“If you wish not to do this, we do not have to proceed,” said Leonine as she bound Simon’s wrists behind his back.  “But I do believe you will enjoy this little game.  The warrior grows dull without pain, does he not?”

Leonine’s words were only met with a steely gaze.  He could not argue with the sentiment she was only repeating back to him.  Simon had indeed joked earlier that afternoon that too much love could cause him to grow soft.  The way she looked at him after he said he did not know what would become of him without pain in his life could have put fear in his heart.  She refused to explain the mischievous glint in her eyes at the time, but assured him that love could hone a man as well as any battle.

With a smile and that same impish look, she patted his cheek before turning away from him.  Her movement caused the flames perched atop the candles that lit the space to dance, which reflected off the crystals in the room and basked it in an orange glow despite it being the dead of the night.

There was a welling in Simon’s chest of what was to come.  Though similar, it was not fear.  Excitement, perhaps?  If excitement, it was… perverse.  He knew not how to describe it, but the sight of his lady approaching with the chamberstick caused a stirring deep within him. 

Simon’s confliction was not lost on Leonine.  When she approached him, her knee wedged between his thighs to rest on the chair as she stood over him. It pressed against the raging arousal that he simply could not understand, causing him to grunt.

“I dare say you are enjoying yourself already.  I’ve not even begun.”

He did not respond.  He couldn’t.  All of his years he spent preparing so he would not be in a vulnerable position, only for him to toss them asunder and willingly allow himself to be tortured at hands of a beautiful woman.  Yes, tortured.  Leonine made it perfect clear she wanted to drip that wax onto his body.  He knew not where his beloved got these depraved ideas, perhaps from that wild mother of hers.  Regardless of the source, he did intend to indulge her if she thought it was best for him.

Her lips pursed to blow out the flame before she grabbed his golden mane by the roots and pulled his head back so that it was out of her way.  The chamberstick was then tipped ever so slightly.  Wax dripped from the candle onto Simon’s chest.  It wasn’t much, merely an experimental amount, but he hissed at the unfamiliar burn.

“How is it?” she asked, holding the candle upright and away from him. 

Simon thought Leonine crazy when she explained the moment that they stepped into this room that she could mix pleasure with pain if the warrior so desired.  He had his reservations regarding how this could be achieved, but he’d put his life in Leonine’s hands without any convincing.  As his lover and best friend, she would never willingly bring him harm… real harm.

Now, he understood.  That excitement he felt earlier had to indeed be sexual arousal.  Perhaps because it was she who administered the pain, she who was the sole being capable of conjuring these reactions in him, that the scorch he felt when the wax hit his skin sent a jolt right to his loins.  He muttered something, but his voice didn’t carry. 

“Speak up, Belmont.  I don’t want to h-…”

“More.”

Leonine’s face lit up in glee.  Once again, her grip on his hair tightened, the candle was held over him and tilted.  He grit his teeth as the molten wax rolled down the swell of his pec.  He could feel it gradually harden as it traveled lower, but not before it coated the flesh.  She dripped it between the valley of this muscular breasts, heat spread as it ran past his sternum and caught the contours of his abdomen.

Simon rutted against the knee that was still between his legs, futilely seeking relief.  He ached for her to touch him, while also not wanting her to cease the task at hand.  He wondered if this pain was intended, or mere coincidence, but the lady did not neglect him.  More pressure was applied, forcing an audible groan out his throat.

“Verily, you’re a wicked woman,” Simon rumbled.  She was teasing him so ruthlessly he felt he would burst at any moment.  “Truly treacherous.  I’ve encountered succubi less devious than you.”

His words made her crack up.  Her laughter only caused further reactions beneath his linens.  The chamberstick was seated on the shelf nearest to his chair.  She leaned forward, brushing her lips against his jaw.

“You do not mean that,” she whispered beneath his ear.  He could feel her smile against his skin.  “Were you not calling me your angel just this morning, dear Simon?”

Heat rose to his cheeks and he attempted to avert his eyes, but found it difficult with the hold she still had on his hair.  It was then he felt that her other hand was resting atop his manhood. 

He breathed her name as her tender hand began to massage his groin.  She silenced him by catching his lips in hers.  As she kissed him, the heel of her palm applied just as much sweet pressure as her knee did previously, making him moan into her mouth.  If she hadn’t tied his hands, he’d lift her up and sit her right on top of it.  It was tempting to try to break the ropes, but he then felt her fingertips beneath his navel.  The feel of her cold hands gracing his blazing body made him shiver, and he did gasp the moment they snaked beneath the fabric of his breeches.

Finally being touched distracted Simon from the fact that she no longer held his hair, but instead used that hand to pick at the wax that had hardened on his chest.  He realized what she was doing upon feeling her nails rake across the skin and chip wax away.  Though mild compared to pain he was used to, he still grimaced at the feel of wax tugging at the fair hair of his chest when she peeled it off.

“Still think you’ll go soft?” Leonine asked as she squeezed the shaft in her other hand.

No, Simon would not grow soft with a love like this.  Quite the opposite.  He did not think he had ever felt harder in his entire life.