Imagine... Read online

  Title Page

  IMAGINE...

  By

  Various Silver Moon Authors

  Publisher Information

  Imagine... published in 2011 by

  Andrews UK Limited

  www.andrewsuk.com

  This book 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 book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

  Copyright © Cambridge House

  The right of Cambridge House 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.

  Imagine...

  By Liv Honeywell

  "Tonight I want you to kneel and think of me... imagine me with you... an exercise..."

  The words flashed up on my laptop screen and I shivered slightly. Already imagining. Feeling Cameron's eyes on me even though there was a whole ocean between us.

  "Legs slightly apart and hands in the small of your back... and I want you very naked..." he continued.

  I knew he was smiling at the thought.

  "Yes, Sir," I typed.

  "I will be watching you, in a way... gazing and viewing you... taking you in..."

  The colour rose in my cheeks, as it always did at the idea of being with him, of those searing hazel eyes looking into mine.

  "I want you to allow for your fantasies to dance... not only to focus on my pleasures with you... but indeed... yours as well."

  For how long, I wondered.

  The answer came immediately.

  "Until you come to a boil... smile... and then I want you to put your head on the floor, or pillow, and stay for a bit with your bum in the air...."

  "Yes Sir."

  He ended the conversation and I stretched, wondering at just how much words on a screen from this man could affect me, at just how strong the connection was between us. I re-read what he had asked, already conscious of an answering warmth between my legs.

  I undressed and took a quick shower, lathering my body with my favourite Cassis Rose body scrub; feeling the need to wash away the day, to be soaped clean and fresh for him, even though he would not actually be present. As I stepped out of the shower and dried myself, I thought back over all the conversations we'd had, how much we'd shared. How much Cameron knew about who I was and what I needed. A shiver rushed across my body again... 'Imagine me with you...' Oh, if he was... I really would have nowhere to hide.

  I finished drying my hair and pushed it back from my face, soft, dark waves flowing down my naked back, almost to my waist. There, I was ready. I moved to the foot of the bed, so conscious now of the feeling of being watched, and sank to my knees on the rug, arranging my body carefully, respectfully, as I would if Sir were there; legs apart, back arched and ribs lifted, jutting my breasts out for his touch; holding my head high, proud to be at his feet. I settled into position and put my hands behind my back. I took an unsteady breath, aroused already; conscious of the texture of the rug on my legs, the warmth of my hands in the small of my back and the scent of my freshly washed hair. It felt so good to kneel and so right.

  Then a sudden, unexpected moment. A warm sensation on my back and shoulders, just as though Cameron had wrapped his arms around me and held me tight, hands drifting lazily across the smooth skin of my back, his body pressing firmly against mine. I moaned softly and arched back, wanting him closer. He was there with me. I know it makes no sense to think that - in reality he was thousands of miles away - but I could feel him so near.

  My thoughts turned inevitably to what it would be like to meet him in person...

  I met him at the airport and couldn't look at him the whole way home.... and back at my flat, once he was settled, the first thing he did was order me to strip and kneel in the middle of the lounge...

  Oh God. He would, wouldn't he? I wasn't sure how I knew it, but I did. I shifted slightly on my knees, the heat inside me building as I pictured how it would feel to do that for him.

  My back to him, I kicked off my sandals and undid the sash on my tunic. The sheer red material slid to the floor, revealing a strappy black camisole underneath. So far, so ordinary. Something I would have done anyway if I'd been home alone and about to relax for the evening. But there was nothing ordinary about this. I hesitated for a moment. What now? Whatever I took off next would reveal so much of my body and he would still be fully dressed. I felt utterly stripped bare already, without removing even another stitch of clothing. I started to lift up my camisole and then changed my mind and slowly undid the belt on my skirt.

  "Honey, stop stalling. And turn around."

  I jumped at his words, so nervous I could hardly think, but turned to face him. "Yes, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir."

  I hurriedly pulled my top over my head and slid my skirt down my legs, the soft suede pooling at my ankles. I reached behind me to unfasten my bra, freeing my arms from the black and red lacy straps, then stood for a long moment, eyes closed and breathing ragged, clutching the bra to me, still covering my breasts.

  Across the room, I heard him shift impatiently in his seat, and I quickly let the bra fall and pushed my panties down over my thighs, dropping them to the floor. My suspender belt and stockings followed.

  I started to kneel, needing to curl up, to be less exposed and vulnerable, knowing that kneeling would feel somehow less revealing.

  "Wait."

  I froze.

  "Not yet. Stand still. Let me look at you."

  I straightened up slowly, legs shaking and breathing quick and shallow, taken aback by my reaction to this, for I was never ashamed of my body; it was his sudden control of me that made me tremble. How did he know? How did he always seem to know just what to do or say to take away any defences I might have left, any safe places I might go?

  Silence stretched out for such a length of time. I didn't dare look at him. My arms ached to wrap themselves around my body, for comfort and to cover myself, but I held myself still. Thoughts ran through my mind. 'Did I shave properly?', 'What is he going to do?', 'Oh, I wish he would say something...'

  And worse... 'Do I not please him?' At the last thought, I took in breath on a gasp and lifted my head; searching his face, needing desperately to know what he was thinking.

  And then I blushed at the expression in his eyes, the smile on his face.

  "Ah, my honey. Kneel before me now, hands behind your back."

  "Yes Sir."

  I sank gratefully to my knees, head lowered, hands linked behind me, letting my hair fall forward over my shoulders, hiding my face; finding some semblance of cover behind the dark mass of curls.

  He rose from the sofa and stood behind me. I tensed immediately, waiting for... For what? A gentle kiss? A hand cupping my breast? The sharp sting of a cane across my bottom? I had no idea...

  I shifted on my knees, wishing Cameron really was here, that at any second I might expect his fingers on my skin. That first touch... What would it be like? My body arched involuntarily, curling back to lean against warm, firm hands that were so far away and yet so near.

  He touched my shoulder, making me jump, and a hand ran from the top of my head, down the full length of curls to my waist. Strong fingers worked their way in towards my scalp, gathering up section
s of hair and tugging lightly. His body pressed against my back and he bent forward, breathing in my scent. I leaned my head back, eyes closed in pleasure. His hands moved down, stroking the soft skin at the back of my neck, knuckles lightly grazing my ears and moving gently across my cheeks, following the line of my jaw. A finger tip travelled unhurriedly across my mouth and my whole body quivered.

  He grabbed my hair again, holding it tight, controlling my head, and ran gentle kisses down my neck, licking and tasting me, nipping at my ear lobes. His hands drifted lower, slowly smoothing over my shoulders and stroking down my arms. My breathing quickened and I felt my nipples harden. He touched my hands, still linked behind my back, and threaded his fingers through mine, separating them, running a finger tip teasingly over my open palm. A shiver of electricity ran down my body to my twitching clit and I could feel moisture gathering between my legs.

  Then his hands were everywhere, touching me all over, examining me, moving my muscles. He followed his hands with his mouth, taking his time, exploring every curve, every line. He cupped my breasts and began to pinch my nipples, lightly at first and then with increasing pressure until I squirmed at the pain, my breathing uneven.

  "Ahhh, Sir, I..."

  "No, don't speak. You don't need to speak for this."

  His voice rumbled down my back, deep and hypnotic, and I swallowed hard against a blaze of heat in my stomach at his dominance of me.

  The pressure on my nipples continued for a long, excruciating moment and then he released them to explore the curve of my bottom, rubbing lightly over the skin, scratching gently with his nails. I relaxed against his hand and realised my mistake too late as he brought his palm down in a testing, open-handed slap across my cheeks, and then another, both hard enough to make me jerk forward.

  "Hmmmm. Very nice, honey. Now I want your head on the floor and ass in the air. Keep your hands behind your back."

  Dear God. I had thought myself aroused before, but now, with my bum raised, my pussy open and exposed to him... Ohh, I wanted to touch myself, the need for relief achingly strong, but he had said to keep my hands behind my back and I did. He wasn't there, he would never know if I moved my hands, but I would know, and I could not do it.

  Another silence, broken only by his footsteps on the carpet as he walked around me, inspecting me; making me wait for what he might do next. My hair tumbled forward across my face, and I could feel the warm, slightly rough fibres of the carpet against my cheek.

  Then suddenly, the light trail of a suede flogger poured across my back, stroking from my shoulders right down to the floor. Another pause, and then thudding, rhythmic strokes, building in intensity alternately on either side of my back, warming and enlivening my skin, then beginning to sting. Warm hands rubbing the hurt away, then more stinging strokes, harder still.

  His hands cupping my bottom, massaging and gripping my cheeks; lightly, playfully spanking me. Patternings of a crop on my pussy; dark whisperings of things he was going to do later; his fingers exploring inside me and tormenting my clit, touching and testing the tightness of my ass.

  Finally, when I was almost drowning in sensation, he picked me up in his arms, holding me close, and so tenderly, and carried me to bed...

  Coming back to reality, I raised my head and rested back on my heels for a long moment, then sat back on the bed, conscious of every touch of the soft fabric from the duvet against my skin. Every point where it touched me felt so much more intense, my skin so much more alive than it had before. A gentle breeze from the open window wafted across my back and my bare bottom and I smiled, once again imagining his hands roaming over me.

  I swung my feet to the floor and slipped on my dressing gown. My mind was still racing, my clit warm and pulsing, with an aching need to be touched. As I leaned forward to reach for a glass of water, I realised that my inner thighs were soaked with my juices.

  I headed for the bathroom on slightly shaky legs and ran a hot bath, full of bubbles. I put my hair up and relaxed into the warm water, still flushed and smiling from my 'exercise'. I closed my eyes and let myself drift for a few minutes, thinking back over just how powerful it had been to kneel for him. My hand unconsciously slipped between my legs, stroking my pussy lips, and I felt my own slick moisture gather on my finger tips. I began to massage my smoothly shaven skin, pushing it up against my clit, warming and arousing myself even more. I opened my legs wider, parting my lips and sliding a finger inside to stroke my clit, running tiny, much too light circles over the top, teasing it, making it swell, but not touching hard enough to orgasm, making myself wait as I was sure Sir would.

  My breathing quickened and I began to move my finger rhythmically, pressing harder and moving faster, feeling all the sensations in my body concentrate on that one point. Faster still, images of Sir and all the things he might do to me filling my head. Back to tiny teasing movements for a moment, increasing the intensity, tantalising, delaying; and then firm strokes, feeling my clit tighten and my pussy opening as I grew so close to orgasm. Speeding up even more, now almost panting, I tipped over the edge into a deep, convulsive orgasm, crying out as I came.

  Still not sated, my fingers circled my clit again, and I imagined exploring myself wearing a latex glove. My clit twitched and swelled immediately, so aroused at that thought. Rubber touching across my pussy lips, tracing lightly just inside and then touching into my juices, cooling and then warming again as my fingers found my clit and began to rub. Finally, building to such sweet intensity and over into a long shuddering orgasm that rocked my body and left me breathless.

  At last, I stepped out of the bath, feeling so warm and submissive. And I could only wonder even more... what would it be like to meet him in person?

  ***

  And today, right now, here I am in the car, driving Cameron home from the airport for the very first time. And it is just as I imagined. I really have not been able to look at him. There is too much in his eyes; deliciously intense plans and pleasures that I can only begin to imagine, thoughts of things I have said to him that I have told no-one else, things that I didn't even realise about myself until I met him. We have shared so much already that I feel he holds my soul in the palm of his hand. I feel transparent, every thought on view to him, every secret known, and I catch my breath and just barely suppress a shiver.

  I moisten lips suddenly dry and manage to speak.

  "Almost there, Sir." I keep my eyes firmly on the road, glancing only at road signs, in my mirror, watching other cars on the road. I don't need to look at him to know that he is watching me, smiling.

  Finally, I pull up outside my flat and busy myself with finding my keys and helping him with his bags. I have been avoiding looking at him for as long as I can and he knows it too. I risk a quick glance at him only to see the most wicked smile on his lips, a smile full of the promise of things to come.

  A burst of something very close to panic threatens to overwhelm me. I don't think I can do this.

  But I have to. Oh, I need to. I need to know if all that anticipation, all those exquisitely wicked words and intentions exchanged for so long over the internet can be matched - even exceeded - by the reality.

  A hot rush of dizzying excitement blazes down from my stomach to my freshly shaven pussy, and I blush crimson and look down at the floor. My hands tremble and I drop my keys.

  Both of us go to pick them up but he reaches them first and holds them out to me. I take them and automatically look up to say 'thank you'. The words die on my lips as I find myself caught in his gaze.

  "Ah, there you are, lil’ girl." He smiles, reaching out to touch my face. His fingers are warm and tender on my cheek, and his eyes are kind and smiling. "There's my honey." Then a glint of amusement, a hint of something darker, not quite hidden, bubbling under the surface. "I wonder... and I will find out... just how far down that blush goes..."

  My eyes widen and
I can't look away. How long we stay like that I have no idea. A second? A minute? Longer? Time stretches and tightens.

  His smile deepens, and he gently nudges me towards my door. "Shall we go in, sweet one?"

  I blush again, something I begin to think I may never stop doing, aware that I have kept him waiting. "Yes, Sir."

  I manage to turn my key in the lock, and we enter the flat. His bags are dropped off quickly in the bedroom and we head through to the lounge. He stretches out on the soft black leather sofa, legs crossed in front of him, laid back and looking thoroughly comfortable and at home. It is strange to see him there, amongst all my familiar things. The room seems suddenly much smaller, airless on such a hot day and I hurry to open the windows and bring him a cool drink.

  In the kitchen I close my eyes and breathe deeply, trying to relax; out of sight of those searching eyes just for a moment. I pour him a tall glass of iced Fiji water, all the while telling myself to calm down, slowing my breathing. I make my way back into the lounge and serve his drink, noticing how much my hand shakes, despite my attempts to steady myself.

  "Thank you, my lil’ slut."

  Oh, that word. There is such power in it. I feel its echo somewhere deep inside, warming me, colouring my cheeks again; deepening my submission to him. Because it is true - I am his slut. Any self-possession I might have found has vanished without a trace. I almost drop to my knees right there, but somehow hold myself upright, long enough for him to take his glass from me.

  "You are welcome, Sir," I stammer.

  He takes a long, slow drink, his eyes never leaving my face.

  And then...

  "Now strip, honey. On your knees. Right there. I want to see my slut naked."

  And so it begins...

  The Lesson

  By Etty

  Part One

  He was sitting on the sofa, reading the newspaper and smoking a cigarette. She suspected he was enjoying a quiet half hour and appreciated that fact that she was silently curled up by the fire reading her book. But she needed to ask him- it was nine o'clock already. She stretched her body out and rose gracefully, walking to the side of the sofa and kneeling down. He didn't look up.