As his naked skin touches the cold metal beams that form the cross, Charles arches his back away from it.
“BE STILL!” his mistress commands.
He relaxes and allows these two men to shackle him firmly in place. He hears more people shuffling into the room; their hushed whispers and sounds of approval cause him to tense back up. He is on display for all to see. The realization of this arouses him and his prick starts to grow hard.
The four hands that fastened him to the cross are gone but replaced by a single pair of hands. These hands are soft and gentle, but still not the familiar hands of his mistress. They gently caress his legs from toe to thigh. Then the hands work from the top of his head, across his cheeks, and down to his shoulders. A tender brush down his arms follows. The caress reaches all the way to the tips of his fingers. He can feel each of his muscles tense up as the fingers caress him; partly in anxiety and partly to show off. After they have explored his legs and arms, the hands begin to explore his back. He shifts against the cross to make room and the bonds at his wrists and ankles strain ever so slightly against his movement.
When the hands have explored every inch of his back, they begin to wander over his torso. They stroke his chest hairs. Pinch and tease his nipples. As they wander down his abs, tracing his hairline, the “treasure trail,” they play with the hairs, gently pulling and twisting. When the hands reach his crotch, they toy with his trimmed pubic hair, causing his cock to twitch with excitement. The hands leave as quickly as they arrived, however, without touching his stiffening member, and he sighs a whine of disappointment.
As this woman leaves, he hears her whisper to someone, “Very nice! I need to get myself one of them.”
The next thing he feels is a feather, gently brushing his cheek. The person in front of him is breathing heavily, as though he or she might be out of breath from exercise. This person is not his Mistress either. The feather drags down his jawline, over his chin, then straight down the center of his neck. It continues on without a pause, down his chest and over his stomach. It travels straight down to his groin, where it brushes over his very hard cock and tickles his scrotum before being dragged down his left leg. Then it is gone. The breather is walking away.
His body shivers and quakes with anticipation for what may come next. Nothing happens for what seems like hours, but in reality, is best measured by fractional minutes. During this brief interlude, he relaxes. His penis begins to droop and become flaccid. He still has enough pent-up excitement, however, that it does not reduce in size.
He hears the generator turn on and the slight crackle of electricity makes him jump.
Something very cold and wet touches his left breast, swirling around his nipple — an ice cube. He hadn’t seen the bucket under the prep table. This was an experience he had not expected at all, and the surprise doubled the intensity of the feelings. Someone drags the ice cube across his chest to his right nipple. But a sudden warmth on his left nipple from wax makes his body jump, pulling at his bonds.
This process of moving the chilling ice across his chest, followed by the burning wax, continues back and forth across his chest until he goes almost numb from pleasure. He strains at his bonds, reflexively, wanting more.
He is vaguely aware of foot-fall. The person responsible for the wax and ice torture/pleasure is retreating and two people other are coming toward him.
One of these two, he knows, is his mistress, for she calls out to him sweetly as she approaches, “Now, you’ve been a very good boy so far. I am pleased, my pet. But you mustn’t try to escape like that, you need some lashes to remind you who is in charge here. When I say be still, you must be still, no matter what your libido and body tell you to do. Is that understood?” Her voice is soft, gentle, consoling; but he knows she means it.
This fact is driven home as he feels the sting from a lash across his chest, then another on his back, broken slightly by the beams of the cross. His body goes absolutely rigid, he does not allow himself to react in the least to these lashes, as they continue, one at a time, across his chest and back.