I left the bathroom feeling amazing. I'd spent nearly an hour wallowing in the hot scented water. My skin was glowing and soft after I'd exfoliated, my legs and pussy shaved bare and perfectly smooth. I felt a little guilty about keeping Sir waiting, but a girl deserves to pamper herself sometimes and I wanted to look my best for him. At least that's how I justified it to myself.

As I walked into the bedroom I let the towel fall from my body and stood in front of Sir in all my naked glory. He slowly looked me up and down appreciatively, and I waited for a compliment. Instead, all he said was "On the bed please Emily. Face down."

There was a new cotton sheet on the bed and lit candles on the bedside cabinets either side. As Sir turned out the light it created a soft, romantic atmosphere. I felt the bed move as he sat beside me, then his hands were touching me, running down my back with a gentle stroking motion. It was more a caress than a massage, my skin tingling under his fingers.

His hands moved lower, over my waist, my hips, the tops of my thighs. Insinctively I pulled my legs apart, but he ignored my silent plea and worked his way back higher again, up over my shoulders. His fingertips grazed my throat with the lightest of touches. He pulled away from me and a quiet sigh of disappointment escaped my lips.

Sir spoke again. "I want you to tell me how this feels."

I felt something on my left ass cheek. "Like you just dripped some water on me" I told him honestly.

Then I felt it again but on the right. "The same thing, but... a bit warmer?"

Left again, this time it was much hotter. "Hot water" I told him. "Very hot water. A bit painful maybe?"

Right again. This time I yelped in pain. It was a sharp stinging sensation, a quick pain that rapidly faded into memory. Before I could describe it, Sir asked "Too much?"

"No Sir, it just surprised me. Like being spanked when I wasn't expecting it" I looked around at him over my shoulder and it suddenly all made sense. Sir was holding a lit candle above me and my ass was decorated by four drips of pale white wax, two on each side. "That was OK, but I don't think I'd want it any hotter."

"Good girl" he replied as I put my head back down. I felt his free hand move between my thighs,his finger gliding over my slick folds and finding my clit. My moan turned into a yelp as I felt the sharp sting of fresh wax dripped onto my skin, but that was soon forgotten as his fingers continued to work their magic.

Moments later I again moaned in pleasure, and again it was cut short by a drop of wax. Of course I realised what Sir was doing and I tried my best to keep quiet, but the constant brushing of his fingers across my clit just felt too good and I couldn't help myself. Over and over, my moans were stilled, until the pain became a steady counterpoint to the pleasure.

Sir's fingers entered me, and I lost myself. I could no longer say whether it was his fingers inside me that brought me to the brink of ecstasy or the steady dripping of fresh wax on my ass and thighs. It was like my brain short-circuited I craved the wax as much as I did his fingers. Every thrust, every drop heightened my ecstasy, driving me to the brink of orgasm, then on, on, over the edge.

The world returned slowly. Somehow I had ended up laying with my head in Sir's lap while he gently stroked my hair and held me. My throat felt sore, as if I'd screamed myself hoarse - likely because I had. I felt drained, emotionally and physically but I also felt at peace and contented. I imagine its similar to how a marathon runner feels when they cross the finish line. The strength of my reaction scared me, and yet I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to feel that way again.