Page 4 of Be Careful What You Wish For

Her stomach flipped at two replies awaiting her attention.

I am an old Master, 53 years young, seeking a new slave to train. I have 20 years’ experience. I will gently and patiently train you from scratch to be SLAVE. Your teaching will progress gradually until you are a total slave for my use. Your age, size, shape and looks are not important. A willingness to learn and serve, along with a sense of humour, is!

Master David

I am a kind and caring experienced Domination Master. I am looking for a new sub for a long-term relationship. I am interested in the psychology of power and also the lighter aspects of punishment. You need to be genuinely submissive. I am intelligent and well-educated and expect you to be more than a doormat!

Tempest

Abi sat still in her chair, reading and re-reading the words, aware of the oddest feeling. Deep somewhere within raged a mix of emotions. In her groin was a growing tingling sensation, an ache, a need. She felt sticky, damp. And as the tingling reached up into her stomach and beyond, spasms made her breath come in short gasps, causing her to wriggle and squirm. What was it that touched her so deeply? These were just words... but what if they were to become real? How much more might she feel then? The thought entered her head, and with it a picture of submission to a Master. She was stirred into such a state of excitement she had to break off for a while and lie on her double bed, a buzzing vibrator held between her legs, returning to the screen much later.

She tried to focus on other things, to do the ordinary jobs that came with owning her own home. But she was drawn by curiosity. She could almost taste the arousal so much a part of her now. Inside she was on fire with a thirst, a passion to learn more, to become a part of this brave, intriguing new world she’d found almost by chance. She hardly dare pursue the question of this madness that had taken hold. She’d no-one to talk these things through with, except those who came online.

And so it began... this journey into the unknown.

For two weeks emails flew back and forth across the ether. She spent as much time as possible in front of the screen, drawn into this secret world of pain, pleasure and desire. She knew from everything she’d read on the subject that domination and submission was about everything from pain and pleasure to ultimate power exchange. What she was looking for was that each participant be an equal part of a committed and consensual relationship that offered mutual openness, respect, trust, and where she would be valued as the pleaser, the giver, the submissive she was, dominated and controlled... in love. It was a very special and very powerful kind of relationship.

And yet...

Something was missing. Something...

One evening she arrived home later than usual, and a new and very different message awaited her.

I bring you with reverent hands

The book of my numberless dreams,

White woman that passion has worn

As the tide wears the dove grey sands

And with a heart more old than the horn

That is brimmed from the pale fire of time.

White lady with the numberless dreams

I bring you my passionate rhyme.

White Lady with the Numberless Dreams... will you share your dreams with me?

Dream Catcher

A white heat seared suddenly through her body, making her gasp, catching her unawares. She throbbed in every fibre of her being. Driven by an unexplained passion never experienced before, her fingers pounded the keys.

It is a frightening thing to suddenly find this dark side exists within. People through the years have tried to change me into what they wanted me to be, telling me that acting as a victim is wrong.

‘You should be more assertive,’ they say. ‘You need to take control. You’re too soft, too open, too vulnerable for your own good. It’s little wonder you get hurt!’

It’s a relief to discover that being submissive is not wrong. That is probably why I have felt the victim without understanding the greater implications ruling my life, and this is the essence of my true self. I can be free to be the real me if only I can find the right environment and teacher who can give me the freedom to be Me, and accept and love me for who and what I am.

And more, for it is in acknowledging and learning to accept this ‘other’ part of me that I find this ‘dark side’ which has remained hidden for so long. Suddenly I am aching to break free and to embrace this new life. To share it with One who knows.

Are you The One? How can I be sure?

‘Tread softly, lest you tread on my dreams.’

Pandora

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