Today was the day. It had to be.

 

You were getting truly desperate after two weeks locked up and hours of relentless teasing via text while you were at the office and couldn’t even claw helplessly at the metal prison between your legs.

 

At least they had enjoyed your typo-ridden begging. Not that it had gotten you anywhere, nor had you expected it to.

 

You didn’t need to listen to the voice clip anymore- you’d already listened to it a truly humiliating number of times and could hear it perfectly in your mind. But you still kept listening to it just for the pleasure of listening to their smooth voice, their saccharine innocent tone, their own sadistic pleasure.

 

“I don’t know what you think I can do about it from here, love. If you want to touch before my next visit, just use your key and free yourself.”

 

As soon as you arrived home, you stripped down, doing your best to ignore the way your soaked underwear peeled off your chastity device before making yet another desperate attempt to maybe, just maybe, try to move in the right way or find just the right spot to get your fingers in to give yourself just the smallest bit of pleasure.

 

Even knowing that it wouldn’t work, even knowing what you needed to do, you couldn’t fight the animal urge to try the direct approach first.

 

The heat ached between your thighs, and the more you thought about it, the more intense it got. And you’d long given up on trying not to think about it. Sure, it ebbed and flowed, but your new baseline was burning with need.

 

It had only been two weeks.

 

It had been an eternity.

 

Finally regaining the smallest shred of control over yourself, you headed to the bedroom. Everything you needed was already in there.

 

You picked up the mason jar from your nightstand and held it up to the light, catching the faintest outline of the key through the few thin layers of sparkly, deep purple wax separating it from the glass of the homemade candle. Reassured by the key’s presence in your possession, you placed the candle back on your nightstand and reached for the lighter.

 

You told yourself to ignore the disparity between the charred state of the wick and the comparatively small divot in the wax. To ignore the number of times that it had been lit compared to how little it had burned.

 

They’d said the candle should only need to burn for 5 or 6 hours to free the key.

 

You took a moment before lighting the candle to feel the burning arousal within you. To tell yourself that you’d be free in a few hours. That you’d have all the release you could want soon. You caressed your neck, your nipples, your thighs, telling yourself that the more worked up you could get, the better a chance you’d have.

 

You lit the candle.

 

Immediately, the sound of the lock clicking shut on your chastity echoed through your mind as your gaze locked onto the flame. The candle was so pretty. How had they been able to make even the smoke slightly purple?

 

You breathed deeply, revelling in the subtle scent of lavender. It was just so calming, and your muscles couldn’t help but relax even as the inferno of desire inside you raged on and intensified.

 

You tried to resist, you really did. You tried to bring back the desperate, frantic need that had fuelled you only a few moments ago, but your body had become a fortress containing the molten desire at your core. Even your eyes, locked onto the flame as you stared helplessly at the candle, were unable to dart about as your frenzied desire responded to your immobility by boiling up even higher.

 

Your eyelids started to become heavy.

 

“Fuck... please...”

 

Begging a fucking candle.

 

You fought as hard as you could to keep your eyes, now alternating between staring fixedly at the flame and rolling back in your head, open. To keep yourself awake.

 

How could you be imprisoned by your own mind and body like this? How could your desire still climb higher, still burn brighter, even as such heaviness threatened to overtake you?

 

Your eyes now staying closed longer than you could keep them open, it hardly even counted as blinking anymore. You’d have held them open with your fingers if your arms hadn’t been too heavy to lift. You knew you had only moments.

 

You knew you needed to fight it and resist as long as you could if you were to have any hope.

 

“Please...”

 

Begging again. There wasn’t even anyone else there. But what else could you do?

 

Their voice echoed through your mind.

 

“Oh dear. You need to make sure you put that candle out if you aren’t going to keep an eye on it.”

 

Easily, automatically, your arm reached out all by itself, picked up the candle, and brought it close to your mouth. Just as involuntarily, your lips blew out the flame.

 

The last thing you remembered before falling deep into oblivion, only aware of your still mounting need, was your arm returning to its limp and heavy state after placing the candle safely back onto the nightstand.

 

You awakened gently as soon as the smoke dissipated and you could no longer smell the lavender. You wanted to try a few more times tonight, but you knew that resisting the hypnotic effects of the candle got more difficult each time, and if you couldn’t resist long enough to burn at least a little of the wax, then all you were doing was ruining the wick for no reason...

 

They’d said the candle should only need to burn for 5 or 6 hours to free the key.

 

Leaning forward from your seat on the bed to reach for the lighter again, you moaned and shuddered slightly in pleasure as your hypersensitive inner thighs brushed across the silk sheets.

 

You needed that key.

 

You steeled yourself to try your best to resist as long as possible, knowing deep down that the first attempt of the night was usually the best.

 

You lit the candle again.