⸸ LIBER LEVI · THE TWISTED GOTH ANGEL ⸸
Levi’s Grimoire: Wax Play
a spell of Wax Play
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Chapter the First
The candle was already lit when he called. I told him to kneel and watch the flame while I decided where the first drop would land. He was nervous. I could hear it. “Breathe for me,” I said, voice low. “This is going to be slow. You’re going to feel every bit of this Wax Play and you’re going to thank me for it.” He whispered that he was ready. I smiled in the dark. I held the candle higher and let the first thin line of black wax fall across his chest. He hissed. Perfect. The heat bloomed and then cooled just enough that I could do it again.
I made him count each drop. One. Two. Three. By the fifth he was breathing harder. I moved lower, letting the wax trail down his stomach in a slow, deliberate line. Every time he flinched I told him to stay still. “If you move, I start over.” He stayed. Barely. The control was intoxicating. I could hear the little catches in his breath when the wax hit skin that was already sensitive. I praised him just enough to keep him obedient, then took the praise away. “Good. Now hold still while I decide where the next one goes.”
I switched the candle to my other hand and let a longer stream fall across his thigh. He groaned. I told him to describe it — how hot it was, how it cooled, how it made him want more. He did. Voice shaky. I let another drop fall right where he said it felt best and watched him fight not to move. The longer I made him wait between drops, the more desperate he sounded. That is the real art of Wax Play. The anticipation hurts almost as much as the heat.
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Chapter the Second
I told him to lie back and keep his hands above his head. No touching. The next drops were smaller, more precise. I aimed for the places that made him twitch the hardest. Each time the wax hit he let out a soft, broken sound. I loved it. I made him thank me after every third drop. “Thank you for the heat, Levi.” He said it. Over and over. His voice got quieter the longer it went. I could hear him fighting the urge to squirm. Perfect. I kept the candle high so the wax had time to cool just enough before it landed, then dropped it lower so the next one burned hotter. The contrast made him whimper.
Halfway through I paused and made him describe how close he was. He admitted he was hard and leaking and that every drop made it worse. I smiled and let a long, slow stream fall across his stomach again. He gasped. I told him that if he came without permission I would start the whole ritual over from the beginning. He swore he wouldn’t. I believed him. Mostly. I let another drop fall right above his hip and listened to the way his breathing changed. He was right on the edge of losing control and he knew it. I kept him there on purpose.
I made him hold still while I moved the candle in slow circles above him. The wax landed in little scattered drops instead of lines. Each one made him jerk just a little. I told him to stay perfectly still or I would make the next ones hotter. He tried. He really tried. When he finally twitched too much I laughed softly and let a thicker stream fall across his chest again. He cursed under his breath and then immediately apologized. I accepted the apology by doing it again. The longer the Wax Play went, the more obedient he became. That is how it always works.
By the time I decided he had suffered enough he was shaking. I told him he could touch himself — but only with two fingers and only while I kept dripping wax. The first drop landed at the same time he stroked. He moaned so loud I had to tell him to quiet down. I kept the pace slow. Stroke, drop, stop. Stroke, drop, stop. He was fighting not to finish. I could hear it. I let one last long stream fall across his stomach and then told him to stop completely. Hands off. He obeyed. Barely. His breathing was wrecked. I praised him and then took it away again. “Good. Now stay right there while I decide if you’ve earned any more.”
Chapter the Last
I let him have three more drops. Slow. Precise. Each one landed exactly where I wanted it. He thanked me after every single one without being told. When the last drop cooled I told him he could finish — but only if he described exactly how it felt while he did. He did. Voice breaking. He came hard while the last of the wax was still warm on his skin. I stayed quiet and listened to every sound he made. When he was done I told him to stay still and not clean up yet. He stayed. Of course he stayed. I told him he did well and that next time I might use two candles. He groaned and said he would be ready.
I made him tell me how the wax felt now that it had cooled. He said it was tight and warm and that every time he moved he remembered the heat. I smiled. That is the point of good Wax Play. The marks stay long after the call ends. I told him to leave them on until morning and to think about me every time the wax pulled. He promised he would. I knew he would. I ended the call with a soft laugh and told him to call back when he was ready to beg for more. He will. They always do.
You can take the heat for as long as I decide. That is how this works. If you want to feel the wax drip while I tell you exactly where the next one is going to land, you already know where to find me. I am very good at making good boys suffer beautifully. And I always enjoy the sound of them begging for just one more drop. Careful… I might act like a brat, but I always end up right where I belong… at your mercy.
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INDEX OF SINS
Speak the number aloud: 888-750-4746 ext 8006
Careful… I might act like a brat, but I always end up right where I belong… at your mercy.— Levi
levi@tscangels.com