Hot Wax

My Master and I have had many many kinky conversations but like they say, you always remember your first. And out first ever filthy chat focused quite heavily on the thought of hot wax.

We discussed it several times in the early days of our relationship (back when I was being a slow learner and hadn’t realised we were properly doing D/s) and I actually bought a big bag of soy wax in anticipation.

And then we got sidetracked with all the other ridiculously fun and filthy kink over the last three years and the bag of wax got forgotten about until a recent clear out brought it to mind again.

It is testament to how much I was determined not to miss hot wax with my Master this time that I actually sent him a specific date I had in mind for it and more or less gave him an order for the first time in our relationship.

Life has got in the way of my Master and I doing any full D/s for a few months and I’ve been missing it. Submission doesn’t just turn me on but sort of recharges my emotional batteries too so for me the scene started long before Sir got to my house.

Researching how best to melt the wax and what to apply it with, picking out what to wear or not wear on the night, incorporating Princess into what I was setting up and then laying out my living room so that it was as close to a dungeon as I can get it meant my excitement built all week.

By the time I was getting dressed for Sir with full slutty make up designed to smudge and smear over the scene for Princess, I had that excitement that you can feel in both your stomach and your cunt. I was the tiniest bit worried I’d built the anticipation up too much as I knelt blindfolded re-acquainting myself with John Holmes¬†for the first time in months as I waited for them to arrive.

I think it was about thirty seconds in when I realised the evening was in fact going to exceed my wildest expectations. My Master started me off by sitting back in my armchair glass of whisky in his hand letting me find his cock with my mouth.

Not only did his cock taste particularly good but he pulled me deeper down on it than I can usually manage by raking his hands through my hair and up and down my back and shoulders which made melt down onto his cock like I couldn’t get enough. Just as I was so blissed I could barely move my mouth round him, he swapped places with Princess and I buried myself in her lap too.

Sir ordered us both onto the floor on our knees and took turns fucking us. He filled me up with his cock and left me wanting more as he pulled Princess on top of him with her ass in the air and told me to use her as my toy. It was time to get the temperature play part of the evening going.

Alongside my hot wax I’d laid out an ice bucket and buried my favourite curved glass butt plug inside it. I left Princess’s ass hot and stinging after a few hard slaps and then pressed the ice cold toy against her. She took the toy in one go and sat down so hard on Sir’s cock I was envious of how filled up she was.

They didn’t leave me for long though, working together as Princess put me in the spreader bar as Sir tied my hands and arms so I was flat on my back, legs spread wide and unable to stop either of them from doing anything to me. I was completely naked, totally immobile and very vulnerable.

It was exactly the moment I wasn’t sure if I could take the pain I thought would be coming and I almost wanted to safe word before we’d even begun. This amount of anticipation after a whole week of waiting was unbearable. I was so wrapped up in in that moment I almost didn’t notice the first drip of wax for a second until a sting of beeswax brought me out of my thoughts and right into the scene.

I didn’t have more than a split second to breathe in before a warm wave of hot wax washed over me. Smoother softer cooler soy wax felt like pure pleasure on my skin. I could feel myself slide into subspace where my body and mind feel incredibly sensitive and attuned yet in soft focus.

Sir flicked and dripped the wax over my tits, warming my nipple piercings with residual heat which gave me much more sensation than I ever get there especially as Princess was flicking her tongue over my clit at the same time. I was just basking on ripples of warmth and orgasms as the sensations built with layers of hardening wax.

It was the first time my Master and Princess have worked together on a kink scene where I am doing active submission rather than just being submissive as I fuck and it felt like being passed from hand to hand if they weren’t letting my feet touch the ground like floating completely securely.

The wax kept coming running and dripping down my torso and arms, flicking onto my legs and tightening as it dried. I knew my Master and Princess were taking turns with it concentrating in places while alternating with bright hot splashes of the beeswax anytime I looked like I was starting to zone too far out.

Usually when I submit to Sir I am very quiet, almost non verbal but this scene pushed me out of that habit because I knew that to keep this pleasure coming I needed to give feedback as it was so unlike anything we’ve played with before. I’ve always thought that talking during a scene would take me out of it but in fact I discovered it enhanced everything.

Although maybe my Master also likes me silent because he gave Princess the order to use the Doxy on me at this point. The way she pulsed it and pressed it against my cunt made me lose my voice into the pull of five orgasms one after like a complete slut as the wax ran across my bare cunt feeling exactly like the warmth of squirting.

I was utterly spent. And my Master and Princess were just ready to get started on each other. I lay back watching as Sir slid his cock into Princess’s stretched welcoming ass and fucked her so hard they both collapsed into me as he came into her.

It was the perfect way to crack the wax they’d worked so hard to build up so that when they untied me and pulled me up off the floor there was a perfect line of wax around my body to prove how we’d spent two kinky hours that were more than worth the wait….

wax lines

Hot Wax

Drag Hag

I was talking to Princess the other day about RuPaul’s Drag Race. Bizarrely for someone who loves make up and used to work in a drag bar back in the early days of living in London, I’ve only ever seen one episode of it (actually with Sir and Princess.)

She and I were discussing how many millions of people must have discovered their sexuality (or become allies or more aware of LGBTQ+ culture) because of RuPaul and Drag Race. We were both trying to work out who are first drag queen was and despite our age gap both of us thought RuPaul had probably been our introduction to drag culture.

I definitely remember having a card advertising the original Viva Glam lipstick back in 1994. The fifteen year old me was bewitched by the unisex glamour of MAC Cosmetics which were unobtainable in Ireland in those days and I was dazzled by RuPaul in a frock and k.d lang in a suit both gender bending for a good cause.

I stuck that card to my wall above the desk I studied for my GCSEs at and stared at it as some kind of portal to a world where anyone could wear make up and be who they wanted. And like many people before and since I found that world in the local gay bars.

My hometown only had one gay bar that advertised itself as such while one other pub had an upstairs room frequented by what we’d now call bears and tended to be too old for my friends and I to go. I got to know the gay friendly haunts well as I had several barely out gay friends and was a safe person to accompany them as they met men for fun for the first time.

It never occurred to me that some of those men were bisexual until one Monday night a female friend and I tripped along to the gay bar for Miss Penelope Pitstop’s Big Balls Bingo with our town’s possibly only drag queen mixing local banter and high camp to a mixed audience.

Since she was a minister’s daughter she got a fit of guilt about being there and left abruptly (although her parents were very welcoming when she came out as bisexual herself soon after even if she had a tendency to act like the only gay in the village after she did.)

I figured I could finish my drink safely in a bar full of men with eyes for each other and was slightly surprised when suddenly I was hugged hard and joined at my table by a guy I knew from my clubbing days. We’d always enjoyed drug fuelled conversations after big nights out crashed out on aged sofas in student houses talking earnestly while off our faces but had never really spoken sober.

I didn’t really think much of seeing him there until we were well into the bingo and drinks and he mentioned he knew Miss Penelope herself. In a stroke of almost embarrassing naivety I enquired how and he paused and¬†batted his eyelashes at me and casually said he liked to suck her cock while she was in full make up.

I know my mouth made a perfect O in response to that. Not because as he thought for a second because I was shocked or horrified but because I was instantly turned on by the thought of it and fuelled by gin and confidences told him so. He grinned and signalled for more drinks. I knew that night wasn’t going to go home as early as my friend had.

We played several rounds of bingo, failing to make a house at any point since our attention had shifted to making eyes at each other. Having only ever discussed politics and putting the world to rights with this guy I was delighted to discover he was funny and incredibly fucking filthy.

I had no qualms when the bingo ended and he bought me a drink, kissed me on the lips and told me to entertain myself before disappearing for about fifteen minutes. I was amusing fag hag fodder to the other men in the bar who thought a wide eyed girl in a bar with a dabber had no idea what was going on.

My date reappeared and rescued me, sliding onto the seat beside me and his tongue into my mouth as he kissed me still tasting of cock and come. His hand definitely crept up my skirt and we looked very straight in a public place. That was our cue to leave together.

We fell into a cab kissing hard enough that the cab driver had to remind us we’d arrived twice. There was no pausing for drinks or polite chit chat in that way people do when they pretend they haven’t gone home together to fuck. We went straight to the bedroom.

I noticed two things that surprised me. For a man of barely twenty who appeared to live separately to his parents his room was immaculate with a properly made bed and even more unusually he was holding the first sex toy I’d ever seen.

He pushed me down on my knees and started pulling my tights down and skirt up so my panties were just low enough to sneak a peek at my cunt and for him to wedge the dildo he was holding into them so it stuck out like a cock that I had to hold tightly in place by pressing my thighs together.

I could feel my cunt soaking wet around it and making it tricky to keep in place with how slick my knickers felt. But when he knelt down, pulling his long hair off his face and started sucking the dildo like he clearly had been with Miss Penelope’s cock before we left together. I looked down watching his head bob and up and down on the dildo taking it deeper than I knew was possible.

I was so turned on and wet watching his floorshow I almost didn’t notice his final flourish as he deep throated the dildo pulling it out of my panties with his lips before putting his mouth back on my cunt and licking me with equal enjoyment and vigour.

My cunt responded in delight as I discovered my first bisexual man that night. We fucked hard that night so that my first time using a sex toy was with his mouth and ass. I did enjoy his legs eleven for me, cock in hand and getting his jackpot that way.

Maybe not the most common introduction to drag culture I’ll agree but one I’ve remembered for years since…

 

Drag Hag

Heat Me Up

I’ve had more conversations about boilers recently than anything else. Not only did mine decided to go on strike over the weekend but a friend might just have embarked on a illicit *thing* with the gas safety engineer who came to check hers the other week.

I did laugh as she sighed over a glass of wine that you can’t just fuck the boiler guy and thought to myself ‘I would’. It was only after she went home and I was clearing up the glasses that I remembered I had fucked the boiler guy once.

The only reason I didn’t text her to tell her that as encouragement is that while I didn’t mind her knowing my wicked ways but I did feel slightly embarrassed that my wicked ways are so debauched that I’ve got beyond forgetting the names of people I’ve fucked and into just forgetting whole people I’ve fucked. Being a slut is one thing. Being a slut with a terrible memory is a whole different game.

But when I was lying in bed that night I was pleased to note that I remembered the boiler guy extremely well when I thought back. He’d come to check gas safety certificate and do some maintenance work to allow the boiler to be signed off so was going to be there for a couple of hours.

Somehow the conversation went from flues and valves to tattoos. And it turns out this gas engineer was a tattoo obsessive with full sleeves and coordinating chest and back pieces of botanically accurate Japanese cherry blossom which I have to say I wasn’t expecting in deepest south London.

His face lit up in that way that happens when you give people permission to talk about the thing they love and that was the moment I realised the boiler guy was extremely good looking. I have always been an absolute slut for men who lose their self consciousness and just enjoy their interests even if they are silly or geeky or unfashionable.

And this guy loved Japanese sakura. I mentally skipped over the bit where he mentioned travelling to Japan to see the blossom in person on his honeymoon and listened to him describe how beautiful it was. I was trying to picture how that might look tattooed on his body when I realised he was asking me did I want to see the artwork?

I must have said yes but next thing I knew his shirt had come off and his tattoos were right there along with his nicely muscled torso. He turned and paraded for me so I could take in the detail of each black and white blossom and flower. And the only other thing I am a bigger slut for than lack of self consciousness is really really good tattoos on men.

And these were some of the most beautiful tattoos I have ever seen. Clearly designed as one whole piece and with an artist who wanted to use and enhance the shape of this guy’s body with light and shade, it literally flowed and cascaded down his back and arms and showed off both his skin and the sheer movement of his body with each little ripple or flex of a muscle or tendon.

It was incredibly hot. The kind of hotness where the room seems to grow thick with anticipation and time seems to slip and slide slowly but inevitably to the moment you start fucking. He lifted my hands onto his arms and let them move across this carpet of flowers and start sliding down onto the smooth but unmarked skin of his stomach.

I’m not sure if my hands moved themselves almost without control or he guided them but I was undoing his trousers and he was completely naked in my hallway, his body contrasted between the black and white of the top and the bare flesh of the bottom drawing my eye right to the middle and his hard cock.

He was still in the hall where anyone could see through my front door when I went down on my knees to suck his cock. I could feel his muscles tense and although I wasn’t able to see it from that angle I could just picture how good his back looked flexing like that. I loved that I was fully dressed and he was completely naked.

Something caused a noise outside and we both realised what we were doing and he stepped into my living room and closed the door to give slightly more privacy and possibility to fuck. I used the break to go and find some condoms in my bedroom and when I came back was greeted by another favourite sight that goes straight to my cunt.

He was standing cock in hand with that same lack of self consciousness as earlier and exactly how I imagine he makes himself come when he’s alone. I love that familiarity men have with their own bodies and it always makes me horny to watch. He just kept pulsing and clenching his hand on his cock so smoothly I hardly noticed he’d slipped the condom on while I’d got undressed.

He pulled me down on top of him on the carpet and we fucked. I had a fantastic view of his arms and chest and those tattoos almost til the last second when he pulled me down hard onto his torso and came into me. I remember grabbing his arms and pulling him against me until I came and then lying back for one last glance of that beautiful blossom.

I can’t remember how we disentangled ourselves but it wasn’t awkward. None of that ‘what the fuck just happened?’ wash of shame or regret. Almost that feeling of it just being how things are sometimes. I’m fairly sure in a stroke of pure Irish sluttery I made us tea while he got dressed again and went back to being a gas engineer without this ink superpower under his shirt.

After he left I thought many times about his tattoos and the effect body modification can have. In fact the impact lasted so long and so vividly in my mind’s eye that’s why I’d forgotten about the boiler connection til now. I think I could probably still draw his tattoos but I couldn’t tell you what his face looked like.

I’d only know it was him come to fix my boiler again in the future if he recognised me or happened to have stripped his shirt off before he got here. I won’t lie. The latter would have made a midnight boiler call out last night much more fun…

Heat Me Up

Go Faster Stripes

I’m not sure it was entirely down to shaving my legs but I’ve definitely come back to life a bit recently. Smooth skin definitely got my brain going if not my cunt and I felt the urge to start texting smut chat to Sir again.

There was definite excitement on Saturday when I arranged my first proper trip out of the house since New Year to go Master and Princess’s house. Lying in bed during the day resting a tiny bit of me felt like I should be sensible and make sure I didn’t over do it too soon. The rest of me was absolutely adamant that even if it landed me back in bed for the foreseeable I was going to fuck them when I was there.

The only thing of any warmth and interest I’ve touched in weeks has been my electric blanket and it’s a very poor substitute for the feel of my two favourite people pressed against me. I told Sir I was hoping to get naked again after getting dressed to come to theirs and wore my favourite fuck me boots to be sure I had made my point when I arrived.

Honestly I’d have been quite content to walk in their front door shedding clothes with each step and straight into their bed but Sir hasn’t lost his love of making me wait. He poured drinks and cooked an excellent dinner and left me to squirm on the sofa the whole time. I was so close to discovering my inner brat and actually begging him to fuck me when Princess let her brat flag fly and started sucking his cock while he laughed at how eager we both were.

She and I took turns to suck his cock and it was the oddest thing. I felt completely out of practice. His cock tasted and felt familiar but instead of that muscle memory of knowing a long term lover’s body I felt like I was starting all over again like I’d never sucked a cock before. And not just with him but I couldn’t get my position or rhythm with Princess’s cunt either. It was like I was a beginner again.

I always love when my Master takes charge and I needed it even more than usual as he ordered me how to kneel and what to do and pulled me onto his chest to kiss me so I couldn’t have moved away even if I wanted to. Which I didn’t. Him kissing me so hard he almost bit my lips brought me back into the pace of playing with both of them as I rediscovered the feel of them both.

I love that state. Sort of blissed out on sex and submission and open to anything Sir tells me. So when he led me over the kitchen table and bent me over it I didn’t care how much I needed to contort myself to take his cock. Or how hard he was fucking me against the edge of the table. Nor how high in the air I had to hold my legs up when he put me on the table under Princess’s cunt and kept his cock deep inside me.

I was drunk on dick and her taste barely registering what they were doing just drinking in the feeling of it all. Sir brought me right back by coming on my cunt so it dripped down onto the table while Princess licked my clit on her hands and knees with her naked ass and cunt right up against the kitchen window for all the street to see.

It felt amazing. And even better next day when I had stripes of bruising on my upper thighs where Sir had fucked me so hard against the table it had left marks. I love those markers of sex. I love the smell of someone on me next day, the feeling that my legs were pushed apart, the sensation that my cunt was fucked raw the night before.

I felt it in the ache of my muscles afterwards and the bruises that kept developing and the sheer sense that as well as being sated with orgasms, touching and fucking and playing with my Master and Princess somehow feels like being back to myself after feeling distant while the only warm touch in my life had been with my electric blanket.

Each little ache and mark reminded me that it’s like coming home to sex after a long vacation…

Go Faster Stripes

Fuzzy

Not only is my brain still fuzzy from being ill, so is the rest of my body. Being stuck in bed all week saving my energy to have a shower doesn’t give me most energy wiggle room for the other bits of the work that goes into my usual femme self.

So while I’d never judge anyone else for choosing not to shave, I feel like I’m wearing the wrong skin when I don’t. I don’t feel cute or empowered by casting off the patriarchy’s shackles of not shaving. I just feel furry and un-femme.

And a month of being stuck in bed with not much more to do then watch my leg hair grow has made me realise just how much of my sexual energy is linked to the confidence I feel in my femme presentation. Having my hair *just* right, my legs and cunt smooth and my nails polished makes me feel sexual. It’s as much lubrication for flirting and feeling sexual as my actual cunt getting wet.

So I know I’m coming back to life sexually when I start to get the itch to shave smooth again. I always dither between where to start. Do I start from my ankles and work up to my cunt in order and anticipation? Or use a trimmer to reveal my cunt lips again after them feeling so covered up for weeks and then wet shave everything in one go until my skin is so smooth and sleek it almost squeaks?

Either way I know the feel of my skin sliding against the sheets at night starts to wake my brain up so my dreams get interesting again. It starts imagining being pressed against Sir’s chest hair as he fucks me or running my hands over those fine golden hairs on Princess’s thighs as she holds the Doxy against her clit. When those dreams start leading to orgasms in my sleep then it definitely bodes well for how my body will behaves during the day too.

It’s amazing how sharp a razor make you feel…

Fuzzy

Dry January

I feel like I’ve forgotten how to type it’s been so long since I blogged. I gave myself some time off over Christmas since I thought you’d be all be too busy for reading and I ended up sidetracked by socialising myself.

In fact I saw the New Year licking Princess to orgasm on the kitchen table in eye line of her neighbour’s NYE party and then marvelled how much things have changed in the three years since I started fucking Sir that I spent New Year’s Day with him and Princess in our pyjamas rather than being ragingly kinky and rather liking how things have developed between us in that time.

Then I came home to sleep the seasonal fun off and haven’t really got out of bed since. Not out of laziness but with a relapse of my chronic illness laying me up. Admittedly if there’s any month being stuck at home doesn’t mean too much FOMO, it’s January when everyone else is out of the pub or in the gym but it’s still left me too ill to write and more to the point, with nothing much to write about for a while.

I’ve no interest in booze and my cunt is closed for business and drier than all the social media hashtags possible. I feel like I’ve forgotten what orgasms are while my body conserves its energy like a very very slowly charging battery. It’s both incredibly boring and oddly interesting having so much time to just think.

When you can’t do things the usual way you have to think outside the box. With chronic illness this can mean pacing the way you do the washing up or adapting ways to wash your hair or other practical things, but sometimes it means having to alter how you interact with the people in your life.

I find it easier at times to be more myself and less Candi with Princess. A lot of that is because I have years of experience of close female friendships and some of our relationship just feels like an extension of that whereas I have very little experience of male friendship and even less of the way you get to know men when you date them long term.

At times that formality between me and Sir has been compounded by the nature of a D/s relationship which often relies on strict rules and a defined way of interacting. Being a slow learner, it’s taken me a while to learn that the game of D/s that my Master and I play together isn’t less important or serious if I don’t play it all the time.

Not only is ok to know when to step outside the game, but sometimes it’s essential to do so. I always trusted my Master from the first time we met but it’s taken me a long time to trust myself in this relationship because I don’t come from a background of reliable people with my best interests at heart.

I had to go slowly to make sure my mind was catching up with how quickly my gut instinct and cunt were making decisions for me and my Master has always allowed me to go at that pace while always encouraging me that I can push myself further than I think. Most of that came through kink and D/s and I can’t think of a more enjoyable way to work on myself (especially compared to my therapy sessions each week) and I never want to give that side of Sir and I’s relationship up.

But recently I’ve realised that I haven’t been pushing myself enough outside the kink with Sir and behaving like we’re dating as well as doing D/s. And without doing that it means I can’t keep pushing myself with being submissive with him because submission is so rooted in trust and intimacy that I have to keep building on that instead of standing still.

So while I physically can’t get kinky, I’m pushing myself to be submissive by showing the side of me isn’t just Candi to her Master. Not just wearing latex and corsets but sometimes being ill in front of him in an oversized hoodie on the sofa or texting him about his week or just spending time together doing nothing.

All things I do in front of Princess because I love and trust her (and because she doesn’t give me any choice because she might be tiny but she’s tough on me) and all things I should do with Sir because if I love him and trust him enough to tie me up, drip hot wax on me or permanently alter my body for him, then I need to learn other ways to be intimate with him.

Also I’m pretty sure if he sees me with unwashed hair and ugly slippers while I’m ill, he’ll appreciate me dressed up in full corset and wig even more when I’m back to full health…

Dry January