The Art of Domination (13 page)

“Did you really just slap me?” I ask her sternly.

“Yes. You needed it.”

“That’s not for you to decide, now is it?”

“Then who else is it to decide, if not your wife?”

I
smile lamely at her because I know she’s right. “How does that make you feel, Isa, being my wife?”

“Like the luckiest bitch in the whole world.”

“My wife is not a bitch and if you know what’s good for you, you won’t talk about her that way.”

She grins at me at me sweetly. “Is that what you would say if someone called me a bitch?”

“No. I’d say something much harsher and there would be bloodshed.”

Isa gets that languid needy look in her eyes
and I know I’ve hit a sweet spot. “You would do that for me?”

“I would do much more for you than that, my love.” When I say the words, h
er father pops into my mind and I’m reminded how I want to kick the living shit out of him for what he’s done to my wife. And I will, when the time comes, but that’s neither here nor there.

“Promise?” s
he asks.

“I already did when I said
I do.
”

She pulls me
down to her mouth and kisses me. Her tongue slips inside my mouth seductively and she finishes it off with her signature move, biting my bottom lip, and I taste my own blood. She licks my bottom lip and I can see my blood on her mouth. It’s arousing and I feel myself getting hard.

“Do you l
ike the taste of my blood?”

“You know I do,” s
he says dreamily.

“What does it taste like?”

She thinks for a moment and then answers me. “Salty and sweet, and
forbidden
.”

Yes, indeed, i
t is. “It sounds good.”

“Oh, it is.
Very good.
Just like every part of you,” she says devilishly and licks her lips.

I’m fully erect now and my cock is pressed firmly in between her belly and me.
I jump off the bed.

“Where are you go
ing? Don’t leave me,” Isa says in a needy and seductive tone.

I find my pants and dig into the pocket and find what I’m looking for. I get back on the bed with her and open up the small pocket knife. Isa’s eyes get big and her breathing quickens.

“What do you plan on doing with
that
?” she asks.

“It’s my turn to taste you.” I tell her as I grab her hand and grip her index finger. Isa looks scared, but she doesn’t hesitate or resist me. I take the tip of the knife an
d slice at the pad of her finger and blood oozes down in a small trickle. Isa winces and hisses through her teeth. I look up at her and keep eye contact while I slip her finger into my mouth and suck the blood from her digit. She’s right – it’s sweet and salty. I’ve never experimented with blood play before and it feels absolutely illicit, but oh, so fucking excellent. I also I know wouldn’t be doing this with anyone but Isa.

As I continue to suck at her finger, Isa starts to squirm a
round underneath me and I feel precum bead on the head of my dick. Her eyes roll back in her head, her other hand goes up to her mouth and she bites down on her fisted fingers. I stop sucking at her finger and move up to kiss her. Her blood is still on my lips and when I kiss her, our saliva mingles with the taste of blood. It’s erotic and filthy, and I’m overcome with the need to fuck Isabel hard. I climb to the head of the bed and sit with my back against the headboard.

“Come over here,” I
tell her. She immediately starts to sit on me, but I guide her sit reverse cowgirl on me. I grab the knife again and as she starts to ride me slowly, I cut a small area on her shoulder blade. She flinches, but continues to ride me. I lick the blood and suck at her while my hands reach around the front of her and squeeze her breasts hard.
Holy fuck this is hot
.  She picks up her pace and sways her curvy hips in the most tantalizing way. She stills and clenches down on me and moans softly. She’s close. She rises up again and starts coming down onto me hard. I lick at her shoulder blade again and the taste of her blood and seeing her ass come down on me over and over is too much and I don’t have time to think before I cum. The feeling is so intense that my head is fuzzy and I feel as though I’m spinning.

Isa keeps riding me but when I go soft she climbs off and tells me to finish her off. She
lies on the bed and I crawl between her legs and finger her. Her belly is hot and swollen and her finish is spectacular. It might be hard to explain to housekeeping about the big wet spot on the bed.

Just as we finish, my phone rings and I cringe, hoping it’s not Erika. I hesitate to answer it and Isa gives me a look of confusion.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?” she asks. When she gets off the bed to get the phone for me, I panic and quickly beat her to the phone and grab it out of her hands.

I answer it and thankfully it’s Sawyer. I smile crookedly at Isa, but she’s staring at me with her hands on her hips and I just shrug at her.

When I get off the phone with Sawyer, Isa is obviously irritated.

“What the hell was that about?”

I just shrug my shoulders again.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, who packed that bag for you? I mean, with all the kinky stuff in it, who packed it?” Isa asks me.

I tell her Sawyer did and she looks mortified.

“Sawyer saw all that stuff? Does he know about your
… preferences?”

“Of course he does. He knows everything about me. I trust him implicitly.”

“Oh, I see,” she says, smiling at me.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

“Because it’s nice to know you have a close friend whom you can confide in. I envy you that.” Her voice is poignant.

“You can confide in me. Aren’t I your close friend?” I ask her.

“Of course you are. You’re my best friend. You’re also my only friend.”

I feel
distressed when she says it that way. She really should have more friends, but I just hate the thought of having to share her with
anyone.

***

Out of the blue, Dylan jumps up and calls Sawyer back. I’m still trying to figure out what he’s hiding. Why wouldn’t he let me answer h
is phone for him? I just need to stop being suspicious. Dylan would never hide anything from me.
Would he?

He tells S
awyer that come this weekend, we’ll be leaving for a week.

“So where do you want to go fo
r your honeymoon, Mrs. Young?” he asks me.

I feel giddy. I hadn’t even thought of that. We haven’t done much traveling because Dylan is always so busy with work and a lit
tle private trip would be nice.

“I don’t know, Las Vegas?”  I tell him because I can’t think of anything else.

He scowls at me and shakes his head
no.
“I was thinking Paris so I can take you to The Louvre and show you the beautiful art.”

I
feel tears swell in my eyes. “Oh, Dylan, that sounds wonderful. I’ve always wanted to see the masterpieces there.”

He smiles broadly at me. “I thought you might like that.”

The next few hours are spent lazing around and eating brunch. I could stay here forever with Dylan like this, with the rest of the world a million miles away and it only being the two of us. He cleans my shoulder where he cut it and then kisses it gently. It was such a strange sensation to have him tasting my blood like that. I wonder if he’s ever done that with anyone else.

“Have you
ever done the blood thing with anyone else, Dylan?” I ask him as he’s getting dressed. He seems surprised by my question but he answers me sincerely.

“Absolutely not. It’s not something I was ever interested in trying.”

Good. I’m glad to hear that. It’s not something I was ever interested in doing either, but something about Dylan brings out my dark side.

When we’re all packed
and ready to leave, I eye the door that Dylan kicked in yesterday and point towards it.

“How are you going to explain that?” I ask him.

“I’ll blame it on you, of course,” he says winking at me.

When we’re on the way back to Dylan’s place, he reminds me that now I’ll have to give up my apartment. I don’t like the thought, but he’s absolutely right. 

I’m anxious to get back to my studio and get to work on the new piece I was commissioned to work on. With all the naughty activities the last two days, I should also have plenty of inspiration to finish my last two pieces for the gallery show. It’s only one week away and I’m on a time crunch.

Luckily I only have to work part-time now that I’m with Dylan and it was a struggle to let him allow me to do that. If it were up to him, I’d be naked and at his beck and call 24/7.

I’m terribly sore from the whipping I received last night and from the anal sex, and the drive back to his place is uncomfortable. I keep shifting around on my bottom and when I look over at Dylan, he’s smiling at me.

“Is something wrong?” he
asks, as if he doesn’t already know. He’s peering at me through his long bangs that are hanging over his eyes and I can just see the blue of his irises. He keeps complaining that he needs a haircut, but I love his hair just a little long and messy. It makes him look deliciously boyish.

“Gee, I wonder,
” I tell him as I push his hair from his forehead.

Finally back at his place, Dylan gets everything unpacked and I head straight for the studio to get started painting. First I change into some old jeans and a t-shirt and pull my hair back. When I get started, Dylan comes in and seats himself at the chair at the other side of the room. He likes to watch me paint and I’ve become accustomed to it, even if it is mildly irritating to have him questioning me the entire time about where my inspiration is coming from. The last time I finally told him to zip it
or else he would be banned. I think he got the hint because this time he sits quietly as he watches me.

I’m deep in concentration and going over the particulars of what the buyer wants when I hear Dylan’s zipper. When I turn around…
oh dear me, look at that
.  He’s fully erect and he has his yummy big dick in his hand as he’s slowly stroking himself.  The look on his face immediately makes my pussy quiver.
Now how the hell am I supposed to concentrate when he’s doing that in here?
I sit and watch him for only a moment when he finally chimes in.

“Don’t le
t me interrupt you. Carry on,” he says as he motions for me to turn around with his free hand.

Yeah, r
ight.
I do as I’m told and turn back to the painting, but the sounds of him breathing deeply and moaning softly are very distracting. I start painting with my left hand and with my right, I unbutton my pants and slip my hand inside my panties and start fingering my clit, hoping I won’t get in trouble for doing it without permission.  This is nice. I’ve never painted this way and I do enjoy hearing Dylan pleasure himself while he watches me. I’d rather be watching him do it than just listening, but this will suffice.

As I continue to pain
t and play with myself, Dylan approached me, kneels behind my chair and slides his hand inside my panties over my hand. I can feel his breath on my neck while he guides my hand and fingers inside of me. He nibbles and kisses my shoulder and I take my hand away and wrap it around his neck while he continues to finger me. It’s only a short while before I feel the warm sensation of an orgasm building. I close my eyes, lean my head back onto his shoulder and let the intense sensation overwhelm me. I cum, soaking my panties and jeans.

I put the paintbrush down and spin my chair around. Dylan is still marvelously hard. He stands and I
begin sucking him off. His hands are in my hair, guiding my head as I let spit drip onto the head of his dick, lick it and look up at him. His eyes are dilated and his mouth is slightly parted. The tip of his tongue runs across his mouth and I almost come undone again. I stroke him firm and suck hard and he cums for me. I drink his gift and without a word, he sits back down and I continue to paint.  My panties are wet, but I don’t care. I’ll clean myself up later. After about an hour, Dylan leaves and I continue with my work.

T
he image is coming along nicely. The person who requested this is obviously very vanilla, but it still makes me happy to know that my hard work will go to someone who will appreciate it.

My mi
nd wanders to the gallery show and I wonder who will be in attendance. I’m not well-known so I’ll be surprised if anyone at all shows up. I’m sure there will be a few people who will show up out of morbid curiosity about the subject matter. I wish my mother were here to see it.  I wonder if my father even wonders about me.

After a few minutes, Dylan comes back
in with the newspaper.

“We made the paper.
We’re in the Denver society pages and wedding announcements. Check it out.”