The Virgin Dating Game

by Sky Corgan

  “Stay still,” he told me.

  “I don't think I want to do this.” I cowered a bit.

  “Why not?”

  “It's going to hurt, isn't it?”

  “A little bit. It will only hurt for an instant though. And it won't leave any permanent marks. By the time the wax hits your skin, it's not hot enough to cause any damage.”

  “A-Alright.” I hesitated before settling back down on the bed, watching the candle with frightened eyes.

  Damien tipped it again. All I could think about was how much it was going to hurt. My mind was going wild with doubt, and I found myself squirming away once more.

  “You do it first,” I said. “I'd feel a lot better about it if you went first.”

  He smirked at me, finding my apprehension funny somehow. “Fine. Look. It doesn't hurt that bad.”

  Damien held out his forearm and dipped the candle, letting a few drops of wax fall on his skin. In my peripheral vision, I watched his face. The expression was there, the sudden wincing when the wax hit its mark. It hurt. I could tell.

  “Are you satisfied?” he asked.

  “You're not going to be putting it on my arm. It's not the same.”

  “Chey, come on. It's really not that bad.”

  “Nope.” I shook my head. “I mean, no, Sir. Let me do it to you first, then I'll think about it. It's different when someone else is doing it to you.”

  He gave me an annoyed look but relented, holding the candle out to me. I sat up, taking it from him. For a moment, we just sat there staring at each other.

  “Take off your shirt,” I told him.

  Damien gave me a sarcastic look. “You can't possibly mean to pour it on my chest. It'll get tangled in the hair.”

  “That's how this is going to work. If you want to do this to me, then I get to do it to you first. If you don't want it tangled in your chest hair, then go shave.” I huffed, showing him I was serious.

  A sudden burst of laughter filled the room, and I stared at Damien like he was crazy, wondering what was so damn funny.

  “You're such a brat sometimes.” He kissed me on the temple and then stood up, grabbing the bottom hem of his T-shirt and pulling it over his head. Just the sight of his shirtless body made my loins ache, and I chastised myself for being so easily taken by him. Before I had a chance to drool much though, he was disappearing out the door, presumably going to his master bathroom to shave.

  I stared at the candle's flame, feeling suddenly vulnerable and cold. The silence was deafening, and I found myself reflecting on our relationship up to that point. I could still remember the time when Damien had told me about all the different kinks he wanted me to experience. How excited I had been. Not all of them were pleasant though, like the ice . . . and this. Now I found myself wishing we could have a vanilla night for once. Just one night without BDSM and kink. One night of normalcy.

  Damien's footsteps padded down the hall, and I turned my attention to the door. When he stepped into sight, I thought I was going to have an orgasm right then and there. He leaned against the door frame, naked except for a pair of loose-fitting pajama pants that clung to his hips. His smooth chest looked oh so kissable, the muscles of his abs far more defined than I could have ever imagined without that bear pelt covering them up. It seemed like five years of age had come off with all that hair.

  Take me! My body screamed shamelessly, and I found myself almost subconsciously parting my thighs, my imagination already racing with thoughts of him pressing between them.

  “Come. Now,” I stuttered, completely forgetting about our Master/submissive relationship. “Come now.” Like a pathetic sex crazed fool, I set the candle down and made grabby hands at him.

  “You like?” he asked, strolling casually toward the bed.

  “I'm going to rape you,” I said, crawling to the edge of the bed and wrapping my arms around his waist to nuzzle my head against his stomach. His muscles were so hard, like he was chiseled out of stone. It took everything in me not to drool. When I pulled back, I tugged at the strings of his pajama pants. “Sex now,” I demanded.

  “No.” He grabbed my hands. “Wax play now.”

  “Wax play after. Sex now.” I pouted.

  “Chey, you're being bad.” He gave me a disapproving look.

  “I don't care. Sex now.” Defiantly, I jerked my hands out of his grasp and tugged at the side of his pants, only to have him step away, scowling.

  “You're being very unruly.”

  “It's your fault for being so sexy.”

  “I did what you wanted, now you need to do what I want, or no sex.”

  Those words had never sounded more horrid before. There was no way he could deny me. Not looking like . . . that. I didn't care if I had to roofie his drink, I was getting the D, whether he liked it or not.

  “Hurry up then,” I complained, falling back on the bed. “But can you fuck me while you're pouring wax on me? I'm sure it would be a lot better if you were fucking me while you're doing it.”

  He laughed, all tension melting away. “You are the most insatiable woman I've ever met.”

  “Seriously, if you pull that denying me shit on me, I am crawling through your window tonight, tying you to the bed, and taking it.”

  Damien smirked. “Oh really?”

  “Really. Now hurry up and pour the wax on me, so I can get mine.”

  “You are being very not submissive,” he reminded me.

  “Sorry,” I cringed a bit. “When I saw you come out like that though . . . everything just kind of went out the window.”

  “I noticed.” He sat on the bed beside me, taking the candle back in hand.

  My confidence was quickly fading, but I knew the quickest way into his pants was to let him pour the wax on me and get it over with. As the candle ascended over my stomach, I found myself pressing back into the bed, wanting to squirm away again. When he began to tip it, I closed my eyes. The first drop of wax made me gasp in shock. It burned like fire for a fraction of a second, then cooled just as quickly, as if it had never been there at all.

  “Are you alright?” Damien asked, looking at my expression.

  “That sucked. Not quite as much as I thought it would, but I didn't like it.” I scrunched my face in displeasure. “Can we fuck now?”

  “I'm far from done,” he told me in a serious tone.

  I was afraid of that. There was nothing I could do but sigh and take it. Hopefully, he'd get bored soon, and we could get on to better things.

  Damien trailed the candle higher up my body, over my breasts. Liquid fire landed on my chest, causing me to squirm. Oddly, I found the wax less painful on my breasts than it had been on my stomach. Still, each drop made me wince and hiss in pain. It was far from unbearable, but nothing I could derive pleasure from.

  What I could derive pleasure from though was the sight of Damien Reed shirtless. I stared shamelessly at the muscles in his chest and stomach and arms as he moved the candle up and down my body, delivering small drops of pain. Even his tattoos looked somehow better, though they had nothing to do with his shaved chest. Maybe I was just horny.

  When Damien finally put the candle down, I sat up to take it in hand.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Don't think you're getting out of this. I didn't make you shave for nothing,” I told him.

  “But I already poured the wax on you. That makes you needing to pour it on me null and void.”

  “I have a source of fire in my hand. I'd lay down if I were you.” I smirked at him.

  For half a heartbeat, I thought he was going to argue, or worse, get upset at me for challenging his authority. Instead, Damien sighed and crawled up onto the bed, laying down where I had previously been. I examined my canvas with pleasure. Dear God, he was sexy. Maybe I should just skip this and go straight to the fucking. I had wanted it so badly earlier—still wanted it so badly. But I doubted I would ever get another chance like this, and I was curious to see Damien covered wit
h wax, like in all of those sexy videos.

  He put his hands behind his head, cradling it and looking up at me with a cool cocky expression. “Well, are you just going to stare?” Damien asked with a grin.

  “I am enjoying the view,” I admitted before taking the candle and tipping it over his stomach.

  Mimicking what he had done to me, I watched the first drop fall. Damien's reaction was much the same as my own. His muscles contracted, despite being ready for it, and I could hear him hissing, though my expression had been nowhere near as delicious as his was. Even though it was painful, he seemed to like it, licking his lips as his body relaxed again.

  I trailed candle wax up his stomach, then across his chest. He was dealing with it so much better than I had. Where I had wiggled and had to fight the urge not to squirm away from him, Damien just laid there, watching and breathing heavily as I painted him with wax. When I got to his nipples, his reaction was a bit more dramatic, but damn was it sexy. He arched his head back, exposing his Adam's apple, and all I could think about was how I wanted to kiss it. Too much—he was too sexy. I couldn't handle it anymore.

  With my sex drive on overcharge, I placed the candle back in its holder on the bedside table. Damien propped himself up on his forearms, but I pushed him back down, gripping at the front of his pajamas and pulling them over his flaccid cock. Within seconds, it was in my mouth, and I was moaning around it.

  “Jesus, Chey,” Damien breathed, but beyond that, all I heard was moaning from him as he relaxed against the bed.

  Before long, he was hard and dripping, his gorgeous prick throbbing. I sucked it as if I was trying to force the come out, pumping his length in time with the strokes of my mouth. He was all I could taste, all I could feel, all I could desire.

  “Stop,” he said abruptly, making me pull away.

  “What's wrong?” I asked, sitting up.

  “Nothing,” he panted. “You were just going to make me come is all. That was . . . completely unexpected.”

  I grinned stupidly, satisfied with myself, though the result would have made me have to wait even longer for sex.

  Damien pushed himself into a sitting position. The wax on his stomach cracked as he moved, and when I looked down at my own body, I realized we were making a mess.

  “Do you want to take a shower first?” he asked.

  “Nope. Need sex now,” I insisted, grabbing him by the hair and pulling him to me for a heated kiss.

  It was all the lead Damien needed. He wrapped his hand behind my neck, crushing his lips against mine, stealing my breath. We worshiped each others mouths, making crude noises as we kissed. His hand slid to my inner thigh, rubbing and causing burning desire to rage through me. Then he began to lower me onto the bed, kissing down my throat and chest as he went.

  He stopped for a moment to pick the wax off my breasts. It felt strange when the small caps it had made over my nipples were being pulled off, far more pleasurable than the wax pouring itself. Damien put the pieces of discarded wax on the bedside table, though I know a lot of it ended up on the bed as well.

  Satisfied with the amount of skin he had uncovered, Damien sucked my nipple into his mouth. My pleasure sensors fired off, sending signals down to my pussy to moisten. His teeth pressed the erect nub into submission, causing me to arch my back and cry out. Unlike the wax and ice, this pain was completely pleasurable.

  As soon as Damien's mouth left my nipple, his fingers took its place, gently caressing and rolling it between them, sending shock waves to my clit while his tongue worked to lick a path around the wax on my body. Occasionally, he'd kiss and nip at my skin, having found a waxless patch large enough to do that. Then his mouth traveled back up, his tongue finding a new path, and his focus returned to my breasts, kneading and sucking and kissing them.

  I moaned and tried to suppress a grin. For once, it felt like he was submitting to me more than I was submitting to him. He'd bent to my will on so many levels; the chest shaving, the candle wax being poured on him, and now the fucking. It was a nice change, though it did make me question how submissive I really was. An image of Danica flashed through my mind, about what she had said about Damien not being able to tame her. No. Not now. Don't think about this now. He's yours and you're enjoying this way too much to let her ruin it.

  When Damien stuck a hand between my leg and began rubbing my clit, the thought was easily dismissed. From that point on, it was a game of give and take. His strokes between my legs were so calculated that I didn't even have to tell him when I was about to come. He stopped naturally, kissing me and sucking on my nipples while my nub calmed down before his hand returned to tease it again.

  By the time he was ready to take things further, I was dripping for him. He pulled me up onto the bed, laying me on my side and grabbing one of my legs to hoist it into the air and rest it over his shoulder. I watched his naked body move on top of me in sheer bliss, focusing my eyes on his cock as he pressed it to my waiting hole. When he slid inside, I moaned shamelessly, relaxing on the bed while he began thrusting, his balls slamming against my ass as he pounded me.

  Wanting to please him, I warned Damien when my first orgasm was coming on. He took the opportunity to change positions, lying down on the bed and making me get on top of him in a modified version of reverse cowgirl. Instead of sitting upright, I was leaning back, propped up on my arms. When he entered me again, I thought the pressure of his cock against my inner channel was going to break me, it was so tight. This position kept the friction from reaching my clit, but the fullness was almost overwhelming. Damien bucked up into me, making me cry out from each thrust. His cock felt ten times bigger, and while part of me didn't think that I could handle it, a darker part of me didn't want him to stop. I let my head hang back, drowning him in my hair, moaning and feeling the weight of my breasts bounce as he jackhammered up into me.

  Eventually, he tired, and I found myself having to take the reigns, though the position was too awkward for me to accomplish much. Seeing my struggle, it was time to switch again, and I end up on my hands and knees taking it doggy style. The bed screamed defiantly beneath us as Damien rocked almost violently behind me. Delicious heat and soreness were building up in my pussy, and I wondered how much more I could take before I had to tell him to stop.

  Damien's breathing was erratic, and for a moment, I thought he was about to blow. That's when he stopped and turned me around, getting in a position that would finish us both. I knew the look in his eyes—knew his intentions.

  Just the sight of him moving on top of me was enough to make me lose it. With me on my back and him between my legs, I could see all of him, the pleasured expression on his face, the way his muscles tensed and contracted, the slightest glimpse of his cock as it slid in and out of my moist pussy, a sheen of sweat glowing on his gorgeous body, and of course, dozens of dots of red candle wax.

  When I warned him this time, Damien didn't stop me. Almost the second my contractions began, he was pulling out, shooting a stream of seed onto my stomach and chest. I panted, rushing a hand between my legs to milk out the last few earth-shattering contractions while he squeezed his own orgasm from his cock. The moment was so in sync that it reminded me of a sexual duet.

  Damien licked his lips, breathing heavily, and I stared up at him in admiration—in love. Now that the fun was over, I just wanted to be in his arms—to have him beside me. In a normal relationship, this would be cuddle time. But in Damien Reed's world, it was shower time.

  I sank back into my submissive role as we went to bathe, remembering the steps I must take when shampooing his hair. There was no shower sex. No more warmth or romance or excitement. It was just a shower.

  Damien Reed ran hot and cold. Even now, after we had been together for so long—after I professed my love for him. I still had no idea if he loved me or not, but sometimes, I felt like he went out of his way not to show it. Like now.

  For a while, everything had been perfect. We had felt like equals, the way a man and woman
should. After the wax play was over, we had shelved our BDSM roles for an hour of pure uninhibited passion. I had loved it. Had he? Or had he only done it to please me?

  And then the thought returned to me. Maybe I shouldn't be a submissive after all.

  CHAPTER NINE

  It was strange returning to school knowing Damien wouldn't be there. One of my classes took me right by his old classroom. For nostalgia's sake, I peered inside. His name on the whiteboard had been replaced by someone else's. Mrs. McConnolly, it said. Seeing her curvy handwriting made me feel a bit guilty. If it wasn't for me being such a brat about the no masturbating rule, Damien would probably still have a job.

  Oh well. What had happened happened, and we couldn't take it back. All we could do was move forward.

  Damien decided to take the semester off. He said there was a lot of stuff around the house he needed to get done, and that he had enough money saved back to last him a while. Despite having a freed up schedule, he still only wanted to see me on the weekends, which made me feel both sad and suspicious.

  The only consolation was that we had spent a lot of time together during my vacation between semesters. He had me in submissive mode the entire time, and I had to endure more punishments than I liked to remember. It was a game of pleasure and misery, constantly making me question if our relationship was right for me after all. I loved Damien; there was no doubt about that. And I loved all the strange and interesting kink he showed me. But I hated that he was so strict, so quick to punish me for slipping up.

  It wasn't all bad though. Sometimes, Damien let his guard down, and I could actually pretend we were a normal couple, like when he invited me over to help decorate his Christmas tree. Those were the moments that made it all worthwhile, when he was just being a man instead of a Dom. We went around the tree, smiling and joking and laughing as we put ornaments on it. Then afterward, he made us hot chocolate, and we cuddled up together, admiring our handiwork. It was a beautiful memory.