Wax

by Thomas Reynard
Supine beauty,
perfect skin
unmarked and unblemished
yearns to feel
the bite
of her Masters' pain. 

Silent pleas
through desperate eyes
while
spread wide to display 
the need in her core.

Flickering light from
dancing flame as light and shadow
duel endlessly,
Shimmering sweat reflecting
upon naked breast and tensed
stomach.

The molten promise of 
aniticipated burn
pools around blazing wick,
breath held in desperate expectation. 

Damp, silken petals quiver with need 
then clench, with a gasp, as the first drop 
of searing, flowing relief tumbles
and drips upon soft thigh.

Ruby red rivulets run down
onto crumpled sheets
as more drops fall, each one 
a fulfilled vow of want satisfied.

The canvas of her cunt 
painted bright,
as streams of waxen reward
flow down and around 
trembling lips,
and arching hips.

Her bare, aching, throbbing
mound,
now adorned with 
fiery crown, 
glistens in glimmering
candlelight.

Her supine beauty, 
marked, blemished, 
perfect
His.