Perfect Slave by Becky Bell

it was longer. It burrowed into her, pressing against the neck of her womb. She felt her clitoris pulse strongly.
    â€˜Now hold it there; grip it tight,’ Erica ordered. ‘If it falls out I’ll tell Hawksworth you refused to cooperate. You know what that would mean.’
    Andrea didn’t want to think about that. Instead she used all her vaginal muscles to grip the candle. The effort produced a huge wave of sensations. She gasped.
    â€˜Light it,’ Donald said, giggling.
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Light the candle.’
    â€˜Good idea.’
    Andrea heard a match striking.
    â€˜Now what are we going to do with this?’ Erica knelt at her husband’s feet and unzipped his trousers. She fished inside and pulled out his cock. It was short and stubby, gnarled with veins. She pulled back his foreskin and sucked the erection into her mouth.
    Suddenly Andrea felt a spark of pain. The hot wax from the top of the candle was dripping down onto her buttocks. She gasped.
    â€˜Can’t do that for long,’ Erica said. ‘You’re much too excited.’
    She got to her feet, bent over the table right at Andrea’s side and pulled the white silk dress up over her waist. She was wearing champagne-coloured hold-ups, their elasticated welts digging channels in her thighs, and silky white panties.
    Donald got to his feet, his erection sticking out from the zip of his fly. He undid his trousers fully, pushed them down to his knees and stood behind his wife. Taking hold of the panties he pulled them to one side. Andrea caught a glimpse of dark pubic hair before Donald grabbed Erica by the hips and drove his cock straight into her sex.
    â€˜Oh God!’ she screamed. ‘You’re so hard!’
    â€˜And you’re so fucking wet.’
    There was no subtlety. He hammered into her, holding her hips in his hands and pulling her back onto him as he drove forward, his belly slapping loudly against her buttocks.
    â€˜She’s... really... got... to you...’ Erica gasped, each word punctuated by his inward thrusts.
    But the feeling was mutual. Andrea had never experienced anything like this. She had never seen another couple having sex right before her eyes, but then she’d never been bound before, or had a lighted candle wedged into her sex before. She had to try and concentrate on keeping it in place, and with her cunt as wet as she thought it had ever been, that was not easy. If she gripped too hard the candle was squeezed out, but if she didn’t grip hard enough it would start to topple. The constant adjustments she had to make with the muscles of her vagina were provoking her just as much as the spectacle in front of her eyes. And the wax splashing down on her buttocks was like the pain from the whip; hot tingling pain that rooted itself right to her sex, translating itself just like the lashes of the whip, to intense pleasure.
    Erica was coming. She threw her head back and cried out loud, her whole body trembling, thrusting herself back against the hard phallus that was reaming into her. She looked at Andrea, as if to give herself a final push into orgasm, then came, her eyes screwed shut by the power of it all.
    â€˜Please...’ Andrea whispered. ‘Please...’ She had no idea what she was pleading for. She didn’t want to come again; she suddenly realised that was why her master had been angry with her. She should have saved herself for him. She should have resisted the temptation of the rope just as she should have resisted what was happening to her now. But she couldn’t. She adjusted her grip for the hundredth time, tightening her muscles slightly, and felt a huge wave of sensations shoot through her just as the moment the largest splash of wax dripped onto her arse. She saw Donald’s cock come almost all the way out of his wife’s sex, its gnarled shaft wet with the sticky juices of her body, then slammed back in again, this time not