Beware What You Wish For

Chapter 2

"Are you certain?" she asked

I nodded

"You're quite sure?"

She paused as if to give me time to reconsider.

"Remember slave, once you have committed there is no way back, no return to the old habits, old rules."

Again she paused

"Indeed there will now be only one way forward - - - my way, but of course you understand that; so again for the final time, are you sure?"

"Yes Mistress" I whispered, "I'm sure."

For what seemed an eternity, but was probably no more than sixty seconds, she looked directly at me, a wistful smile playing gently around the corners of her mouth, as if she were remembering the end of an era, the way things had been ordered, but would be no more.

Then she rose and looked down at me, her thin black thong, minimal though it was, emphasised my nakedness and her dominance.

"So be it then, you have made your decision."

Her hands were on her hips, her body tilted slightly backwards, her crotch inches from my face

"Now kiss me." she ordered

I leaned forward and gently kissed the thin band of black material, making sure, as I hadn't been invited to do otherwise, that my mouth made no contact with her skin.

She smiled and stepped back. Immediately, as if as a reflection of the aura that surrounded her,my head fell gently forward so that all I could now see were her feet.

"Slave; I now need some space, a short time to relax and refresh. When I am refreshed I will call you, in the meantime you may complete your chores while I - - - well - - -."

She giggled

"Perhaps that's for me to know and you to just imagine."

Twenty minutes later, just after the last of the dishes had been removed from the dishwasher, I heard the bedroom door close and her voice invite me back to sit by her chair. This time I was instructed to kneel in front of her. When I was properly settled she handed me down a small jar of body lotion.

"Slave, as you know I've always welcomed your hands on my body and there is no reason for that not to continue. Indeed when massaging me over the years you have shown a great understanding of the needs of the female body; softness of touch, subtlety of movement, and above all an awareness of those parts that most respond to stimulation. You may now revisit all of those parts, starting with my feet and working up my body. There is however one part, that protected by my thong, that on no account may you touch. Indeed I should warn you that if, for whatever reason, you do not comply with this requirement then you will be punished severely."

I removed the lid from the jar, and taking a small amount on my fingers, started to massage her feet. First her left, then her right, then onto her calves; gently kneading the cream into her firm, developed muscles.

She let out a low moan of pleasure

"Slave as ever your touch pleases me."

Her voice was soft, husky, bidding me to pleasure her body further with my hands.

"Slave we are now moving into new territory, where the rules are unclear, the boundaries uncertain, but have no fears, whatever the challenges I will be beside you to guide you through the maze. You will be given choices that you will be absolutely free to choose from; nothing will happen to cause you embarrassment, unless of course it is of your own making and, most of all, remember, that above everything else I love you."

I closed my eyes and slowly drank in the meaning of her words

I reached up to her thighs, caressing her firm defined body, my thumbs and fingers tracing each muscle, each hand running along the outside and then the inside of her limbs, enjoying the alternative firmness and softness of her flesh. I marveled at the tone of her body, at the results of evenings in the gym, early mornings in the pool.

For the first time I was becoming conscious of the physical effort of both kneeling, and at the same time balancing, as I reached up and out to her body, constantly changing my center of gravity as my fingers moved to the jar then back to her body.But I knew there would be no respite, just as I knew only one outcome would be permitted; her complete pleasure.

If she was conscious of my physical state she did not show it, as she relaxed and soaked up the attention I was giving her. Now my fingers were at the top of her legs,so,so near her thong. I focused my mind on counteracting the occasional slight movements of her body as she responded to my touch. Then I let out an inward sigh of relief as my fingers and hands finished with her thighs and moved up above her thong. I laid the palms of my hands on her stomach, gently spreading the lotion, marveling at the strength in her muscles,the tightness of her butt.

Now I was perspiring and the ache in my thighs and lower back had intensified. If only she were six inches nearer, the constant need to change balance would be unnecessary. Okay,I would still have had to reach up, but it would have been in a vertical line, not a line at an angle away from me. I gritted my teeth; I knew I had to get on with it, that I could not ask her permission to move forward and help me out. Occasionally I would look up into her face and now, suddenly, I saw a change.

Earlier her eyes were mere slits as she abandoned herself to the total pleasuring of her body. Now her eyes were wide open; she was aware; aware of the beads of perspiration on my brow; aware that my breathing had become heavy; aware of the strain on my face. Instinctively I knew that she expected me to work through the discomfort, to focus not on my discomfit but totally on giving her pleasure. My hands and fingers were now fully extended as they reached up to smooth the lotion on her upper body.

Looking back it was probably predictable that it would happen, whether it was caused by the slight movement of her body, my fatigue, or, more likely, a combination of the two I could not be sure. Not predictable though was the chain of events that then followed as I slipped forward towards her. First, and just for a split second of time, the look of intense fury in her eyes ; then the amazing agility with which she avoided colliding with me heavily and finally, and synchronised perfectly with her backward movement, the perfectly pin pointed accuracy with which the instep of her right foot smashed into my balls. I buckled over clutching myself in some misguided and fruitless attempt at mitigating the acute pain coursing through my body.

For thirty seconds nothing happened, I just writhed on the floor attempting to clear my head. Then I heard her voice; quiet, emotionless, commanding

"Get up."

She almost spat out the words

I looked up, my eyes watering from the pain in my balls, beseeching her to allow me time to compose myself. She looked down at me, not a flicker of emotion on her face

"Slave" she said, "it is disappointing that you feel it necessary to place your modest concerns, brought on by your own poor standards, higher than my well being. Now for the last time are you ready?"

I nodded and she beckoned me to stand in front of her.

"Now slave, before we start I want to make it clear that there will be the appropriate retribution for your actions today. You will recall that when we started this adventure of ours, instigated by yourself of course, you told me how much you adored me, how much you would do for me. Easy words slave, now it is time that you showed me how much you adore me, how much you will do for me - - - and - - -," a wicked smile crossed her face, "in due course, how much pain you can bear for me."

As I stood there her words ricocheted through my mind - - - appropriate retribution - - - pain. My balls ached, my heart beat was racing but incredibly my cock was semi erect.

I took the jar of lotion from her, spreading it on her arms, her hands, her neck, down and round her shoulders. Now my rhythm had returned and she had settled back into her previous state of well being, her eyes almost closed, her breathing a gentle purr. Only her breasts were left and with the skill that comes of experience I gently kneaded the lotion into her firm immaculate globes. She moaned and I poured on more lotion. Now her nipples were becoming erect. I grazed my hand across them and almost immediately they became fully erect like two hard bullets. I squeezed them gently with my moist fingers and sensed a small twitch in her body as if she were fighting some force within her. Gradually her breathing deepened and an uncontrolled flexing started around her abdominals. Then out of nowhere I felt a hand gently grasping my cock, three strokes and it was rock hard.

"Slave, now you will take me to orgasm, for my part I will take you to the edge but not beyond - - - you will tell me when you are there, but on no account can you cum."

I played with her nipples; squeezing, rolling them between my fingers, all the time driven on by the feelings her hands were generating between my legs. Then she came, her body bucking and then exploding in a wall of sound. All the time it was happening I was shouting "Stop", perversely hoping against hope that my plea had been heard; and then suddenly it happened; my cock was free. For a moment it was touch and go as I fought to stave off an ejaculation, my cock spasming and twitching in a zone of its own. Then slowly the spasming subsided and my cock went limp. We both looked down; not even a spot of precum to show for the ruined orgasm. She smiled

The whip had hung on our bedroom wall ever since we started to live together; an artefact from the time she had spent in Africa. She had never said much about her life there, but on the few occasions we had talked I knew that she was born there, that her parents had died in a car crash there when she was little over three, and that she had been brought up by her grandparents, and after her grandmother died when she was fifteen, by her grandfather. What I didn't know was that she had then taken over her grandmother's role; doing the housework, the cooking, the sewing, the washing. In return her grandfather had taught her the ways of the jungle; how to hunt, to skin animals, to make fires, live in the wild. It was on her eighteenth birthday that he had given her the whip. Made by elders from the local village and four foot in length, the whip had been made from elephant hide. It tapered from about 1 inch at the handle end to around 3/8 inch at the tip. Her Grandfather told her it was a woman's whip, light and flexible, ideal for disciplining the young men of the village. He showed her how to use it, how to hold it, wield it, be able to project the likely skin damage from a particular amount of force. By the time that he died, just before her twenty first birthday, she had totally perfected the dark art of whipping and for the next three years until she sold the family farm, had, by judicious use of voice, gun and whip, kept perfect order

She lay in the bath, her second of the day, her fingers sliding gently in and out of her pussy until finally she came for the second time in the evening. Rarely had she felt so good, so gloriously horny, yet one small incident concerned her; that moment when he had slipped and the fury she had felt, something was happening to her, it felt like a lever had been thrown and a dark force released within her; a force that had not been within her for many years, but a force that her mind was increasingly recalling. She thought of him waiting for her, naked, nervous, the whip across the chair beside him. Twenty minutes she had said, but her watch showed that already it was thirty minutes since she had left him with the order to take the whip down from the wall and remain with it until she returned. She might have felt guilty about using it, particularly as it was partly because of her movement that he had slipped, but those feelings had been rationalised; after all she had given him sufficient hints about his attitude

The moment for his punishment had arrived. He stood in front of her, their bodies no more than 18 inches apart.

She looked into his eyes as she spoke, making sure that she held him firmly in her aura

"Slave, we have now reached the point where it is necessary to agree your punishment. First though I must hear from you where you think you failed?"

I held her gaze, trying to maintain my composure.

"Mistress" I stuttered, "I failed by interrupting your pleasuring, then by clumsily making contact with you when uninvited and then by not having the strength to keep in my required position"

A smile crossed her face.

"Excellent slave, you have answered me well. Now tell me which you think was your biggest failing?"

I must have looked a little unsure, because she then answered for me.

"I will tell you slave. It is not having the strength to remain in your required position to properly pleasure me. If you had not had that failing you would not have interrupted my pleasure or fallen into me. And I am going to punish you slave because you should have been aware beforehand that you did not have the strength to properly perform. You should have prepared yourself adequately; after all I gave you any number of hints."

I must have looked hurt or surprised because she brushed aside even the possibility of my replying.

"Tell me slave, when were you last in the gym, when did you last go for a swim. The last real exercise you had was six months ago when we went skiing."

I bowed my head. I could with some justification have pointed to the pressure of work, but I knew that she would have had none of it, and on balance she had a point, I had let myself go in recent months

"So slave it is more important than ever that we address these issues. If you are going to play the role that I require then you will need to be fit, to be agile, to be strong. Do I make myself clear slave?"

I nodded

"Good, then let's now consider the appropriate punishment - - - what do you think it should be?"

I was so surprised to be invited to make a contribution to the thinking on the level of punishment that I rushed to reply without thinking my failings through deeply enough.

"As there were three failings then perhaps three strokes mistress."

She beamed and for some reason my heart fell

"I admire your logic slave, but it is a little incomplete; yes there were three failings, primarily of strength, and that failing was in your thighs, your butt and your back, so I think logic says nine strokes slave."

"But - - -."

She placed a finger on my lips.

"But nothing slave, I have decided on nine strokes; that is it; now stand behind the chair".

She paused while I moved into position.

"Now put your hands on the top of the chair back and step back to that point where your back is straight and your legs perpendicular."

She moved to stand beside me, guiding me into the exact position she required.

"Good. Now stand quite still. Before I commence I should make it clear that the whipping will be severe, your disrespect deserves that. I have also decided that with the intention of getting your full and undivided attention in future, this punishment should seek to set a standard for your future attitude and performance. That being so it will be my intention that your body is appropriately marked by the whip. Do you have anything to say slave?"

Because of having no real comprehension of the events that were unfurling, and no context in which I could place them, I simply, awkwardly,thoughtlessly and ultimately rather foolishly just replied; "I guess not."

She stood slightly to the rear and side, so that she was outside his field of vision. As soon as she took the whip in her hand, old memories of her grandfather's teachings came flooding back. It was little more than a reflex action when she placed the handle of the whip on the first two fingers of her right hand. Got a feel of the balance, then flexed her wrist to gauge the amount of weight required in the stroke. Finally she ran her hand along the length of the whip to get a sense of the pain that would be delivered on impact.

Five frog squats to loosen up and she was ready

She knew the first two strokes would set the rhythm,but was also aware that because of the adrenaline coursing through her, she must take great care. As she half suspected would be the case, the first stroke marked the back of his thigh without breaking the skin. Now she knew she needed to increase the weight of the stroke but not by such an amount that he was badly marked.

- - - - - - - - - - - ,- - - - - - - - - - - - -

As soon as I felt the leather against the back of my thigh I half stumbled and then shrieked with the pain that ricocheted around my body, a pain much greater than I could ever have imagined; intense with a strange kind of heat as the leather seared into my flesh

I heard her say well done as I recovered from my stumble, her voice sounding oddly still and distant. Then only seconds after the first stroke the second exploded against my buttocks. This time, whilst the stroke seemed harder, because a level of pain had been established, I seemed to cope better with the aftermath, although again I was unable to stop myself releasing an enormous shriek as the leather impacted my body.

For a moment there was silence, then, all of a sudden, without warning, I felt her finger tracing a line along my buttocks; stopping, lifting off, moving on, then going back, as if she were retracing the same pattern. Before she had finished, the same movement had been repeated four times.

The remaining seven strokes were each of roughly the same intensity; somewhere between the first and second strokes. As she had after the second stroke, she traced her finger slowly along my skin, but unlike after the second stroke, the tracing was short, continuous and not repeated.

My body now felt as if it were on fire, wave after wave of intense stinging pain moving relentlessly around my body. I stated to shudder with what must have been some kind of aftershocks. Then after maybe ten minutes, the shuddering started to abate and finally stopped. For a moment there was silence. Then, as I felt something soft being dabbed onto the sore areas, I heard her voice

"Slave you have served me well. I should tell you that after the first stroke each subsequent stroke has, as intended, broken open your skin. As you can no doubt sense, I am dabbing the sore skin with cotton wool to stem any bleeding; in a moment I will apply some astringent to stem any bleeding that remains. The only marking that may require extra attention, possibly a plaster, is the second one across your buttocks. Do you have any questions?"

"No mistress."

"Good. In a few minutes this should be complete."

And so it was, that a few minutes later I heard the sound of her feet moving softly and slowly across the stone floor. As always my head was bowed, when suddenly her feet stopped directly in front of me.

"Slave, after your earlier failings I have been proud to see how admirably you have borne your pain for me. It has given me much hope that lessons have been learned. Now you may look at me."

I raised my eyes slowly. At first I could not comprehend what I was seeing, some sort of information overload as the detail was being processed. It was as if my mental processes could not, or would not, accept what my eyes were seeing. Then finally all the information rushed in on me at once. Across her stomach, immediately above her thong, were written the letters L.O.V.E. But it was not the letters that had seized up my brain for that brief moment, what had seized up my brain was their color

A bright,semi-liquid ,blood red.

I cannot say for certain what happened next, or precisely how long it lasted, other than I found my arms wrapped round mistress, holding her tight as if everything depended on her being there with me. And that was how it was for the next few moments. Then gradually she eased me gently away from her; back to where I had been. The balance and equilibrium of the relationship restored.