Page 42 of Be Careful What You Wish For

Relieved, she tried to sit still and quiet on the couch despite her high state of arousal, aware of eyes watching her, focusing on that feeling of fear, pushing it back into the black box from whence it came. In doing so she was totally unaware of the small yet significant signals she was giving off to the man experienced in all aspects of control, domination, pain... body, spirit, mind.

‘Angel, rise and follow me. It is time we got better acquainted.’

With a shake of a hand and a nod her Masters were dismissed. She pleaded with her eyes for them not to go, and the Grand Master noted well her deep affection for them as he led her to an antechamber away from the main Hall, laid out in the same rich sunrise gold, complete with a four-poster bed. Devoid of blankets and bedding its sole covering was a lemon satin wrap which hung down on all sides.

‘We will have tea, and we can talk. You will share with me your fears and fantasies, your most intimate thoughts and dreams.’

He faced her full on, watching her body language, the clear signals displayed, the emotion etched across the lines of her face, the wonder and confusion in her eyes. He knew the dilemma she faced; wanting to control the demons within, yet at the same time needing to be obedient to a Master.

Within this Chamber there was no sound of the party outside. The heavy folds of curtain subdued them completely, creating a secret cavern, a womb-like existence all their own. He hoped, with the right stimulus, it might prove a safe environment in which to share.

‘Sit on the stool at the foot of the bed, and drink your tea before it grows cold.’

The stool was long and cushioned. Gingerly Abi sat down. She couldn’t see her deeply patterned bottom, but she could feel it well enough. And it hurt like crazy! She took the hot mug of liquid handed to her, grateful for the tea, milky and sweet, which revived her spirits, allowing her time to formulate in her mind what to say. But when the empty mug was taken from her and the Grand Master started to disrobe she knew it wasn’t just talking he was after, but more, much more.

Drawing up a winged chair in front of her, his knees touching her own, he clasped her hands in his, holding her gaze before opening his mouth to speak. ‘How long have you had fantasies and thoughts about being submissive?’

She looked away, confused. The question caught her unawares. She wasn’t sure how to answer, in awe of this seemingly great man sitting naked before her as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

‘Look at me, now. Don’t look away again or you will be punished.’ His words were sharp, firm, pulling her back to his gaze. ‘Now,’ he continued in a gentler tone, ‘share with me openly. Hide nothing. Tell me when you first remember having fantasies and thoughts about being submissive.’

Abi told him, hesitantly at first, about past abuse, controlling relationships, confusion, pain, and the gradual realisation that pain and pleasure were an intrinsic part of her fantasies, never understanding for one instant that this could happen in real life, that she might actually seek to live them for real.

He listened attentively, never moving, his eyes fixed on hers. He didn’t speak until he was sure she had finished.

‘Now describe to me as vividly as you can exactly what turns you on and turns you off, both in fantasy and for real.’

She was relaxed now, calmer, her manner more assured. Her speech became more fluent as trust deepened between them. His response to her sharing made it easy for her to share.

‘And what do you feel makes you a slave? What do you have to offer in service?’

That was easy. There was so much in her life experience which led to this moment. As a giver, a carer, a homemaker, others’ needs had always come first. It was dealing with her own life she found difficult, and without a degree of control she always found herself somehow on the point of pain at

the hands of someone else, with no regard to her feelings or the kind of woman she was.

Questions kept coming. It was a cathartic experience, opening the window to her soul. He seemed to understand and had the ability to reach in and feel her pain, making it his own.

‘What are the most erotic parts of your body? What do you feel are your limits? What do you fear most to have happen in a session? Tell me your sexual history from as far back as you can remember.’

His questions were rapid, on the back of her responses to him, and in part she lost her fear, answering honestly and openly, feeling his compassion and his genuine interest in her need. She even shared about the scars crisscrossing her stomach, injuries sustained at another’s hand where control mingled with abuse. Curious, he fingered them, watching her as he did to see what her response might be.

And he left her a few questions to consider long after the interview was at an end. ‘What is the difference between a submissive and a slave, and under which title do you feel you belong? Is submission a weakness or strength?’

Strange how she’d never considered either of them before. It hadn’t seemed important. Were they important now? She was taken. She had given herself to Dream Catcher and Shadow, but she gave them no further thought, storing them in a corner of her mind.

He sat back in his chair. She was emotionally drained. But then, that was the idea. As he watched her mind clear of thought and her eyes become restful, he stood and walked to a chest at one side of the room.

‘Thank you for sharing with me, slave. You have done well. Now we will put some of the things we have talked about into practice, experience the affects. I want you to adopt the mindset of slave. That is about focusing on my instruction, holding your position, and being led only by the emotion with all thought banished from your head. Together we will experience and learn the way it is for you. Lie face up on the bed, feet at the top, head over the bottom touching the stool.’

Grand Master turned away, delving in the chest while Abi assumed the position, and as he moved to her side he found himself admiring just how special she was, looking at ways to enhance, develop and raise her to a higher Calling where her qualities could be best valued. He wished he had more time.

In silence he bound her wrists tight to the bedposts. Her head hung back so she was unable to see where he might go, what he would do first. But instead of tensing with fear she welcomed his embrace, yearning to feel those velvet-soft hands build a liquid sensation inside her and to be brought by him over the edge of desire to experience the orgiastic fullness of a climax, and then perhaps beyond into that place always she yearned to go... sub-space.

These were the hands that now parted her legs, fingers playing with emotion at the entrance to the cave. Fingers teased apart the shaven lips of her labia, feeling, rubbing, manipulating, causing a wild cascade of sensations to grip her body and make her squirm. He rubbed the upper part of the lips while inserting fingers deep inside her cave. She welcomed them with juices as they moved inside her. She was moaning, nearer, ever nearer that place she longed to be, arching her back for more. He inserted in place of his fingers a couple of vibrating eggs, turned to their maximum force.

‘Remember, slave, you won’t cum until given permission to do so, on pain of punishment.’

His words were distant but she heeded them well, not wanting to risk a further beating. He spent time probing, touching, teasing. Then he moved to her tummy, holding her thighs as she reached towards him from the bed, inviting, seductive, enticing him to share.

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