
“Fair enough,” Stephen replied, and frowned at the candle he had lit. He tipped it, spilling a drop of wax onto the back of his hand. “These will work, though I haven’t used candles like this before. I’m used to working with larger candles, ones where you can build up a pool of wax to spill all at once, not these little droplets.”
Taking the candle and testing a drop on herself, Sarah had to agree. Even when turned sideways, the candle gave only a pitifully slow series of drops. And then there was the smell. . .
Sarah blew out the candle in frustration, then grabbed one of the pillar candles that she typically used for reading- candle light being far preferable to fluorescent light. “What about these?” she asked.
“Perfect.” Stephen replied with a grin.
Sarah slipped off her clothing and quickly lay the towel out on her bed and placed herself over it, before turning to watch Stephen’s expression as he swirled a pillar candle around, melting the wax along the sides of the bowl that had formed in the top. “It will take a few moments for enough wax to melt. Thankfully there are other things we can do to pass the time.”
Stephen reached into his bag and withdrew a crop- though not one that appeared in any way frightening. Made of foam and with a pink heart on it, it was about the least-threatening implement that Sarah had ever seen.
Its sting, however made up for its appearance. She could tell Stephen was using it lightly, but with her bottom in the state that it was it didn’t take much before it felt as though her skin was alight.
She was grateful when Stephen paused after a quick series of spanks and turned his attention back to the candles. “This should work,” he muttered to himself before slowly dribbling out the wax onto Sarah’s back.
She’d had a nearly lifelong fascination with candle wax, albeit in a vanilla sense, so the sensation of the wax on her skin was hardly shocking. The context, however, made this experience unique. She was all too aware as she squirmed at the drops of liquid heat that she was putting on quite the display. And then there was the sensation as the wax hit her freshly-spanked bottom, a more exquisite burn than she had ever felt, and one that left her gasping.
He let the wax cool a bit, allowing her to rest but then gently patted her bottom, splattering drips of wax that had yet to settle. She heard an odd sort of chuckling snort behind her and turned to gaze at him inquisitively.
“Your bottom,” he explained. It’s too hot and the wax isn’t cooling properly.
“Well, whose fault is that?” Sarah asked with feigned indignity.
“Yours, of course, it’s your bottom,” Stephen replied deadpan.
Sarah burst into giggles the motion of the laughter producing a strange sensation as the wax on her back crackled and the wax on her bottom dripped.
The giggling was not helped by the wax removal process. Stephen picked up the spatula and began to pick at the wax using short chipping/scraping movements. It was probably the best he could manage given that Sarah had no hope of keeping herself still as she giggled.
She only began to catch her breath when the last of the wax had been scraped away.
“Now, about that hot bottom of yours,” Stephen mock-scolded as he picked up the crop again. “I don’t think it can take much more, but there are plenty of other places to punish.”
Sarah squealed as he seized one of her feet and applied a series of stinging strokes to the sole before repeating the process on the other side. When he let her feet free, she flutter kicked them against the mattress, desperate to ease the surprising sting.
“I think that should do it,” Stephen said, gently rubbing her feet once they slowed enough to allow him to do so. “How did you find it?”
“Wonderful,” replied Sarah, beaming as she lifted herself in an attempt to hug him, but stopped short at the bits of wax still clinging to her skin.
“Wait there- I’ll get the hoover,” Stephen told her, and Sarah knew it was in her best interest to remain where she was.
Sarah had experienced many new sensations that afternoon, but none quite compared with that of being hoovered. Thankfully the noise of the machine was enough to mask most of her giggling.
“That’s the best I can do,” Stephen said as he turned off the machine. “You’ll be finding bits of wax for weeks, I’m afraid- side effect of wax play.” Sarah smiled- she could think of far worse things to find in the crannies of her apartment. The little reminders of their time together would be more than welcome.
“Be sure to take a hot shower,” he continued as he wrestled the hoover back into its closet, “to get rid of anything left on your skin.” Sarah’s smile slipped a bit. A hot shower was the last thing her bottom wanted at the moment. Then again, it could be viewed as yet another reminder.
“Did you enjoy that?” he asked, turning back to her and finally folding her into the post-session hug.”
“Absolutely,” Sarah replied, and meant it with all of her heart. It had been an intensely interesting afternoon. Even a year ago, Sarah never would have thought to ask for most of the things Stephen had done with her today, and yet she had found the experience incredibly satisfying. She returned his hug, long and lingering, grateful, as always, for his understanding and willingness to introduce her to the reality of her fantasies old and new.
To be continued