Joined by the Trainee Pt. 02

Carmen found that particularly amusing, and her hand shook molten wax over my chest. But this time I didn't even flinch from the mild torture. What cut deeper was my wife's harsh words; if she had at least made it a sexy game of chastity to leave me hanging night after night, I would have found some gratification in that. As it was, I mostly just felt ignored and unloved. Could such a kinky night as this one possibly recompense months of neglecting each other?

Angela continued. "But maybe we should step it up a notch. If you hold the candle lower, the wax will be hotter when it touches him."

"Oh, okay." Carmen seemed happy for the advice, and then I could feel the heat coming from the flame close to my stomach. God Angie, why did you have to tip her off?! When the next drip came - directly into my belly button, it must have been burning twice as hot as before. I was shocked at the intensity, considering I had thought that I was managing the molten wax just fine. But now I gasped and moaned with anguish, and Carmen giggled with satisfaction.

"That was a gooood one," She cooed. The phrase was borrowed from Angela, but delivered like a curious schoolgirl - the kind of schoolgirl who seemed to exhibit nothing but bad behaviour. Carmen was like a beautiful flower that demanded your admiration, and invited you to reach out your hand, only to prick you with tiny razer-like thorns. She may well have been an evil girl after all, but no matter how badly she stung me, my heart was still melting for her, even as the candle melted in her hand. And I was regretting the dong in my mouth that was preventing me from tasting her properly as she continued, unapologetically, to rub her ass over my face. If only that troublesome rubber schlong were removed, it could instead be her teenage lady-parts pressing into my open mouth.

Even had I not fostered a deep appreciation for soft cotton panties before tonight, I would surely have developed quite a fetish after all of this. And if, somehow, the night were to end without me finally seeing Carmen without my blindfold? What will I think whenever I see a young girl strutting down the street or at the beach in a miniskirt? I will wonder, 'could that be Carmen?' and I'll stare at the tight asses barely covered by inadequate scraps of denim, and I'll remember this moment when soft cotton panties were the only thing between my face and a delicious paradise. I will stare at them, and wonder - what kind of panties is she just barely hiding under there, what colour? Similarly, I could only guess what cute colours and patterns were being pressed all over my face in the present.

"It's obviously too hot to put this on his dick though, right?"

"Hmmmm," Angela sounded thoughtful, and I was reminded of that magical night when we first got naked together, and teased and tormented each other with a candle, and sixty-nined until we both came hard. She had threatened to drip it on my manhood many times when it had been her turn to take charge, but ultimately she had just been fucking with me. I assumed she would reach the same conclusion again, that it might be going just a little too far to use the candle there.

"I think it's fine." So much for assumptions. Angela you crazy, beautiful bitch! Don't you realise that this here is a young and impressionable girl? You tell her that she can do something, and she will do it - as much as it pleases her - without feeling any sense of responsibility.

Carmen's booty vacated my face as she leaned further forward. There was a tug at the leather strap that followed the top-side of my pole; she used it to pull him down to my belly.

"Nnnnnnn!" I shook my head in disagreement. Carmen may not have noticed the signal, but Angela did.

"Hush, Donnie. I did warn you, remember?" She had warned me. "And if there's anything she wants to do, I don't think I'll be likely to stop her." It was a risk that I hadn't taken seriously enough back then, although - could I honestly say I would have preferred nothing at all? That's what this had been all along - an all-or-nothing proposition. And with no safe word established (noobie mistake!) there would be no half measures; no quarter given.

The wax came. Carmen deposited a long dribble of it down my enlarged shaft. I whimpered miserably. Man, that hurt. The sensation of being scalded was a different pain to the whipping from the light rubber fronds of my wife's instrument. And it seemed the punishments only stacked when applied in a short time of each other.

As expected, she wasn't content with doing it just once. I felt her gently manipulating my scrotum in her hand, and the threatening warmth of the candle flame followed her every move. She scratched a testicle with her fingernail. It felt as good as the last time she did it - but now I knew that this particular affection was a precursor to torment. And then the next drips landed there, right on my ballsack. I bit the rubber between my teeth, and my toes were curling under my feet. She had deliberately landed the wax directly onto the nut she had just been pleasuring, but I can't really say it made much difference. This torture only affected the skin - though the scrotum was pretty darn sensitive in any case.

More scalding drops kissed my sack and my inner thighs. All three of us fell silent, like we were too fascinated that this was even happening, to react one way or the other. When there came a pause from the wax drips, I lay still but for my trembling legs. Carmen must have been waiting for a sizable pool to form around the wick. A little earlier, I had fancied myself pretty clever for tracking roughly how much wax was melted on her candle at any given point. Now, that knowledge terrified me. Long moments passed, and my consternation was more unbearable than the pain itself.

Finally it came; she poured it high up on my penis, so that it again ran down the underside of the shaft, with some of it diverting around the other side as it flowed over the steel rings that strangled and encouraged my erection. Everywhere the wax flowed, it scalded my member something nasty, but as always it turned solid after a mere moment, and the pain died away.

"His penis looks like an erupting volcano," Angela pointed out in fascination.

"Yeah, especially with how angry it is looking up here," And then Carmen touched the unsheathed head with a fingertip. It was a wet, pleasurable touch, and I knew the moisture was all me.

As she repeatedly circled my head with her finger, more drips landed here and there low on the underside of my shaft, and on my scrotum. To avoid hitting her own fingers which held and caressed my shaft, Carmen had the flame dancing barely centimeters from my skin. I was in a special hell that mixed pleasure and pain, one where I had checked myself in willingly, and continuously chose to stay.

"Good job, sweetie, but I want to whip the hardened wax off him. Your side is above his waist, my side is below it, yeah?" Was there finally some jealousy coming from down there?

"Awwwh... this had been the best part, too..." Carmen's clear disappointment made her sound appropriately tartish given her somewhat tender age.

"Yeah? Well... I'll tell you what. I played with him once before with a candle, and I left his junk alone." A bit late, but Angela was finally coming to my rescue. "Always regretted it, you know? I should have just gone and done exactly what I wanted to." -Wait, this didn't sound like rescue- "Carmen, sweetie, have you done exactly what you wanted?"

"Hmmmmm," our guest - my young, kittenish tormentress, was thoughtful; evidently there was something else she still wanted to do down there. "Actually, I would like to get him. One. More. Time." As she spoke the words, I felt the heat of the flame climbing up my shaft and over the head of my penis, and her circling finger vacated the area abruptly. "Where it hurts the most," she added with that soft, playful giggle of hers.

The glans were exposed and swollen, and ever-so sensitive. I didn't know I could take it if she allowed the wax to fall there. But I had just learned that begging was useless, that I had already pre-consented to anything and everything the girls wanted to do to me. A kind of squeamish moan forced its way through my mouth anyway. It was a moan of despair, though it wouldn't do me any good.

I heard a sharp intake of breath. It came from lower down between my legs. Angela was hanging onto this moment. True to her word, she really wasn't going to interfere, even if the girl was obviously going too far. The imminent threat made me tense every muscle in my body, and my cock reached out, as if squirming to dodge his fate. That small warm hand returned to grasp him, to calm him and keep him still, and the warmth of the candle vanished. She was holding it at least a little higher up.

Then the burning wax came, and I slammed my head back and cried out as best I could with a mouth full of cock. And though the world spinned in darkness for me, somewhere in the distance I heard two females simultaneously gasp; the violence of my reaction was a priceless thrill for them.

The candle had splashed right onto the extra sensitive underside of my glans. Most of the liquid scattered elsewhere on my genitals, thighs and belly, but Carmen manipulated her grip around my rod to keep at least a few good drops from rushing off over my retracted foreskin. Perhaps it was because I was positively oozing with pre-cum, or maybe time just slowed down for me in that agonising moment, but that wax just would not cool as quickly as it had everywhere else. My entire body was a contracting beast as I rode out this new torment. My PC muscle was flexing like mad too, and Carmen acknowledged the desperate plight of my penis with a gentle squeezing from her hand. I knew that she must have caught some of the wax on her fingers too, but she kept them wrapped around my tool without flinching, and I found her soft grip to be of some comfort.

The silken blindfold was soaking up my tears by the time the wax finally cooled on the end of my dick, and Angela broke the silence. "Gosh Carmen, my pussy is tingling. I knew I always wanted to see that happen."

"Tingling, huh? Can I see?" Angela's comment had piqued my interest too, notwithstanding my distress.

She giggled in response to the rude request. "You cheeky girl. Watch." I heard her slurping greedily from her wine glass.

"Ooooh..." Carmen was more impressed than surprised. "I had better describe it to you, Officer Donnie." She spoke low, as if conspiring with me. "Your beautiful wife - who you are ridiculously lucky to have by the way - she's drinking from one hand, and with the other she's spreading her lips wide open for me. She is really pink inside there, and she's so wet I think she's dripping onto the rug."

Well... shit. What can I say? These chicks were out of control, their provocations relentless. It seemed that nothing was too dirty for my wife now, and, blinded and bound, I clung helplessly to every steamy moment.

"Oops?" Angela was finished with her glass. "Such a waste... Here sweetie, have a taste."

She was not referring to the wine. I felt her thighs tense up a little over my legs for a long moment, and then she seemed to be leaning forward. Then I heard what sounded like a kiss.

"Mmmmm... it's yummy. I've never tasted another girl before."

Angela giggled again, and I pictured her with her arm outstretched, the soft lips of our guest tickling her fingertips as they accepted the last traces of her sexy gift. I sighed heavily. The scalding of my penis was in the past, and now he just... itched. It was an itch that screamed at me to hurry up and sink him into some pussy already, and it was becoming unbearable.

"My husband reckons he loves how I taste. And how are things faring inside Carmen's panties?"

The younger woman laughed, sounding suitably embarrassed. "Oh, I feel like I'm at least that wet." She pulled my penis down to my belly again, and sprinkled my scrotum in molten wax. I winced, but it was kind of nothing after what she had just done to the poor head of my penis. "Do you want to see?"

"Oh, hmmm?" Angela considered it - considered asking our guest to take off her underwear and spread her teenage slit wide open. "Later, sweetie. I have some naughty balls here that need busting. You should sit on his face again, I think that was a good tease for him."

"Oh yeah? You don't think he hates me now?"

"Trust me, Donnie's love of ass transcends all other emotions."

Remarkably, I held zero grudge against Carmen. In fact, upon hearing how Angela herself had desired to take that candle to my privates when we were younger, I felt like this had somehow been an ill fate inevitably catching up with me. A deferred sentence that was finally carried out on this night. She was right on all counts - yes, I did like Carmen sitting on my face. In fact I loved it, and I wanted that booty backed up right where it was a few minutes ago.

It was a funny thing for a man, to be teased sexually by a woman (or two!) for an extended time. You spend every second desperately longing to make love to her properly, and your lust consumes you, makes you willing to do anything to have her. And your lover knows it, knows that you'll agree to absolutely everything she asks. Then, when she finally sits on your cock, you appreciate it ten times more, and you feel more satisfied after you cum. But, if for whatever reason intercourse is not on the menu - if your release is to be denied - then you don't want the teasing to stop either. You want her to keep going, and continuously escalate her provocations - even with full knowledge that the suffering will only get worse.

In this regard I got my wish, as without another moment's hesitation, Carmen re-settled her derriere carefully over my nose. Her scent returned too, and I breathed her in with such enthusiasm that the girl would be well aware of her effect on me. The feeling of solidified wax over my manhood marked that the particularly nasty torture was over, and I was back to a situation where I would at least be compensated for the remaining pain.

The girls tormented me for the next twenty minutes at least, with Carmen decorating my body in wax at close range, and Angela mixing up her whipping between anywhere on my cock and both my balls. The wine glasses were refilled somewhere along the way, and my torturers became more and more merry as they carried out their work.

Carmen mustn't have spared a square inch of my midsection from the scalding kiss of her candle. She had systematically dribbled it all over my stomach, my chest and nipples. The beauty of the torture was that she could easily achieve maximum coverage - all she had to do was pour wax on the spots that didn't have any yet. And because she held the candle close to my body, there was no reason for her to miss. Every single drip packed the same heat as that first one had in my navel, but after surviving her stunt torturing my penis, I found I was actually able to relax a little now that the punishment was only directed on, well, everywhere else.

She poured it on my flanks so that it would run down my ribs. She shuffled her thighs so that she could drip it on my clavicle, my shoulders, and in my exposed armpits. She routinely picked hard wax off my nipples and navel so that she could have another go at those more interesting areas. She meticulously attended my bare pubic area; her handiwork reached as close to my penis as she dared without risking the flame been extinguished by the flick of Angela's whip.

Speaking of which, my wife had been particularly enthusiastic in delivering a long and intense punishment to my manhood. By the end, I was sure that those little strands of rubber had coaxed away every last trace of hardened wax from my mistreated equipment.

A single blow excited the nerve endings and carried a memorable sting. But the endless repetition of her strikes had an accumulative effect. When the whip found my penis, it was like I was already red raw. My balls were swollen and bruised from the abuse. Every time the flogger kissed them, the pain struck like lightning inside my testicles, and travelled up into my guts.

Occasionally she used her full power to hit me on the inner thigh, and though it didn't hurt like having my genitals flogged, I grunted into the gag to try and encourage her to do more of those. I don't think she was fooled - most of her strikes still caught me on the nuts, and the effect was a perpetual agony, one that might not go away in its entirety for days to come. But the memory of my wife's 'tough love' would last a lot longer than that.

To be fair, she was giving me a good break between each lick. She wanted me to fully appreciate each and every one, so she allowed the immediate pain to subside before she picked her next target. Each individual blow carried significance, and the ups and downs of my suffering kept me alert throughout.

But perhaps the main reason for her relaxed pace was her own enjoyment, as she hardly stopped talking, taunting me. "I love how your thighs jolt when I punish the poor head of your cock." ... "You're going to have to wash this rug tomorrow Donnie - I'm making such a mess on it." ... "Carmen looks so cute wielding that candle. I can't wait till next time I use one on you. I'm going to encase your entire cock in wax and make a mould out of it."

Carmen didn't say much, surprisingly. Some of my wife's dirty comments elicited a soft giggle from her, but she seemed pretty focused on her own handiwork. Whenever I quieted myself, I could hear her breathing heavily above me. And she was also rubbing herself on my face, subtly, but consistently. The sensual gliding of her panty-clad asshole up and down my nose was enough to earn my forgiveness for the constant trickle of molten wax, but there was also a constant tugging at my teeth. Every movement of her pelvis brought her pussy and her clit up against the dong that stuck out of my mouth; the girl was very slowly getting off on torturing me.

Presently, the fruits of Carmen's masturbation had ripened on my face. Her smooth little buttocks produced a light sweat against my forehead and cheeks as her body heated up. The scent of her womanhood had become much stronger, now that she had soaked right through the gusset of her panties, and from the wetness on my nose I knew that her lubricants were seeping down into her asshole. The intimate contact we shared, a constant reminder of a young girl's sex, was a titillating contrast to the pain delivered to the rest of my body. My desperate need for release - well, for intimacy with a woman - was helping me through the... less pleasant sensations.

Just as I thought that, I felt extra movement from my wife, still sitting over my legs.

"Oh my God, that is sooo hot," Carmen said softly, with admiration. The next blow of the whip came generally at my balls, but it was softer, and lacked accuracy. Then I heard the sloshing sounds coming from down there, and I knew my wife was frigging herself - slowly, but noisily. She had her legs spread from the start, but the way she used them to clamp down over my knees was suddenly lessened. I knew she was leaning back a little now, rather than forward.

Another clumsy whip was administered, during which time the sloshy sounds did not stop. I would be grinning like a big old perv, if my mouth wasn't stuffed with cock. Angela had finished her wine a while ago, and I had heard her place the empty glass over the edge of the rug. She had no free hands with which to protect her modesty, so our horny guest had a front row seat to her intimate little show. I knew her body well. She would be using two fingers to masturbate, and she liked to withdraw them after every pump to spread a little lubricant over her clit. Every time she did, there she would be for Carmen to see. Swollen, velvety lips that would open wide and invite you to return to her warm wet depths.