Perfect

How I was invited is a mystery, even to myself.  Bangkok is a hazy wasteland of possibility.  Perhaps my host had seen several erotic drawings I once did for a magazine.  The card lay in my post office box.  It was simple and expensive.  The address was a fashionable one in Nang Po, by the river.  Friday at eleven, black tie, RSVP; the card would grant admittance.

The intensity of seeing the girl so used I cannot forget.  She was young but a woman, with puckering breasts and hips conscious of a woman's need.  Her glistening, jet black hair spilled over her shoulders and before the night was over would hang wet from her sweat and the heat of the room.

"Ladies and gentlemen.  Tonight I will be used for your pleasure," she spoke in hesitant English, making eye contact with those present.  The look in her eyes was unsettling.  Her factual tone was betrayed by the glitter in her eyes.  She would be used and utterly humiliated by the man who sat near her.

The girl stepped back on a small platform built on one side of the room and a curtain closed before her.  Our host was a West German I had seen before.  I believe his business was the export of rubber.  He stood on the stage before the curtain and invited those present to drink and mingle.  Tonight, he told us, was a most important night for his young protege.  Tonight the girl would experience total humiliation before the eyes of a roomful of strangers.  He spoke of "transformation".  The music came up, a throbbing, synthesised sound, and waiters passed drinks to the impeccably dressed crowd.  In corners of the room on low couches hasish pipes began to glow.  Soon the room was dense with erotic tension.

Slowly the curtain parted and a light came up on the platform, revealing the slender Malaysian girl with grapefruit breasts and almond eyes, naked, exposed, strapped, and gagged.

She lay on her back and her hips were drawn back over her head until her weight rested on the back of her neck with her depilated cunt only inches from her face.  The host approached her with a large candle.  It was at least two inches thick and fourteen inches long.  At its base the candle bulged in a ball the size of a small orange.  The candle base was slick with oil.  Our host caressed the face of the helpless slave sucked in around the phallic gag, then twisted and pulled on her nipples, stretching them nearly to her chin while she writhed in pain and frustration.

Her ankles were lashed to the floor beyond her head, spread wide so that her straight, taut legs formed an "A," the top of which was her swollen pussy.  The breath whistled through her nostrils in short gaps as she struggled.

With his hands he worked and slapped at her inner thighs until they showed an inner glow of red.  By now the girl was rocking on her neck, consumed with lust, jerking her hot pussy, bobbing it up and down, trying to reach it, trying to make him touch it, stroke it, and she would come.  But no.  He watched her, amused, and turned to the crowd.  "Look at her, ladies and gentlemen!  I do believe she would fuck anything!  But first, a test."

He took the candle and stroked the bulging base across the slit of her need and back to her puckering asshole.  She humped and moaned beneath the gag as the candle slid through her lips.  Finally, when the base was wet with her clear fluid, he forced the thing into her ass so that her anus gripped the shaft above the bulge.  He lit the candle.

She was totally still, taut, stiff, frozen.  Apparently she had felt hot wax on her skin before.  Now the lit end hovered above her shaved genitals and inner thighs.

The room was transfixed.  Not a word was uttered as the music pounded and the girl struggled to remain motionless.  The flame burnt on.  A hot pool of wax began to form around the wick.

Even as she held herself still, candle wax dripped down the sides of the shaft towards her stretched, vulnerable flesh.  Again and again trickles ran down the candle side, then slowed to stop an inch or two above the tender ridge.  When the first drop reached the base there was a frozen pause before she jerked wildly and screamed into a long, rhythmic moan behind the gag.The candle had blown out.  The lights dimmed and the curtains drew on the still writhing girl.  The show was over.

Later the girl mingled among us, dressed in a long evening gown.  Towards the end of the evening I approached her.  Looking down into her eyes, I asked her was she all right.  A smile lit in her eyes.

"You do not understand," she told me.  "Tonight, I am perfect."