Chapter 1 — Dripping the Candle Wax

One drop.

"Stop it, ah! I said... don't do this... ah, it's hot!"

A single drop of candle wax had landed on her right breast, already beginning to harden into a pale, milky film.

The more she resisted, the more I wanted to crush her beneath me.

Sarah Park's upper body was bare, her wrists bound tightly to the four slender metal posts at the head of the bed. Straddling her stomach like a rider on horseback, I pressed down each time she strained to push me off—her back arching like a drawn bow.

With my left hand—the one not holding the candle—I gripped the taut muscles of her abdomen, pressing hard as she struggled, then shifted higher atop her body. Slowly, I began to caress the spot where the first drop of wax had hardened on her right breast.

She twisted her body, trembling—aroused despite herself.

I brought the candle slowly toward her left breast, its flame flickering as it burned, heat radiating with each passing second.

Two drops.

"Aaahh!!"

She convulsed violently.

This one must have been especially hot.

Watching her react so fiercely sent a sharp thrill through me.

The second drop had landed directly on her left nipple. The soft pink tip was now sealed beneath a smooth, white layer—like ice encasing it, hiding it away as if buried deep beneath frozen ground.

Three drops.

Now I decided to make a path.

Down the center of her chest, I would draw a line—like a road marked with a dotted center line, or a skipping trail of stepping stones made of wax.

Helpless with her hands bound, she thrashed desperately with her hips and feet.

"Aah... David Jin, stop... ah... please..."

With my free hand, I yanked her panties off.

Now completely naked, her slender, delicate form was breathtaking.

From the center of her chest, the third drop fell.

From the fourth to the eighth.

Six drops of wax were needed to reach the dark patch of curls between her legs, each spaced five centimeters apart. With every drop, her body flinched at the sudden sting of heat—moaning"ahh,""aak," her voice breaking—yet occasionally, a faint smile played on her lips.

She's enjoying it.

The thought made me spiteful.

Oh, really? Then let's see...

The ninth drop.

"Haaak!!!!"

I ruthlessly pried apart her legs, which had instinctively clenched from the shock. Then I slid my legs beneath her hips, lifting her lower body slightly. Her back arched involuntarily, strained and exposed.

I crawled slowly toward the garden blooming before me.

There, a red flower was in full bloom—drenched, glistening with moisture that had gathered and now trickled steadily into the deep valley between her buttocks.

I raised the candle again.

"Haaak!"

She gasped, her breath catching in her throat.

Even her petals seemed to tighten—just as hot as the flame itself—as the fresh drop of wax struck and began to harden.

The tenth drop.

I slowly stroked her inner thigh.

After the shock of the ninth drop, she seemed to relax slightly under my gentle touch. Her pale inner thighs were so tender, so sensitive.

I shifted my body and placed the candle carefully on the small shelf of the bedside stand.

Then I moved slowly back toward her.

Her eyes were closed, breathing in shallow, ragged gasps—"hah... hah..."

Her entire body was taut, trembling with tension.

"Having fun?"

"David Jin..."

"Tell me honestly. You're turned on, aren't you?"

She didn't deny it.

I hungrily sought her lips, devouring them with urgency.

She whispered that her wrists hurt, begged me to untie her.

I pretended not to hear, my hands never leaving her body.

Under the relentless caress, she seemed to have lost all sense of reason.

Her waist was incredibly supple—responding to the slightest touch.

When I brought my tongue to the spot where the ninth drop had landed, her body shook violently.

I flicked my tongue like a butterfly, sucking at her petals—sipping, savoring, drinking her in.

The more I did, the more she writhed, helpless.

Slowly, I rose and reached for the candle on the stand.

She didn't even notice my movement.

"AAAAAAAK!!!"

I quickly pinched the flame between my fingers, snuffing it out, then flung the candle to the floor.

And with all my strength, I thrust myself deep inside her—where I'd been aching to be.

The final, pooled drop of wax poured over her petals and into her folds.

But she felt more than just the heat of wax.

She felt unbearable pain.

Because the moment the tenth drop fell, I had driven myself fiercely into her anus—deep, unrelenting, claiming her completely.

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