The Wax Artist

As I lowered my bare ass to the wooden chair, he immediately began tying me to it. The rope crisscrossed to hug my breasts together before separating to tie each thigh, spreading them apart. As soon as I was finished being tied, I was blindfolded and gagged.
I had expressed the desire to explore all aspects of sexuality to him in which he confessed that he would be absolutely honored to aid me in this journey---a wonderful arrangement.
He was very silent in his work so that I never knew what was coming next. Ice cold water dripped onto my erect nipples and ran down the slit of my pussy. I shivered out a moan. Just as I was getting used to the ice kissing my aroused body, the wax started. Steaming, melted wax dripped onto my breasts, stomach and pussy. He ran his hands through the wax as it touched my skin, heightening the eroticism. I was desperate to guide his hands towards my swollen clit---it's a good thing my hands were tied.
He began tracing his finger through the melting wax. An artist. And I; the canvas. It wasn't until the blindfold was removed that I realised he had written his name in the melted wax on my willing and welcoming breasts. The artist signs his work.