Her Master's Command

Warning:

This material is
copyright protected and for personal use only. It is not to be shared, given
away or sold.

This book
contains adult content, sexual situations and graphic language which may be
considered offensive by some readers.

All sexually
participants in this work are over 18 years of age or older.

This if a work
of fiction and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely
coincidental

Cover Design: Slippery
Elm Designs

Her Master’s
Command © September 2012 Sabrina Armstrong

All rights
reserved

Dedications

To AJL for being
my one and only Master

Feel free to
email me at:
[email protected]

Considering the
stories I heard about him, it was certainly no surprise to me he was a wizard.
He had held his handsome good looks longer than most people would admit to remembering.
Unless you, like me, are a witch or the occasional wizard, you would have
chalked the experience up to the burning incense, rather than the bewitched.

Who knows, maybe
it was both?

“There must have
been something illicit in the oils.” Some would say.

“I swear he had
two cocks.” Others might whisper.

I knew the truth
long before I met him, though. My journey to him, started a long time ago, and
well before I knew it had.

Like any other
teenager who’d learned they could do some pretty cool things with their bodies,
I was quick to put my magic to the task of exploring my body and finding all of
its hidden treasures. I found my all the erotically charged places on my body,
inside and out and understood how to respond to my inner desires when most
girls were still trying to decide if they liked French kissing.

In college, I
learned how to manipulate the world around me with magic. Each night I cast a few
spells around my dormitory room. The spells rendered my room unavailable,
unheard and unhinged from time around it. I lived on very little sleep which
allowed me many hours a day to thrive in my environment. Cocooned in my dormitory,
I learned to master magic before integrating my life in the non-magical world.

I did manage to
have a reputation outside my dormitory room, though. In hindsight, maybe I
should have sought better advice when I decided to forever enchant my skin to
transmit a pulse of euphoria to anyone who touched it.

Some might
consider it cruel to do such a thing. And in retrospect it was but I was young
and saw myself as a muse. I was determined that I had the secret to unlocking
the sexual potential in every person who crossed my path.  

I was driven by
the rush of excitement and joy written on other people’s faces when they
touched my. I literally gave them
Joie de Vivre
.

Incidentally,
this was the name of the enchantment. Any witch or wizard worthy of their wand would
consider the accomplishment exceedingly difficult.

Later, I learned
to be more miserly with gifting my touch.

The lesson came
the first and only time
Joie de Vivre
turned into utter debauchery. It wasn’t
my fault really. Another witch attending the party had tagged me. She had her
own agenda for the party once she had figured things out. It was fun, sort of,
but free will can be a tricky bitch when magic’s involved.

Each man who
fucked me felt a pulse when he entered me all along his shaft up to his
sensitive head. Each came within seconds as the real power of my spell was how
it was intensified along the soft, moist, sensitive skin found within my pussy.

Over coffee the
next morning the witch and I became friends and it was she who told me about
the wizard I would come to obsess over.

“Do you see
this?” She asked as she withdrew from her purse a small glass vile in which I
could see a thick strand of liquid.

I knew what it
was the instant my eyes set on it.

“What the hell
is that for?”

“I was able to
salvage this from my only encounter with Him,” she sighed “as I twist the vile
in my hands, I close my eyes and am able to relive it – from his perspective.
It’s incredible. I see how he looked at me. I’m beautiful!”

“Let me see.” I
demanded as a wave of jealous curiosity washed over me.

The witch moved
further away from me and laughed softly. “Sorry,” she said with a shake of her
head “not even after last night but I will tell you where I encountered him and
about my experience. He moves around a lot, as you might imagine. I’ve heard
that, if a witch hears three stories from three other witches about their
encounters, the witch will be magically drawn to him from the inside of her.
It’s some creepy stuff – even for me.”

“So let’s hear
it.” I put my elbows on the table and crossed my legs. Something about the
seemed to glow luminescent when she talked about this wizard and I’d heard
certain rumblings about a dark master with sexual powers to rival my own but
until not it was nothing more than coven gossip.

“We were in
Boston in the 90s. I’d been growing bored with the exclusively non-magical life
I was living and decided to go a pub by the water I’d heard sported some pretty
strange regulars at all hours of the day. I ran into him there I suppose if I
believed in coincidences I’d chalk it up to that but deep in my heart I knew
he’d sought me out because I needed what he had to give.”

“Where exactly?”
I tried to get control over the growing heat and wetness that had me squirming
in my seat but it was difficult.

“I’m told he
likes dingy pubs in the Northeast. Like I said, I found him Boston.”

“Ok that’s the
where, spill the rest.” I demanded.

“It started out
pretty tame, except of course for all the other witches and wizards determined
he make them his quarry. He is very selective and I don’t like competition so I
drank up and grabbed right ahold of him and apparated up right into my living
room. I was a nice little trick I picked up in France when I was an exchange
student at the American Academy of Magical Arts. Took him back to my place.”

 “Was he
pissed?” I asked, my mouth gaping wide at her outrageous misuse of magic in
public.

“He might have
been, if not for the good natured determination I had displayed back in the
pub.”

“So does a guy
like that just get down to business?”

“Fuck yes he
does.”

“So what
happened?”I groaned and clenched my thighs together as a jolt of desire stung
me from the inside out.

“Well, I’ve had
my pussy eaten before, but never like that. It was as though his tongue were
forked. He moved it so precisely. And I don’t know how he did it but he
actually managed find my g-spot before he fucked me, which, holy Hell, let me
tell you was amazing. He’d got this neat little trick where he’d go super deep  me
before slowly withdrawing to rub his tip of his cock against my clit. The guy
actually had me begging on my hands and knees to take it up the ass.

“‘Fuck me!’ I
shouted .I felt warmth in my panties and my nose filled with the fresh scent of
euphoria. I needed to hear the end of this story and quick before I had six
truckers trying take me up on the offer.

“Go on, but keep
it down.”

“Sorry.” I
whispered and tried to go back to just listening casually.

“Ok. When, I was
begging him to go up the back passage and then he spun my leg around, pressing
his body onto me and thrusting his cock somehow deeper into my cunt. The harder
I pressed my ass back against him, the harder he leaned into me and the harder
he fucked. Before I came, I swear I saw stars. He collapsed beside me leaving
puddles of hot come all over me. He told me he would put

it in this.” She
held up the vile again. “He said I might want to see it someday.”

“I guess he was
right.” I laughed and gestured at her open hand holding the vile on it.

“Yeah.”

“So listen, I
will keep in touch, but right now...” I looked around and could see the lust filling
far too many unwelcome eyes. “I gotta go. And I think you should too.”

*****

After my narrow
escape from the diner I departed to find Him. It’s been about seven years since
she told me the story and the only thing I’ve managed to learn is that some
wizards just do not want to be found.

I bounced around
from one Northeast harbor town or city to the next making my way up and down the
Eastern seaboard. There have been many close calls and long stays when I felt
my chances were better in one place over the next.

 But now, I
found myself eating chili in a dingy pub in the Old Port of Portland, Maine,
talking to a middle aged wizard telling me all about his prostate problems.
Somebody
poison me, please
.

“It wasn’t long
after the doctor informed me I had a prostate problem, I began my own search
for Him. One of my friends had heard he liked smaller coastal cities on the
East Coast –the older the city the better. He likes to lie low, but likes pints
at seedy pubs.”

Suddenly my
chili wasn’t nearly as exciting was the geezer sitting next to me so I decided
to start paying attention. “I’m told a witch who hears three stories from
His
lovers will transcend time and space and arrive on his doorstep.”

“Well,” he
paused and shrugged his shoulders “that’s not how it worked for me. I was lucky
enough to find him.”

“Would you tell
me about it? You’ll make my second story. You know, in case the legends are
true. ”

“Sure, but you
need to buy me some drinks first. And you might need to earn it.” He smile was
more of a sad leer. 

I appreciated
his complete lack of artlessness and was more than willing to make him feel euphoric
if he gave me the information I was looking for. “You’re on.” I turned to face
the barman and grazed my fingers cross his hand while I ordered. “Give us a
bottle of
very old
whiskey to go.” It was an unfair thing to do to the
poor man but since I was desperate and broke I decided to bend my own rule
about skin to skin contact with unsuspecting humans.

The moment we
left the pub and started on our way away from the harbor I felt a strong cold
sea breeze urging us faster up the hilly cobblestoned streets. It was a short
walk back to his place at breakneck speed with the wind pushing us every step
of the way until we met the door to his small brownstone.

Once securely
inside the house we he walked to the kitchen for glasses while I made myself
comfortable on the couch and admired the fire that came to a sudden blaze in
the fireplace. It was a nice bit of magic and I’d have to remember to ask him
about where he acquired his fire manipulations skills.

“Give me that
bottle and I’ll put some in glasses.” He said reaching for the bottle in my extended
hand. I placed the whisky on the small coffee table in front of me and sat
back. Eventually I’d have to touch him but I needed him to talk before I did
it.

He looked down
at me and smiled. “I see I’m not the only one with an affliction,” he mused.
“I’ve heard rumors about the witch who put a spell on her skin that drove
people to acts of unspeakable lust.” The wizard poured the amber colored liquid
into both glasses and waited patiently while I reached out and took mine. “It’s
said that her skin holds all the pleasures known to man.”

“Is it also said
that she learned too late that some spells cannot be broken.” I brought the
drink to my lips and tilted my head, emptying the glass in one shit so he could
fill it up again. “Please tell me the story.”