Waxwork, Chapter 6

Waxwork, Chapter 6
Chapter 6: Love Is Torture

Andrew

Sere approached me with a satisfied grin. She dripped red wax into her palm. Sticking her index finger in, she drew an inverted cross on my chest, “Lay down,” she ordered. Against my will, my body complied. She took the black nylon rope and began to tie me up. She hog-tied me. I was at her mercy. Her eyes darkened and her smirk widened. “Tonight, you will submit to me; mind, body, and soul.”

This wasn't my wife. What had I done? Who was this and what was she? She used a crop on my ass, attached nipple clamps, flogged my cock and balls, then proceeded to pour candle wax over my cock. Next, she dripped candle wax on my soles and toes. My ankles were tied, and my big toes were tied to the rope around my ankles, leaving my feet very exposed. It’s the closest I’ve ever come to using my safeword. But I was starting to wonder if she would have honored it. 

She poured hot wax into a cylindrical container. With the most sadistic grin on her face, she leaned down. Staring into my eyes, she spoke with venom, “Give me what I want. Submit!”

I glared at her. “You aren't her! You could never be her. Who are you?”

She laughed maniacally. “Took you long enough, you pathetic human.” The evil bitch took the wax-filled cylinder and held it over several candles, heating it further, before she pushed it over my cock. I screamed as she moved the container back and forth over my cock.

I fought the pain as I started loosening my bindings. I was almost free, “Your name…tell me your name!” I had a slight familiarity with angels and demons. This thing, wearing the guise of my wife, was a demon. 

She laughed cockily, “Fine, because you will be dead soon anyway. A pathetic human holds no power over me.” She grabbed a lit candle and brought it near my wax-coated cock, which pulsed with pain. “Naamah, now you die.” 

I had untied my hands, but my ankles were still tied. I quickly brought my hands from behind my back and wrapped the rope around her neck. I pulled her down, knocking burning candles to the floor. I tightened the rope as she tried to break free. She was strong, but I felt stronger than I ever had before. I grabbed the rose and used the thorns to cut her skin. Black blood oozed from the cuts. If something bleeds, it can be killed. 

I noticed my carving knife had fallen nearby. I inched my fingers into it while still cinching the rope around her neck. In one swift motion, I drove the carving knife through her heart. “I hope you rot in hell, Naamah!” As the clock struck midnight, her body vanished as did the fire that the knocked-over candles had started. I used the carving knife that fell to the floor when her body vanished to cut the rope off of my ankles. The carving knife didn't have a trace of her blood on it. I kissed the engraving on the knife’s handle which said ‘Endless Love’ as I looked toward heaven and said, “Thank you, Serena. I will always love you. My soul will always be yours.”

The End

Valentine's Day isn't always about what can be purchased but what is given.