Where Pain Becomes Pleasure: Wax Play with Sir

Have you ever danced on the line of pleasure and pain? Have you ever been dragged across it and dunked headfirst in a whirlpool of nerves firing hard and fast, confusing the reality of self-preservation and self-fulfillment? Have you ever been tortured to the point of ejaculation, only to be fucked hard and raw until you’re a whimpering puddle of a man who only craves more?

Sir took me on this journey a few days ago as He brought along blacklight paraffin wax candles and ice. This is actually what happened:

bp188This isn’t me of course, Sir didn’t take any photos this time; I dunno if He used this much wax but it sure as hell felt like it. 

Ordered to the bedroom, stripped, groped and put face down on the bed, I laid in the purple glow trying to find a headspace where I could endure what was about to come. As the candles burnt and the wax melted, He knelt beside me and ran his hand down by back, across my ass, tickling my balls, tickling my hole, and with a sudden shock I felt the hot burning wax. It wasn’t a dribble, and it wasn’t teasing, it felt like a bucket of burning. I gasped, I wretched my shoulders back and scooted up the bed involuntarily, simultaneously wanting to get away and not.

He didn’t wait long before the next hit, and the next. We have three of these little fuckers (and He was only using two). I’ve done wax before, but this was new, this felt like so much more, and hotter (despite knowing paraffin is not as hot). He dribbled and traced lines of wax around my shoulder blades and let it pool in the small of my back. I continued to gasp and twitch, but it also felt kinda good, and then He stopped.

I needed this, and I needed him, and I wanted to please him and be used by him and let him do anything He wanted to me, because I’d never passed over this endorphic threshold so violently and so deeply.

Maybe I was twitching too much, but He got out some rope and bound my feet together. No kicking! I couldn’t have fought him if I wanted to, I was breathing hard and trying to understand the sensations I still felt in my skin. Feet bound, He came back, and there was a pause – a slight pause, but one that felt like minutes before the wax hit again. And again. And more, and it wouldn’t stop, and then all of a sudden, it felt different.

After the initial hit of heat I started to feel heat and pressure and joy dig deep beneath my skin, into my muscles, into a spot deep inside me that is home to raw sexual energy. I was channeling the pain into the deepest form of pleasure, into something that made me involuntarily thrust my hips, stiffen my cock, and stick my ass in the air. I wanted this, I loved this, I …

And it stopped. I was panting and gasping and writhing and I just wanted more. He grabbed my bound ankles and jerked me down the bed (umph! I love being manhandled like that), and then took another length of rope and bound my wrists in the same way.

tumblr_n83x6wbpt31tf5q4ko2_250Maybe an idea for the future, where He can watch without having to work.

Helpless and wanting, I waited for the next round. He was building it up, flying me a little higher and then bringing me back down. Waiting for the next hit of wax, I was nervous and scared, afraid of the pain but craving this deep feeling of “jesus christ fuck me now” that the heat and pain was inspiring. That’s when I heard the rustle of ice. Still panting, unsure what was happening, I thought it was going to be a steady drip-drip-drip of cold to fuck with my head.

It was a knife. A straight razor. And He used its chilled blade against my hot skin to scrape away the wax, and make room for more. Whatever little bit of my rational mind remained told me to stop squirming and calm it the fuck down, there was fucking straight razor against my skin, moron. I did, I got quiet, I felt the scraping blade chip away the wax, I felt it rub and tug at hair. My ass hole twitched but I didn’t move a muscle, barely breathed. The knife went away, I was calm, and the wax hit again. In the small of my back and on my ass and up into the air I thrust.

This hurt like a motherfucker and yet I felt such deep pleasure and deep satisfaction way below the surface, I wanted nothing more than to be fucked, I needed to feel more inside me, I needed more sensation, more pain, more of everything. I needed this, and I needed him, and I wanted to please him and be used by him and let him do anything He wanted to me, because I’d never passed over this endorphic threshold so violently and so deeply.  I was writhing and thrusting and offering my ass as high in the air as I could to be fucked, but He just kept dripping the wax.

“You made me cum!” I panted, disappointed in myself that I couldn’t endure more, but shocked that pain and sensation alone had brought me over the edge.

Until He started dripping ice, dragging it across my back and quickly to my ass. He let one melt in the small of my back while He put another down my crack. He massaged my hole with a cube and then left it there to melt. I was over the moon, my head was spinning, my mind was caught up in a tornado of sensation and feeling. I tried not to thrust, I tried to just swim in this strange sea, and then I came. A lot. My cock pulsed and shot and soaked the bed under me. “You made me cum!” I panted, disappointed in myself that I couldn’t endure more, but shocked that pain and sensation alone (and sure, some thrusting and writhing) had brought me over the edge. Does this mean I’m a pain pig?

“Oh, did I now?” I was still panting and trying to relax, trying to ride the high and not let go of this headspace I had found. And that’s when He mounted me, lubed up his cock and pressed it against my frozen hole. It hurt going in, but He had just spent 45 minutes torturing his willing boy and He was going to fuck my brains out whether I’d cum or not, whether I thought I could take it or not. I honestly wasn’t sure I could. For reasons of travel and illness we hadn’t fucked in a couple weeks and I was still getting reaccustomed and loosened up again, and it felt like jaws-of-life were wrenching me open.

And yet I didn’t stop him, I didn’t want it to stop. Being taken to ejaculation and then used as a fucktoy puts me right back in my headspace as a boy, I want to be used like this, I want to be fucked hard and raw and I want to scream in pleasure and pain along the way. He jackhammered me and I touched those swirling colors again, until with a few final thrusts He bred me. I slowly came back to reality, still bound and skin raw, while He cleaned himself up and then scraped away the last of the wax with the razor.

The high lasted well into the next day. I even had to jack off again when I woke up (which got me put into chastity for not asking permission first). And I was floating through work the following morning. It had been a stressful and emotional week and this was a pivot that I needed. And I felt like I was ready for more, that I would again take his cock or any cock no matter if it hurt, because I’m a boy and a slave and I willingly take such abuse so I can find myself and my deepest fulfillment in service.

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