Disclaimer: All things "Twilight" belong to Stephanie Meyer. The remainder of the perversion is all mine. :)

AN: This was a dream I had recently...

BEAUTIFUL

I walked up to the modest two-story house and stood nervously at the front door.

It was a completely unassuming house. You would never know, from the outside, what was going on inside. Or at least, what I assumed was going on. The Internet message board said that I should start here, with this house, with this party.

I took a deep breath and knocked. My heart was pounding, a million thoughts racing through my mind. What was I doing here? Could I go through with it? Was this something I truly wanted, or was it just a fleeting distraction? Would they want me? Or would they laugh at me, at my inexperience? Shit. What the hell was I doing? I started to turn and run back to my car, but, before I could change my mind, the door swung open, and I saw him for the first time.

"Hello, and welcome," he said with a smile. "I'm Edward Cullen. This is my house. Please, come in." His voice was deep and smooth, confident, charming. I was instantly hypnotized by him, his presence drawing me to him like a magnet.

God, he was gorgeous. Tall and lithe, but imposing. He was older than me, maybe in his thirties, and he was easily the most beautiful man I had ever seen. Wild hair the color of copper. Strong jaw, covered in a day's growth of beard. Pouty upper lip that I wanted to suck between my lips. Deep green eyes with heavy, lusty lids. I couldn't help but wonder what he would look like as he came.

I couldn't turn my eyes from him.

I stepped inside the house, and he moved aside, but just enough for me to pass, so that I had to brush against him. He closed the door and looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to explain my presence in his home. He seem amused.

"Um, hi," I muttered. "I'm Isabella Swan... Bella." I looked down then, to the floor, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

"Beautiful," he said softly. "Come, Isabella," he said as he reached out his hand for mine. "Let me show you around, introduce you to some people."

I took his hand, both terrified and thrilled, and I let him pull me into the house.

As he led me into his large living room, I saw several people standing around talking, groups of three and four, drinks in hand. They all looked extraordinarily normal, not at all what I was expecting. It looked like any other social gathering that I had attended, but as I watched them, I started to notice some small differences. Some of the people weren't speaking - they were quietly standing next to the person they were with, heads down, hands clasped behind their backs. The people they were with were talking to each other, laughing loudly and animatedly.

And then it hit me.

They were submissives.

My heart started pounding, and I started biting on my bottom lip, a nervous habit of mine. I had to remind myself that this was what I wanted, why I was here.

It was what I needed.

I always felt like something was missing in my life, but I could never put my finger on what it was. Then, I came across a book about a woman who met a man at a party, and he described a life to her that she had never imagined, a life of total submission. He invited her to his home, to his life, and she never looked back.

That book changed my life, opened my mind to a world of possibilities, to the total freedom of giving up all control to someone, to a world that I never dreamed of. But that's all it was for me, a dream.

For months, I did research on the Internet, read everything I could get my hands on, and I planned. I planned what I would wear, what I would say. I imagined what he would look like, the man I would give myself to, and what he would make me do for him. To him.

But I never acted on any of it.

Until tonight.

And then I realized that he was speaking to me, Edward Cullen, and I forced myself back to the present.

"So, Isabella," he murmured in my ear. "Who do you belong to?"

He was grinning, a half-smile, only one corner of his mouth turning up. And his voice was like warm butter. I wanted to feel it all over my body, pouring slowly on my skin.

"Um, no one." I was so fucking nervous, and he was so intense. "I'm new. I mean, this is my first time. My first party. I've never done this before." I couldn't seem to put together a cohesive sentence. I was humiliating myself. I should just leave before it got worse.

"Ah." He stepped back, still holding my hand, and ran his eyes over my body, very slowly. "No training, then?"

Training. Oh God. I had to keep reminding myself that this was what I wanted.

"No. No training."

He cocked an eyebrow at me.

"No... what?"

I felt the blush creeping up my neck, horrified that I had made a mistake already. I had only been in the house for a couple of minutes, and he was already correcting me.

"No, Sir," I whispered, hoping that was the answer he wanted.

He grinned again, rubbing his thumb slowly across the top of my hand.

"Beautiful," he whispered again. I wondered if he was talking about me. If he thought that I was beautiful. There was just no way. I was just an average, twenty-something brunette who blushed when the wind blew too hard.

He turned then and started walking me through the house, introducing me to various people. He would tell me their names and their titles, if they had one... Master Garrett and Kate. Mistress Charlotte and Peter. Everyone was very nice, very... normal.

I could see him watching me, out of the corner of his eye, as I spoke with each person.

Once I had met everyone in the room, I was unsure what I should do next, what was expected of me. I came to this house looking for something, someone, and I thought I'd found what I was looking for the minute he opened the door. There was something about him, about the way he took my hand the minute I walked in the door, how he used his voice, his words to control me. I connected with him immediately, and I felt nothing for any of the others. But I didn't really know how this worked, so I just stood there, still holding his warm hand.

He smiled at me again, and pulled me towards the stairs.

"Come with me, Isabella. Let's talk."

I followed him blindly up the stairs. Jesus, he wasn't going to tie me up or make me do anything, was he? Not yet, at least.

He pulled me into a small, office-like room, and sat in a large leather chair, crossing his legs, settling in. There was only one chair, so I remained standing. I think that might have been the point.

"Close the door, Isabella. And then come back to me."

Fuck, his voice went straight between my legs. I did as he asked, and then stood before him, unsure of what he wanted from me, what I was supposed to do.

"Tell me, Isabella. Are you enjoying yourself so far?"

"Yes. Yes, Sir, I am." I nodded a little too enthusiastically as I spoke, and I had to make myself still my shaking head.

"And did you meet anyone today that you would like to see again?"

I knew what he was asking. He was trying to match me up with a Dom, one of those people downstairs, but the only person I wanted to serve was him. My connection to him was instantaneous and intense, and I didn't want anyone else.

"Yes. I mean, yes Sir. I think I did."

He looked at me, curiously.

"You think? Or you know? There is quite a difference, Miss Swan, and there is no room for indecision in this lifestyle."

I swallowed hard and bit my lip again. He was staring at my mouth, and I heard him suck in a small breath.

"No, Sir. I mean, yes, Sir. I know. I know who I would like to see again."

"Well, tell me then, Miss Swan. Tell me who you want to serve."

I stood before him, my eyes to the ground, and I told him my desire.

"You, Mr. Cullen," I said. "I think... I mean..." I said as I scrambled to fix this before I completely fucked it up. "I would like to serve you."

He stared at me for several long seconds, taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it. Then he smiled widely.

"Beautiful," he whispered. Then he cleared his throat and uncrossed his legs, his thighs spread widely across the width of the large leather chair.

"Come stand before me, Isabella. Right here." His voice was strong and commanding again. "There are a few things about you that I need to know before any decisions are made."

He was pointing to the floor right in front of his chair, right between his legs. Shit, was he going to ask me to go down on him as some sort of test? I knew that this was what I wanted, but I didn't think I was ready for such intimate contact so soon. I knew that I needed to get over that, but I couldn't help my nervousness.

He was waiting for me. He seemed to be patient, but I wasn't sure how long that would last, so I moved to where he asked. He ran his eyes up and down my body again, slowly, like he was memorizing every part of me. It was unnerving and arousing all at the same time.

"Very nice, Isabella. You seem to be naturally submissive. Did you know that?"

I looked up at him, somewhat surprised, and shook my head. I always knew that I wanted this, but it never occurred to me that it was in my nature.

"Let me start with a few basics, some of which you seem to do naturally. Your stance, for example." He gestured to my body, and I started to panic, wondering what I was doing wrong again. "Your feet should always be shoulder width apart, as they are right now. That is very nice, Isabella." He grinned at me. I immediately felt relief that I had pleased him, and I knew that I would do anything he asked just to see him pleased like that again.

"Hands behind your back, clasped together," he said softly, but with complete authority. I immediately complied.

"You naturally cast your eyes down as well. Again, this is exactly what I want from you. Your should never meet my eyes unless I specifically ask you to. Do you understand, Isabella?"

I was relieved, again, that I was doing something correctly, and I stared at the floor, forcing myself not to look up at his beautiful face, wanting desperately to see his pleased expression again.

"Yes, Sir, I understand," I said as I nodded quickly.

"Hmm. That's another thing," he mused, almost to himself. "You have been answering me freely all evening, which is fine, as we currently have no agreement, but you should know..."

God, I wanted to look at him so badly, just to see the expression on his face, to determine his mood, to figure out what the hell he was talking about, if he was waiting for me to say something or not. Instead, I stood quietly and waited, hoping that was the correct thing to do.

I heard him chuckle, and I let out the breath that I hadn't realized I was holding. He wasn't angry with me. He was just testing me, waiting to see if I would speak without provocation, but I didn't - I waited. And he was pleased.

"So fucking hot," he muttered to himself. I was close enough to feel the heat coming off of his body, or at least, that's what I thought it was. I was burning, completely consumed, and becoming increasingly desperate for his touch.

He cleared his throat again.

"As I was saying... you shouldn't speak unless I specifically ask you to speak. I may ask you questions, but I will never want a verbal answer unless I give you permission. Do you understand, Isabella?"

A question. But he didn't tell me to speak, so I nodded, my eyes glued to the ground. He chuckled again.

"You may speak, Isabella."

"Yes, Sir. I understand. Thank you, Sir."

"Beautiful," he muttered to himself again.

"One last thing," he said, in full voice again. "You should always address me with respect: Sir, or later down the line, if appropriate, Master. This is something we have already discussed, something you seem to have adopted very quickly. Very nice."

He was pleased with me again, and I tried very hard not to smile.

"If I decide to take you on, and you agree, there is a considerable amount of paperwork and testing to be done before we would actually begin your training. This lifestyle is not something to enter into lightly, Isabella. Your eyes must be completely open."

I nodded again.

"Yes, well... Again, since we are not yet in agreement, let's say that for the rest of the evening, you have my permission to speak, alright? I think I need to hear what you have to say, your opinion on things..." he said casually, and then his voice changed to a deeper, more throaty tone. Fuck, I wanted to see him. "And I want to hear your lovely voice."

Jesus, what this man did to me already. I was aching for him.

"Yes, Sir."

"Now, before I continue, because I do have some questions for you, do you have any questions for me? Now would be the time to ask."

I couldn't think of a single question, other than begging him to fuck me, but I didn't think that was appropriate just yet.

"No, Sir. No questions." I shook my head.

"No?" he said with an amused tone. "Very well. Isabella, there are a few things that I need to know about you before I would even possibly consider training you. Please be completely honest with me, and feel free to tell me no if anything is uncomfortable to you. Remember that these are only requests, we have no contract, and you are free to leave at any time."

He waited for a moment, not speaking, and I wondered if something was required of me, something that I had missed. Thankfully, I didn't have to wait long.

"Do you understand, Isabella?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And do you want to stay here with me and answer my questions?"

"Yes, Sir, I do."

"Very well. One more thing. I want to see your eyes for the remainder of the evening. Look at me, Isabella."

The tone of his voice was commanding, and I wanted to do whatever he asked of me. It felt so natural, instinctive. I raised my head and met his eyes. I had almost forgotten, in just those few minutes, how absolutely beautiful he was, and I had to stifle a small moan.

"Don't hold back, Isabella. If something pleases you, let me hear you," he said with that small cocky grin. "Tell me, what made you moan so softly just now?"

Fuck, he heard me. I was starting to realize that nothing got past this man. He could see right through me. How was I going to tell him that he was so fucking beautiful that his physical presence alone aroused me?

I looked into his deep green eyes, a deeper, darker color now, and steeled myself to answer him, honestly, as he had requested of me.

"Um... I..." I stuttered and mumbled, trying to get the words out somehow.

"Speak up, Isabella. I asked you a question, and I expect an immediate and honest answer. If we can't get past this small thing, there is no reason to continue."

Jesus, was he going to dismiss me? I couldn't let that happen. I wanted him so badly, wanted to please him, and I couldn't imagine myself serving anyone else in this way.

"Yes, Sir," I said quickly. I wanted to make sure that he knew that I wanted to be here, with him. "I'm sorry, Sir." Deep breath. "I moaned just now because your... um...beauty, it caught me off guard after looking down for so long."

He said nothing for several seconds, and I was about to panic, when suddenly, he threw his head back and laughed heartily.

"My beauty?" he chuckled again. "Well, that's new. But honest, which I appreciate... and I require. Thank you, Isabella." He sat thoughtfully for several seconds. "Now, the next thing I need to know about you is this: can you submit to me sexually, completely trust me with every part of your body?"

He paused for a moment, letting that sink in. I swallowed hard and waited for him to continue, anxious to see exactly how he would administer this particular test. I knew in my head that this would be a major component of this relationship, but the reality of it might be something else entirely.

"Your orgasms, every single one of them, will belong to me. Whether you are with me, or alone. Do you understand what I mean by that, Isabella? This is a very important point, and I need to make sure we are completely clear."

Hearing the word "orgasm" come out of that beautiful mouth, and I was done for. The blush
that I tried so hard to control flamed across my skin. I could feel the heat of it as my face burned bright red.

"Ah," he moaned softly. "That color is beautiful on your skin. I can't wait to see how it will look when I …" He trailed off, not completing his thought, and I was now desperate to know what he was going to say, what he was thinking about doing to me. He took a deep breath and continued.

"I'm still waiting, Isabella. For an answer to my question."

Question? What question did he ask me. Fuck, what did he ask me? Wait. Orgasms. That's when I completely lost my train of thought. He wanted to know if I understood that he owned my orgasms.

I hadn't had an orgasm in months, so I didn't think this would be a problem. And I thought I understood what he meant, but I wasn't entirely sure. I didn't want to disappoint him, so I answered quickly.

"Yes, Sir. I understand."

"Yes? Hmm. Very interesting. Now, my lovely, I would like you to raise that pretty skirt that you are wearing, and show me what you have underneath."

What? He wanted me to pull up my skirt? Oh my God, this is it. This is the point when I decide to stay or run out the door. But I couldn't imagine leaving him. I was already in so deep.

So I did it.

I stood before him, my eyes locked on his, and I slowly raised up my skirt. I didn't know how high he wanted me to go, so I kept lifting it, waiting for his response.

When the hem of my skirt reached my hips, I started to panic, but I kept going, my heart pounding. I was wearing my special panties, thank God, the black lace ones that I got at Victoria Secret for special occasions. They had been sitting at the back of my underwear drawer, never used until today.

I kept lifting the material until it was at my waist, and he grinned at me.

"Very nice, Isabella. Very pretty panties you have on. Tell me, did you wear them tonight for any specific reason?"

The blush burned brighter on my face, but I knew I had to answer him honestly, and quickly.

"Yes, Sir, I did."

"And?"

I took a deep breath.

"I wore them tonight, in case..." Oh God, I couldn't finish. This was humiliating.

"In case what, Isabella?" His tone had changed slightly. I think he was losing patience with me, I wasn't answering him quickly enough. I knew that I had to give myself to him honestly and completely, that I had to trust him implicitly, with every aspect of myself, but I didn't expect to have to do that tonight.

But I wanted him. So fucking badly.

"In case I met someone that I wanted a relationship with and... something happened." Fuck, I knew I had to be more specific. "In case I had to remove my clothes and have sex with someone."

He was quiet, but he had that small grin on his face again. I think he was pleased with me.

"Very good, Isabella. Now... take them off."

It wasn't a question. An answer wasn't required, but action was. And I knew he wanted me to be quick about it. No hesitation. Complete trust. I could do this.

I slipped my fingers into the sides of my underwear and slowly slid them off of my hips, past my thighs, and then onto the floor. I stepped out of them, and pushed them to the side.

I was now completely exposed to him. Naked from the waist down. I had waxed myself bare only a few days ago, in anticipation of this night, and it made me feel even more... unprotected. I took another deep breath and tried to calm myself.

His eyes were burning across my skin, boring into my naked body. I needed him to touch me so badly, but I couldn't ask for that. Not tonight. Not now.

"Very good, Isabella." He took a deep breath and met my eyes. "As I said earlier, I need to know, tonight, if you can completely give yourself to me."

Yes, he said that, and yes, I agreed. So what did he want now?

He held out his hand to me.

"I would like you to take my hand, for balance." Balance? What was I doing? I decided that I had to trust him, that I needed to trust him, so I gave him my hand.

"Now lift your left leg and put your foot up here, on this arm rest." He patted the arm rest next to him, on the big leather chair.

He wanted me to open myself up to him, in more ways than one. I knew this was only the beginning. That I would have to expose myself completely, in every way, if I had one of these relationships, so I did it. I held onto his hand and brought my leg up to the side of the chair. I wobbled a little, and he held me tightly, securely. Once I had regained my balance, I dropped his hand, assuming that was what he wanted.

I was now naked and spread open for him, his face only inches from my bare, open sex. And I was wet and aching. I knew he could see it, that he could tell how much I wanted him. My face burned.

He leaned forward in his chair, so close to me now, but not nearly close enough. He looked up from between my legs and met my eyes.

"Very nice, Isabella. You are quite beautiful, you know. All of you." He gestured to my crotch, and the blush burned brighter on my face. "I like that you are bare, but it makes me wonder why you did that. Tell me."

Okay, I had basically answered this question before. It was the same as the panties. I was trying to be prepared. In case. So I answered him.

"It was... in case." Suck it up. Tell him. "In case I met someone tonight and had sex."

There. I said it. Quickly, just like he wanted it.

He grinned widely.

"Ah. Lovely. That was very nice, Isabella. You are getting quite good at this."

I beamed with pride. He said I was good. He was pleased. I couldn't explain why this made me so happy. I had just met this man, but I felt as if my world revolved around him already, that his happiness was all that mattered.

"Now, I have a request. Again, you are free to deny me, as we have no contract, but I would like to find out a little more about you."

He didn't tell me yet what he wanted, and there was still no question, so I kept my stance and waited.

"I would like to touch you, Isabella. Intimately." His green eyes had turned dark, his pupils wide with arousal, and it was almost feral and wild. I could feel his desire for me, it was magnetic, and I couldn't wait for him to have his hands on me.

"Would you like that, Isabella?" His voice was low and deep, almost a growl. "Would you like me to touch you?"

"Y-Yes, Sir. I would like that... Please." I whispered the last word, my voice giving out on me, barely able to speak.

He looked deeply in my eyes, and he must have found what he was looking for, because the next thing I knew, I felt his hands on my legs, just his fingertips, lightly brushing up the sides of my legs, my calves, my knees, my thighs. Everywhere he touched me, it burned. I thought I would explode waiting for him to touch me where I needed him.

Then I felt it. His hand between my legs, his finger sliding between the lips of my pussy. I gasped.

"Yes, my lovely. Let me hear you. Don't hold back."

His finger slid easily, slowly up and down, slick with my desire for him.

Then, he brushed across my clit, and I couldn't hold it in any longer.

"Oh fuck..." I moaned.

"Mmm, yes. I love your voice, tell me more. Tell me how I make you feel."

How he made me feel? Jesus fucking Christ, if he only knew.

He rubbed circles around my clit and slowly down, slipping easily inside me, then back out, circling my clit again, teasing me. I wanted to thrust my hips towards him, to beg him to fuck me with his finger, anything, I just needed him to keep touching me.

"God, yes... oh... that feels so good... Sir... please..."

"Please, what, my lovely?"

What was he looking for? Did I say something incorrectly? No, I think he wanted to know why I said please.

"Please keep touching me. Please make me come with your finger, Sir... please." I was so fucking desperate now. I needed him so badly.

"Ah yes... you sound so fucking hot when you beg me."

He rubbed his finger back up to my clit now, and used his other hand to slip two fingers inside me, curling up and hitting me just right. It was like electricity through my body, and I moaned loudly.

"Yes, Isabella... let me hear you," His voice was like a drug to me, I was addicted, and I needed more. He increased the pressure with his hand, and I thought I might explode, it felt so fucking good. My hips moved with him, silently begging for more.

"I realize that, right now, you have no control, and that is something we will work on. So for tonight, you may come when you are ready."

Oh, God, he wanted me to come for him. And I was so close, it wouldn't take much for me to totally lose it.

"Are you close, my lovely? Tell me." His fingers slipped and pulled, and I could feel it in my stomach, that burning.

"God yes, Sir. I'm close... almost... please..." My eyes closed and my head fell back, waiting for the giant wave of pleasure to crash over me.

And then it was gone. The feeling stopped. I opened my eyes and looked at him. He had stopped touching me, his hands were gone.

He laughed, a low, deep chuckle as he sat back in his chair.

"I did say that I would allow it, Isabella, but I didn't say when."

Then, he lifted his fingers to his lips, still wet from my arousal, and he tasted me. That was the hottest fucking thing I had ever seen.

"Mmm. Delicious," he moaned softly. "So sweet. I can't wait to bury my face in there and hear you beg me to come."

Holy fuck. This man was killing me.

"Come, lets go downstairs and mingle." Then he gave me his hand.

Downstairs? Was he fucking kidding me? I was seconds away from the most powerful orgasm of my life, and he wanted me to socialize? I was soaking wet and throbbing. I have never been so aroused in my entire life.

But I wanted this. I wanted him. So I grabbed his hand and put my leg back on the floor. I started to reach down for my panties, and he stopped me.

"No no, Isabella. Leave them there. I want you bare underneath your skirt when we go downstairs."

Oh my God.

I straightened my skirt, pulling it down as far as it could go, and we walked down the stairs. He held my hand the entire time, and it felt good to me. It felt like he wanted me, protected me, like he was marking his territory, telling everyone that I belonged to him. I liked the way that felt. I wanted to be his.

We wandered around the house, making small talk, and he was right behind me the entire time. His hand held mine tightly, and he never left my side. I couldn't concentrate.

Then, I felt his mouth at my ear.

"Do you think they know, Isabella?" he whispered. "Know what I was doing to you just now? Do you think they know I had my fingers buried in that warm, sweet pussy of yours?"

Oh, God his voice. And what he was asking me. He was driving me insane. Did he want an answer? It was a question, but I didn't know what to say.

So I moaned.

He brought his fingers to his face.

"Mmm... I can still smell you on my fingers, Isabella. Do you think they can smell you, sweet girl? Smell how wet you are for me right now?"

I nodded slowly. I leaned back against him for strength, my knees weak and crumbling. Jesus, I needed this man. I needed him so much already.

"Are you ready, Isabella?" he whispered in my ear. "Ready to go back upstairs with me?"

Oh, thank God. Yes, please. Take me upstairs. I would do anything. But he asked a question. A real question, not one of those teasing things he was doing earlier, the questions that burned through my body and settled between my legs. I remember reading about this lifestyle and what my answer should be.

"God, yes - " I started, but quickly corrected myself. "I mean, whatever pleases you, Sir." I thought that was the answer he wanted. I was supposed to do whatever he wanted, whatever made him happy, and that would make me happy.

"Whatever pleases me?" he answered in a low, growling whisper. "Whatever pleases me, Isabella?" He laughed sharply. "There are so many ways you can please me, so many ways that I can fuck you... I hope you know what you're saying, little girl." His hands were on my upper arms now, gripping tightly. I could feel his warm breath on my neck, and I was spinning, dizzy with need.

"P-Please, Sir," I begged him. "Please take me back upstairs. Please."

He rubbed his hands up and down my arms, his lips brushing lightly across my neck.

"Ah, that sounds nice. Beg me, Isabella," he growled. "Beg meto take you upstairs."

Oh fuck. Yes, this was it. This was what I wanted, what I needed. I was drowning in it, and I didn't want to be rescued.

"Please, Sir. Oh God... please... please take me upstairs, and … make me come." I was so desperate, so out of control.

"Mmm... I love the tone of your voice when you beg. I can't fucking wait to hear you scream for me." Jesus, he wanted to make me scream. I could only imagine the things that he would do to me that would make me scream and how he could make me feel. I was so hungry for it, hungry to give myself up to him completely.

He grabbed my hand again and pulled me quickly towards the stairs. I followed willingly, desperate and wanton.

Once we reached the room, he sat back in the same leather chair and waited.

"Close the door, Isabella. And come to me."

Everything he said, every word, it seemed to be constructed carefully. Every word had specific meaning, purpose, weight. His voice, his words... they aroused me as much as his touch. I wondered if I could come just from listening to him.

I closed the door and walked back to him, sitting in the chair. I stood before him, between his legs, as I was earlier. He grinned and gave me his hand, for balance. This time, I knew.

I lifted my leg and placed my foot back on the armrest, pulling my skirt up to my waist, presenting myself to him. And fuck, I loved the way that felt.

"Lovely," he moaned softly.

His fingers were immediately back between my legs, stroking me, fucking me, and it felt so damned good. I moaned loudly, as I knew he wanted, and I pushed my hips towards him, begging silently for more.

"Come for me, my sweet Isabella. Let me hear you, hear what I do to you."

His hands never stopped, working me expertly, bringing me to that edge. I felt it, in my stomach again, the ache. It started to spread, and then it happened.

I exploded.

"Oh fuck... I'm... I'm coming...fuck...yes..."

It seemed to last forever, this all-encompassing feeling. I had never come so hard in my life. My legs were weak, and I could barely keep my eyes open. I wanted to collapse on the floor, and just revel in this amazing feeling. But he was waiting on me. Waiting for me to say something.

"Mmm... thank you... Sir..."

He removed his hands from me and sat back in his chair with a grin.

"Beautiful," he whispered contentedly.

AN: My dream? It was the part with her foot and the chair. So, yeah...

Hope you liked! Let me know if you did, one way or another, via reviews (hint, hint). I may continue the story, haven't decided yet. Depends on the demand.

Thanks to Mabarbarella and LibbyLou862 for their opinions, beta skills, and their fabulousness! Love you both!