I didn’t know. There weren’t enough clues. I couldn’t piece together a story.
The candle descended lower and Markos chuckled, the sound low and menacing in his throat. I stared at it, watching as the flame on the wick grew larger until it consumed my vision. Everything around me grew hazy. Nothing else mattered other than the candle and the rising passion within my body.
I trembled, trying to quell the desire racing through me. I couldn’t lose control. Not like this.
His fingers trailed over the thin, gauzy fabric that bound me and I moaned low, feeling gooseflesh rise across my skin. His touch felt like the fire burning before my eyes, hot and painful and I was powerless against it. Each drop of wax, each trace of his finger, burned hot like a brand, causing me to cry out in initial pain and then pleasure as it cooled.
Over and over, he did this, until I was breathless with need.
My pleasure was held tight in a little ball, intense and painful and begging for release. The intensity of it was driving me insane, senseless with want.
I cried out, but still, the wax continued torturing my nakedness, marking me as his.
The candle moved closer to my breasts and with it, the flames surrounding us did too.
The sweltering fire stole every hint of coldness from my body, devouring it into a pit of ashes until all that was left was torrid heat.
My whimpers soon turned into screams.
Agony. Pleasure. Hurt. Desire.
My mind a mass of confusion, my body reacted as though it knew that Markos was my master. My clit throbbed. My nipples pulsed with unreleased passion and my inner walls fluttered against empty air. I wanted to come.
I needed it as much as I needed air to survive.
The air became thin, smoke billowing up around us as flames crackled closer to my flesh. I turned my head anxiously, watching them crawl toward us, swallowing up one inch after another. Its progressive crawl seemed inevitable. We were trapped.
If this continued, I was going to be burned alive. I thrashed, trying to escape, but soon, I realized my efforts were useless. I wasn’t going anywhere. Markos had me right where he wanted and that was where I was going to stay until he decided differently.
Still, the candle moved closer to my chest and so did the flames that threatened to steal my last dying breath.
Each drop of the wax was like liquid fire, searing and burning into my flesh. I sobbed with pain, the agony tearing right down into the depths of my soul. My body betrayed me, taking that hurt and transforming it into pleasure and soon, I was on the edge of orgasm once again.
Markos knew how to play my body and he did it well.
The candle drew closer to my breasts, barely above the points of my nipples and I froze, both with terror and an insane arousal that held me captive.
“Markos, please,” I begged as the flame crackled, scarce inches from my flesh.
He didn’t answer.
I boiled from inside out, pain twisting into demented pleasure and capturing me completely in its clutches. I squeezed my eyes shut and then opened them, staring down at my painted breasts just as he tilted the candle a bit more, bringing the flickering light right down toward my greedy, pebbled nipple.
Another flame appeared over the opposite side, a twin to the candle that threatened both my breasts at once.
“Don’t. Please,” I begged.
Pleasure shivered up and down my spine and I began to scream.
The flames edged closer. The fire burning around me grew hotter, almost as if I was a witch about to be burned at the stake. My shrieks echoed around us, bouncing off the rock walls around us and amplifying even louder. The sounds of my own voice both terrified me and thrilled me, and my passion grew higher still.
I was going to come.
And I might burn alive.
My pussy throbbed, and I felt liquid heat gather in between my legs, soaking the gauzy fabric lining my folds. My wetness burned against my flesh and still, I yearned for release.
Drops of wax cascaded down, dripping down onto my nipples.