Claimed in Wax

[Ha****]

“You didn’t shave.”

His voice is calm, but it holds weight. The kind that presses down without raising volume.

I’m already lying back on the bed, naked except for the rope he’s winding around my wrists. My arms rest above my head, relaxed. Open. Offered. I could have said no—I still could. But I don’t. I won’t.

I meet his gaze. “I like the hair.”

He pauses. Rope in hand, head tilted. “I know you do.”

He finishes the knot slowly, deliberately. Secure, but never tight. His fingers trail back down my arms, down the center of my body, until he’s standing at the foot of the bed again, eyes settling between my legs. My soft peach fuzz, warm and unbothered.

“I just don’t like anything in my way,” he says. “And I want to feel every part of you.”

He disappears for a moment. When he returns, it’s with a small black case. Wax warmer. Clean white strips. The set is sleek, methodical—like everything he does. Like him.

He doesn’t ask me again. He already knows my yes lives in the way I stay open. The way I breathe deeper when he steps closer. The way my thighs shift just slightly wider.

He kneels between them, settling in like he’s home.

He always says my bald head is part of what drew him in—how unapologetically bare I am before he even touches me. No performance. No illusion. Just skin and certainty. He calls it power, even when he holds all of mine.

He warms the wax with care, tests it on his wrist, then dips in the stick. The heat glides across me in slow, deliberate strokes. The sensation is sharp, but not unwelcome. It lands somewhere between exposure and worship.

“I want smooth,” he murmurs. “I want my mouth to slide against you without interruption. I want nothing between your skin and my desire.”

He presses the strip down. His hand rests firm on my thigh.

Rip.

The air leaves my lungs all at once. My back arches. My wrists flex against the rope, not to escape—just to feel more.

He doesn’t pause. Doesn’t check in—not because he’s careless, but because he knows. My moan is his permission. My wetness, confirmation. My stillness, the offering.

Strip after strip, he works me clean. Every motion a claim. Every touch a declaration. This body—my body—is mine, and also his. And tonight, he gets to shape it.

He leans in now, admiring. And then, as if pulled by instinct, he sinks his teeth into the meat of my thigh. Slow, deep, possessive. He doesn’t warn me. He never does.

I gasp, a jolt of shock and need snapping through me. My head falls back. My mouth opens, but I say nothing.

He bites again, higher this time. His tongue soothes over the mark. He kisses the indent and then meets my eyes, lips parted, breath hot.

“I love your thighs,” he says. “I love leaving my mark on them. I love knowing tomorrow, when you look down, you’ll remember who did this to you.”

He runs his hand over the bare, waxed skin now slick with me. He doesn’t rush. He takes his time. Two fingers slide inside me easily.

“See?” he whispers. “No resistance.”

He plays with me then—fingers, tongue, teeth. And when he finally pushes me over the edge, it’s with a bite to the other thigh and a growl so low it vibrates through my hips.

When I come, it’s without permission. It’s without words. It’s a full-body surrender made of heat and trust and the quiet power of being undone by someone who sees you entirely.

After, he unties my wrists, pulls me into his lap, and wraps the blanket around us.

He kisses the crown of my bald head. “You gave me everything tonight,” he says.

And I did.

And he earned it.

[Lo****]

Uhhhh I would love … Thank you for the new kink. 🤗🫠

[Ha****]

7 hours ago, Lola_Lustig said:

Uhhhh I would love … Thank you for the new kink. 🤗🫠

You’re welcome ☺️ I’m hoping to experience this at the end of the month 🤭

[Lo****]

1 hour ago, HappyFatLady said:

You’re welcome ☺️ I’m hoping to experience this at the end of the month 🤭

Good luck!!!!!

[Sexysher22]

Thanks for the kink