Be Careful What You Wish For [RENAME]

She closed her eyes and let her mind drift back to that Sunday. It had been late in the evening when she found out. Looking back maybe her finding out was what he had always intended; maybe he couldn't bring himself to confront the issue head on, so left a trail; the light left on in the office, the computer not closed down, browser history not cleaned off; the sort of invitation that an intelligent woman couldn't resist. She laid back, splashed some of the bath water over her breasts, and took in the smell of the scented candles. That was six weeks ago. By the end of the week after the discovery she had checked out all the sites he had visited, compared the postings and made notes. Two days later and she had made a decision.

There never would have been a right time or a right place, just the best time and the best place. She had thought long and hard before she decided that the best time was a bedtime when the moment seemed right. Three bedtimes later seemed as good as it was ever likely to be. They had eaten late, shared a bottle of wine and the mood music had seemed right. The conversation started with her saying "oh by the way ----------", and it had ended two hours later. Then they had hugged, kissed and made love as if nothing had changed, but of course they both knew that the balance had shifted, she knew consciously, he knew unconsciously, that nothing could ever be quite the same again.

She sat on the edge of the bath trimming, neatening everything up, first with a small ladies razor and then a trimmer with a grade one blade. That was how she liked it; just a narrow strip, no more than half an inch wide and not more than an overnight shadow of growth. Almost like it was something you saw rather than felt.

For a while that bedtime they had talked around the issues, each probing the other; testing sensitivities; checking on boundaries. He explained how he felt, when he felt, why he felt that way. She mainly listened, comparing it to what she had read on the net. Fact was that after reading the websites and listening to him her thinking was beginning to change, not a lot but slightly. At the beginning it had all seemed so bizarre that she had wanted to pinch herself to check that everything was real. Now a lot of it was still beyond her, beyond a fantasy even, but there were also bits that intrigued her and she had to admit it, a few bits that had made her damp between the legs just thinking about them. It was those fantasies of control that intrigued her most; how far she could push the boundaries should she wish; how far would he go, and most important how far would she be prepared to go. The more these questions passed through her mind the hornier it made her. At the end of the two hours she had decided, guided not by the brain in her head but by the pussy between her legs; she said, "alright let's give it a try, nothing too radical, let's start slowly, say six weeks then reflect."

She stood in front of the mirror, just a few tiny lines around the eyes; not bad for thirty seven she thought she could hear the mirror say. She stepped back; five foot eight, 130 pounds, the full package honed to perfection by hours in the gym and the pool. She lifted her arms; no slack, felt her tight stomach, tight butt, rubbed cream onto her long legs. The half an hour she had told him had become almost an hour. She smiled, lifted down the small clothes hanger and imagined him waiting, expectant, nervous, confused. She was nearly ready.

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By the time I heard her feet start descending the stairs I was in a cold sweat, my brain scrambled. As soon as she was in view my cock stirred, then became semi erect as if it were saluting her entry.

She smiled broadly

"Well slave what a wonderful welcome."

Six weeks ago saying "slave" would have made her giggle; now it slipped off her tongue with such an ease and sureness that whenever she used the word in our sessions I could feel goose pimples coming

I had expected her to be fully clothed; instead she wore just the briefest of black thongs, but that single small piece of material was enough to convey her total dominance and to ensure that I knelt quietly at her feet. She was almost naked and I ached with an overwhelming desire to possess her, ram my cock deep into her beautiful pussy, and screw her till she begged me to stop. I couldn't take my eyes off her; the full rounded breasts that stood proudly on her chest; the slim tight body; the tilt of her head. She smiled, that small alluring smile that said you bought this all on yourself, now, can you deal with it

She slipped into the chair beside which I knelt, my hands clasped behind my back.

"Get up slave and stand here in front of me". Her words were firm and to the point

I stood up and turned around to be facing her, my hands clasped behind me as she required. My mouth felt dry, my breathing irregular, my heart beat raced

"Have you touched yourself slave"

I shook my head

"Answer my question don't just shake your head" she said, her voice cracking with authority

"Sorry mistress. No mistress"

"Are you sure"

"Yes mistress"

She leaned forward placing her hand underneath my balls and then raised them slightly as if she were weighing them.

"They certainly seem very full slave - - - ten days is a long time and this is the first time in our sessions you haven't touched your cock. She smiled, "slave I wasn't sure you would make it," then leaned forward took my head in her hands and kissed me gently on the forehead. "I'm really proud of what you have achieved slave"

She looked at me for a time, then she closed her eyes for a while, maybe she was thinking, before opening them to ask me her next question

"It must be real difficult not being able to cum for a whole ten days, why do want to put yourself through that slave?

She was testing me, working out where I was vulnerable, how far I might go, what I might do

"Sometimes, particularly when I see you undressing or when I snuggle up near to you at night, then yes I find it very difficult mistress, but to have you control me is worth every moment of the frustration, you cannot believe how wonderful it makes me feel"

She smiled, "really slave. Tell me, does it bother you more that you cannot touch yourself or that you cannot touch me without permission"?

Sensing this might be a trap I unwisely hesitated only to feel the full force of her hand slapping hard across my buttock

"Hurry up slave, the answer can't be that difficult". Her voice sounding irritated at my delay

"Not touching you mistress" I garbled

"Most interesting slave, now today is the last day of the six weeks, the end of the trial period we agreed. The future is now up to you. You can stop now and everything will revert back to how it was. If you choose that course then that will be it, there will never again be the opportunity to play out your fantasy. But If you choose to continue then we have some interesting decisions to make, the choice is yours"

She put her head on one side, waiting for my reply. I knew that the choice was loaded; the certain ending of my fantasy with no hope of it happening again against a vague and unchartered future. We both knew which choice I would make, but neither of us knew where it might lead.

To be continued