Page 88 of The Tenth Muse

“Green, Mistress. The wax feels warm and comforting—almost like a hug is wrapping around my body.”

She hums her approval, fingers exploring the curve of my back, the gentle skin under the slope of my neck. “That pleases me greatly. I want to bring you to a place where you are comfortable letting go of everything holding you back, of a place where you are willing to let go of every emotion bottled up inside of your body. But to be able to do that, you have to trust me. Do you think that is something you can do? Trust me?”

My head is nodding slowly before she even finishes. “Yes, Mistress.”

And it is true.

Because somehow, I already know that I do trust her more than I have ever trusted anyone before.

Stepping away from the table, Mistress busies herself, filling several cups and containers with different wax. She returns, setting them on the table next to me. “Look at me, toy.”

I do as she asks, my head snapping to where she stands.

Short red nails come up to pull the zipper-front of Mistress's corset down. I watch as the fabric falls away, leaving Mistress bare from the waist up. Her breasts make me salivate, andMistress's salacious smile proves that she knows the exact power she holds over my silly, little self.

Mistress holds one of the vessels of wax up for me to see. A pretty pale orange wax that makes me think of fresh, ripe peaches gently sloshes from side to side. Mistress’s steady hand holds the wax above my back where she pours three, four, five small circles.

Surprising me, Mistress climbs on the table with ease instead of continuing to pour.

From my position on my stomach, I cannot see her. Still it doesn't stop me from feeling her strong thighs clad in leather pants and thigh-high boots as she straddles my ass with one of her legs on either side of my body.

Picking up another container, Mistress drips smaller circles around the larger circles. “Flowers blooming across your back, just as the heat from the wax blossoms across your skin.” She bends down, pressing her bare chest against my wax-covered body, spreading the heat between our skin before it cools, teasing me with its brief existence.

Between our bodies, the wax melts, the paraffin creating a sensual, slick feeling as it coats our skin. Mistress mixes the colors of the wax, smudging the flowers into a mess of color and pattern on our bodies, and it is all I can do to wish that they would stay on my body permanently as a reminder of the very moment my mind finally begins to quiet.

“You're so messy,” Mistress says, her voice thick and full of desire.

Her skilled hands trace over my body, dipping between my legs for the briefest of moments. “I bet your cunt is equally as messy, isn't it? Tell me, pet, are you already soaked just from the thought of what's to come?”

She's right on the money, yet I dare not speak.

From her perch above me, Mistress continues her ministrations. She pours wax onto my skin, layering fresh, warm wax over already cooled pools. Lazily, she drags paintbrushes over my skin, tickling my sides and causing me to squirm underneath her solid body.

A sudden burst of ice flashes across my skin, causing me to jolt and breaking the laughter that was bubbling dangerously close to the surface.

“Ah ha, I didn't say you could move, did I?”

When I don't immediately answer, the same sensation rips across my back again. “Answer me, pet. Did I say you could move?”

I pull in a shaky breath, steadying my racing heart. “I'm sorry, Mistress. I was not given permission to move. It was not my intention to break your rule.”

Mistress catches my eye, holding up a rose quartz roller to the dim overhead light. Mostly used during high-priced facials at upscale salons, Mistress instead chose to freeze hers and my brain quickly works to put two and two together as the sensation of fire and ice colliding replays in my mind.

“I'll forgive you just this once. After all, I suppose I should have warmed you up to the idea a bit first.”

“It was the very opposite of warming me up, Mistress.”

I know it wasn't my place to speak and I immediately regret my words, but when I hear the slight chuckle from Mistress, I know my bratty quip was worth the risk. The sound is both familiar and strange and I long to hear it again the second it stops.

“Still feeling okay?” Mistress traces fingers up and down the backs of my arms. One hand tangles into the strands of my hair that have slowly begun to escape my hair clip. Mistress grasps the strands, applying pressure to my scalp that is enough to have a lust-drunk moan slipping from my lips.

“Yes, Mistress. I feel more than okay. I feel content, loose.Relaxed.”

Mistress bends over my body, her chest pressing against my back. The table is sturdy, not as much as protesting with a groan under our combined weight. I wish we could meld together in this position, a statue of sensuality to be found in the next lifetime by excavators searching for proof of existence beyond their own.

Mistress kisses me where my neck and shoulder meet before sinking her teeth into my flesh. “Let's take you from relaxed to soaring, pet. I want to watch you fly.”

I miss her heat the moment she pushes away from my body, but it is only gone for a millisecond before the sensation is replaced with searing pain. Mistress drags her short nails down my back, peeling back layer upon layer of wax as she does.

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