Mountain Air

I look dazed and rock wantingly as he walks behind me, shuddering and aching that internal yearning, I kneel and wait. I listen to the clanking of the bag, I hear him return, the floor board groan as he kneels, then his warm hands, I melt at his touch. "Aahhhh" escapes from my mouth as he runs his fingers towards my nipples, electricity shooting through my taught and swollen skin. As he takes my nipples I jerk, feeling him twist. This new pain shoots through to my pussy, running down my navel from my nipples and I moan. Then I feel the bite of the clamp, its gripping sensation washing over me as I pull back, but his grip is firm. He smiles as he attaches the next one, I feel him tug as he lets go, pulling me forward with his motion.

Bliss travels through me, his warm strong hands caressing my body following its lines, searching my pleasure. I suck in my stomach, guiding them, willing them, begging them to find me. I am so wet, so wanting, dripping, throbbing and waiting. And then he does, such sweet pleasure rippling through me, I feel myself start to cum.

Then he speaks softly but firmly, clearly I hear his voice so deep in my mind, I follow his instruction, trying not to cum but my body so aches, so needs. I feel myself quiver, gripping his fingers, not wanting them to leave. But alas, they do and he stands, the shock of the movement waking me from my trance, I look...confused, empty, yearning, pleading for more.

He orders me to stand, I shake, wobbling to my feet unsure of my balance. I stare at the blade in his grip, I watch him shave the hair on his hands and I shudder wondering what he will do as I am powerless to stop him. As he cuts the leather the blood returns, feeling like a red hot lava as if a volcano is erupting, the rush and the heat, the burning pain. I feel as if I am going to faint as I sway on my feet.

His hand steadies me as I concentrate on keeping my balance, breathing heavily as I let him lead me. Stopping at the foot of the table, I shiver, the heat of the fire behind me. Standing motionless on the outside while rocking and quivering on the inside. I look at the candles and wait....wait...waiting, taking in the scene, standing naked bound, wanting, wondering if I am dripping on the floor.

(Sir)

Standing behind her, running his fingers gently through her hair, he feels it's warm silkiness as the strands snake between the digits. His fingers grip the hair at the back of her head, pulling it back, not fast, but steady, tilting her head upwards. She can fully see the chandelier and the ceiling as she gazes upwards, her hair being pulled at the back of her head. His right hand reaches around, and removes the nipple clamps, first the right then the left. He pinches each nipple just as the blood begins to rush in.

He turns her around, releasing the grip on her hair, and then pushes her firmly onto the table. She lies on her back, the wood cool on her moist skin. She looks upwards towards the ceiling, quivering slightly as he attaches a rope to her left wrist. Pulling the rope, he secures it to a metal loop hidden under the top of the table. Her hand at the edge of the table, near her side. He repeats the same procedure for her right wrist. Her arms are securely fastened as he moves to her legs. He slides her across the smooth surface, her ass half on and half off the table. Quickly he ties each ankle to the center support post of the table. Legs spread, pulled back, she can't move, she is fully exposed, as if she sacrifice prepared on the altar. He chuckles as he runs his fingers inside of her wet pussy, certainly not a virgin sacrifice, but certainly a pleasure sacrifice.

Upon moving to the wall, he remembers the electrician's puzzled look when he had the cabin constructed. He recalls explaining his reasons, the feeble attempt to rationalize his kinky side. The memory still clear, the electrician's chuckle still vivid as he went about completing the job. He is glad now for the effort, as he reaches, touches a little button that she had not seen. A small cover, perfectly camouflaged into the wall, swings open. Reaching in, he turns a small knob, and the sound of a motor is faintly heard in the background. She stares upwards as the chandelier slowly begins to descend, dropping closer and closer to her bare skin.

He stops its descent just inches above her and the motor rests again. He carefully replaces each of the candles, a full two dozen of them. They are thick, not a typical taper dinner candle. But, fully two inches in diameter and six inches in length, these candles will last. A mixture of colors are represented as he carefully seats each quiet tormentor in its holder. Red, white, blue, and purple all stand ready to spring to life. And, he does not disappoint them. Lighting each one, their life erupts in the flame. They warm, the flames reaching upwards, and then settling in to its comfortable, and relentless task of warming droplets of wax, preparing them for their journey.

Stepping back to the little cover on the wall, he reaches into the opening, and flicks a tiny switch. The Chandelier moves. Not upwards, not downwards, but begins to turn slowly. Around and around. The candles burn, filling the room with their scent, their glow, and sending hot drops of pleasure towards the table. Each drop lands, no prediction where it will land or when, as the turning wheel casts its course. He smiles as the drops find their mark, landing on breasts and nipples, belly and navel, legs and pussy. He can see her begin to squirm as the wax continues its torment.

He takes a pillar candle from his bag. A full six inches in diameter it is substantial. It isn't tall, however, only four inches. He places it on her pelvis, just up from her clit. He lights it. As it warms, a pool of wax grows. If she wiggles, it will spill onto her, cascading the wax down her pussy. He warns her. The drops continue to fall from above, she tries not to move, quivering.

He begins to lick her clit. Slowly and gently. Up and down, around and around. His tongue flicking back and forth as he moves it up and down the inside of the lips to her pussy. He savors the taste, inhales the aroma. Taking her throbbing clit into his mouth, he begins to suck, the fingers on his right hand finding their way inside of her. Deep they travel, curling upwards, lightly touching her g-spot. He continues to suck, and play with her clitoris as it throbs between his lips. Faster he moves, the candle on her tummy quivers and shakes as she gets close to cumming. He continues, the drops of hot joy falling, his tongue dancing. Suddenly he feels her jerk as she cums, and the hot wax cascades from the pillar, running down her clit and pussy as she convulses. He tastes her, tastes the wax, runs the melted joy around her clitoris as she spasms. Wave after wave of hot wax wash down her.

As the spasms subside, he slows, finally stopping. He stands, and returns the chandelier to its normal position and stops it revolving. He takes the candle from her tummy and releases her. Carefully, he helps her from the table. She stands for him. He takes a warm, wet cloth and bathes her, cleaning her carefully. Wrapping her in a warm robe, he seats her at the table. Removing a warm meal from the oven, he places it in front of her. He takes his meal from the oven and sets his place. Two glasses of cool wine are poured, and he sits with her, enjoys the meal, her company, and basks in the afterglow of a day of joy.