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Bea, bound and vulnerable, is a feast for Talon's eyes. He kneels before her, worshipping her tiny feet, running his tongue along her arches, making her squirm. Wax drips from the candle, a golden line snaking down to Bea's soles, a trail of fire igniting her senses. Talon's hands, firm yet gentle, mold the wax, shaping it to Bea's curves. Her body responds, nipples hardening, pussy dripping. Talon notices, a smirk playing on his lips. He leans in, his breath hot on Bea's ear, "You're enjoying this, aren't you, pet?" Bea can only whimper in response, lost in a world of sensation, her body yearning for more.