Waxy Canvas

“You’re my canvas,” he said.

Drop after drop, the wax dripped onto her body.

Hot wax.

Almost too hot, cooling just before it got too much.

She squirmed in her ties as he waited for the wax to set, before tipping the candle once more, creating his design. Her body relaxed to the rhythm of his painting; welcomed each drop.

Then he upped the tempo.

At first she struggled, until her mind drifted with the continuous stream of sensation. He pushed her boundaries while she floated safely in a sea of wax.

Between her legs, tiny waves of pleasure escaped.

Writing a story of exactly 100 words is quite a challenge. It’s a great exercise, as it forces you to look critically at what you have written, and dares you to keep to the essence of your story. Please feel free to join in, and if you do, you’re welcome to use the badge below, and link back to my page.

© Rebel’s Notes

10 thoughts on “Waxy Canvas

  1. You’ve captured wax play very nicely here Marie! The canvas, the art of it and especially the pleasure 🙂

  2. I haven’t had great experiences with wax. I always feel like it *should* be sexy, but in (my) reality, it’s just… NOT.


    This piece definitely qualifies for the “sounds sexy” bit though. 😉

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