Be Careful What You Wish For
instinct in him, the hunter needing his prey, the dark side, the switch which could so easily take the upper hand.
    And yet even the beast could surprise him at times and be gentle; the sub resurfacing in a moment of tenderness. Bodies gelled, caught in the ebb and flow of movement, acting out their dance, reaching in and through to a place where souls touch and a true specialness is borne.
    The scene ended. The curtain closed. And the two slept till dawn and the beginnings of a new day.
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Slave
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    Weeks and months merged. One day ended, another began. Time had no meaning any more.
    Abi didn’t miss the outside world. It was a relief to simply be, to have someone else take control, of herself, her life, her everything. For within that control she was beginning to feel a new sense of being. It was liberating to break out from the chains that had bound her, made up of all those things other people expected her to be. Here she was happy, she was free. It was empowering rather than restrictive. Nothing was ever taken from her. The person she was became enhanced, a chrysalis emerging into a butterfly, struggling still to find its wings, wanting to fly.
    Each new dawn she rejoiced in the emergence of the self that had hidden in the shadows for too long. And oh, how much more sensual she felt. It was as if an umbilical cord had been cut, allowing her the freedom to let go of her old life, and like a blank white canvas, enjoy the different tastes and smells and colours this new life had to offer.
    She was protected, guided, loved. Each day was special, filled with new adventures. Every moment had meaning. She was learning so much. Her instruction and its effects came in the moves she made, the way her body altered radically in appearance. And yet nothing had altered within. She was a submissive. And in being allowed to develop that side of her nature as a gift she showed a radiance, an energy, an inner light never seen or experienced before.
    Hours were spent in tuition. She was pushed to the limit and often beyond, guided by Shadow’s expert hand. Often he shared her nights to compliment the days, and to soften the blows. It was a strict regime, of which the hardness and softness were an integral part of the pain-pleasure experience. She could be touched and felt, held close and loved. At other times she would feel the keenness of the crop, the slap of a hand or paddle, the relentless unforgiving flogger. And as day merged into night and night into day, the soft and the hard became one, each an essential part of the whole.
    She’d been given space and time to talk with family, to send emails and to speak on the phone. They knew she was happy and cared for, although unaware of the way she was living. She suppressed their curiosity, sharing stories about the island that was home and which she had grown to love.
    Early evenings and Sundays she spent in the bay, exploring hidden paths through the rocks, making for secret places where she could be alone to dream. Her favourite times were sunrise and sunset, at the beginning and ending of each day, watching the pale orange ball of fire hang low in the sky before reaching to kiss the horizon and another day or night good morning and goodbye.
    One morning late on in the year, with a frost lying crisp and cold outside layering the rocks with patches of gleaming ice, she woke to feel a new sense of excitement. Something was different. It was a feeling she’d not known before. Around her there was an air of expectancy, as if something very special was about to take place.
    Shadow’s eyes watched more keenly. At breakfast he lifted back her shoulders, pushing her breasts more erect, manipulating the still shy nipple. He responded to her puzzled looks with a smile and unnatural glean in his eye. Without explaining he proceeded to put her through her paces in the gym with vigour, expecting even more from her than before. Sometimes his actions bordered on cruelty. But

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