Read Safeword: Davenport for Free Online Page A

feeling, what you want.” He withdrew his finger and lifted a pillar candle over her breasts to medium height, tilting ever so slowly, until drips sprinkled to the space between. She moaned in bliss at the sensation—heat on the threshold of pain. He lowered the candle a few inches as he moved it towards her stomach and kept going, creating a wobbly dotted line of fire down her torso.
    Her moans grew sharper as the sensation gradually edged closer to pain. The wax dots made a circle around her bellybutton, following the same path as his finger. She gasped as heat splashed onto the outside of her lips—both relieved and disappointed when none dripped inside.
    Zach replaced the candle and pulled the power cord away from one of the crock-pots before carefully situating it between her legs.
    Dana's neck was tired from straining to watch, and he said, “I can put a folded towel under your head if you'd like."
    She'd been expecting a reprimand and felt a little disappointed at being given a choice—not disenchanted enough for self-denial, though. She smiled and said, “Yes, please."
    He took a few minutes to get the height right, refolding the towel until he was satisfied with the way it supported her head, double-checking to make sure her breathing wasn't restricted. Reaching for the bowl of ice, he set it below her feet and retrieved a large shiny cube, holding it above the crock-pot a dozen seconds before moving it to her chest, a few inches above her nipple.
    It took eons for the drip to materialize; the lights beyond illuminating and making it appear larger than life. Trapped, she had no way to move away as it gained mass. Time slowed for the split second it took the drop to lengthen, break off, and finally splash onto her nipple. She gasped as if her breast had been struck by a flogger instead of a single bead of water, and gave a futile attempt at squirming as it slid towards her ribs—frosty and wet.
    His hand descended, circling her left nipple with the ice, the piercing cold drawing it into a small pebble. He lifted the cube over her right breast, and her pussy clenched around the nothingness as she realized she'd have to watch another drop form, wait for it to fall. It took an eternity to gain enough volume for gravity to pull it down, and she inhaled sharply as it crashed onto her nipple—cold, wet, and heavy. As before, he lowered the frozen cube and trailed agonizingly frigid circles.
    The ice was casually tossed back into the bowl, ringing into the side like a bell. She could smell the melted wax, not a candle scent, just the paraffin. She wasn't sure if the room was warmer, or if it was only her.
    Zach dipped a large ladle into the crock-pot. Quickly and without warning, he brought the dipper up and splashed fiery wax onto her left nipple. It came from high enough so the pain was bearable—until he lowered his hand and made circles around her breast with the stream. Dana tried to shrink into the table to escape the heat as a white spiral was painted up and around, eventually centering on her nipple and she gasped at the sensation of fire enveloping sensitive nerve endings.
    There'd been no intense pain yet, just hot and cold, pleasure and discomfort. She felt more alive than she could remember feeling in an extremely long time.
    Zach stopped a moment, looking into her eyes and bending down to kiss the tip of her nose before dipping the ladle again and giving her other breast the same treatment.
    Next came the green pillar candles, and he drew designs on her stomach and inner thighs—squiggles and spirals and curlicues with dashes and dots linking them, her squeals and moans becoming background music to the dance he was choreographing with the flame and wax.
    He moved the large cheval mirror to the base of the bondage table, angling it to give her a good view of her torso and legs—her clit and pussy peeking out from between relaxed lips dotted with wax. Dana's reflexes struggled to pull her knees together