Dr. Hazelton glowered at Ellen as she slammed the door. "Nurse, you know I can't continue with this any longer! You know about my wife and my wife is well aware of you. I can't risk all I've worked for- my practice, my patients, my yacht, but most especially my three beautiful children. There may still be hope for this marriage and if there is I would cross heaven and earth to find it. Now please, if you'll just-"

His words were cut short as she reached up and kissed him. His arms wrapped around her and he returned the favor. He pulled her closer and, shoving stacks of patient reports and insurance claims to the floor, they moved to his desk. There she raised her ankles around his white examination jacket, a look of triumph spreading across her face.

"AND CUT!" Antonio jumped up. "That was wonderful! A perfect end to the season that will leave everyone eagerly awaiting the next Fall's shows."

The crew resumed work, taking down boom mikes, and testing the monitors and mikes. Jessica and Darren looked to the director. She spoke first, asking if the take worked.

"Oh yes, my dear. It was perfect! And you; Darren Weathers- Dr. Alex Hazelton- you could put Valentino to shame!"

Jessica was used to Antonio's excessive flattery but was too weary for it this morning. "I've really got to get moving," she told him. "I've got a lunchtime meeting with my agent."

"Of course, or course." He shooed her away, much too engrossed in fawning over her scene partner.

La Novia was a small bistro in the heart of Greenwich Village. Though she loved the restaurant and had gotten to know much of the staff on a first name basis, she rarely had the opportunity to stop by anymore. Each of her visits were interrupted by awestruck autograph hounds and starry eyed fans. She obligated them all, as was her custom, but it rarely left time to relax and enjoy a meal. Today she entered wrapped in a long raincoat, wide brimmed hat and sunglasses. She was sans makeup.

Stepping inside, she spotted Philip immediately. He took no notice of her and casually sipped a glass of Cabernet while waiting in the corner of the room. He started when she pulled a chair and sat across from him. Only when she removed both her hat and glasses did he realize her disguise.

They toasted the finish of her first year as a cast member on Hope Springs Eternal, the longest running, most successful serial romance on television today. She found it difficult to believe that two short years ago she was waiting tables at a diner outside of Bismark North Dakota, after dropping out of school to help pay for her sister's rehabilitation after her car accident. Though according to her screen bio she grew up in Ventura California where she went to high school and was noticed by a modeling agent during a homecoming dance. It also said she was twenty seven, when she had in fact passed the age of thirty almost two years ago. Whatever gets their attention, Philip always said.

"So that's it for the big maternity ward love triangle?" he asked.

"It's at least a polygon by now. Maybe a tetrahedron." They laughed. "In any case we'll find out next fall."

"Right," he added. "I'll review the scripts as soon as they send them and let you know."

The waiter placed a serving of Chicken Tetrazini in front of her and walked away, unaware of her identity. She cut a bite off and forked it into her mouth eagerly.

Philip continued, reading from a stack of press releases, news clipping and studio memos. "Until then you have several modeling dates, including one in Paris and one in Athens."

She looked over her schedule, overjoyed at the prospect of some time in Europe.

He smiled at her excitement. "Jess, you really should go with someone this time. What about that last one at the awards- what was his name? Brad?"

"Come on now Philip, you know that's just for the papers. I never even met the man before that night."

"Well how about Darren then? You two are close."

"Yes, that would be wonderful. Life follows art. I wonder how his movie star fianc would feel about that. I'm sure he wouldn't mind losing his Hamptons mansion or the villa in Nice."

He was finishing up his meal. "Really Jessica, it doesn't fit with your image, always alone like this. I'm sure you'd have no problem finding a man. You're a pretty lady," he smiled, stating the obvious.

Waving off his humor she was almost frustrated. "It's not as easy as it sounds. It's not like I could go into the nearest bar and find a guy. The tabloids would have a field day with that. I sure wish I could though, it would make life so much easier."

"Anyway, could you at least pretend? For me, perhaps? It would make my job so much easier," he begged in an overdone exasperated tone. It's a good thing he ended up an agent, Jessica thought. He'd have starved as an actor.

She rubbed his hand playfully, "Can do, boss."

Her penthouse apartment was only blocks away and she hustled through the midmorning traffic, the wind whipping at her coat, until she reached her building at Central Park West. She had a catalog shoot later that afternoon and she ran to put her makeup on.

Though her peers all employed personal assistants and makeup artists, Jessica always found the act to be the most enjoyable part of her day. It gave her time to think and afforded her the opportunity do something she enjoyed since she was a girl, something she had become quite good at. It left her with one less person in her life and, looking about the roomy apartment, she wondered if that was such a good idea.

A limousine awaited her outside and she got in, not yet comfortable with the idea of being chauffeured around every day to and from work. She reclined on the plush seats and noted the full bar, tv, dvd player and stereo. It's difficult not to enjoy it, but sometimes she wished for the old days of driving to work and getting bored in traffic.

The shoot was in a large emptied loft in Tribeca. She was familiar with the photographer, as well as the employer and thought of modeling as the best part of her job. It relaxed her, cheered her up and paid much better than it should. She had grown familiar with everyone in the industry that worked on the East coast and always had a good time on a shoot.

Today Todd Polaski was behind the lens. He was a newcomer, having recently finished photography school in his native Cleveland where the local press was ecstatic about his work there. Having just moved to Manhattan and begun work, he and Jessica knew each other on a casual basis.

He had a talented eye that got his work noticed immediately. That, and his casual demeanor that got even the most pampered starlet to relax and open up, was what made him stand out from the hundreds of other well known fashion photographers. Her rack was prepared for her, fitted exactly for her body and numbered for the shoot. She found her piece, a thin silk camisole and panty set and lay it down before her while she undressed.

Just before she was about to strip off her tiny thong undetectable under the clothes she wore, Roger walked in. Ever since she had left him to work with Philip he had followed her and made her life miserable whenever he could. They had dated years ago, when she was his only client and she learned a lot from him. When they met she was a naïve girl from the Midwest with only local beauty pageants to her credit. Under him she learned not only how to become big in the industry, but how to be a capable lover as well. He wasn't her first but he was her first of note. She learned the finer points of sex from him, how to relax being the part she had the most trouble with. He got her to open up and learn to enjoy herself. When she did their time together was spent greedily taking advantage of each other. She enjoyed it then but now, after badmouthing her in the hopes that no other agents would want her and almost ruining her career before it began, she wonders how she could have gotten involved with him in the first place.

Seeing it was him, she quickly grabbed a robe and threw it on, cursing him up and down.

"I cam to congratulate you on your career, honey," he said, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "You're doing so well. I'm happy for you. We've accomplished a lot."

"Roger I told you to stop doing this. We don't work together anymore."

"I got you that job on the soap," he beamed.

"No you didn't," she yelled. "Philip got me that spot. You know him? The man who doesn't lie about me and fuck me while stealing my money the whole time? He looked stunned, as if he'd never heard the accusations before. "The man I work with- my agent. Not you. We don't work together, I'm not your client, not your friend, not your coworker and I'm not yours anymore."

She was softer now, almost pleading, "Please Roger, understand me and go on with your life."

He looked at her sadly, unspeaking and she turned away from him. As she clenched her teeth she heard him walk away.

She was soon dressed, at least as much as possible in a pair of silk high cut French bikini panties and matching camisole. Her nipples, chilled from the air of the room poked through the material and her breasts swelled with each breath. Slipping easily into her "model" role, she swaggered out of the dressing room and into the large loft. A technician was busy setting up the screen while Todd rested on a small platform covered in whisper thin shrouds of light pastel colors. Behind him was a backdrop of painted clouds made with practiced brushstrokes.

His assistant perked up when she entered the room and didn't try to hide his interest in her. His eyes roamed her body from her bare ankles to her barely hidden breasts while Todd gave her merely a warm smile and directed her to the platform.

"We're just doing some test shots today," he instructed. "It's very open so just relax and be comfortable." He began checking views as she reclined on the small love seat placed among the artfully thrown cloths.

She lay across the seat, one bare foot on the floor, the other crossing her knee. She rested her chin on her shoulder as her arm lay across the arm of the love seat. The camera flashed, catching the perfect view of her jade green eyes.

It was times like this that she enjoyed her profession. Getting paid to do nothing but look beautiful was a good way to earn a living and Todd always made the shoots pleasant. She'd worked with more photographers than she could count. She knew some were impatient and some were antagonistic. Working with Todd was a delight. He looked like a younger brother and always treated her professionally and with the respect she deserved. Too many others thought of her as nothing more than something to hang clothes on (or take them off, depending on who was doing the paying).

It was a very laid back atmosphere, best for getting some good shoots and he encouraged her rather than directed her. She always understood what he wanted and most of what came out of his mouth was complimentary, rather than suggestive.

"Perfect, perfect, just like that," he said when she fluffed her hair and squinted playfully at the lens. Kicking her legs toward him, he responded by giving an appreciative grunt. She was sitting facing him now and turned while placing one hand on her thigh, exposing the pristine bare flesh of her opposite thigh. Looking towards him, she gave a surprised innocent look, playing the coquette.

He awkwardly rearranged himself, doing his best not to let her notice his arousal. Between poses she caught it but gave no sign of it. The thought of Todd, someone she always felt comfortable with but only thought of in a friendly, professional way getting turned on, especially when he worked with dozens of beautiful women, excited her.

She stood and perched one leg on the back of the loveseat, stretching her thigh muscles in a pantomime of stretching while awakening. This spread her ass and caused the thin material of her panties to stretch taut across her skin. She could feel the lips of her pussy moisten from the action and the exposure she felt.

With an exaggerated pout, she collapsed upon the cushions and raised one leg to block her face from the camera. As Todd snapped away, she placed her hand at the very top of her sex, stroking the hairs on the pad of flesh above her hips. A warm tingling began just beneath her fingers and she followed it, her hand traveling slowly downwards.

Todd breathed heavily, impressed with the poses she gave him and the great shots he was getting. As he watched, she slid slowly off the cushion until she came to rest on her knees. The camisole had bunched and collected so it rested just below one hardened nipple. She tugged the material across her chest, offering a view of the fleshy bottomswell of her breast as he continued snapping away.

Her knees were spread and she flexed the muscles of her lower abdomen. One hand placed against her crotch drove her farther and, before the enrapt eyes of Todd and his assistant, she felt the onrush of her approaching orgasm. She made no noise, the only sign of her condition was evidenced as she threw her head back, her mane of blonde shaking subtly.

It was not her most powerful climax, nor her longest but it was the first one she'd ever experienced during a shoot. The thought surprised her, considering how many she'd done and how much she commonplace most of them were. She knew it was inevitable though, considering how her personal life had stagnated lately.

As the feeling passed and her breath slowed, she climbed onto the cushions of the love seat, reeling in the peaceful aftereffects of a much needed release. Both men had turned their attention back to their equipment, ending the session, and she suddenly felt alone and discarded. She stood and walked to her dressing room, well aware of the silence of the men as they lasciviously watched the rise and fall of her asscheeks as she passed.

She stripped off the set she was modeling and jumped into the shower before anyone mentioned the fevered moments that had taken place. She was sure she looked a wreck and was afraid to be seen in such a state, her skin flushed and face reddened.

When she returned she was freshly dressed and much of the equipment had disappeared. The technician, whom she'd never met, wouldn't take his eyes off her and Todd was busy in his camera bag when she approached him.

"Hey," she called down to him, her heels towering her over the sitting figure. "Did you get the shots you wanted?"

His eyes roamed up her legs beneath the short skirt she wore, catching a flash of white cotton. "Yeah," he stammered. "More than enough. Thanks again Jess." He stood to face her, lazily winding his 40mm.

Stepping to him, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rested her cheek against his after giving it the slightest of kisses. He was stiff against her and gasped in surprise when she came to him. Slowly, he relaxed in her embrace.

There was a limo waiting for her when she exited the building and a chill in the late Fall air forced her to wrap her coat around her. A pair of tourists; a middle aged mother and young teenage daughter yelped in surprise upon seeing her but hesitated, unsure if she was the woman they'd hoped for. As the car drove by she noticed them bending over and attempting to look in the back window with a squint. The older one shook her head and took her daughter by the hand to pull her away. Disbelieving, she was obviously disappointed she missed her chance at meeting the celebrity they'd hoped.

The doorman ushered her in with his usual indulgent smile when she returned. The elevator waited at the ground floor and opened immediately when she called for it. She was glad to be alone in the elevator, with its unmarred silver finish that reflected her image endlessly. Today had been one of the busiest days of her career and she was grateful it was over. All she looked forward to now was a leisurely soak in the bath and a much needed sleep alone in her overstuffed king sized bed.

A stack of scripts lay on her desk, potential work if she showed interest. With a fresh cup of espresso, she gathered them under one arm and carried them to the bedroom, where she threw them on the bed. Quickly slipping out of her clothes, they landed on the floor where she kicked them towards her closet, landing her brassiere and blouse in the hamper. The rest lay in a trail by the closet door, as she had always left them since she was a girl.

The water steamed and she rested on the side of the tub, her bare bottom chilled by the marble. With one knee crossed, she flipped through the scripts, hoping to find a part that would help her "transition phase from television to screen" that Philip always seemed to be rambling on about. She rarely went to the movies and knew little about what drew audiences in, her favorite movies being old black and white romances and mysteries. She thrilled to the western landscapes and vistas she saw in John Huston films and the suspense of Alfred Hitchcock. Though it was a fault in her line of work, she wasn't well acquainted with the cinema of today. What she'd seen of it had left her unsatisfied.

The bathtub filled and the bath crystals she added gave the room a light scent of lavender. Candles were lit and with restrained excitement she quickly stepped into the tub.

The first script she skimmed was a romantic comedy. She was sent such similar offers almost daily and rarely did such a movie interest her. They were too common and she didn't want to get trapped in the romantic comedy genre like so many young actresses were these days. She began reading another, an action movie that had the stereotypical love interest for the brawny man on a mission. This time it was rescuing his kidnapped son from a terrorist mastermind. Tempting, but not what she was looking for in her first movie role.

She flipped through the stack beside the tub and found none worthwhile. Frustrated, she threw them down, sending scripts scattering across the tiled floor. She dipped under the water to clear her head and enjoyed the sensation of the water dripping through her hair when she came to the surface. Eyes closed, her hand traveled between her legs, seeking the soft mound of her sex. With a hearty sigh of relief her fingers danced along her lips, enjoying what she considered the best time of the day.

Her nipples hardened into pellets begging for attention and her legs spread open, resting lazily on the rim of the heated bathtub. She was alone and had no reason to be discreet. She knew her body well and under her practiced hand she was soon able to climb to three orgasms. Her moans of lust broke the stillness of the penthouse and her ecstatic movements, brought on by a need to be fulfilled, sent water splashing from the marble tub, leaving puddles on the white surface below.

Temporarily sated, she reclined onto the custom formed tub and languidly began washing herself with a loofah harvested off the coast of the Philippines and available at only two designer stores in this country. She usually scorned such frivolous spending but the feel of it on her skin and between her legs was nothing less than heaven.

When she finished she stood and pulled on her silk gown and sat by her makeup mirror, set apart from the rest of the bathroom in a tiny alcove. A foot massager beneath her feet and a radiator warming her damp body, she examined what she saw reflected back on her. She was attractive, she never doubted that. Her eyes were a rare shade of green, almost jade that accentuated the light tone of her hair. Underneath the layer of makeup carefully painted on each day she recognized the tiny girl from the Midwest she once was. There were many days she wondered how she fell into the life she was living now as the highly desired, sex figurehead she portrayed to the public.

Many times she had wished for something more compelling, something more fulfilling that didn't base its value on surface beauty. She never considered herself a beautiful woman, and she felt forced into the role.

Lotion helped remove the makeup now faded from hours spent under the lights and she was left with her most familiar look, that of a woman uncertain and afraid of the future. Discarding the robe, she climbed into the fresh sheets of her bed and hugged the pillow to her chest. She had an appointment with her personal training in the mid morning but until then she had no other plans but to sleep. She fell asleep easily, wrapped in silk sheets, her naked body safely covered.

Night turned to morning and the darkness of the room turned a dim yellow exposing the naked body on the bed, now freed from the wrap of silk, which lay in a pile by her feet. She was deep in a warm dream after exhaustion caused her to sleep through the alarm, missing her appointment with Guillermo, her personal trainer. When the door of her bedroom opened she was unaware and did not notice the man standing by her nightstand observing her naked form until she felt his hand on her shoulder, shaking her not so gently.

It took some time for her to awaken. First her eyes opened slightly and she was unaware both of what was happening and if it was real or a dream. Her body was comfortable on the overstuffed mattress and she felt as if she was floating aimlessly. Rolling on her back, she was surprised to see the strange man, dressed in black jeans and a tight black tank top. She had to shield her eyes to get a better look at him and quickly searched for the bedsheets when she realized her position. Finding none, She curled in a ball, hiding her bare breasts and open sex from the eyes of the stranger.

"Guillermo's out for the rest of the month," he said. "Got a great offer from Catherine Zeta Jones to be her on set trainer while she shoots Son of Zorro." He stopped speaking for a moment and Jessica felt his eyes sizing her up. "I'm his cousin Carlos. I've been a trainer for years and have wonderful references, though I must admit I've never worked in Malibu before. I've heard Southern California was a gold mine for fitness workers. My cousin was right."

She grew uncomfortable as he spoke. Goose pimples broke out on her pale skin more from nervousness than the temperature in the room. "I'll be with you in a minute," she squeaked. "Just give me a chance to get myself together."

He left the room, striding purposefully with the admonition, "Five minutes, you're already much too late."

Once she had thrown water on her face in an effort to wake up and found a t shirt and a pair of loose shorts, she joined him. Her manager had fitted the penthouse with a treadmill, weight machine and free weights for a makeshift gym she didn't use as much as she was told to. Now Carlos was busily looking over the equipment and comparing it with the exercise regimen his cousin had left for him. He was taller than she, though not uncomfortably so, and his skin was a dark cream. His face gave the impression of youth though Jessica supposed he was much older than he appeared to be. His eyes were the most stunning she had ever seen. A dark brown, they seemed to draw her in when they focused on her. He had a soft gaze that made her weak if she held it long enough. His stare was direct and unyielding. She could see a woman losing herself in it.

He was busy in his work when she walked in. "Catherine always gets what she wants. Perfect example of the Hollywood treatment gone to her head. Sometimes I think she was built in a lab from Zsa Zsa Gabor's DNA."

He made no response to her attempt at humor, instead he walked to her, appraising her body. Kneeling down, he felt the muscle tone of her calves and worked upward to her thighs until his hands rested possessively on her buttocks.

Her only reaction was to freeze. She felt violated yet knew better than to speak out. Trainers are supposed to have close interpersonal relationships with their trainers. Guillermo and her had been close, a small but present force in each other's personal lives. She knew the names of his mother and those in his immediate family while he was aware of all her idiosyncrasies and tendency to procrastinate.

Without a word Carlos began loosening her shorts. She grabbed at his wrists to pull them away but he held firm. "This will not do. You've obviously been lax in exercising and you need a regimen and a trainer that won't let you walk over him." He tore the waist of her shorts, a button coming off and flying haphazardly through the air. "Fortunately you now have the latter. I'll make sure to get you on the right program before the day is out."

As he pulled her shorts off her bare legs, she shivered, futilely trying to hide herself from his view. She wore white bikini panties though, thankfully, he made no move to try and remove those. "Up on the treadmill," he said, slapping her ass not so playfully. Cursing under her breath she began walking and increased her pace as he changed her selections on the readout. The treadmill slowly moved to an uphill position. The speed was increased and it wasn't long before she was panting heavily and sweat dripped down her forehead to collect in damp patches on her shirt. All the while she conjured fantasies of what she'd do to this new trainer that embarrassed her in such a way and pushed her farther than he should. She imagined calling all her peers and their agents, outing him so he wouldn't work for anyone that paid more than a thousand a week. No respectable trainer could live on that in L.A. and he'd be forced to move somewhere less affluent and work in a gym where all he could find for clients were overburdened, under exercised housewives that just used him to feel better about their nonexistent health plan.

How could he do this to her? Isn't she the one who paid his bills? She's not the one to take orders from him. Her frustration rose as her speed increased. She grew incensed at the idea of this stranger, one she had never met or even approved of before this day, coming into her home and talking this way to her. One who had the audacity to intrude on her in her own bedroom while she slept! The thought of this man staring at her while she slept naked caused her anger to peak and she grabbed the rails of the treadmill to lift her body from the now rapidly moving belt of the machine.

"Listen!" she yelled at she approached him. He was standing in the doorway where he had a good view of her exercising. Occasionally he would increase her speed and offer encouragement that she found only slightly more pleasant than being gawked at while sleeping. "I don't know who the hell you think you are but I didn't ask for someone to come in and feel me up, ogle me while I'm asleep and criticize me for being upset over seeing a strange man in my home." He looked at her patiently as she continued. "And if you think I'm going to let this continue, let you come in here and watch while I run my ass off for you- an intruder in my home- and talk down to me like I'm some flake that's never set foot in a gym before then you've got it all wrong, mister!"

Rather than look upset or ashamed by her tirade he merely stood there, his eyes keenly glaring at her as she spat out the words. Now worked up beyond any mere exertion, her face was colored a deep red as she stood, suddenly feeing very small. For a moment, he didn't speak, merely appraised her as she began to regret the words that she spewed so easily. His visage appeared darker and as his brow furrowed in anger, she suddenly remembered she stood almost bare, her dampened t shirt and tiny bikini panties all that kept her from being naked in front of him.

As she stood frozen, her arms vainly attempting to cover herself, he walked to her until he stood mere inches from her body. She was eye level with his throat and when he spoke the words seemed to resound in the room.

"You will NOT talk to me in that tone again. I have come to help you be a better person, a better woman, and if I'm not wanted I'll just as soon take my leave but you will be hard pressed to find someone of my abilities." The words were calm and patient but with an underlying tone that she could only describe as a controlled anger. She found herself nodding her head, afraid to interrupt or speak in any way that would upset the man whose eyes held hers so completely. "You need my help more than any client I've ever worked with. You're lazy, rebellious and too used to getting your own way. I will stop all of these traits that are so unseemly in a girl like you."

"Girl?" She thought, "Did he just refer to me as a girl?"

"I won't put up with your attitude so if you've got the idea that I'm just another person you can push around or fire because they won't kiss your daytime tv queen ass then you can just forget it. A lot of people put up with your act in this town because they have to. I don't. I won't. So let me be perfectly clear. Get back on that treadmill now, turn the level up to make up for the time you've wasted and maybe this day can be salvaged." He ended just as calmly as he began, his eyes still holding hers, unrelenting.

His speech ran through her mind and though she felt angry, she found it slowly dissipating. Something uncertain had changed between them, something both of them felt as surely the sweat collecting on her brow. She no longer wanted to yell at this man. She felt embarrassed for what she had done and now wanted only to leave herself in his hands. She wanted to be the better girl for him to mold into the perfect woman, as she always wanted to be. Not looking forward to continuing the exercise but knowing better than to refuse, she turned to the treadmill only to feel the aching muscles of her thighs cramp and give out. She hit the floor with a clumsy thud and, tears forming at the corners of her eyes, raised up on her hands and knees to humbly crawl to the machine.

Arms folded he watched her with pleasure. He'd seen such cases before and knew the only way to make any progress. Grabbing her arm, he rudely yanked her up until she stood shakily on the balls of her feet. Without hesitation he led her to the far wall, throwing her so she stood palms flat against it. He held her by the neck, his thumb and fingers almost completely encircling it, and felt her tremble. She was scared, that was certain, but she was willing. She was learning and he had only to teach her what she needed.

One hand against the back of her thigh, he caressed the velvet- smooth skin until his touch rested on the fullness of her bottom. He could hear her breathing quicken and slipped his hand into the waistband, prolonging her torment. There he felt the soft fullness of her cheeks and the slick warmth of her crack. For a moment, he rested there, gauging her anticipation as she buckled under his touch.

Slowly, as if wanting her to be fully aware of the action, he pulled her panties down and let them drop to her ankles. With a short command- "Feet up"- she rose and he pulled them off and threw them behind him. Then, in one unexpected swift movement, he grabbed the hem of her shirt and lifted it over her head and stripped it from her body.

Before this morning it had been months since she'd been naked in front of a man and now to be seen bare twice in one day in front of a strange man made her shake. She felt weak, helpless and wanted to cover herself and run but knew she could not. She felt his eyes on her body, viewing her as no man ever had before. He saw her as a recalcitrant, obnoxious, weak girl. Just the thought of his eyes on her brought a warm moisture to her sex.

He caressed her gently for a second before gripping the full heft of her asscheek possessively. Releasing it, she sensed the impact before it landed and steeled herself. His hand left a bright print on her left cheek, causing her to clench her teeth. Again his hand rose and fell, this time on her opposite side. The sting burst on her flesh and she cried inwardly, determined not to let out a sound. She was more than he thought. This was the only way to prove it to him. Whether it is running until she collapsed or the pain of his open hand she would not allow herself to crumble in front of him.

As his hand continued its assault on her yielding bottom, her face became a grimace of determination. Eyes wincing tightly and jaw held in a firm lock, she kept all whimpers and cries to herself. Meanwhile her butt, now a bitter crimson, continued to receive the strikes of his cruel hand. She was bound to fall and cursed herself for this fact, seeing it as a weakness. Just as soon as the thought passed through her head, his blows stopped. For a moment all she could feel was the dull throb that radiated throughout her entire backside, seemingly worse than the actual spanks. She was thankful for the moment of peace and breathed heavily.

There was a sound then, a quick, blurred sound that she recognized as the sound of a belt being pulled from its loops. She knew what would happen and began to cry in spite of herself. She made no noise, save for the soft sniffles, though she was certain Carlos heard it. This only made her cry more, all before even the first lick of the belt touched her skin.

He watched her, her sculpted, round body shaking ceaselessly, her fire red butt incongruous with the fair clear skin of her body. Her rear was full, round and slightly heavy. With each sob a tiny ripple spread throughout the expanse of her bottom. One hand left the wall, allowing her to bury her face in her palm, crying pitifully.

With a not unpleasant sigh, he reared the thick leather of his belt over his shoulder and aimed at the wide target of her back end. The belt whipped through the air, making a whistling sound before it connected, sending a burst of pain through her hindquarters. Before the sensation spread he raised his arm once more and delivered another, then another and another. Jessica cried openly now, lost to all promises of a stoic façade. Instead she found herself giving in to all he wanted. She had proven herself to be what he considered her; a weak, pampered, bitchy, lost girl.

What she found most disconcerting, however, was the fact that he didn't say a word as his hand and belt sent waves of pain through her tender skin. He made barely a sound at all as he immersed himself in his purpose and was sure of what he had to do. She could only stand and face what he had decided.

This made it all the more difficult and she found herself unable to stay on her feet. Her butt seared in pain and the muscles of her body ached. She fell, just as she dreaded she would. Her body felt broken and from the corner of her eye she made out the soles of his shoes as he waited patiently. She cried without pretense, her tears flowing copiously as she knew she had finally met her better, the one who would not allow himself to be pushed and someone that would not take her excuses. At the same time she felt the patch of fur between her thighs dampen and rose up to slowly crawl towards him.

Keeping her eyes toward the floor as she crawled, she came to the toe of his shoes. With her eyes closed and lips puckered she leaned towards it, offering a mere kiss as token of her surrender. Time felt supremely slow, the picture seemingly frozen altogether; a beautiful, naked woman kneeling before an imperious man offering all she can with a kiss.

Before it touched, she was pulled up. Broken from her trance, she opened her eyes to see the room in a blur as he spun her around. His strong arm wrapped around her neck and she could feel his breath in her ear as he spoke; "Not yet, dear.you must earn that." She winced in acceptance and felt her body go slack as he supported her weight. Holding her by her shoulders, his other arms wrapped beneath her breasts where he could grab them.

He left a deep pain in her nipple as he pinched it mercilessly, causing her to cry out. "For now you're my toy," he taunted. "I'll do with you as I wish and you have no choice but to obey."

She nodded, fearful of further pain he could cause her tender breasts. To her surprise his touch turned soft. Tenderly her stroked her nipple with warm fingers, touching it as a lover. Turning her face upwards, she closed her eyes and moaned anxiously, fully aware of how she appeared to him. Her feet danced, toes barely touching the floor as he held her like a puppet, his slightest touch eliciting a response from her weakened body.

Just as quickly and without notice, his fingers became firm. His gentle caress turned to firmness then to sharp pain. Allowing her time to collect herself, he gripped her erected nipple once more between his fingers and twisted slowly. He pushed her beyond what she was used to, even in her solitary, stroking fantasies. Tears reformed in her eyes, this time from the pain and she bit back an urge to cry out or fight back. She knew she was too weak to do either.

He moved to her other nipple and she felt the pain before his touch, like a premonition of what was to come. Her legs kicked and swung from under her, finding no footing. Held completely off the ground in his arms now, she knew she had no choice but to bear what he wished for her.

Mercifully his cruel hands left her breasts and she cried out in relief. The smooth warmth of his palm traveled down her torso, over her smooth belly to the juncture between her thighs. His hand held her completely, fully cupping her mound in the hollow of his hand. It was a wonderful sensation that made her feel secure and protected by the same hand that moments ago brought only sharp pain.

His fingers were gentler now, fervently loving her as his lips traveled up her neck, causing a rush of warmth that traveled through her sore breasts down to her pleading cunt. Instead of the cruelty she felt there was only tender softness and she found herself opening her thighs in invitation to his probing fingers. The middle finger of his hand slipped along her slit, finding it slick and hot. To her surprise, she was flowing heavily. Juices oozed out of her canal, drenching her thighs. A generous amount collected between the heavy globes of her ass.

He kissed her then. With her eyes closed, mouth parted and head turned upwards, she did not expect it. As their lips met his fingers rubbed her lips playfully. When he found the pleading nub of her clit, he clamped his fingers around it tightly. He brought no pain upon it, only held it possessively between his two fingers.

Her mouth opened and she breathed herself into him as he did this. She wanted to reach up and grasp him but his strong arms held her fast and she remained immobile. His bulge pressed deeply between her flayed cheeks as evidence of his need yet he remained unwavering.

Her flesh twitched though he allowed her only the slightest motion and moved her body in rhythm with his hands. She felt her climax approach, filling her with an equal sense of both dread and joy. It would be the true sign of her surrender and though that upset her, she knew there was no way to deny it. Her body needed the release, cried, begged and screamed for it and inevitably it would have it. She only need to let go, give in to him and enjoy that which she had so worked for.

When their kiss broke the first wave hit her. Her eyes immediately widened to stare up at his confident gaze. He knew exactly what he had done to her and knew exactly how she felt. Throughout the ordeal he had played her as she'd always hoped but could never admit, even to herself. The thought caused her to weep openly and her body twitched like a fish suddenly thrust into a waterless world. His iron grip held her as her body reacted to the waves of pleasure, tossing her in his arms. His hand began rapidly patting her sex as her climax erupted. Firm, gentle taps of his fingers drove her further and her sobbing, helpless body broke before him.

Gently, he laid her out on the hardwood floor of the room where she struggled to regain her breath. Her mind floated and she found herself unable to think clearly. She wasn't sure if she was awake or asleep. Her entire body felt numb.

Hands on his hips, he looked at her with a satisfied smile and nodded his head. "It will be even worse for you next time if you don't learn how to follow directions. Be a good girl and do as I say and you'll thank me for it."

She tried to give her assent but found herself unable to form any words. Without another word he turned his back and exited her home. Moments later she heard him enter the elevator and soon it began its descent. She lay there for an uncertain amount of time, listening to the silence and feeling her warm juices pool and slowly dry beneath her sex.