Submissive by Moonlight

by Sindra van Yssel

  He flicked her with the crop. She whimpered and then arched her back to make it easy for him to do it again. Perfect. He was too much of a gentleman not to oblige.

  With her breasts tied up, her nipples jutted straight forward parallel with the floor. He decided they’d been neglected long enough. Immediately after a clamping, when all the blood flowed back in, nipples could be very sensitive so that even a well-intentioned massage could be extremely unpleasant. He tapped on them with the crop, and he got another sharp intake of air in response. Light was clearly enough. He grinned at her and alternated, tapping first one ready peak and then the other.

  The pleasant scent of the candles filled the air. He glanced at one and saw the pool of melted wax forming.

  “You know what the candles are for?” he asked her.

  “I think I have an idea.”

  She’s playing coy with me. She knows, all right. “The wax is going to look very pretty on your skin.”

  “It’s going to hurt, isn’t it? Burn?”

  “It will feel like it. But I won’t let you suffer any damage.” He could hardly say it was going to hurt him worse than it hurt her. It wasn’t. But he did hope it would be pleasurable in the end.

  “But you’re sure it’s safe?”

  “I’m certain.” To the best degree possible, he’d used every toy he owned on himself before he ever tried using it on anyone else. The candles were no exception. Subs didn’t always want to picture their dom on the receiving end, and he definitely was no bottom. But he needed to know as well as he could what they were feeling.

  Her shoulders relaxed. “Thank you, Master.”

  He fished a red ribbon out of his bag and tied her hair back. He straightened the bow until it was balanced. Then he took out a black leather blindfold and buckled it around her. He knew she would anticipate. Anxiety, curiosity, fear, trust, and other emotions would be fighting inside her. Some of that could add to the deliciousness of what was to come. Left unchecked, some of those emotions could destroy a scene as well. Either way, they were hers, a part of her that could never come under his complete control. No matter what, he loved her. He touched her shoulder to ground her.

  “Kneel up as straight as you can,” he said. She’d started to relax into her pose, and while relaxing was lovely, the straighter she was, the easier it would be to get the wax where he wanted it. He helped guide her, arching her back enough that her breasts would stick out well past the vertical plane that passed in front of her chin, while not so much that she wouldn’t be able to hold the position for a while. She responded to his direction with supple obedience. “Good girl.”

  She smiled. “Thank you, Sir. Master.”

  He stood, feeling a twinge from his side. It hardly bothered him, but straightening up still hurt. He reached down and picked up the candle he had lit first, the one behind him and to his left, feeling the heat of the candle through the glass. He lifted it toward her. Waving his other hand in the air, he wafted the sweet scent toward her nose. She breathed in. He couldn’t control her emotions, but he could influence them. The scent was relaxing. But it was also a reminder of what was to come.

  He lifted the candle higher. The wax could still burn if touched directly. He moved to the side of Marisa so he could check it from another angle, making sure the drips would go right where he wanted them. Then he tipped the candle so that wax dribbled out, spilling through the air a couple of feet before landing on the top of a bound breast.

  She twitched and shrieked, but the sound was short, and then she caught her breath. Cherry-red wax spread out on her breast, first a small rough circle where it had hit, then a rivulet where it made its way down her skin. It had solidified before it had gone very far. It had cooled considerably before it even touched her flesh, he knew. From three inches, the wax could burn. From two feet, it only startled.

  He lowered the candle an inch and moved it over to her other breast. Again, he spilled just a little. This time she didn’t move as much or make a sound. Slowly, with a dribble here and a dribble there, he got her accustomed to the sensation. He streaked her breasts with the cherry wax. A few drops fell onto her thighs, spent of their heat.

  All the while, he lowered the candle. Being high up reduced the sensation, but it also made it harder to aim. He had a particular effect in mind, and he enjoyed seeing her breasts sticking out and covered with bright color. He wouldn’t be doing what he was doing if he didn’t want to arouse her and take her places she hadn’t been before. But he also took pleasure from making her into living art. That was why he had tied the bow in her hair so precisely.

  He put down the first candle and picked up a second one. This one had accumulated more melted wax. He raised it until it was higher than the other one, because the more wax fell at once, the less quickly it cooled. He put his hand on her shoulder to help steady her. Then he poured wax on his little witch.

  “Ohhhh!” she cried, her voice catching. “Oh Goddess, that—oh. Oh.”

  He smiled. The wax cooled quickly, and her last “oh” sounded almost bashful. “That’s a good girl,” he told her. “So beautiful. Your tits are so beautiful.”

  She arched her back more, and he knew she was ready for him to continue.

  He poured additional wax. It covered the tops of her breasts and flowed downward, some of it dropping from her nipples to her legs or the sheet, some following her curves downward. Her startled exclamations were no more, replaced with soft purrs as the wax hit. Now that she knew her body wasn’t being damaged, she could enjoy the intensity as he expected. He got a third candle and worked on filling in the gaps.

  He picked up the fourth candle and hesitated. He couldn’t see her eyes because of the blindfold. He had put it on her both to stop her from anticipating exactly when the wax would hit, but also to protect her eyes, and he wasn’t about to take it off. But it made it harder to read her. He touched her neck, feeling her pulse. Calm, steady. Her mouth was curved sensuously in a look of abandoned bliss.

  He tugged at her hair, pulling her backward, and she moved without resistance. She was in subspace, a lovely experience for any sub. Drifting, peaceful, able to accept pain and pleasure and embrace them both. But at the same time, he needed to be careful. She wasn’t likely to remember to use her safe word, even if she needed it. It was his job to protect her and make subspace a safe place to be.

  So he watched her carefully. Leaning her backward let him drip wax on the lower curves of her breasts. He knelt beside her, turning his hand from pulling her hair to supporting her head. Then he poured more wax, the hot red liquid landing between the frozen streams that had dribbled from above. She shuddered against him. As expected, some of the wax ran onto the ropes, and some onto her bra, but the rest ran down her tummy. He worked carefully, stopping to watch her and then pouring a little more, until her breasts were almost completely covered in hardened red wax. Then he set the last candle aside.

  “Do I please you, Master?” she asked. She was coming out of it, and that was probably best.

  “You please me very much,” he said, heartfelt. “I love you.”

  “Mmm,” she said.

  He pushed his hand between her legs and entered her pussy with two fingers. It was soft, wet, and yielding. She moaned. Her pussy quivered around his fingers. It wouldn’t take much to make her come.

  “I want to watch your eyes,” he told her. “Keep them closed at first and then open them slowly.” He took her blindfold off and wiggled his fingers inside her, sliding them out, pushing them back in, careful not to go so fast as to tip her over. If his cock had been inside her, he wouldn’t have been able to resist thrusting in hard, over and over until they both came. This way he was more under control. For a moment he wondered if he was holding back a part of himself. But his focus was too much on her to be sidetracked by introspection.

  She followed directions, blinking at the light, although he’d kept it dim.

  When she’d adjusted, he picked up the crop. Her eyes widen
ed.

  He tapped her wax-covered breasts, first one and then the other, lightly so as not to break the wax.

  “Please,” she said.

  “Please what?” he asked. Did she want him to stop, or did she want to feel the crop hard against her breasts, cracking the wax? Did she want his fingers to push her over the edge? He searched her eyes for the answer as she stared at him. “What do you want?”

  WHAT DO I want? She hadn’t been sure even when she’d said please.

  Whatever you desire, Master. It was a trite answer, but it was true. If he wanted to lash her with the crop, she’d arch her back and thrust her breasts out for whatever pain he inflicted. If he wanted to fuck her silly, well, that was fine too. If he wanted to grab her head and force her to suck his cock—anything, as long as it was what he wanted.

  She opened her mouth again without a plan, trusting her heart to give her the right words. “Don’t hold back,” she said. “I want all of you.”

  It was that simple.

  The crop made a whirring sound as it zipped through the air, and when it hit her nipple, it felt as if lightning had struck her tender peak. Some of the wax split and flew off. For a moment, the pain shut everything else out, but it was only for a moment. Then she became aware once again of his fingers inside her pussy, the snug constriction of the ropes, the tightness of the wax on her skin. She felt so alive. So sensual. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been so aware of her body, not even, she realized with a touch of guilt, when she walked naked under the moon to meet her goddess.

  She twisted, pushing her other breast forward, wanting more. She didn’t want to tell him what to do, but her motion was as instinctive as moving away from the pain should have been. He responded swiftly, sending another jolt through her. It took on the pattern of a dance, him wielding the crop, slicing it downward through the air, her shifting back and forth to take it on each breast in turn. Bits of wax fell off, but others clung to her skin tightly. Just as I will cling to him.

  She spread her legs wider, even though it made her thighs ache. She couldn’t help herself. She wanted more. More pain, more pleasure, more of everything, but above all more of Nolan.

  He growled, and the look in his eyes was one of pure lust. Her heart quickened. Yes. That’s what I want more of. You.

  He put the crop down hard on the floor and stood up. For a moment she thought she’d done something wrong. Then she realized he was taking his clothes off. His threw his shirt toward the couch, kicked his shoes off toward the door, and pulled his pants off and left them lying behind him.

  His body was perfect, even with the bandage that was still taped to his side. Somehow it emphasized the lines of his abs and pecs, and the hardness of his body. It didn’t seem a weakness or an imperfection. I took a bullet. And kept going. And now I’m going to fuck you. He probably was thinking no such thing, but still his masculinity turned her on more. And she hadn’t thought it was possible to be as horny as she was.

  She didn’t have any doubts he’d fuck her. Not with the way his hard cock jutted out. It was thick and rigid. A drop of liquid had formed at its tip. I’m not the only one who’s wet. She leaned forward and flicked her tongue, tasting his saltiness.

  He knelt down in front of her, his legs between hers. He reached for his jeans, probably looking for a condom in the pocket. She shook her head, unable to reach out to stop him.

  “I’m on the pill,” she said. “And I had myself tested while you were in the hospital, because I was right there. If you’re clean, don’t worry about it.” She could have told him she knew he was, but he’d probably not trust the way she knew things.

  He nodded and lifted her. That surely was against doctor’s orders, but it was hard to object as he settled her back down again, filling her with one thrust. She wrapped her legs around him.

  The ropes around her breasts felt more than tight now. They were beginning to hurt. The danger, she suspected, was when she couldn’t feel the pain. The hurt reminded her that they were tight. After having wax dripped on them, and taking the crop, she had a right to ache. The pain seemed to travel down her spine, mixing with the pleasure in her core and building, becoming something more than either.

  She wanted his pleasure, but instead her own overwhelmed her, rolling over her too forcefully to resist. Her limbs trembled as she squeezed his cock, trying to make him join her. But he’d had her on edge for a long time, and he’d barely gotten started.

  He wrapped his arms around her and kept thrusting inside. His pubic bone bumped against her clit too perfectly for it to be an accident. He’d found the right angle. Her instinct was to take over, to ride him until he came, but with her hands and arms bound, she couldn’t do a thing. It was oddly freeing. He was in control, and she had to trust that he’d find the right rhythm.

  Soon she felt the pressure building in her core again. She couldn’t believe her body wanted another orgasm right after the first, but clearly it did. She caught a glimpse of his eyes, and they held clear intent. He was going to make her come. She didn’t have any choice about it.

  He cupped her ass and tilted her forward. All he needed was one hand; she couldn’t resist anything he wanted to do. Then he nudged her back again with his head. He slipped his other hand between them, found her clit, and rubbed once, twice, three times. The third time he bent down, bit through the wax on her breast, and pinched one nipple with his teeth. The spark of pain tipped her over, and she came again.

  She felt his cock pulse, and he joined her, his hot seed spurting deep in her belly. She wrapped her legs around him tighter, holding him inside. She giggled as he spit out some wax.

  “Some things,” she said, “are best not to swallow.”

  “Hmm?” he asked and then caught on and laughed. “Um, yes. Wax is on that list.” He kissed her deeply, which ended the conversation. Even when they came up for air, she enjoyed the quiet, the feeling of his arms embracing her, and the stretching fullness of his cock in her pussy.

  “I love you, Master,” she said at last. It felt good to say it. To be able to say it.

  “I love you too, Marisa.” He grinned. “Mine.”

  Loose Id Titles by Sindra van Yssel

  A Haunted Romance

  Blonde and Owner

  Blue Desire

  Dom and Domme

  In the Middle

  Purple Passion

  Red Lust

  Secretary for Two

  Submissive by Moonlight

  The Barbarian and the Witch

  * * * *

  The BONDAGE RANCH Series

  Roped In

  Pushing Limits

  Moving On

  His Little Tart

  Sindra van Yssel

  I live in Northern Virginia with my partner, my teenage son, and a lot of fish. For many years I was active in our local BDSM community. Yes, people really do the things people do in my books!

  By day I work in a public library, where I get to meet all kinds of readers. I've a soft spot for happy endings and characters who learn more about themselves, but I enjoy torturing my characters along the way, too. Hopefully you'll enjoy watching them squirm as much as I do.