My Custom Made Leather Accessories

My Custom Made Leather Accessories         

CH 19

Scorching my breasts made me so excited that I became obsessed with burning myself. I spent hours fantasizing about being branded all over my body.

I continued to drip hot candle wax on myself at home. I went through boxes and boxes of candles. I dripped the hot wax onto my breasts with one hand while the other one massaged my pussy, and sometimes I poured wax over my entire torso and into my crotch. A single candle wasn’t enough so I melted several together into a jar and poured huge amounts of wax onto myself. Sometimes I caked the wax very thickly on my breasts then lay on the floor and rubbed it off against the carpet. I even wrapped a rope around my wrists and pretended that I was tied. The rug burns added to my excitement and I came very close to coming.

I day dreamed that I was tied down to a sacrificial grating and burned alive while thousands of people watched. I searched the internet and found stories about cannibalism and women being cooked. Then I discovered Dolcett’s drawings.

The first time a looked at his pictures of lovely women spitted and roasted I had such a flash of passion that I ripped my clothing off and grabbed my pussy. I mean that I literally ripped my clothes off. I yanked so hard on my shirt that I tore the material, and I heard the seams ripping as I yanked my panties down! I shoved my fingers into my pussy and gave myself an orgasm within about ten seconds. Afterwards I sat up until three in the morning going over each and every one of Dolcett’s drawings. I lost count of the times that I masturbated. I sat up so late that I was exhausted but I was so aroused that I had to force myself to go to bed, and the instant I awoke the next day I was right back on the computer. Stark naked.

JR had warned me about slipping deeper into masochism, and he was right. I wanted more intensity, more bondage, more pain. One day I was so worked up that I was beside myself with passion. I wanted, I NEEDED someone to burn me, and JR wasn’t available; he was out of town on business.

I was so frustrated that I thought about calling that female dominatrix at the fetish store. I’d never seriously considered having sex with a woman but I was so horny that I was ready to do anything. I went so as to dig out her business card. I picked up the phone but hesitated to dial because I was still afraid that having a session with a dominatrix would be the same as cheating on JR. I put the phone down and chewed my nails in frustration and indecision. Finally I hit on a tamer path. I called a body spa instead.

I made an appointment for that afternoon for a wax depilation.

I laughed at myself for being a coward.

I keep my pussy hairless so that my brand is open to view, and usually JR removes my pubic hair. He ties me wide open on a bed and uses hot wax and by the time he’s finished yanking chunks of my hair out I am screaming in ecstasy. But it had been several weeks since we’d done it and enough of my hair had grown in that I could justify going to the spa.

When I arrived I was shown to a treatment room. I undressed, slipped a light smock on and lay on a massage table. A few minutes later there was a knock on the door and a young Asian woman came in. She introduced herself as Amy and I told her that I wanted the depilation procedure, then I opened my knees wide. Amy was very professional but she couldn’t quite suppress a look of surprise when she saw my brand. She made no comment as she put on surgical gloves and bent close to examine my crotch. After a moment she began the treatment by washing my crotch very gently with warm water, then patting me dry with a towel. I was already sexually aroused but that raised my temperature even more. I took a deep shuddering breath and stared at the ceiling.

“Have you used wax before?” Amy asked.

“Oh, yes,” I answered, “I always use hot wax.”

“And recently, I would say, considering the redness of your skin.”

I was embarrassed, but my excitement overrode it. “Oh, that’s from too much masturbation,” I said.

“I didn’t know that there could be too much,” she said calmly. I raised my head to look at her in astonishment.

“Did you come here for sex?” she asked.

That flustered me. “No,” I said weakly.

She obviously didn’t believe me. “That’s good,” she said, “Because we don’t provide that type of service.”

I felt utterly humiliated. (And excited).

“Shall I proceed?” she asked.

“Yes, please,” I managed to whisper. She turned to a table that held tubes of wax and solvent and ointments. I groaned in disappointment.

“What’s wrong?” Amy asked.

“I, I, hoped that you would use hot wax,” I answered.

“We don’t do that,” she said firmly. “Too many customers complained of getting burnt.”

“Trust me, I won’t complain,” I said.

She looked at me penetratingly. Her eyes went right through me, then she looked at my brand. There was an uncomfortable silence.

“I’d forgotten that they use cold wax now,” I said.

She looked at me for a moment, then shrugged. “Very well, if you want hot wax it can be arranged, but . . .”

“I won’t tell anyone,” I assured her.

She shook her head. “I can get into trouble if anyone were to find out.”

“I’d be happy to pay you extra,” I offered.

“I don’t want more money, but I do want you to tell me something,” She said. She paused and looked at my brand again. “Even asking about it could get me fired.”

“Well, no one has to know what goes on in here,” I said. “What do you want to ask me?”

She astonished me by touching my brand. “Tell about this,” she said. “Tell me everything.”

Her touch was wonderful! I gasped and was instantly wet. I felt decadent, and guilty, and trashy and very excited. I had the same wicked feelings I get when I tease the motel clerk, but this was deeper and naughtier. I suddenly felt very bold, as if I had some sort of power over her. I lay back and opened my knees wider. “I’ll tell you all about it as you work,” I said, “But I want you to take those gloves off.”

She peeled them off and tossed them onto the table, then she took a candle jar from a shelf and lit it.

“I thought you said that you don’t use hot wax,” I said.

“This is an incense candle,” she said. “We use them for atmosphere, not for kinky sex.”

“I’m glad you have it,” I said seductively. “Do you know how to use it?”

“You mean like this?” she tipped the candle over my pussy and I gasped as the molten wax splashed onto my skin. My knees flew wider apart. I grabbed the edge of the table and groaned as a small orgasm throbbed through my tummy.

She held the candle upright and waited for more wax to melt, then looking me in the eye she dumped it between my legs again. That time I had a bigger orgasm!

It was nice and sweet. It wasn’t an earth shaking event, but it was nice. And for the first time in my life I was having an orgasm at the hand of a woman.

“Are you ready for more?” Amy asked after a few minutes. I nodded blissfully. She poured another layer of wax onto my pussy. I didn’t come that time, but it still felt heavenly. Amy set the candle down and spread the warm wax around my crotch.

“Now tell me about this brand,” she demanded.

“It is the brand of my master,” I said. “I’m a sex slave and I wear his mark.”

“His initials?”

“Yes.”

“And you are a masochist,” she observed.

“Yes, oh yes,” I gasped.

She met my eyes briefly.

“Did he force you to be branded?”

“No, it was my idea and I begged for a long time before he agreed to do it.”

“How long have you worn this mark?”

“Eight years.”

“Is he your husband?”

“No, my husband is a weak man,” I replied. “My master took me away from him.”

“How did that happen?”

“My master is a very determined man. He approached me in a public place and told me that he wanted to strip me naked and tie me to his bed.”

“Did you already know him?”

“No, he was a stranger.”

“Didn’t that frighten you?”

“Oh yes,” I said. “He told me that he would meet again in a week at the same location. I went home and worried myself sick for seven days.”

“But you went back?”

“Yes, and he took me to a motel and tied me to the wall.”

My, my,” she said softly.

“And made me dance a strip tease for him, then he tied me to a bed and did incredible, wonderful things to me.”

“You are very fortunate,” she sighed.

“He is also very cruel,” I continued. “He whips me.”

Her eyes flew to my face and I saw a look of envy.”

“You are very fortunate,” she repeated.

“I know.”

She picked up the candle. The wax had melted again. “Ready?”

I opened my knees to their limit. She poured another coating of wax and spread it evenly. I didn’t have an orgasm that time, but I came very close.

“Is this the first brand you’ve seen on a client?” I asked as she smoothed the warm wax across my skin.

“We see many unusual things in this business,” she replied. “I have seen women with rings piercing their vaginas and their nipples,” she peered at my tummy, “And I’ve seen tattoos in secret places.”

“Do you see many such things?” I asked.

She nodded. “You would be surprised.”

“But no brands?”

“Oh yes, I’ve seen women who have been branded,” she replied. “Not as many as rings or tattoos, but a few.” She touched my brand again; her fingers caressed it gently, “But never on this part of a woman’s body. Never so close to a woman’s pussy.”

My body tingled at her touch. “Where were they?” I asked.

“I have seen three women with brands. One here,” she touched my butt, “Another here on the inside of a woman’s thigh,” her fingers lingered in a sweet touch, “And the third was on a woman’s hip. It was high up, under her panties.”

“But none were in such an intimate place, eh?”

“No, nothing like this,” she touched it again. “It must have hurt very much.”

“It was wonderful.”

You enjoy pain?”

“I love it,” I told her. “I was tied to a chair when my master branded me, and had a wonderful orgasm when the red hot iron touched my skin.”   

“Do you show it to other people?” she asked. “Is that why you remove your hair?”

“Yes, I like to display my devotion to my master.”

“And your pussy to the world?” she chuckled.

“Yes, now that I am free to do so.”

“Oh?”

“I was still with my husband when my master branded me. After it healed I allowed my pubic hair to grow back and cover it,” I told her, “I didn’t want my husband to see it.”

“He didn’t know?” she asked, “How could he have missed seeing it?”

“He never again saw me naked after I was branded,” I said. “He doesn’t know to this day.”

“Wow.”

“I slept beside the poor fool for years and he had no idea that I wore another man’s mark of ownership,” I said proudly, “But now that I am free I will never hide it again.”

“Your husband was a bad man?”

“No, just weak and inattentive; he didn’t realize what he had.”

“Obviously not.”

I smiled at her.

“Would you have allowed your husband to brand you?” she asked.

“Never.”

Her hands rested lightly on the built up wax, suddenly she yanked it off of me. A terrific orgasm flashed through the universe and I almost levitated off the table. Amy stood back and watched calmly as I thrashed like a mad woman.

When I had calmed down she bent close and peered at my pussy. “Did you get it all?” I gasped.

She shook her head. “No, I think we might have to apply the wax again.”

I law back and smiled. “You’re the professional,” I said.

After another application, and another wonderful orgasm I lay on the table in a warm pink glow.

“Have any of your other clients had orgasms when you do that?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she answered. “It can be difficult to distinguish from a woman in pain and woman in ecstasy. But I’ve never had a woman as open about it as you.”

“Good choice of phrase,” I chuckled, “And believe it or not, I was a sedate, dignified woman before I met my master.”

Amy remained in the room while I got dressed. I put on my garter belt and stockings and her eyes rose when she saw that I had no panties.

“Is it that unusual for your other clients to arrive without any undies?” I asked.

“I don’t know, I usually don’t watch them get dressed,” she said. “Do you always go without them?”

“Every chance I get,” I replied, “Especially on breezy days.” I stood up and wiggled my hips to get my skirt to fall properly.

“Wait,” Amy said. “Would you raise your skirt again please?” She had noticed something.

“Certainly,” I lifted my skirt and her mouth dropped open when she saw that JR’s initials were embroidered on the front of my garter belt.

“That is fantastic,” she breathed. “It matches the mark on your skin.”

“Oh, there is more than that,” I said. I handed her my purse.

She gasped when she saw JR’s initials on the leather. She stared at it for a moment then knelt and compared it to my brand. I stood with my skirt up allowing her to peer at my pussy. It felt wonderful.

“I have his mark on my purses, my check book, my belts and my clothes,” I told her proudly. “And on the rare occasions that I wear panties, his initials are embroidered on them too.”

“This is incredible,” she breathed. “Would you permit my friend to see you too?” she asked.

“Ok.”

She handed my purse to me then left the room. She returned a moment later with another woman. The newcomer looked at me curiously, then Amy handed her my purse. The new woman looked at JR’s initials and her eyes widened when Amy whispered in her ear. She looked at me.

“Yes, it’s true,” I said. “Those initials are branded on my body.”

Her eyes went to my tummy. I felt slightly embarrassed as I raised my skirt again, but the embarrassment quickly changed to arousal. I was standing with my legs tightly closed, but I opened them and stood blatantly with my feet spread. Her mouth flew open and she slowly dropped to her knees. She held the purse close to my pussy, then looked up at me in awe. Amy knelt beside her and they gazed at my belly. At that point I wanted one of them to touch me. I wanted another woman to touch me sexually. I wanted another woman’s tongue in my pussy. But I just couldn’t bring myself to ask. They climbed to their feet and I closed my legs. We were all suddenly very shy. I blushed and dropped my skirt and they backed away. Amy’s friend handed my purse to me, mumbled her thanks and fled from the room. Amy was blushing too and couldn’t meet my eyes. I gave her a generous tip and left.

I got into my car and started home, but even after those orgasms I was still excited. I decided to drive to the porn shop. I decided to go in and tease that tough lesbian who had offered to pierce my body. I wasn’t sure what I intended to do but I had a vague idea of walking in the store and raising my skirt in front of her. I even imagined allowing her to take me into the back room and doing something wicked to me. As I drove I pulled my dress up to my waist  I parked in front of the shop and opened my legs wide as I got out of my car. Unfortunately there were no pedestrians near to get a look.

My heart was pounding as I strolled into the store but I didn’t see the woman, only two male clerks, who both looked very gay. One was talking on the phone and the other was stocking shelves. The second one greeted me pleasantly and inquired if he could help me but I just shook my head and browsed around the store. I went to the whip section and picked through them. I even smacked myself lightly with a few, testing them. The clerk looked my way and smiled knowingly. I dawdled hoping the woman might come out of the back office but she didn’t appear. I wandered through the store and stopped at the counter. The clerk asked again if there was anything he could help me with.

“Do you carry branding irons?” I asked.

His eyebrows flew up. “No, I’m afraid we don’t get much call for those,” he said. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, my master branded me a few years ago, and I was thinking of getting another to surprise him.”

The other man hung up the phone and came to the counter.

“What does the brand look like?”

“It’s just his initials,” I said, “See?”

I raised my skirt.

Now I’ve never been interested in gay men, but the look on their faces was astounding. They stared mesmerized. “Fantastic!” one breathed.

My pussy really began to tingle. I wondered if I could seduce one of them, or both.

“That’s better than Donnie,” the first clerk whispered.

“Who is Donnie?” I asked.

“A friend of ours who’s been branded too.”

“Where is his brand? I asked.

“It’s on his butt.”

“Hmmph,” I sniffed, “A real man would have had his penis branded.”

“Donnie is anything but a real man,” one laughed, “But he is a terrific slave boy.”

“Ah, are you his master?”

“No, neither of us is very domineering.”

“Too bad,” I said seductively, “Because I’m in the mood to be tortured.”

“We have a woman who works here who could do anything you wanted, but she’s off today.”

“But there is a stack of business cards by the door,” the other added. “There are several doms in that group.”

I looked through the cards.

“Oh, and there is a card for a jeweler who specializes in fetish items,” one man said, “I’ll bet she could make a branding iron for you.” His friend nodded.

“Thank you.” I took several cards and left.

It had been fun talking to those men, but I was still horny so I drove to our motel. I had another undefined idea about displaying myself to the clerk, and perhaps acting out some of the fantasies about sucking his cock under the desk, or simply allowing him to tie me up and have his way with me. Once again I drove through town with my skirt up but when I pulled into the parking lot I saw a different clerk in the office. Damn! It just wasn’t my day, so I kept going. I went home, stripped naked and lit the largest candle in the house and thrust it up my pussy.