Leash Me (Your Pet For The Night) Read Free

my head twice again, determined not to spill any.
    But another votive leaks its liquid heat onto my skin, and I flinch and squirm uncontrollably as the heat starts burning. I try to stay still, but the heat is too much, the votive is not sat flat!
    And then I feel the drop of cool liquid on my belly. The wine has spilled, just a few drops, and it pools around the bowl, and your eyes grow dark, and your expression changes, and you stand up over me.
    “You spilled the wine,” you say at me, and your voice is hard and cold, and I flinch again as the candle wax continues to singe me.
    You stoop down low and remove the bowl of wine from my belly, and then one by one you take the votives off my shaking body. You place them on the bed beside me and look at me once more, and for a moment our eyes stay locked and I know what is in store.
    I swallow hard and close my eyes, and my breathing quickens, and mere moments later I feel the lash of a hot swath of wax. It’s cut across my left breast, right over the nipple, and I open my eyes briefly to see you with another.
    You empty the wax onto my chest and up my collar bones, before taking another votive in your hand and drizzling its contents on my pelvis.
    The wax, it’s wet and hot and thick, and it leaves my skin on fire, and I can’t help but let out a cry of pain, but also of desire. The molten heat dribbles across the dips and curves of my body, leaving in its wake a line of sensation burning and fuzzy.
    I squirm once more as I feel another swath cut into me, and the last votive is emptied onto my naked body.
    The pain courses through my body, setting my nerves on fire, and the room it spins, and my forehead beads, and I whimper and moan and whine.
    But the wax cools quickly, and my skin stops burning, and I open my eyes to look at you above me.
    “You’re punishment is yet to begin,” you say to me severely. The pain from the wax has left me feeling heady and dizzy, and I nod at you and bite my lip and suck in air deeply.
    The pain from the candle wax has ignited something within me, and I feel a yearning, a lust, a wanting, growing inside of me.
    You reach down and roll me over so that I’m on my belly, and I can feel the last bits of wax soaking into the sheet.
    “Stay here,” you say, “don’t you dare move,” and you leave to go get something, and moments later I feel something hard and flat dragged across my body.
    And then there is a crack so loud it seems to split the air, and a searing pain makes its presence felt on my left buttock. I scream out loud as you smack me again, knowing you have a paddle, and my skin reacts, raises angry red, and the stinging sends the world spinning.
    I wince and tense and ready for the next slap of your paddle, but it never comes and instead I feel your lips on me.
    You’re kissing both of my buttocks where you have punished me, and I submit to your tender touch as your hands begin to roam me.
    I submit to your tenderness as equally as I had your violence. It’s your duality, the dichotomy of your behavior, of how you are, that compels me.
    Eventually you roll me over, and my waxed, red-skinned chest and belly are bared to you. You begin to kiss down along my whole front, from my neck, down my collar bone, over my breasts, down my stomach, eventually stopping at my mound before my sex.
    And then you remove my collar, and I have never felt more naked, more bared. You lead me to the bathroom, and you take off your clothes, and we stand naked together and look at one another.
    You turn on the shower, and you know it is too hot for my now-sensitive skin. You turn it down to warm, and you lead me into the shower, and water streams over our bodies, and my skin stings angrily, but I do not dislike it.
    You bathe me softly, my hair, my body, and you kiss me some more, my mouth, my head, my face, my neck, my breasts, my armpits, my bum, my back, my thighs, my calves, my mound.
    “Close your eyes,” you say. “Let me explore you.”