Festival of Lights
Page 2
“Sure, man, thanks.”
Tom brought two martinis into the kitchen and handed one to Marc. He leaned against the wall and made small talk while he watched Marc cook. “Man, I love these so much. Joel doesn’t have a clue how they’re made, other than with potatoes. But then, his forte is eating, not cooking. Could you give me the recipe, or is it a family secret?”
“Sure, I’ll give you the recipe. It’s really simple, or at least the recipe is simple. The secret lies in the preparation.”
They chatted while Marc cooked. After he’d used up all the batter he’d prepared, he said, “Well, what do you think? Think we’ve got enough?”
They looked at the mountains of potato latkes in the oven and Tom said, “Uh, yeah, I’d say there’s enough there for me. When are you going to make the rest?”
“Ha!” Marc slapped him on the back. “Cute. Go and let everyone know we’re ready for dinner. I’ll bring these to the table.”
After stuffing themselves on latkes and sharing a bottle of Chardonnay, it was finally time to light the candles. Once the prayers had been said and all three menorahs were lit, everyone stood back and enjoyed the light of 27 candles. Marc, of course, was the first to break the mood by saying, “Okay, now it’s time for presents!”
“Yeah, not so fast, Buddy. We have other plans,” Judith said. “Now it’s time for you to strip, and I mean everything.” Susan gave the same general order to Harry and Joel began to undress on his own, without being prompted. Tom worked to push all the living room furniture to the sides of the room while Susan got the bags out of the closet and began unfolding a plastic drop cloth.
“What’s the deal?” Marc stood by the dining table in socks and an unbuttoned shirt.
“Take those socks off. You know better than that. You wanted to play with candles, didn’t you? The more I thought about it, the more fun I thought it would be. So, since Chanukah is the festival of lights, we’re going to add some more light by adding three more menorahs to the current candlepower. And all I can say is you should be glad that I make sure you shave, because candle wax and hair don’t go together very well.”
“I have Harry waxed because nobody likes a hairy Harry,” Susan said. Everyone groaned, and Harry looked sheepish, while Susan lit several white paraffin candles in tall jars. “Harry, you can lie down on your back right here. And Joel, since you don’t shave or wax, you can lie down on your stomach, next to Harry. It’s a good thing you don’t have a hairy butt.”
“I don’t shave; I trim,” Joel said as he went to lie down on the plastic. “Hey, this is cold. Don’t I get a pillow?”
“Complain, complain, complain. You’ll get more than a pillow pretty soon, baby,” Tom said and slapped Joel on the ass.
“Marc, you lie down on your back, next to Joel. It was so lucky that you bought that second box of candles. Now we have plenty for you all to have eight candles and one shamas each for the last night of Chanukah.”
“But first we have to build the candle holders on the menorah,” Susan said.
Susan started by dripping some wax from one of the paraffin candles just above Harry’s right nipple. He squirmed a little, but smiled as she built up the wax base and put the end of a candle in the hardening pool. After it hardened, she poured a bit more and held the candle until the paraffin hardened around it enough to form a tight candleholder.
“See, Judith? This way you can make him into a human menorah, rather than just painting his body with hot wax. Now, it’s up to you as to the actual design of your menorah. Just plan it out so that you make sure you have room for all eight candles and the shamas before you run out of room. Oh, and may I suggest that if you tilt your candles, they’ll drip their own melting wax onto his skin as they burn.”
Susan continued by placing the next candle over Harry’s left nipple then worked her way on both sides of his chest until the candles met in the middle and formed a line to his navel.
Tom followed suit, beginning with the small of Joel’s back. He worked his way up Joel’s spine with each successive candle to delicious sounds of Joel’s moaning, until he had a line of eight candles of varying colors standing slightly tilted towards alternate sides in the center of his back.
Judith took her time examining her husband’s body before placing the first candle at the top of his chest, tilted slightly toward his head, so the wax would melt into the hollow of his throat and run down the sides of his neck. She followed with a candle at the top of each of his pecs, tilted so the dripping wax would hopefully land on, or close to each nipple.
While the other boys had moaned and squirmed, Marc yipped and cursed with the first applications of the hot paraffin.
“Oh, baby, what’s wrong? Don’t you like it?” Judith crooned to him. “This was all for you. You started it. Look at Harry and Joel; they’re having a great time. Do you want me to stop?”
“No, no, don’t stop,” Marc gasped. I love it.”
Joel burst out laughing. “You’re such a kinky bastard.”
“Yeah, right, you’re one to talk,” Marc retorted and then sucked in breath as more hot paraffin hit him above his navel.
Judith placed two more candles, in their wax holders, around his navel and he lifted his hand to reach for the area.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Judith said as she grabbed his wrist. “Do I need to put your cuffs on and tie you to something? No touching!”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, giving her a mock salute.
“Oh, you’re gonna get it, Buster.”
“Promises, promises...”
“Now, put those hands under your butt, but be careful; you better not mess up my candles.”
She placed two more candles on his groin, poised to drip onto his balls. “Hmm, now I wonder where the shamas will go,” she mused.
Marc’s cock was stiff as could be, lying almost flat against his abdomen, pointing toward his navel. It twitched to her words.
Susan had finished before everyone else and had gotten her camera out of her bag to take pictures of all the preparation. Once Judith finished, she told them to make sure they knew where they wanted to put the shamas so they could do that as soon as they’d lit the other candles with it.
“All right, we’ve already said the prayers once tonight, so I don’t think we need to do that again. Everyone light your shamas so that the other candles can be lit. Remember to keep a close eye on the burning candles. Now boys, don’t move! We really don’t want any accidents,” Susan said as she began to light her candles.
Judith and Tom lit their candles, Tom placed his shamas at the top of the crack of Joel’s ass, tilted so the melting wax would fall in the crack and hopefully make it all the way down to his balls. Judith placed her shamas directly on Marc’s shaft to the sound of a short-lived shriek. She tilted it towards the head of his cock and once in place, she turned out the living room lights.
Susan continued taking pictures and as the candles began to burn down, the room was suffused with the warm glow of the Chanukah lights and the sounds of moans and groans, not to mention the little yips and shrieks each time a drip would hit the tip of Marc’s cock.
After the “true” menorahs had burned all the way out and the human menorahs had burned down far enough to satisfy everyone, the remaining candles were snuffed out. Susan took more pictures and then the fun job of cleaning off the hardened wax began.
Once everyone was clean and the dropcloth had been disposed of, the guys moved the furniture back into place. Joel opened a bottle of Champagne he and Tom brought and Susan put out her home made cream puffs while they exchanged gifts. Oddly, all the presents seemed to be sex toys of one kind or another. Susan promised to send the pictures to Tom and Judith as soon as she got home.
After their guests had left, Marc and Judith snuggled together on the couch. “This was the best Chanukah ever,” Marc said.
“Hey, I thought you’d be chomping at the bit to open the rest of the presents as soon as everyone left.”
“Oh, yeah. I guess I forgot.
Twenty minutes later, the room was littered with blue and silver wrapping paper and bows. “How about the last present, Marc? Don’t you want to open that big, long box?”
“Hey, right, where is that box?”
“Go in the spare bedroom and look under the bed.”
Marc came back holding the box he’d found under the couch weeks before. Now it was gaily wrapped in blue and white paper with little dreidels on it.
“Go ahead, open it,” Judith said, beaming a benevolent smile at him.
Marc ripped the paper off and pried open the box from Sandor’s House of Pain. His eyes got big as he removed the packing material. There, inside the box, lay a shiny black cattle prod.
“That’ll teach you to call me Ms. Smarty,” she said with a grin.
About the Author
D. L. King would like to lie around, doing nothing, but instead, she spends far too much time in front of the computer. Her favorite things include barbecuing in her postage-stamp sized garden and using electricity inappropriately on unsuspecting partners. She is the editor of 13 erotic anthologies, so far, among them a Lambda Literary Award finalist and a winner, two IPPY gold medalists and two silver medalists, an NLA-I John Preston Short Story award and a Golden Flogger award. Her short stories can be found in about 80 anthologies and her collection of femdom short stories, Her Wish is Your Command, was published by Riverdale Avenue Books. She is also the author of two novels of female domination and male submission, The Melinoe Project and The Art of Melinoe. Find out more at dlkingerotica.blogspot.com and dlkingeortica.com.
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