AN: Wow, I got a lot of feedback for that last chapter. Thank you Daniel'smummy, bellamarie1976, SilverSpirit 101, Solea, sweet sonia, Cinci, acw1, and Dirty Blonde. The vote was for more details, and this one has quite a few. Enjoy them!
We become NC-17 here too, so do not say I did not warn you.

I do not own the Twilight series, nor any characters.

Chapter 9

BPOV

My deepest, darkest fantasy was about to come true. My sweet, overly-chivalrous Edward had opened up and became the passionate, spontaneous Master.

"Now count," Master said with a light slap to my ass.

"One," I said. The next strike had a bit more force. "Two."

"You should show appreciation for my efforts to improve your behavior, Isabella." He followed with another spank. "We need to start this over. Return to one." Master commanded me. His next strike landed on the left side.

"One, thank you Master." I replied. He struck again. "Two, thank you Master." His hands stung my flesh, but it did not hurt significantly. Somehow, it even felt good. I felt no shame in enjoying these actions.

He continued his strikes, and I continued to count. By the seventh, he began to use more force. I still felt no need to object. Neither did I feel any need to at the eighth nor the ninth.

"Last one, Isabella." He struck one last time on my pinking flesh.

"Ten! Thank you Master." I cried out. The stinging began to border on pain, but it was not a bad sensation. It was oddly satisfying.

"Good girl," Master purred. His voice was so sexy. I felt proud of how much Master was complimenting me; and on how he, too, was enjoying our actions. I felt so thrilled to be pleasing him. He gently stroked my now sore flesh. I was letting out little hums of pleasure. He ceased, and then tapped my hips with one hand. His lips leaned into my ear.

"Spread your legs, Isabella." He ordered.

"Yes sir," I responded and complied. His one hand began to rub the very center of my behind. I moaned with an uncontrollable pleasure. I would have never guessed being touched there could feel so good.

"Oh, so you like this Isabella?" He asked. He scratched me lightly. The skin was so sore from our previous actions, I was not sure whether that pain was bad or good. From my lack of response, he must have been curious to my reaction. He scratched a bit rougher, and that did hurt, but not in the pleasant way.

"Caution flag." I said as calmly as I possibly could. He paused, and then rubbed my neck gently.

"Okay," his hand stroked my cheek with care, "May I continue?"

"Yes, please Master," I replied. I trusted him.

Master proceeded to gently massage my lower back. His cold hands felt soothing on my heated skin. They trailed lower, and parted to a pause on my hips. He followed the hands with soft kisses down my spine. The sensations his hands and lips provided rocketed throughout my body. The massage renewed, each hand rubbing its way down my outer thighs. They worked their way to the front of my thighs, I held my breath, and then the hands trailed up to my belly. Normally, being touched even slightly on my abs would tickle, but today it made me yearn for his cold flesh even more.

I exhaled, impatience beginning to spur. Master must have sensed my thoughts.

"Now, now, good things come to those who wait," he whispered into my ear. His tongue snaked out to the lobe. "The longer you wait, the better it will be," the tongue traced the outer shell, "and this will be better than you could ever possibly fathom."

His fingers traced my stomach upwards, and skimmed my breasts. I groaned. It never felt this good when I touched them myself. He let his nails circle around, and my body began to tremble. I tried to control my breathing, and Master, seeming to sense my need to regain control, moved from the sensual rubbing of my breasts to the relaxing massage of my shoulders. He could tell my arms were growing weary.

"Isabella," he said, " you may lower onto your elbows, but keep your legs straight." My arms collapsed, but Master caught my torso and carefully lowered me to the mattress. He propped my left cheek on my forearms, brushed my hair from my face, and caressed my scalp with a kiss. I was distracted for a moment from the hot passion of our actions by the warm and fuzzy feelings his simple responses triggered. The heat turned back to boiling when his hands skimmed up the backs of my legs, and when reaching my thighs, forced my stance even wider.

"Remember Isabella, if you orgasm before I give you permission, your punishment from earlier will not only be repeated, but doubled. Understand? You may respond."

"Yes Mas-TER!" My vocal pitch jumped several octaves as my throat constricted. His finger had traced from the base of my spine down until it skimmed over my inner labia.

"You are quite neatly groomed, but before our next play date, I want you smooth and bare. Understand? You may respond." His voice sounded tense as he traced through my folds.

"Yes, sir." The tension inside me was reaching an extreme; I was sobbing from it. My hips began to buck. That earned a quick spank. I yelped from the shock.

"If you move again, I will bind you," Master growled, "and then we will have to start all over." I could hear his teeth clench.

"I am sorry, Master." I sobbed. His fingers circled around my clitoris, not quite touching the bundle of nerves. This was becoming torturous. Even in my dirtiest, roughest fantasies did I ever experience such a burning need.

"Master-- please?" I cried. His finger began to stroke up and down. My legs began to shake.

"Please what?" He breathed into my ear.

"Please-- may I--" I was panting. I could not find the air to speak. He used a fingernail to snap at me. I cried in need.

"May you what? Now remember, proper ladies use proper English." His fingernail snapped me again. This time, I screamed.

"Please Master, may I orgasm?" I yelled. I was moaning, sobbing, and gasping. I feared I would hyperventilate.

"Yes, you may," he said as he slid a single finger into me. I screamed as my body shook from the extreme intensity of the climax. It felt as if pure pleasure was electrocuting my body. My muscles could not tighten enough, I could not pant fast enough.

It would in no way be able to last long enough.

I had not a clue as to Master's next move. My breathing slowed, and my pulse lowered. Master then not only pushed one finger into me, but two. I heard a series of high pitched squeaks, and deep groans. I was unable to distinguish which ones were coming out of whom. I cared even less as the pleasure began to build with an exponential slope.

"Master, may I orgasm again?" I panted, proud I remembered to ask him permission.

"Yes, now." Master ordered and with a single curl of his fingers, and I shattered. My legs collapsed from the quaking. Master, still in his jeans, caught me and lifted me with care onto the bed. He brushed my forehead with a soft kiss.

"Good girl, Isabella," he murmured. I glowed. "I will be right back." He walked out of my room. I blinked once, twice, and fell asleep.

When my eyes opened, he was simply my Edward again. He held me softly, stroking my cheek in a peaceful, non-sensual way. My eyes darted around the room. I saw he had gotten me a glass of iced water. I met with his own eyes and smiled.

"Hey you," I said. His eyes held a slight worry to them.

"Bella," I guess everything returned to normal for him too, "I--" he began. I touched my fingers to his lips to silence him.

"Don't you dare apologize," I told him firmly. "That was incredible. Even if we never do anything like that again, and I would like to do this again and again, thank you for today." His eyes held a little guilt, but glowed with satisfaction.

"You liked it?" He asked. I laughed.

"Liked it? The way you-- and then we-- wow--" I tried to reply. I think he understood.

"Okay then," he said, "turn over." I groaned slightly.

"Edward, while I would like to do it again, I didn't mean I wanted to do it now." He chuckled.

"No silly, I want to check you for any bruising. I have several medical degrees. Let me make sure I did not harm you." His eyes clouded for a moment, but cleared when my smile widened. His crooked smile returned. "But first, drink up," he told me, and handed me the iced water glass. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm fine." I replied. Edward frowned.

"People are often dehydrated after sexual activities. So drink," his gaze hardened at the command, but softened instantly. My mind pondered a sudden tangent. When did his eyes become so readable to me? I took the glass, had a sip to please him, and realized I was quite thirsty. I chugged it down. When finished, I handed it back to him, and rolled my still naked body over. I could feel his cold hands on me, moving in a mechanical way. He let loose a sigh of relief.

"Your skin is going to be sensitive and bruise lightly for the day, but this is nothing severe. This is nothing to worry about." He stated. I never was worried. I wonder if he was trying to provide verbal comfort to himself with the physical comfort to me. I looked over my shoulder to smile at him. He grinned back. My eyes widened when I noticed his shirtless form. I sat up swiftly.

"Oh-- dear-- shit--" I stammered. His eyes bulged.

"What, what happened? Are you okay? Do you think we went to far? Are you hurting somewhere? Bella?" Edward dropped to his knees before me. I blinked at him once, and then laughed.

"No-- it's just-- you didn't get to orgasm." I blushed at the technical term, but I knew he preferred the Oxford dialect to random American jargon.

He looked at me with an odd mix of humor and sincerity gracing his features. He helped me rise, and wrapped my small hand in both of his.

"Isabella Swan," he began, "nothing could provide me with more pleasure than seeing your reactions to my movements." His eyes were filled with emotion. I leaned over to kiss him on the crown of his head. "Now," he said, "I will go make you breakfast. You can shower and redress yourself, as you have a wedding-planning date with the women." Edward rose, kissed my eyelids, my lips, then he grabbed his shirt and left my room.

Well? How was that for the details?
On my word choice: I prefer to rely on the denotation rather than connotation of words in the sexual genre. When I think/hear/read "cock" and "pussy," I think of a cat being attacked by a chicken.

I hope everyone liked, and I apologize for any grammar inconsistencies.