Drip (L)
(L) – This story contains strong language.
Author’s Note:
Thank you for reading our latest story! As always, it’s drawn from our shared experiences and offered for your enjoyment. We understand that every reader’s preferences and boundaries are different, and we mean no offence if this piece isn’t to your taste. The dynamic portrayed here is part of a loving, consensual D/s relationship, grounded in trust, care, and mutual exploration. We value your time and understanding — happy reading!
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The apartment was silent. Stripped bare. Pale walls. Empty echo. Just hardwood flooring beneath her knees, and the sense that Gabriel was standing behind her.
He struck the match.
The sharp scent of sulphur flared in the air, a momentary spark before the steady glow of flame. A candle in his other hand, wax white and waiting. He’d said nothing on the drive over, only a small, wicked smile when she asked what he planned to do.
Now, she knelt in the centre of the room. Naked. Blindfolded. Arms bound at the elbows behind her back in a firm leather tie. Her ankles parted wide by a spreader bar that kissed the insides of her thighs with cold steel. Her hair was up at his request. Her skin prickled in the still air.
Gabriel circled once, slowly, letting the weight of his gaze settle like smoke over her back. “Do you remember your safe word?” he asked, voice low, calm, threading into her spine.
“Yes, Master,” she whispered. “Bishop.”
“Good girl.”
The first drop of wax landed between her shoulder blades. She gasped. Not from pain, but rather it was the sudden intensity. Heat bloomed across her skin, sharp, sweet, alive. Another drop followed quickly and grew into a cascade of lava that licked at her skin. He watched as it painted her slowly, in flickering strokes of fire, down her back, across her arse, the tops of her thighs. She clenched with every hit but didn’t flinch. Not once. She didn’t want to miss a moment.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured, kneeling beside her, lips at her ear. “You like it, don’t you?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
The cold came next. A sliver of ice was drawn across her nipple, making her cry out. Her body arched. The contrast was exquisite, one sensation chasing the other, fire and ice, heat and sting. It dragged her under, pulled her deep. She whimpered. She moaned. Somewhere in the haze, she was no longer kneeling on bare floor, but floating, tethered only by the sound of his voice and the sharp, delicious bite of sensation.
Then more wax. He tipped the candle again, letting it drip down the centre of her back, over the swell of her arse. The warm ribbons hardened quickly against the chill already clinging to her skin. She gasped when another shard of ice slid over her inner thigh, then higher, teasingly, threatening. Her body was on fire and freezing all at once, every inch of her exposed and adored. She didn’t know whether to moan or sob. The sensations stole her breath, and the tension coiled unbearably tight inside her.
Then he pushed her lower, pressing her chest to the floor. The blindfold held firm, her senses heightened in the dark. She felt his fingers part her arse cheeks, then the cold tip of ice slipped into her hole. One cube became two, three. She gasped, back arching as the chill rose through her body. It was shocking, invasive, and delicious. Gabriel held his hand there, holding the ice inside her for a breathless moment as she bucked against him. Then the sting of a thousand bees over her bum as the wax flowed between her cheeks. Hot liquid ran like a river over her, sealing the cold deep inside her. She sobbed from the intensity, pleasure and pain colliding into something transcendent.
He took his time. The wax hardened over her skin, cracking slightly when she moved. Gabriel warmed his palm, holding it just above her skin before letting it fall with a sharp smack against her arse. The heat of his hand lingered, spreading, and the impact split the wax like rivers across a frozen lake, thin trails spiderwebbing over her curves, releasing trapped heat and scent in tiny bursts. She moaned, the sound thick with need.
His fingers traced the shattered shell, then broke it with his nails, each pop sending jolts through her. She was soaked and desperate, whimpering his name, completely undone.
Then he was behind her, the candle still in hand, heat flickering above her back. As she knelt, breath shaking, he tipped the wax once more, a slow stream down her spine, over her arse, searing and beautiful. And in the same breath, he pushed into her with such rage that she screamed out. His cock parted her lips as he slid deeply into her heat. Andrea melted into his claiming thrust as she cried out.
“Thank you, sir.”
Her mouth dropped open as he pulled out and plunged back into her. Hot wax dripped onto her pussy as his cock filled her again. The dual sensation of heat and stretch, flame and fullness, was exquisite. One hand grasped the bun of her hair, the other dripping wax over her body.
He used her slowly at first, letting each thrust grind into her with maddening pressure, the candle still tilting, wax dripping in erratic rhythm over her shoulder, her hip, her lower back. Each drop marked her like a brand. Each movement was a promise.
She moaned his name as he bottomed out inside her, the fullness too perfect, too sharp. His hips rolled deliberately, pressing into every inch. The next thrust was more brutal, driving her forward on her knees. Another came faster, and again, building pace, building pressure. Her skin shimmered with wax and sweat, her moans echoing in the empty room.
A sharp spank cracked across her arse, the sound splitting the silence. She cried out, the pain spiking pleasure even higher. Then more wax, a scalding trail down her ribs, her flank, her hip.
“Mine,” he growled, pounding into her. “Say it.”
“Yours, Master,” she cried. “I’m yours.”
As her mind disappeared into its happy subspace, Andrea’s orgasm hit without warning, brutal, wet, overwhelming. Her whole body convulsed, and she collapsed forward, her face hitting the floor. She screamed into the silence, her voice hoarse, shaking, wrecked.
Gabriel didn’t stop. He held her bun tight and fucked her through it, tipping her into a second climax that ripped the air from her lungs. When he finally came, it was with a grunt, buried deep, fingers digging into her flesh. He stayed there for a moment, panting against her back, before pulling out.
Cum spilled warm and wet down her thigh.
He dipped his fingers into it and rubbed it slowly across her hip, then her back, almost tender. Marking her. His girl. His good slut.
“Stay still,” he said, then unlaced her arms and ankles and pulled her into his lap, the scent of sweat and sex thick between them.
Gabriel, wrapped in a soft blanket, cleaned and cradled her in his arms as she recovered. Safe. Spent. Sublime.
This story perfectly encapsulates love and trust, Master and submissive, husband and wife; building and basking in the most wonderful dynamic that defines you both, with each of you giving your all to the other. It’s beautiful.
I apologise for the delayed response. We were travelling on the Eurostar and I couldn’t get online, so I have only just been able to sit down and read these lovely comments.
Thank you, Kingdom Man. Your words mean so much. You always seem to understand the heart of what we try to share – that blend of love, trust, surrender, and partnership that sits at the centre of our dynamic. It makes me smile that you can see the beauty in it, too. We give our all to each other, and when that is held with care, everything feels deeper, richer and more alive.
Thank you for reading us so closely and so kindly.
Love Lauren
xxx
Wow! So very hot! Literally! 😄 The combination of sensations and powerful lovemaking was amazing. I'm curious though: does hot wax not burn the skin?
Thank you, Lovely Lonely Lady.
You always make me smile, and you do ask the best questions.
About the wax, the key is using the right kind. Normal candles burn far too hot, so for wax play you only use soy wax or candles made for body play.
Master Joe always tests a drop on his wrist first to ensure it's safe. Distance helps too, because the further it falls, the cooler it feels.
At the right height and in the right amount, it does not burn. It feels more like tiny insect stings that wake up every nerve, and when it is poured more slowly, the warm flow across the skin is absolutely delicious.
Used safely, it is all sensation and surrender, not pain.
And with your curious mind, I think you will someday greatly enjoy the right kind of heat.
with Love Lauren xxx
We are not into D/s, or anything like unto it, but I think 🤔 this story has helped me understand the concept. This line really hit hard (so to speak) :
“She sobbed from the intensity, pleasure and pain colliding into something transcendent.”
Your story was an intense turn-on for me. That was unexpected. Thank you for sharing n may your sex life stay so lively!
Thank you, Loving Man. I'm glad the story helped you understand the feeling behind that kind of dynamic. It is never about cruelty, it is about trust, intensity and letting emotion and sensation collide in a way that becomes something deeper. That line you quoted is exactly what it feels like when everything blends together and the world narrows down to the person you are giving yourself to.
I am really touched that the story turned you on, especially since it is not your usual dynamic. That means more than you know. Thank you for reading with an open mind and heart, and for always sharing your thoughts so generously.
And yes, our sex life is wonderfully lively, and I hope yours and Melody’s stays just as bright and joyful.
My reaction is similar LovingMan’s. I don’t practice D/s; I’m not sure I’ve ever had the desire for it and don’t know what I’d do if my wife asked for it. However, I’m intrigued by the fact that I enjoyed reading this. I got to thinking about something. In our fallen nature, we can barely imagine what life was like before sin entered the world. Is it possible the reaction would be “She exulted in joy, from the intensity, the pleasure transporting her into something transcendent,” and remaining in such a state as long as she wished? In other words, the hot wax, the ice, the slaps across the face or thighs or ass, whether done with hands, or rods, or whips – the sensation we label as pain is perceived in the unfallen world as something quite pleasurable. There is no injury or harm. Simply the same sensory stimulus that fingers rubbing a clit or a tongue on a penis’ head brings about, producing the same reward, not subject to the laws of diminishing returns.
Thank you, Carmelsk.
I really appreciate how deeply you think about these things. It means a lot to me when someone who does not practise D/s can still find something intriguing or moving in the way it is written. At its heart, it is not about domination for its own sake, but about trust, surrender, and connection taken to an intensely profound level.
In a world without fear or harm, perhaps sensation would be experienced as pure feeling without the shadow of danger. The same touch that we label as pain might simply be intensity, something the body receives without flinching or bracing, and instead lifts into a state of joy.
When I write about those moments, that is what I am trying to capture, not harm, but that strange and beautiful space where sensation becomes emotion, and emotion becomes something transcendent.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts so openly. I really enjoyed reading them.
Love Lauren
xxx