'The Kettle' was a well-known knocking shop/bar/dance hall, not exactly out of bounds to our troops but not with a very good reputation. I asked Clark... for a description of the girl; his reply was not a great help."You know, Sarge, the usual sort of tart: big Bristols, long legs, and long hair." I asked him if she was young or old, or if she had a name."You know, Sarge, them lights in The Kettle are really dim, she could have been a teeny-bopper or a grab-a-granny. I think Jazzer called her. It was, in other words, awkward as he took his place in line. He stood out like a sore thumb, so he tried to save himself from the awkwardness by staring at the texts of the menu. Not too long after, the front of the shop rang with a ding and a gust of December’s chilliness rushed in. The clerk that stood behind the counter immediately gushed with rage.“Where were you!” the man scolded, abandoning his spot to approach the girl who had just stumbled inside. “I’m sorry I’m late,” the girl. After covering almost all of my back with wax, she took a flogger and started hitting on my back and bums to remove all the wax.Mistress released me and asked me to lay down on my back now. She again tied my hands and legs. She started to pour the hot wax on my thighs and gradually moved to my cock. The cock still had bruises from the flogger, and hot wax made it worse.I was almost about to scream, but Mistress stuffed my panty in my mouth. She covered my whole dick with wax. She then moved. Walker had no way of conveying how disgusting he found the whole situation. It smelled good, he could almost taste the sweet nectar on his tongue, but his human sensibilities would never allow him to feed in the way that they wanted. Especially when he had perfectly good MREs waiting for him back at his cell.Fig tried to pull him, but he dug his heels into the earth, making it very clear that he wasn’t going to cooperate. He smelled concern, expectation, urgency that bordered on anger. Fig.