PART FOUR m – Training

  "Hmm. You forget. You were jealous of the curious young cowboys that came up to mommy. You were all jealous, that mommy let them taste her special bullwhip through their jeans. So? I told you. Mommy doesn't want her personal slut to feel jealous, that anyone got anything he didn't. So… when you're finally a good little slut, for long enough you don't have a little boo boo butt? I'm going to give you a nice taste of what hard shes feel like, through jeans."

  I kissed his neck, and bit it softly. Cooing in his hear now.

  "Oh yeah. Mommy said it, so now mommy has to do it. You were jealous, mommy gave out hard licks, huh? It was to keep them away, because mommy didn't want to py with them. But you, got all jealous. So? You're going to get a nice, big taste of mommy's special helper. You were jealous? Mommy's going to have to teach you a lesson about being jealous. When you go down there, knowing what you're going to get? You're going to be nervous, and scared. I'm going to order you over that big table, like a big hay bale pile. You're going to be tied and cuffed down, just like on the kitchen table that night. Helpless. Gagged tight, and blindfolded. Legs spread wide."

  "I'm not going to do it, not right away. I'm going to practice for a while. Ripping cans apart near you. Cracking around you. You're not going to know when its coming, and its going to make you even more scared. I'm gonna take my time, and really enjoy it. Then, when I'm ready? The very first lick, is going to rip your jeans pocket right off your ass. You? Are definitely going to scream. Then? The next one is going to rip the other jeans pocket off your other ass cheek. No more double yer to protect you, from mommy's bullwhip. You'll scream more. Then? You'll know what's coming. More."

  "With no more pockets to protect you? Its going to get even worse. Lots worse. You only get light ones, to protect you from getting the skin ripped open, little boy. Mommy takes it easy on you. But not this time. You're gonna find out that with jeans on, mommy gets to give the sh to you as hard as she can. I know it's embarrassing to get the whip naked, like you got it before. But mommy has to take it easy on you. Now with jeans on? As hard as I can."

  "I don't know how many its gonna take, to get the jeans ripped. But that's how many you're gonna get. Then? It'll all be over. But when I let you go? You're going to be a hot mess. You? Are going to beg me, like you've never begged me before, not to get it again. Then I bet the next time I take it out, and threaten you with it? I bet I get my tears I want. Begging me not to. Because you know how bad it can be."

  "Then? The little boy won't be jealous, not any more. Now. When I get our own townhouse for mommy and her personal trained slut to live alone? Mommy's going to break that basement in, and break you in, and I'm going to do it right. Same deal, same desk. All the sub basements, the fraidy holes, have the same desks in them. I'm going to do it the same way, all over again. Then? I'm going to keep you there, while I change you into a new pair of jeans, and then your legs are getting tied right back down, and I'm going to whip them off you, too. Then? You're going to beg me, to be good and listen to me in my own townhouse. Then we'll see how good you are for me there, alone with your mommy. I'm going to py with you, all the time. Fuck you any way I want, day or night. And you're going to do it, because you know what can happen."

  "And if mommy ever gets a farmhouse? You better pray I don't get a big enough basement, or a barn with some privacy, or enough woods I can have a shed to take you to. Because if I do? The first night we're moved in, same deal. I'm going to whip three pairs of jeans off of your quivering little ass, so you know mommy really means business. You'll listen even better, I'm just sure of it. You're never going to get away from me, ever. You belong to me. I own you. You? Are my personal property, and I'm going to do anything I want with my dirt bike, and ride it anytime I damn well feel like it. As hard or as soft as I want."

  "Now. Go get us some more tea, dear. Shoo."

  "Here honey."

  "Hmm. Aren't you just mommy's little helper now."

  "You're getting way too good at those naughty stories, you know that."

  "I guess I am. You like them, I can tell."

  I flicked his interest meter, smiling.

  "I guess its too obvious."

  "You know something. Tell me one naughty bedtime story, that hasn't come true."

  He was fidgety and nervous. It wasn't just the vicious fuck I had given him earlier, either. Although, that was pying its part helping it happen. He was nervous just thinking about what I had told him in the story, then making him realize all the stories came true, sooner or ter.

  "The jealous jeans one, I know about. Are you really going to…"

  "What? Break in our own townhouse fraidy hole when we move in? Pffft. You can count on that one. We're going to be moving in on a summer break. To get set up. Its always like that. All summer break. Alone. No room mates to worry about. No schedule, so it'll be fine for you to sleep face down for a week if that's how long it takes. Too perfect, to pass up. You know something? This started out because you asked for it. You wanted it. I knew I'd enjoy it, but… I didn't realize how much. You have a very sick and twisted mommy now. I hope you like it, there's no going back now."

  "Sub basement. Cute pun."

  "Hmm. I caught that before, and forgot to mention it. Submissive basement. Yeah. There's another one too, you know."

  "What."

  "The locals call the shelters, fraidy holes. Very appropriate pun there, little boy afraid to get severe punishment, down in the fraidy hole."

  "We might never have a fraidy hole of our own. We're going to get spoiled living in these townhouses, until we get our doctorates."

  "Hmm. Other people put big decks on, or other stuff. We'll just be the couple that gets a good cement shelter one day when we can afford it. We'll both be doctors. I'm sure between both of us, if we think we'll have more fun in a big cement box, than in some stupid in the ground swimming pool? It'll happen."

  "If that's what you want."

  I smiled.

  "You wanted it first. Now, I want it too. I'm going to make you want it more. Because that's what you wanted. You wanted love to hurt. So? I'm going to make it hurt more."

  "Hmm. Thank you for some… normal time."

  "We can't live in a fantasy world all day, every day of our lives. The girls will come back, when they're done whoring around and having fun. We'll have plenty of normal time then. So, a taste test is fine."

  "What now."

  "Now? Mommy's little helper, gets us the st of the tea. Milk and sugar for me. You can have some now, if the bad taste is gone. And when you get back? We'll see about you being forgiven. You haven't been forgiven yet, for telling me no. So when you get back, put your mommy back on, little boy. Or else. Now shoo."

  He brought my tea back, just how I asked for it. I've shown him before how I take it, so he knows. I saw he had milk in his, if not sugar. So I know the soap taste is gone. Grandma is gone now, but, thank you. Wherever you are. And god I hope you don't see me doing this, because I shudder to think of what would go through your mind, seeing how sick and twisted I turned out. But thanks, you helped. Stories and remedies.

  "Your tea…"

  "Yes, mommy?"

  "Get finished. And don't expect me to wait all day. And when you're done…"

  I pointed at the carpet in front of my feet. He finished up quick, and crawled down. My groveling ritual. Strict mommy sips her tea, made just the way she likes it, and has her patented bored and distracted look. I'm somewhere between mildly bored and mildly amused. He begged for my forgiveness. Little kisses. I sipped my tea as slow as I could manage and still be considered drinking it, drawing it out without making it too obvious. When I was done, I gave him my full attention.

  He finally got forgiven, and warned how bad it would be the next time he said no to me. He promised it wouldn't happen. I reminded him matter of fact what would go on, and for how long it would go on, if it did happen.

  I softened ever so slightly.

  "All right. Do you want to make up with mommy? Come on up here. You better mind your manners, little boy. You're on thin ice."

  I watched him actually nervous to kiss me. He wants some sign, some indication its really all right. He's worried how he does it, once he does. What if he does it too sweet, and I wanted kissed slutty. What if he kisses me slutty, and I just reminded him to mind his manners. He now knows what can happen. I'm more respected than ever before. And respect, is fear by another name. He's afraid of me now. Afraid of the power and the control I have over him. I sometimes wield it terribly and simply funt it. Other times like now, I'm much more demure about it. But its there, and we both know it.

  What a rush. I'll never give this up. Ever.

  "You want to make up with mommy, huh? I'll bet you want some way to really impress mommy, with how good you can be. Well? Here's your big chance. Mommy wants it slow again. Nice. Let's see what you've learned, little boy. Show me."

  It was heaven. It took forever. Taking forever to get his tip in, then the slow meandering to get the tiniest strokes going in slow motion. We'd need time pse photography to prove full strokes went on, when they finally happened. His pull outs, to wait for permission to finish. Then starting all over, again and again. The slower and the longer it takes, the more pleasure I get out of it. Like some magic spell that builds up power, slowly over time, every time you perform the ritual, the rite. Eventually you cash it in for one of those sweet orgasms that only come from the all buildup, all anticipation. The sweet, light kind of climax that isn't earth shattering and bone jarring and gut wrenching, like the rough ones. They're great, but intense and quick. These sweet ones? Take forever, and are lighter and st much longer. It takes forever to have another, each one a little snowfke of pleasure.

  "You're allowed to finish, next time you get all the way in, slut. Don't you dare finish in me, you better pull out and help me get my mouth on it. You lose one drop, you're going down in the basement. Don't fuck it up."

  He got it to me in time. A couple tugs and he's in my mouth. Not long after, he's up here getting some of my sluttiest kissing I have to offer. We're both still covered in dried sweat from working out, then more from his brutal ass rape and punishment hate-fucking and intense beating. Dried again, then this. The third sheen of sweat, the third time is the charm. We're both completely filthy now, three times over. The only thing clean on him is his mouth. Check that, was his mouth. I'm kissing him his mess back slowly, so even his mouth is filthy again. He's not just my personal slut, he's my personal dirty little slut.

  I'm getting thanked now, and licked and kissed all over. I'm three times over filthy, and his tongue either cleans me or makes it worse. We're both covered in dried sweat, new sweat, and saliva and bodily fluids. We're both filthy, disgusting creatures. And we're feeding off of each other's naughty compulsion, and making it worse. This is our pair bonding period of the retionship, the early magical phase. We're binding ourselves to each other physically, emotionally, and chemically. The fact that I bind him and punish and torture and tease him, is just one more irony to it.

  "Come on, little boy. Its early, and we have things to get out of the way…"

  He takes my fingers and I lead him. He already grabbed the dishes. Good, he knows his pce now. A slut's pce is to please you any way they can, and he's doing it.

  "Take care of the dishes."

  "Good boy. Now. Go get your bucket. I want the kitchen floor cleaned. Mommy's going to watch you do it, so you do a good job. You know what needs done. I want to see you do it, without me saying a word. Make mommy happy with you."

  When he gets back with his bucket, I'm waiting for him. Dangling two long chained cuffs for him to wear for me. Smiling. I'm wearing my handcuff key, one of many that fits all of them. A thin leather cord around my neck, I can just get off but tight enough I won't lose it. If I do, I have many others and more leather cords like this one. I'm going to wear it like a charm. I have my answer ready, when the girls see me wearing it. In the locker room, and in the showers. Ready to tease me for it. What? I've got him locked down. He's mine. This is the key I threw away. What. He ran with military police in the service, you know. Why else do you think he can fight like he does. See my key ring we both have? Military Police. So I can operate my key ring holder so I don't lose my important keys.

  My secret. Our secret. Right out in the open, the best pce to hide it.

  "The floor's not even that dirty, but I want it clean enough to eat off of, slut. You know why, too. When we're alone like this? I like seeing you in those cuffs, you know. Just think, when we get our own townhouse? You're going to do the kitchen floor like this all the time for me. And if you think you're not? You know what you'll get. Move it."

  He's done quick. I "inspect" his job, and I can't find any real fault. If I want to have something to "correct" during now nightly correction tickle time? If things keep going like this, I'll have to make something up. Nightly correction time. New ritual.

  "Come on, little boy… go put your bucket away. I think under the sink is the best pce for it now. Then we're going upstairs."

  I'm like a little girl again. I missed out on pretending I was a grown up, pying dress up and pying house and stuff like that. I pyed wiffle-ball and tackle football, and worked on the farm and on other farm and farm reted side jobs instead of the normal kid jobs like shoveling snow and cutting grass. Well, when I moved snow? Daddy sent me with a real tractor. I'm sure the guys watching a fifteen year old girl drive a tractor to plow the parking lot thought it was a kick to see. I was already tall and filled out a good bit. I came into the coffee shop, stomping snow off my work boots, and wanting coffee, like any other guy in insuted fnnels working in the snow. No wonder they all smiled and nodded approvingly. I thought I was just cute. I guess in my own way, I was.

  Cutting grass was the same. A big real tractor, with a brush hog or a belly mower. One for rough cut, one for finish mow. Changing the PTO over is a bitch, but once you get that down, its just busy work. Probably other than my size, that accounts for my grip. I'd stop at the same coffee shop in the summer, and want iced tea like the other older men that stopped in for that. Bitch about the heat with them then back off to it.

  No pying dress up, no pying house. I realize I'm pying house now. Getting my boyfriend ready to live in my own townhouse in two more years. He knows its "my" kitchen what he sees downstairs, and what my room is like. He knows I don't approve at all of the disaster bedrooms the zy whores keep or don't keep, depending on how you look at it. The living room? Christ. When I finally saw his groundhog hole he lived in? He's on my team. Military guy. Couple green mail bags, a footlocker. A cot, some military style bnkets from the Army Navy store. A mess kit from the same pce. Couple boxes of books, a folding camp chair and the footlocker is his desk and coffee table and foot stool.

  The dirt was compacted evenly, and you could see the cement block in the corner he tamped it with, to get a hard, even "floor" of hard cy. The little trough of hard cy he ran the trickle of ground water away harmlessly with. The "shower" had a trough to run the water away to meet the aforementioned trough. As neat and orderly and spartan as you could ever hope for a dirt hovel to be.

  I'm reliving my girlhood again. I'm pying house when the girls are away and loving it. I'm issuing my future pretend husband chores for his honey do list. I'll pretend even more when we get our own townhouse. I'll train him thoroughly for the time when we have our own house. Then the naughty compulsion strikes without warning. He'll get savagely bull-whipped in the basement, to train him "right". Christ, this is me now. I know I will.

  "All right. The toy? Needs washed. I didn't have time to clean your dirty little slut's bum out first. Bathroom sink. Foam the sink and rinse and wipe it when you're done. Check the toilet, make sure its clean. And for god's sake, make sure the lid's down. You live with four girls now. Show some respect. You see mommy's dirty workout clothes ying around, you know they go in the washer until you run the night's load after our night time shower and bath. And from now on? You know I better not see my dirty clothes ying around waiting for me to tell you. Couple minutes. Shoo."

  I sound like my grammy. She used to issue polite orders, then say "shoo". I'd say we were done in minutes ft, but there's no we. It's him. He's done in minutes, and standing here in front of me. Naked. Waiting for what I want now. I feel my tingle. I can order him to do just about anything, and he'll comply. I'm drunk with power. Absolute power, the worst kind. Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.

  The naughty compulsion strikes again, never with any warning to brace yourself. Do it, it whispers. The handcuffs are still tied together. Put the belt on his waist again, you know you loved the fuck handle. Do it. Handcuffs and ankle cuffs tied together again. Shove those filthy workout socks in his mouth one more time, grab that fuck handle on your again helpless but willing fuck toy, and go to town. Again. Brutal entry again, and fuck his dirty little ass like you mean it. Again. He'll take it, he always does. Get off on his screaming and bawling again. Make it your morning after workout, workout. Make it your morning ritual. Make his ass, your morning ritual brutal ass-fuck.

  "All right, honey. Shower time. Show mommy how good you can do it. We're going out for a little bit. Something different. Mommy is filthy."

  Mommy is filthy, all right. You have no clue. There's no if, its when. I'm going to end up repeating this morning's brutal ass rape again. I don't know when, but it will happen.

  "No bath, honey! Just the shower! We'll get the hot soak tonight, I promise!"

  I walk in the shower, and the pampering and fawning begins the minute I strut in. I'm so lucky, so pampered, so spoiled now. How can I ever find another guy that would even think of learning to do this for me, and not think I was the biggest spoiled cunt in the world. I just… walk in, everything's ready and waiting for me to arrive. Water's the perfect start temperature, just hot enough you can barely stand it. He adjusts it up inch by inch, to keep it as hot as we can stand it, the way we both like. The entire time. Until it's on the teetering edge of too hot, but just a hair under.

  I just lift my feet when I have to, he attends to everything. I love when he runs his hands over me, moving the soap around. Naughty compulsion strikes with never a warning. I can get a huge washcloth, and gag him with it fpping out his mouth, above and below like the sponge on the floor that day. I can use his face for a human washrag. Clean my feet, my twat, my underarms and even my ass with his washcloth face. He'll love it, he looks forward to any humiliation now I repeat on him. Ritual humiliation. That's love now, too. In fact, if I suddenly quit with our fun little humiliations, he'll ask what's wrong, why am I falling out of love with him so soon.

  I love leaning my hands against the wall, and the soaping up. I love the little grit in the exfoliating body scrub. The naughty little scratching all over his hands give me doing it. Feeling it on my legs, my back, my bum. My sensitive little nipples getting the tiny ground pumice scratching. And the moisturizing, oh god. I'm baby oiled up with the water on hold, and I mean head to fucking toe. My hair brushed back lovingly with creamy moisturizer.

  When his training is over and I start doing it all back to him again in here once again, I'm itching for that as well. Here comes the warm baby oil. Oh god. All over. I love feeling his hands run it even up my clean ass crack. He doesn't dare touch my hole back there, on my orders now. But when training is over, and we go back to a "normal" couple again? Oh yeah. I can't wait to get baby oiled up like this, then… uh huh. Taken by force from behind the one day I'm in the mood that week. Hard, from behind. Beyond rough. Raped in my ass. Maybe no entry games, like a thief breaking into my asshole. Hard entry, like SWAT taking my ass. Brutal entry technique. Hell, I just taught him that this morning. You don't always need to make love to an ass, you can blow the back door off its hinges and go in like the bells of St. Mary's.

  Like I'm training him to be my personal dirty little groupie slut. Pffft. I'm giving him ideas for after his training ends. I'm going to be a complete whore now for him, too. Once a week, I demand it rough. Sticking my ass up in the air, asking for it. I might be dominant six days a week under normal circumstances, but once a week on average? Use me for a fuck hole. Every 28 days? Rape my tight asshole. I told myself I was just seeing what anal was like, so I knew what I'd be doing to him soon, but who was I kidding. I liked it. That final rough time? Yeah. It could easily end up both my holes with my ass in the air, on my once a week nod to acknowledging my femininity, and enjoying having it reaffirmed. Part of being dominant in bed is demanding what you want, knowing you're going to confidently receive it. I'll confidently once a week demand brutal SWAT ass entry with baby oil in the shower.

  Christ, it will make sense to get "cleaned out" like I did to him, too. Practical. Real dominant, huh? I wonder how long it will take before I get curious what its like to get handcuffed for rough sex. It will happen eventually. I like having my ass smacked hard when I'm taken rough over the hood of the car. How long till I ask for more. Will I ever build up enough urge to begin hinting I want a rougher one over the chair in the basement? I hope not, but… if I like my ass smacked rough when I'm in the mood for hard from behind, that's not far off of that mark once I get to feeling like its the once a week same old same old. My god, we're going to end up the filthiest couple anyone ever heard of, years down the road. We're not exactly puritanical Mormons now.

  Wow. Without the hot soaking bath now, he's giving me my rubdown and body massage in the shower. He's trying to adapt to please me any way he can. My calves, my thighs. My neck, my shoulders. My back, he's doing the rabbit punching up and down the sides of my spine I like so much. The hot water's inched up now to the reddening of my skin I like, and I know I'm getting my back punched to more red marks, bringing up blood into the muscle tissue. He was a fighter, he is a fighter. He trains fighters. He's confident doing it. He's got the rapid fire jack-hammering of my back muscles that feels so divine to a female athlete.

  If I "shared", I could extract any favor or payment I wanted out of a team mate to get this rapture after a practice or a big game. I could pimp his hands out and get cash and prizes for it. But I'm a selfish insufferable cunt, and everyone knows it. I tell myself, that this makes me a good girl. But I know the truth, I'm selfish. I've already started to brag a little. That I get rubdowns on the regur. Lightning confirmed it, one of the girls idly quizzed her if we showered together. I asked Little Lightning what she said to answer. She shrugged, and said yes. Then giggled, and stuck her finger in her mouth, and made the gagging sound.

  We were so in love, it was sickening to be around. It made you want to throw up. Anything one girl gets that's brag-able, doesn't matter what it is. The others didn't know they wanted it, until they heard another gets it. One by one, they would think about it. Body massages, rubdowns. Fuck, we're athletes. It makes perfect sense when you think about it. The professional athletes get it, why not? Their casual fucks were going to get asked for it. Their bad boys weren't going to go for that, way too much like actual warmth and caring. Fuck that shit, babe. Go date some faggot if that's what you want.

  Now the hot water. I love leaning my hands into the wall and my body into the hot water, now as hot as I can stand it. Eyes closed with all but carnal lust for this pampering. He's sitting in front of me, where he started putting himself at the end. His hands are running over me, the oil beading water now, moisturizer locked into my exfoliated skin. He's feeling my feet, my ankles. My calves, my thighs. I open my eyes to half slits of pleasure and gaze down at him. I smile, I give him what he wants when he looks up at me like this. I go up on my tiptoes. Making my big calf muscles stand up, and go split. My thighs flex, the muscles peek out. My hamstrings get surprisingly hard for a girl. Tan muscle.

  My handcuff key is now around my neck, the leather cord hanging my love charm for him to see. I can see him stare at it. I smile and all but blush. Its the key to his pain and his pleasure, hanging around my neck handy for anytime I need to lock him up for a quick, brutal fuck. Hell, key to my pleasure now as well.

  He traces with his fingers where they like to go. I feel the finger touch one calf then the other. Feel the cup and the split up the middle that fascinates him so much. Then tracing the muscles on my thighs. He loves that little one at the top middle that "peeks" out, particurly when I flex up for him like now. I cock my head with my smirk. The slightly questioning look, that only lovers can discern what it asks without words intuitively. He nods once, and blushes.

  "Slut…"

  I take his head, and hold it to pee on him. Just a harmless little squirt. We are in the shower, after all. He soaps up and rinses off quick, then comes back. Eyes on me, while I'm finishing my hot soak. Asks politely if he's allowed to touch me.

  "Sure. You've been good. No touching my twat or my ass. Anything else? I allow."

  He's… wanting hugged and kissed. That's fine. I turn him around and grab his wrists forcefully and put them against the wall.

  "Keep them there, slut."

  He thanks me, and I bite his neck and hug him rough from behind. He melts into me, he loves it. It makes me feel powerful. He started and stopped, asking me something. A couple times. He's embarrassed, or he's afraid of offending me. Maybe both, this could be good.

  I grab him rough and bite his neck, he squirms and melts back into me. I grab his hip with my free hand and make pushing, shoving motions into him from behind. He loves it. Shower rape jokes. Only we could make this a private joke. Any other couple, it would be the other way around.

  "What are you trying to get the courage up to ask me, slut. Spit it out. I'm in a good mood. Mommy loves her shower time, you know that. You, are even temporarily in mommy's good graces for once. Speak."

  He's hinting around, too embarrassed to ask to be used in the shower.

  "Oh. You want me to fuck you in here, huh? Making you fuck yourself in the tub got your little slut motor running, huh?"

  He sheepishly admits it did. His face is beet red, and its not just hot water doing it. He's still got vestiges of shame for admitting he likes it. He's losing it slowly, I'm stealing his shame off of him and making him confront what he is and what his body wants now, that he's still embarrassed to ask for. But he's starting to. I'm dominant sexually. I usually have to suggest it. This is a first. His first hinting around at asking to be used.

  "Beg some. We'll see."

  He begs. Its easier for him to ask, through the begging ritual. Whispering the dirty things he cks the courage to yet admit he might be beginning to crave. Somehow begging is his first outlet he can ask with.

  "You know the rules, slut. You're in training. I can't make love to your tight little ass. It has to be rough, or not at all. You asking me for it rough, in the shower? Aw, are you all turned on and want your strict, dirty mommy to make you? You want the dirty girl to make you do it, so its not your fault?"

  He admits it is. I make him beg for it.

  "All right. Now you've done it. Tonight? I'm going to clean your dirty little slut's ass out. Thoroughly. And then I'll give you what you're begging for right now. You can think about it all day, knowing that tonight? Your big, strong dirty girlfriend… is going to rape you. Rough. In the shower. I'm going to make you put your hands on the wall, and I'm going to take your little rear end and make you sorry you asked for it. Is that what you want? Beg!"

  He begs for it.

  "Tell me how you want it. Tell me exactly what you want. You open your mouth, and you beg me for it. Let me hear you. You can't have it sweet, until you're all trained. You want it how. I've raped and pounded your little ass six different ways from Sunday. You open your slutty little mouth, and you goddamn beg me for one of them. Beg!"

  He's not just blushing now, he's almost in a mild tearing up, he's so embarrassed. He wants it… like this morning. He's ashamed to admit, he liked it.

  "Do you realize what you're asking me for?"

  He does, he repeats it again and again, almost sobbing with shame. He's humiliating himself, to screw up his courage to ask.

  "You got the paddle this morning. You want your ass beat, too?"

  He does.

  Are you just asking for it, because you're trying to please me, being all eager? Or do you really want it."

  He says he does. It sounds genuine. The dark red face, the teary eyes, its too real.

  "Mommy? Will give you what you want tonight. Ask me what my conditions are."