Scents And Sensuality - Sex Stories

Scents And Sensuality

... me as a woman, rather than a child or a porn actress. I knew the smooth vertical line of my slit would be clearly exposed beneath the dark patch of curly fuzz. I had a felling it would be glistening with juices already; I knew from touching myself earlier that anticipation had left me very wet inside. As I lay there, something smooth and silky tickled down my right leg: some sort of material, I guessed. I was just thinking how nice it felt, when I felt it slipping round my ankle. “Stay still, this won’t hurt.” I flexed my foot, and realised that I couldn’t move it far; something was holding it in place. It wasn’t hard to work out why; he was securing my limbs to the corners of the bed, spread-eagling my naked body across the covers. Very kinky. We hadn’t really experimented with this sort of thing before, so I was intrigued as well as excited. Whatever did he have in mind? Soon my hands were secured as well, and I giggled as I pulled on the restraints, which I decided were probably silk scarves. Not leather straps or metal chains, then. This was sensuous rather than rough. I could probably have pulled myself free if I’d wanted, but I definitely had no intention of doing that. I lay still, straining my ears. The scent of the candles was very strong now; presumably he had them arranged somehow all around the bed. Everything was very quiet, and I felt a momentary flicker of panic. Where was he? What was he doing? “Sweetheart?” I whispered. “Shush,” came the reply. Obedient ...

... for once, I shushed. Then I felt something hot next to my cheek. Not touching, just giving out heat and an intense whiff of scent. I momentarily worried about flameproof sheets and smoke alarms, but was distracted by his next words. “Are you ready?” “What for?” He didn’t answer, but I suddenly felt a searing heat on my bare stomach. “Jesus fuck…” I burst out, but he hushed me. “Don’t move, just breathe in the scent and you’ll be fine.” The brief burst of pain had dulled now. My mind span, trying to work out what it was. Then there was more, further up my stomach this time, and I realised what it was. The candles. Hot wax. He was dropping hot wax on me. “Oh fuck, wow,” I breathed out. “You bastard, that hurts.” “But you like it, don’t you?” he whispered. I wished he wasn’t right, but he was. The pain was just enough to arouse and stimulate me, without being unbearable. I flexed my tummy muscles, and could feel the cooling, hardening wax clinging to my skin. Now I knew what it was, I could picture him leaning over me, letting the candle drip its liquid fire onto my body. Each fresh stream of hot wax hurt briefly, then dulled as it cooled. I felt a stream dribble down my leg, and couldn’t help thinking it was more fun than the usual process of getting a leg wax. “Is it very hot?” he asked gently. “Yes, but don’t stop,” I breathed. I really didn’t want him to; I was so enjoying the sensation. The heady scent of sandalwood and the heat of the wax were almost intoxicating. “Perhaps ...