I watched as Diane unbuttoned her blouse. When she reached the waistband of her skirt, she stopped and looked up at me. Her blouse was partially open, revealing a plain white bra that, from the way the upper portion of her breasts were pushed up, looked to be several sizes too small.

"All the way, Diane," I said. While she was unbuttoning her blouse, I noticed the expression on her face gradually change from a smirk to one of concentration. Her brow furrowed and she began to suck on her lower lip, as if she was pouting.

Diane pulled the portion of her blouse up from her waistband and undid the last remaining button. She stopped, her hands at rest in her lap.

"Hold your blouse open for me, Diane." Again, my voice was just a whisper, devoid of emotion.

Diane lowered her head, as if embarrassed, then brought her hands up. Holding the front of her blouse in her hands, she slowly moved her hands apart.

I quickly glanced around, again, to make sure no one had wandered into the parking lot. I returned my gaze to Diane's chest, and her overstuffed bra. I turned in my seat slightly, both to face her and to relieve the cramped confines that had developed in my own crotch.

"Take them out, Diane." I said this in a louder voice, holding my teeth together to give it a harder edge.

I let out a silent sigh of relief as Diane obediently brought her hands over to the cups of her bra. She exposed her left breast first, using her left hand to pull the already tightly stretched material away from her chest, then reached deep down into the cup to lift her breast out. She had to reach in twice to fully expose her heavy bosom. She did the same with the right. Again, she brought her hands down to her lap.

I stared at the beauty of her breasts, marveling at their size. I freely admit that I've always been turned on by the sight of a well developed bosom. I noticed the upper swells of her breasts, and the sides, were marked with faint white lines.

I reach out with my left hand and, forefinger extended, lightly traced the length of one line, top to bottom. My finger tip ended just about the perimeter of her areola, and I lightly traced the upper portion of its circumference; the lower portion was obscured as it continued around the underside of her bosom. I watched as the thimble size protrubence of her nipple began to harden and extend outward slightly.

"Lean back, Diane, and look at me." Again, Diane obediently leaned back and raised her chin. She looked at me with slightly hooded eyes. Her nostrils flared. She released her lower lip and took in several shallow breaths.

I held the palm of my left hand flat and raised it away from her left breast, then brought it down, hard! I slapped the front portion of her breasts, my palm covering the visible portion of her areola and her nipple. The retort from my slap was both sharp and, within the confines of the car, loud. Diane flinched slightly as her bosom was abused, but continued to look at me, the expression on her face resolute. I looked down and saw in the alabaster whiteness of her flesh the distinct, angry pink mark made by my hand.

I drew my hand back, preparing for the next slap. Diane visibly stiffened and let her lower jaw drop open slightly. I heard her take in a breath, then hold it. I brought my hand down, again, this time on her right breast. As before, my slap was hard and quick. Diane took in another quick breath just as I took the nipple of her right breast between thumb and forefinger and gave it a hard squeeze, then pulled. I pulled her breast out slowly, pulling until the veins and stretch marks appeared in plain relief, then lifted it up, feeling the weight of her breast, then released it.

I brought my hand up and touched my finger tips to Diane's cheek. She flinched slightly as I touched her, then visibly relaxed. She slowly closed her eyes and let her shoulders sag down.

"You did good, little lamb." I ran my fingers tips over her parted lips. As I did so, she extended the very tip of her tongue and wet them. "Now, get yourself back together before we both get arrested. Then we'll decide what to do for the rest of the evening."

- - - -

I was with Diane for 18 months. She was a willing sub that, at first, seriously bloated my ego. And, I'll admit, they were several instances where I was intentionally cruel to her, verbally and well as physically. There were times when I had a hard time understanding how a woman could withstand so much pain, yet come back for more after she healed and the marks faded away. I also learned that, as the master she wanted me to be, I was a failure. Diane's constant devotion, willingness, submissiveness, all began to take their toll on me. At the end I felt constrained, suffocated. My attempts at solitary relaxation where taken away from me, for Diane was always at my feet, next to me, holding me, touching me. I explained to her that I needed to be alone for a few minutes each day, and this hurt Diane deeply. She had given of herself, openly, willingly, without reservation. And I responded by telling her I did not want her company. I found our relationship was an all or nothing proposition. We parted, still friends, but she was deeply hurt. I, too, felt that I had let her down, along with taking advantage of the respect and devotion she demonstrated, with love and consistency, each minute we were together. I had always thought of myself as an intense person, but Diane clearly outclassed me in this respect.