Yes

You let out a muffled groan as your body squirms in its restraints, aching for release. The Crimson Queen stares, awaiting your answer. As you mumble around the candle, you feel it slip, and finally give up and let it fall from your mouth so you can speak.

The candle falls across your chest, spilling hot wax as it rolls off one of your breasts, leaving a hot red trail dribbling down the nipple. You gasp and wince as the stinging liquid cools on your sensitive skin, squeezing your eyes shut as you cry out, "Yes! Give me more!"

The woman peers down at your writhing form with a sadistic grin, bringing her candle to your needy pussy once again. "With pleasure," she purrs, sliding the thick pillar of wax inside you.

You moan around a bitten lip, reveling in the sensations of getting filled while the sting of the hot wax fades. The pumping of the candle resumes at a blessedly rhythmic pace, driving you back to the peak of pleasure. You cry out in the throes of a shuddering orgasm, back arching away from the table, and dropping back again as you pant rapidly trying to catch your breath.

The candle-fucking slows, but only for a moment before the Crimson Queen give the toy a twist inside you, immediately returning to a rhythm so fast it drives you all the way back up to that crest of ecstasy. As you come close to a second orgasm, she slides a hand along your thigh, bringing a single finger near to your sopping, stretched sex, where it ignites with a tiny spark, making you flinch from the briefest stinging sensation, as well as succumb to another orgasm.

A wavering wail of pleasure escapes your drooling lips as you cum hard around the candle. The woman's ministrations begin to ebb and flow, reaching rhythmic highs as she starts peeling the cooled wax from your skin, plucking them away methodically with sparking fingers. Little moments of gasping pain punctuate the thrusts of the candle, and you're soon sent into yet another tense, trembling climax.

Finally, when the wax is all plucked away, and the candle is pulled from your sore pussy, you're left melted and mewling, splayed out upon the table. The Crimson Queen glides around to brush a gentle hand over your hair, leaning in to trace your glistening lips with her forked tongue. You don't have the energy to do anything but lay there.

"Now wasn't that fun?" she whispers. The words echo in your mind as you fall into a deep slumber. When you wake up, you're back in your own bed, the previous night feeling like a dream. You try to recall details, finding nothing but the vague scent of cinnamon coming to mind.