Be Careful What You Wish For

 

BE CAREFUL

WHAT YOU WISH FOR

 

 

by

Misty Blue

 

 

Be Careful What You Wish For first published in 2010 by Chimera Books Ltd.

www.chimerabooks.co.uk

Chimera - a creation of the imagination, a wild fantasy

 

Digital Edition converted and distributed in 2011 by

Andrews UK Limited

www.andrewsuk.com

 

New authors
are always welcome, or if you're already a published author of erotic fiction and have existing work, the eBook rights of which remain with or have reverted to you, we would love to

hear from you
.

 

This novel is fiction - in real life practice safe sex

 

This eBook is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. The characters and situations in this eBook are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

 

Copyright Misty Blue. The right of Misty Blue to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

 

Me
et the Master

 

She stood in front of him, fully clothed. Her skirt fell in folds just short of the floor, a loose-fitting blouse covering ample hips, brushing lightly across an ill-matched and aging off-white cotton bra and pants. She was shaking. Glancing down she saw the quiver of material, an obvious sign of the turmoil within. Her feet shifted restlessly, one to the other, aware of the discomfort offered by the newness and heels of unfamiliar and over-high shoes.

For long moments she had remained a subject of his steady unswerving gaze. She knew she was dressed, but at the same time she felt strangely naked. Her head crowded with thought. Did he expect more from her? What should she do? What would he do? How would he be? What was he thinking? How did she look to him? Should she say something to break this awful silence?

The silence grew between them, creating an unbreakable bond - tense, needy, filled with aching, urgent appeal...

...and something more... something... something very real and vital... something so tangible she could almost reach out to touch, to taste, to feel...

A tingling in her crotch followed by wetness in her knickers created a slow creeping flame of desire burning its way up into her tummy. She had a desperate urgency to move, to be held, to be taken and... loved...? By a stranger?

The experienced eyes of the Master missed nothing. He sat on a chair near the centre of the room, a hand resting easily on each knee, feet planted firm on the floor.

‘Stand still.'

Words whipped the air in the space between them.

‘Stand straight and face me, arms at your side.'

She did as she was bid. Inside her tummy lurched involuntarily, doing somersaults, her breasts pressed urgently against a button which threatened to pop apart, revealing the ample bosom it restrained.

‘Now... turn slowly around until I tell you to stop.'

She began to turn, trying to keep her eyes steady, her movements even. One foot caught in the pile of the carpet. For a split second she lost her momentum. Her hands sprang from her sides, flailing wildly in an effort to save her falling across his lap. Oh God, please God no. He made no move towards her. She caught the edge of the chair, pushing frantically once more into an upright position.

‘Continue.'

Like the crack of a whip his words refocused her attention. She completed the circle to stand once more in front of him, feeling wetness between her legs. Her face reddened with shame.

‘Raise your skirt. Higher.'

Hastily she shelved thoughts and questions threatening to overwhelm, and with bunches of skirt creasing in her hands, did as she was bid.

‘Now turn... slowly. Head well up.'

This time she completed the circle without mishap.

‘I didn't tell you to stop, did I? Continue on.'

Her eyes fixed directly ahead of her as she turned once, then twice. His gaze fell below the line of her skirt, watching the clumsy movement of her feet and the way she tried ineffectively to lower the handful of material down over her tummy each time she arrived back to stand before him.

Suddenly, and without warning, she was straddling his lap. How had that happened? For moments she tried to catch her breath, grappling with the thought she had fallen. But no, with a sense of shock she realized he had pulled her firmly towards him, pushing her facedown across his legs, one hand now at the nape of her neck, the other smacking her sharply three times on each buttock. It came so suddenly. She was shocked! What was he doing? Was he to leave her no degree of pride? Shaking visibly, tears blurring her vision, she struggled to a standing position with some semblance of composure. The skirt fell from her hands, bunching around her. About to offer an indignant retort, she cut it off as a wagging finger warned her not to speak. The cheeks of her bottom smarted from the swift and sudden assault. But there was no time to dwell further.

‘That was to show you who is Master. Now, take off your skirt.'

Quickly she let it fall, dropping it to one side.

‘Turn.'

Wary now of his hands, she watched them carefully in completing the turn.

‘Blouse.'

Fingers fumbled with buttons unwilling to respond. But then finally she was done, and it joined the skirt. In returning to her place she positioned her hands to clasp in front of her, feeling vulnerable and just a little afraid. It was not an unpleasant sensation. Her eyes lowered as she tried to second-guess what might happen next. At the same time she held her breath, sucking it in to try to offer a more pleasing shape to her figure.

He watched, reading her mind. Everything about her was transparent. There were scars crisscrossing her stomach. Her hips were full and wide, with legs which came together at the top. Her bra was an old one, outdated, a ‘triumph' he believed, with elastic straps. And her knickers had seen better days.

He waggled his finger in front of him, indicating a turn. The line of her knickers was high, her underwear functional rather than sexy. But the cheeks of her bottom were neat. Not over large. His fingers itched to touch them again.

‘Face me.'

She turned again towards him.

‘Hands on your head, legs well apart.'

A finger indicated the space between them, bidding her move closer than before. His hands reached out to touch her, inching her forward from the hips, reaching between her legs, pushing them further apart.

He lifted first one breast, then the other, weighing each in his hand before resting it on the cup of her bra. Firmly he took the right one in his hand, using his other hand to manipulate the nipple until it rose to greet him like a round, ripe, tender-red cherry.

His touch sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. Again that warmness seeped between her legs, while an aching in her groin sent a slow, urgent need creeping up and in and through her body. Her eyes shone with longing.

Easily he saw the affect his touch had on her body... and it pleased him. He knew his initial instincts had been right about her. But he must take things slowly, oh so slowly, leading her, making her follow until that moment when he might finally and completely take control.

He examined the breast he held, his hands manipulating and massaging, tweaking the nipple when it threatened to hide. He knew her inner need was beginning to grow, a bud raising its head above the soil after a cruel hard winter. Already it was sending electric sparks shooting into her groin.

In time he turned to the other breast to explore its fullness. The inverted nipple at first refused his coaxing, and he kneaded the tip, rubbing it urgently with a forefinger until it was aroused, trapping it between finger and thumb, where it was held firm.

He looked up to see her watching him intently, a fire raging in her eyes, lips moist and slightly parted, the upper part of her body moving slightly in response. And in releasing her breast and letting it fall back in place, he noted with concealed pleasure the look of disappointment flit across her face, casting a shadow over the light that had lit its features before.

It was in that moment, while her feelings remained confused, that he placed his hand over her crotch and pants and took firm hold, applying pressure. A tiny gasp escaped her lips. It was the only sound she had made since they entered the room. With his other hand holding her hip he massaged the covered crotch and surrounding area, feeling the dampness, knowing her need.

He withdrew suddenly.

‘Remove bra and pants.'

His voice carried a commanding presence. And while she reached behind her, struggling with clasps, desperately wanting to obey, to please, he rose in one swift motion, standing at her side, holding her down, bent firm towards the floor. Caught unawares, she whimpered in protest.

‘Silence!'

His order thundered into the stillness, cutting across anything she might have said. He was rubbing her bottom, and the feeling was good, soothing, sensuous even. His hands were warm, but then suddenly began to tap a rhythm gently, oh so gently, almost like the softest of breezes blowing on a summer's evening. It began on one buttock and then moved to the other, mirroring the actions.

Gradually they began to build. And all the time strange reactions were happening somewhere deep within, drawing out the craving, the need, shiny moisture caressing her thighs.

Suddenly the heat in her buttocks exploded as six hard smacks hit her bottom. She yelped. She couldn't help it. And it sounded all the louder, all the more shocking given she had made no sound before. She felt trapped. Helpless. Vulnerable. Yet strangely she almost welcomed the assault on her senses. His hand held her firmly around the waist, one leg reaching around hers to restrict movement. And yet... she was enjoying the control he had over her? It didn't make sense.

Something penetrated her anal passage. She sensed his finger at the entrance, feeling its way inside. She tried to wriggle from his grasp, and was rewarded by two sharp slaps to the bottom. Again his finger entered, pushing, exploring, while she whimpered and gasped. And even as she flinched under the firm hand that held, she was unsure suddenly about her feelings towards the action taking place. Because within her she had the strangest excitement building she could no longer deny or contain. She wanted him to continue. She needed him to stop, to draw breath, to calm the turbulence of feeling that now crept into every crevice of her body, leaving her begging for more.

He freed his hold, and shakily she stepped out of her pants to drop them on the growing pile of clothes, along with her bra.

Now she stood naked before him.

He moved behind to place a blindfold over her eyes. Her wrists were bound, crossed one over the other at the front. And following his lead she allowed herself to be led to another place in the room, where her arms might be raised and secured. Her back came into contact with a hard cold surface. She tried desperately to lift away, but then felt each ankle bound and something pushed between them to prevent them coming together.

Tentatively she tested her bonds, wriggling her fingers, pulling against the locks around her ankles. But her efforts were in vain and she only ended up feeling sore. She listened for sounds; a clue to what he might be doing, of the action that might follow.

Long minutes passed.

Suddenly her hair was dragged back and down, her head pulled to one side. She felt the heat of his breath, the touch of his mouth on hers, and in widening her lips in response, his tongue reached into its depths. With his other hand he moved down to her crotch, where a finger slid smoothly between the wet lips of her pussy to explore within. His thumb acted as a pivot, finding the clit, while one finger, then two, set up a regular rhythm, in... and out, out... and in.

The sensation was driving her wild. She writhed and wriggled and fought him with a fury to be free. But at the same time his lips crushed down on hers, and her mouth was filled with his tongue, making her gag and squirm. He held her fast. And when finally he let her go, still struggling for breath, he tweaked her nipple, the ‘shy one', holding it taut between forefinger and thumb, matching the rhythm that continued to make her gyrate between her legs.

Her back arched. She desperately thrust her body forward for the fingers when they withdrew from her crotch, urging them back. The lips of her vagina were swollen open as the beginnings of an orgasm took hold.

She could see nothing, only feel. The blindfold heightened her awareness and the feelings contained within. Her body was flooded in every part with tingling, excitement and emotion, and now she prepared to surrender finally and completely, knowing the explosion of feeling would come.

With a wry smile playing around his lips he relaxed his hold, removing his hands altogether, watching her teeter on the edge of a climax... willing it, wanting it, urging it to happen, wanting it so very much... and then crying out first with frustration and then bitter disappointment as she realised he would not let it be.

Her bottom butted the door it rested against, wrists and arms held taut. For long moments he watched her agony, movements gradually receding, his eyes resting on her face, her breasts, her thighs, her groin. Then he bent to release the hold between her ankles, reaching up to unhook her, leading her to the bed. He removed her blindfold.

‘You will come to me this one time unfettered. Of your own free will. And give yourself to me. In your own time. In your own way.'

With one finger he caught her chin, lifting her head until she was looking directly into his smouldering dark eyes.

‘Do you understand? You may answer if you do.'

‘Yes,' she replied hesitantly. And then, with more firmness than she felt, ‘Yes... Master. I do.'

It was a contradiction she knew she would mull over later. To come freely to him, and yet at the same time call him ‘Master' with a sense of being owned? It was a concept she found hard to grasp.

But for now she was uncomfortably aware of the urgent need within her aching to be fulfilled. To reach the climax she had been so cruelly denied. She watched him pull off his clothes and lie on the bed, and tentatively she pulled herself beside him. Kneeling, she touched, moving up from the tips of his toes to explore his body. This was a totally new experience, and she didn't want that to show, or for him to know; in truth, she was a virgin to love. Always in the past it had been taken from her... rammed, reviled, used... never had she been allowed any element of control or the freedom to explore. This then was him giving to her in a role reversal, showing that he too had needs and wants and desires. She relaxed, knowing she would enjoy this experience. For the first time she perceived she was an equal.