Page 28 of Bound by Love
With time, Brie grew used to the ticklish feel of the brush as he coated her entire stomach in a thin layer of wax. Once completely covered, she heard him set the brush down and pick up something new.
Brie squeaked and then giggled when the first drop of wax made contact. It was much hotter, but the initial layer protected her skin.
“Color?” he asked.
“Green. Oh, I like the challenge of it.”
“Good,” he replied warmly.
Soon, he had Brie’s heart racing, not knowing where the next drop would fall, her whole body anticipating it. Tono played with her, alternating candles and temperatures, so she never knew what to expect.
She loved his play!
Brie was grateful that Tono continued, building layer upon layer—the hot wax rolling down from her stomach, making ticklish trails on her skin as it dripped onto the cloth.
When he set the candle down on the tray and didn’t return to her, she wondered if he was done and called out to him.
Tono chuckled. “Patience. I’m not finished yet.”
“Good, because I don’t want it to ever end,” she confessed.
He returned to her side and began painting with the wax again. With a thick layer of wax covering her entire stomach, there was little she could feel, so she concentrated instead on the sound of his breathing as he created his art.
It was an intimate connection, being a canvas for his masterpiece, and was something she cherished.
When he was done, she heard the paintbrush handle clank against pottery.
“May I see it?” she asked breathlessly.
Brie could actually hear the smile in his voice when he answered. “Not yet.”
She lay there, acutely aware that he was staring at her. “What is it you painted?”
“Something that has deep meaning in my culture but is also significant to you and me.”
“An orchid?” she offered as a guess.
“No.” Tono’s light laughter filled the room.
He knelt beside her and unbound her wrists before lifting her from the chair and placing her on her feet, careful not to disturb his work. With his hands on her bare shoulders, Tono guided her down the hallway and into the bedroom. Once he had her positioned, he removed her blindfold, but told her, “Do not open your eyes yet.”
Brie kept them closed, smiling as she waited for his command.
He whispered in her ear, “Open.”
What she saw when she opened her eyes took her breath away. On a black background of wax, he had painted a cherry tree in full bloom, individual pink flowers painted with meticulous precision. A red bridge with a stream running under it completed the scene.
“Tono, it looks like a real painting,” Brie said in awe. “No wonder it took hours.”
“I wanted to create something worthy of the canvas it was painted on.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“No need to cry,” he softly chided her.
Brie smiled through her tears and nodded.
Tono looked at her in the reflection of the mirror. “As I told you, this has great significance.”
