The air was tinged with the sweet, subtle scent of melting wax, a prelude to the game that was about to unfold. you stood quietly for a moment, observing Kenshi. He sat on the chair,collected and calm , his form outlined by the soft glow of the candle. His bare chest rose and fell with each breath, a testament to his calm acceptance of the situation. The blindfold over his eyes shrouded him in darkness, heightening his other senses. His hands, bound behind him, spoke of surrender—a willing submission to the game you have chosen to play. With a slow, deliberate motion, you tilted the candle, allowing the molten wax to gather at its edge. Time seemed to stretch as the first drop formed—a perfect, glistening bead suspended in anticipation. Then, it fell. The wax landed on Kenshi's skin with a soft hiss, a small but significant punctuation in the stillness of the room. His muscles tensed momentarily at the contact. Yet, within moments, he relaxed again, surrendering to the sensation as it transformed from a fleeting sting into a gentle heat that seeped into his skin. you watched intently, captivated by the subtle shifts in Kenshi's expression—the way his lips parted slightly, the faint crease of his brow as he adjusted to this new layer of sensory experience. you watched as Kenshi's expression shifted with each drop—sometimes a wince, sometimes a soft sigh.