Why

An intake of breath is all she hears.

"Although I think he is quite different from most practitioners." She thinks back to their times together and scenes stand out. She feels her sex opening up and leaking fluids as though he were standing before her.

Her friend gives her an odd look as though she can sense the arousal. Hear the unspoken thoughts rolling around the room.

"He is so confident that he doesn't do a lot of the things you might read about. He's never asked me to call him master or make me do things I don't want." There is a long pause. "He makes me want things I never believed I could even think of doing."

"Like that?" Her friend's voice is skeptical.

"This is nothing..."

His hands move to the back of her head and send tremors through her with the way they squeeze and dig into the bared nerves. He fists handfuls of her hair, prods at her skull. She is lost to the feeling and when he pulls her mouth over his hard smooth shaft, she swallows it eagerly. Greedily.

The moans and groans her greatest reward, she works at it with her every fiber. She loves the idea of giving him the kind of pleasure she gets. She only ever dreamed of before him. He pulls her hair, flattens his hand to the back of her head and pushes. She swallows and shoves her head further on his pole. She wants all of it.

She feels the throbbing, tastes the sweet drop of precum. She tears at it. Puts her every effort into trying to make him shoot his load down her throat. She hums and sighs, moans and delights in the response she feels coming from him. When he can stand no more, he yanks her head away - he has to pull hard. She is grinning with the knowledge of how close he is and how much she made him ache.

He straddles her hips; she is amazed at the size of his pulsing member. It's all she has eyes for. The belt swings down on her nipple in a snap. She jumps. The bed jerking with the sudden jolt. Again. The other nipple. She feels each slap as from a long distance away. A stab of electricity. An aching need. A surge of energy.

Her breasts respond with a heaviness that surprises her. Their every sway is a dull throb of want. She can't believe how they feel. How they yearn for his hands and mouth. The belt snaps across them time and again until she feels only lust. Conscious only of the puddle beneath her ass and the need sizzling through her body.

His mouth moves over the swollen globes. Nibbling, suckling, biting. She wants more. Deeper. Harder. She equates it with the physical act of being fucked. As though his cock were already pummeling her. Thrusting all the way in, Driving into her cervix, yanking out of her grasp. Her tits are numb and need flayed. Opened. His touch has made them so sensitive, she wants nothing more than to have them completely invaded. She wants opened to him. Her skin alive with burning. She wants him completely inside her body.

"Please." She is so close to desperation that she can hardly imagine wanting anything more. The thought of him inside her has grown to fill her every waking moment. "Please." She knows what he wants. It's the last thing that she is able to give him. She doesn't understand how she can be so willing for so much and yet have such a hard time asking for what she needs so badly. She will be driven to it eventually, she knows, but her greatest struggle is always the thing he wants from her.

"Please."

"I didn't really believe him, you know. Didn't want to think that there really is anything legitimate about the whole thing. He talks like it's a psychology study, but I didn't want anything but the experience of something different."

"This is definitely different." Her friend's sarcasm is back.

"I felt the same way you are right now. I didn't believe it." She is subconsciously stroking the marks on her breasts. They are heaving with emotion. Feeling. "I didn't want to believe it anyway. I want to think that there is nothing to such things as psychobabble and neurolinguistic programming or psychodistortion."

Her fingers find a tender spot and toy with it. She has an excitement building as though he were on the phone with her right now. There is a physical reaction he garners simply by the memories he has given her. The nerves he has touched upon and laid open. The associations he has made between her body and seemingly innocent stimuli. Sights, smells, sensations, all have something that triggers her arousal.

"He told me up front that he would be doing this." She is half talking to her friend and half reliving the most delicious times. "He told me how it works. That we respond to stimulation and tie it to our environment. If he controls one or the other or even both, making the sensation more severe or extreme than whatever was there before that he will be able to use my own body's reactions against me and make me crave the things he does."

A scoffing noise nearly interrupts.

"He isn't worried about forcing me to do anything and by brute force making me want more, either because I have no alternative or I believe the things I get from a relationship with him outweighs the problems. He says a lot of women are predisposed to submission, but do not truly give themselves up. It's a societal issue where they are trained to be inferior and withstand the punishment rather than be active partners." Her fingers idle over her aureolas, picking and teasing.

"He wants strong, capable women like me that he can treat as equals and give what they really need while taking what he needs."

"He needs that?"

"Not exactly." She smiles. Nearly giggles, but catches herself thinking it's probably wrong to antagonize at this point. "He gets incredibly aroused to feel me tremble. He enjoys my fear and uncertainty. He doesn't want to do anything like break me or force me. He doesn't want to hurt me at all. He just wants to feel all these things and then know that I want it all too." She takes a deep, satisfied breath. "He wants every bit of me, heart, body, mind and soul. He wants my very last shred of dignity and hope ripped open in front of him so he can hold it in his hands, taste it and hand it back intact."

She smiles even broader. "It's love at its deepest, most mysterious, most raw.'

His mouth is in her ear as his hands play with her skin. The fingers delighting in her every curve, her every pucker. "I love your nipples standing up like this." Two fingers stretch the red nub, twist and drop it again. She hardly reacts. It needs his attention so badly. He does it again. "I need to fuck you. I'm going to enjoy the way you take me all the way in and try to grip me hard enough to keep me from pulling back out."

A long moan escapes her lips. She can think of nothing else but the way he will fill her up with every thrust and empty her with each time he draws back.

He wants to talk. "I love sliding my tongue over your stiff clit." His fingers slip over the wet, silky opening. "Do you think of it when you're making yourself cum?" His words are but wisps of breath in her mind. "Do you picture my mouth where your fingers slip and slide?" He pinches at the stiffness and she screams. The moment is so poignant and his voice holds her in such a thrall that she doesn't notice what he is doing until too late.

He manipulates her clit until she is on the edge of orgasm. Suddenly, she is there. About to cum and knows that she will be punished if she does. It drives her even further to the heights and has crashed upon her so hard that she is unable to beg him to stop or to wriggle out of his reach. Just before she explodes, she manages "Oh, God, Please stop. I'm going to cum. Please. Please stop." It all runs together in a blur of sound.

Just as the tremors shake her joints loose, the quaking in her heart cracks through the crust of her hopes, he stops. The belt stings her nipples, but she doesn't even feel the snap or the vicious shivers that run unconsciously through her body and out her mind. "Ahhh." She screams into the wind. A complete oneness with all the sensations of the universe. The wind, the rain, the earth far underneath her.

The leather cracks across the delicate underside of her globes, leaving red marks but no burning. No stinging. That will come later as she remembers not the feel, but the way she teetered on the rim of a deep canyon. An abyss of orgasm that claims her even as he holds her in his arms and keeps her from falling.

"You almost came. I can't wait to let you explode. I so love the way you tremble. The way you spasm getting ready to cum. I especially love feeling you squeezing my cock when you are rampant like that."

She would have dissolved into screams right then had he given her any impetus. A nudge, a pinch, a stroke. Instead, he held still, holding her back. Again and again he takes her further out to the rim of madness and keeps her from going over. Over and over she thinks to beg, but is struck completely numb.

At some point, she manages a tiny "Please. Please fuck me."

"Love?"

"You have no idea." She smiles a beatific glow. "By the time he is finished with me, I beg. I beg for everything and anything. I would crawl across the floor if it would please him." She grins. A lively movement of her lips. "I want him to feel everything that he gives me. Oh my goodness, he leaves me completely used up. I can't begin to explain it to you. The first time I said please, it was yanked out of my mouth He worked so hard for it. He kept me on the edge of orgasm for hours, always pushing me close and not letting me over. Even..."

She fades into a great distance her friend cannot follow to. Her eyes unfocus and all her memories flood into her veins. "I tried to hide the fact that I was going to cum. I tried to just slip over the edge without him knowing."

Her friend gasps, so caught up in the story and the telling that she senses how that would end in horrible consequences.

"He told me later that I would be punished for doing things like that from here on. That he wouldn't do anything about it this time because he expects to have to help me manage the things I am experiencing." She chuckles lightly.

Another gasp.

"He stopped just as I was shaking. I don't know how he knew, but he waited until that very split second that I was losing it and sent me crashing down. I was thrashing on the bed and growling. I mean I lost it. He grabbed my hands before they could reach my pussy and do what I needed and tied them to the headboard. He took off his belt, turned me over and spanked me. Just hard enough to make me feel it, but not so much that it was punishment or leaving marks or even really doing more than making me burn and need more."

Her friend is no longer breathing.

"It only made me need it more. He kept at me. Using his tongue, he brought me even closer to the edge so many times I lost count of everything. Time, sense, thought." She takes a deep breath. "He just kept doing it. When he finally let me cum, I didn't think I would ever stop. I'd never felt anything like that."

"So you said please?"

"Oh no." She gave a laugh. A rueful, cackling kind of laugh you'd give someone who is so completely off base about something that they aren't worth your time to try to correct. "That was just the first time he showed me that I really wasn't the one in charge even of my own body. The first time he really took control."

"Oh. I'm definitely going to fuck you." He whispers in her ear. His voice is laden and husky. She pictures him thrusting in her with that voice telling her to cum and she nearly explodes from the thought.

"I'm going to make you beg first."

"I am." She cries. A sobbing kind of pleading.

"You've said please. That's not quite begging." He delights. "You're certainly well on the way though, aren't you?" His fingers dance along the sensitive folds of fine skin. Outlining her clit with puffs of smoke or mist. Drawing the hood away in surgical motions that leave her completely vulnerable and afraid of what he plans for her now. Her body erupts in gooseflesh and uncertainty.

She feels the agony of knowing that anything she tries to give him will be not enough. That he is only satisfied when he rips her heart from her.

"You know me. I'm stubborn as all shit."

Her friend nods without knowing she is doing it.

"He did that to me four or five times. Each one worse than the one before. It got so bad, I couldn't even make myself cum without stopping and starting when I was by myself." A vague smile slips over her features.

"I thought that was the worst he was going to do to me and I totally loved it." Her fingers pluck absently at her angry nipples. "I had no idea." Her hands outline the swollen melons. Weigh them distinctly.

"He tied me spreadeagled and had me so sensitive that he would move against me and I'd be at the edge of orgasm. That's when he started to tell me I couldn't. He explained that he had been in control of it before because he knew I wouldn't be able to do what he asked. He wanted to make sure that I was only punished when I intentionally did wrong." Her fingers are back circling the red lines.

"It must have been most of the night. Four hours or more. He was smacking the end of the belt over my nipples when I got too close to climax and it would, like, extend the time I could hold on. It wouldn't take the orgasm away or even take the edge off, just stretch it out."

"Ohhhh." More of a moan than a comment.

"It was finally too much for me. He smacked my nipple a nice one and before I could stop it, Please ripped off my lips. It kind of got torn out of my heart. I didn't even realize I had said it until he sucked in his breath and told me there, see, and rammed his hard cock all the way in me in a huge burst that sent me shaking and banging all over. I couldn't believe I could ever have cum so hard."

She pauses and seems to realize that her hands are on her tits. She tries to fumble with the bra, but ends up taking it off by running a strap down one arm, then pulling it out of the other armhole. "I don't know why I try. On these days, I can't even touch a bra for at least two days. It rubs on my nipples all day and leaves me constantly wet and aching. If half the office shoved me down, I'd probably fuck myself in front of them."

His fingers lightly trail over her breasts until she says it again. "Please. Fuck me. Bite my fucking tits. Take me. Shove your cock up inside me. Make me cum. Please." She is babbling, trying to say what he wants to hear.

It's not enough for him. She already knows, cause he has told her before. She is only at the stage where she will barter. He doesn't consider that really begging because she is not yet willing to give everything to him. In her mind, she has already given him everything. She will do anything he wants. Whatever he wants. He says it's not really what she means. That she still has boundaries and strings attached.

"Mmmmmmm." He murmurs. "Aren't you so close?" She wants to scream in frustration. She's well over the edge.

"You are so strong." He says this in admiration and it fills her with pride even as she wants to yank her arms free and force him to take her.

She can't imagine giving up more of herself than this. "Please."

"He drives me into utter exhaustion." She has such satisfaction on her face. "I don't even understand it all, but he knows when I'm completely lost. Somehow, he just knows. He keeps me between need and hope until I collapse."

Her thoughts slip away until her friend finally inhales. A great gulp of air that reminds her where she is. Her fingers smudge at her blouse.

"Last night, when I finally lost it. I don't even remember when it happened. One minute he was running his hands over me and the next I was his. I couldn't move unless he wanted me to. If his hands nudged me to turn, I turned. If his fingers motioned me to pull up, I did. It didn't matter what he wanted, I was willing. More than that, I was practically chanting please." She said this last word with a relish of pleasure and reminiscence.

"Please fuck me. Please make me cum. Please whip my tits. More." She repeated it all as though she were living through it now.

He turned her over, lifted her ass and buried his hard pole deep in her. One huge stroke that sent her into spasms. Followed by another and another.

"Please let me cum. Please fuck me." It became a chant tethering her to reality and filling her world as completely as he filled her.

"Cum on me." She erupted even as he said. "Now." Screaming and squirming, but never pulling away from him as she would do if she had even a shred of herself left. She would somehow keep from being ripped apart, if it were only by pulling back and not allowing him to split her cervix like this. She is wholly his. Giving him whatever he will take. Letting him have it all and more. Anything.

She has little recollection beyond this. Waking to his body wrapped around hers. His hands in full possession. Morning bringing a new hope, light and meaning.

"I totally lost it. I always do. He does that to me. It's not like it's just meet for drinks and sex, you know."

Her blouse covers the marks, but does little to hide the excited state of her nipples. Can't possibly cover the aftereffects of the night before. It's not cold, it's a warm room on what promises to be a hot day. She presses her palms directly onto the sore thumbs sticking out. "They won't go down for days. I just have to live with it."

Her friend gives an envious look.

"I mean I go comatose. From the time he lets loose and I cum with him that last time until sometime whenever morning comes and we begin to stir, I have nothing. I totally black out when he gets through with me."

As the last buttons slip firmly in place, her friend continues to stare at the place under the thin cover. As though she could bring it out to the open air and exchange the marks for her own unblemished perfection.

"I get to relive it all every time I look in the mirror." Her friend is still staring. "I sit staring at them too. It's amazing." Her friend stirs a little as though to try to say something. "That's what you caught me doing. I think I would stare at them all day everyday until they fade and go away if I didn't have to work or behave. He doesn't always leave marks so they do go away you know." She explains patiently.

"He usually is easier on me when I have marks and I would beg him to be rougher, but I love it every bit as much when he is gentle."

"I'm in love and these are my flowers."