The Art of Domination (16 page)

Her eyes are filled with tears and she’s staring at me, waiting for
an answer. She’s right. I can’t lie to her anymore. “Yes, I did meet with Erika last night.” 

She puts her hands over her face and continues to cry.  Then she turns and looks out the window.

“How long have you been seeing her?” she asks between sobs.

“Seeing her? I’m
not
seeing her, Isabel. I saw her once.” I reach over and caress her arm and this time she allows it.

“Why, Dylan?
Why
?”

“She asked me for help.” It’s a lame-ass answer and I know it.

Isabel shoots me a look of incredulity. “Why the hell would you help her? More importantly, why wouldn’t you just tell me that she had called you unless you have something to hide?”

I don’t know how to respond.

“Do you still love her?” she asks, unblinking.

What the fuck?
“I
never
loved her.”

Isa laughs sarcastically at my answer. “Do you really believe that?”

“I don’t just believe it; I know it to be fact.”

“You’re seriously lying to yourself.”

“No, I’m not lying to myself or to you right now. I
never
loved that woman,” I demand.

“Then
,
what
? What was it you felt for her?”

“Why are you asking me this?”

“Because I need to know. You’ve been lying to me and I need to know what it is about this woman that makes you unable to stay away from her.”

I feel defensive all of a sudden. “Do you think I wanted this? That I wanted to see her again? I had no intention of
ever having contact with that bitch ever again. I don’t have any problems staying away from her. In fact, I’d prefer she stay out of our lives. She called me, okay?”

“But you agreed to help her. Why would you do that?”

“Because she’s trying to blackmail me again,” I blurt out.

“Again?”

I never did go into the full details with Isa about how things ended with Erika. All I told her was that she fucked me over in a bad way.

“Yes, again. She threatened to expose my lifestyle over two years ago. That’s why I got out of BDSM in the first place. But I didn’t give in to her demands.”

“What kind of demands?”

“Money, of course.”

“So now she wants money again?”

Ah, hell. Why does she have to continue with this? I stare at Isa, not answering. Her tears have finally stopped, but she still looks immensely angry and irritated with me.

“Answer me. What does this woman have over you that you’re so
afraid of her?”

Again, I get de
fensive. “I’m not afraid of her,” I huff out.

“Really? Then why the hell would you a
gree to help her and to meet with her on our wedding night?” With her last statement, her eyes well up again.

“I’m not afraid of her,
” I repeat.

“Well you should be,”
she says but doesn’t elaborate.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I half yell at her.

She doesn’t answer me but continues questioning me. “You never answered my question. What was it you felt for her?”

“God damn it, Isa. Why are you asking me this?”

“Just answer me,” she persists.

I don’t even know how to explain myself. “I can’t…”

“Bullshit. Tell me,” she replies loudly.

“It wasn’t love, okay? It was
not
love that I felt for her. It was something else; something intense, but
not love
.” I sigh loudly and run my hands through my hair trying to find the words to say to her. I don’t want to hurt her anymore than I already have.

“Tell me, Dylan.”

“I don’t know what the hell you want me to tell you. I thought I loved her at one time, but I know now that it was something else. I was obsessed with her, okay? I was fixated on her.” I’ve never acknowledged it, but that’s what it was. It’s sickening to admit it now out loud, let alone to myself.

Isabel
scowls, closes her eyes and then turns away from me again.

“Isa, I thought I loved her, but it was
never love.
I know that now because now I know what real love is, can’t you see that? I never wanted to marry her.”

“Only because she screw
ed you over before you had the chance to ask her,” she says and her words cut me to the bone.

“That’s not true. Look at me, Isab
el.” I turn her face to look at me but she turns her head away as if I’m too disgusting to look at. “I never wanted to marry her,” I whisper.

“Why were you so obsessed with her? Because of the things she let you do
to her?”

I’m shocked at her question. “What do you mean?”

She reaches down, grabs a large envelope and throws it at me. I know right away what the file contains. It’s the file that was stolen from my office.

“You know damned well what I mean. I saw the things you did to her. Is that what you want from me? Complete submission with no limits? To make me have sex with other men? To do to my body the things you did to her?
Jesus, Dylan. You even called her sweetheart, too.”

I feel nauseous.
I sit motionless and speechless.

“Answer me
. Is that why you were so obsessed with her?”

There’s no point in denying it.
“Yes.” I hear myself answer her and it sounds like someone else’s voice.

She lets out
a pitiful sobbing sigh, takes her ring off and holds it out to me. 

“What the
fuck are you doing?” I ask her.

“Take it.”

“Put the ring back on, Isa.” My heart rate has spiked and it’s beating rapidly.

“Take it, Dylan. It doesn’t belong to me.”

Holy fuck.
“It belongs
only
to you. Now put it back on, Isa.” I’m starting to feel panicked.

She sets it down on the dash
board and looks away.

“Put the
God damned ring back on, Isabel,” I tell her loudly, but she doesn’t move.  “You promised you would never leave me,” I whisper as my throat tightens.

“And you promised you would be faithful.”

“I have been faithful to you.”

“No you haven’t.
You’ve been talking to that woman behind my back, you met with her, and you’ve been lying to me about her. That’s not being faithful, Dylan. I can’t be married to someone who can lie to me straight faced and keep secrets from me.
I won’t be
. And I’ll never be able to be the woman that she was for you.”

“Isabel, please,
please.
You mean more to me than she ever did. You have to believe that. I would never ask you to do the things I asked of her. I would never ask you to have sex with other men. I can’t change who I was, Isabel. I wish I could.”

“It’s
not just who you were, Dylan; it’s who you are. You told me yourself what you truly like. I can accept that you’re a sadist and I want you to know that I’m not leaving you because of that. I’m leaving you because of your lies and your secrets. I love you, but
I will not be lied to
. You can continue to be afraid of that woman and give into her demands, but I won’t be part of that.”

“So you
are
leaving? God damn it, Isa.
Please.
I’m not afraid of her.”

“You keep telling y
ourself that, meanwhile, you help her find a Dom. It was Erika that you were helping on our wedding night wasn’t it? I lay asleep next to you while you were searching ads for your ex-lover and friend.”

“She’
s not my fucking friend,” I yell at her

“So that was another lie? You said you were helping a friend, didn’t you?”

My mind is spinning as I try to justify my actions, but I can’t come up with anything.
Shit. She’s leaving. She’s really fucking leaving.
There’s no way I’m letting that happen.
No fucking way.
“You’re giving her exactly what she wants, Isa. This is what she wants – to tear us apart. Don’t let her win, sweet… please, love, don’t let her win.”

“You were the one who let her win when you lied to me
and agreed to help her. All you had to do was tell me, Dylan, but you chose not to. You made a conscious decision to keep it from me. And still, you won’t tell me what she has over you that makes you so afraid of her. What other lies have you told me? I don’t believe anything you’ve ever told me now.”  She starts sobbing uncontrollably and I feel my own tears fill my eyes.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.

***

Did he ever really love me?
Was that a lie, too? He looks pitiful right now and it’s breaking my heart. I just want to go somewhere far, far away. I start to leave the car, but he leans over me and pulls the door closed.

“You’re not leaving me. I won’t let you. I’ll be damned if Erika is going to win.”

I’m suddenly reminded of the horrible phone call and how the mysterious woman threatened to slash my throat. I have nowhere to go anyway. My apartment, but I don’t even feel safe there. If this woman knows my phone number and where I work, surely she knows where I live. Fine. I’ll go back to Dylan’s place. I feel safe there. He’s sniffing back tears, but I can’t bring myself to look at him. Then he grabs my hand and attempts to put the ring back on my finger.
Is he kidding me?

“Stop, Dylan. I don’t want that. Why don’t you give it to your precious
non-cock-sucking Erika?” I yell at him.

Dylan’s eyes
widen at me. “Because I don’t want her; I want you. I married
you.
”

“Only because you were afraid of losing me to whatever secrets that psycho was holding over you.”

“I asked you to marry me before Erika called. Everything that happened came after that. Now put the fucking ring back on.”

I reach over and swiftly slap his mouth
and he flinches. “Don’t you fucking say her name to me ever again. I’ve heard enough of that name in the last five months to last a lifetime!” I blare at him.  I’m so hurt and angry I lash out at him again and slap him hard, but this time, he doesn’t waver. His reaction, or non-reaction, pisses me off even more. I slap him yet again, even harder. I start crying when he still doesn’t respond. I raise my hand one more time and pause in mid air when I see Dylan’s eyes gloss over.

“
Do it. I deserve it,” he says softly.

I can’t bring myself to hit my Dom again. I love him so damned much. Damn him to hell for lying to me and keeping secrets from me.
I hate that Erika knows more about him than me. I hate that he was obsessed with her and not me. I hate that she won’t let him go. I hide my face in my hands and cry.

H
e starts the car and starts driving. We drive far longer than normal and when I look up, we’re driving aimlessly in silence. It’s only when I finally stop crying that he heads towards home.

Once back
at home, I quickly make my way to my studio and shut the door. I don’t want to look at him. I take my shoes off and lay inside the walk-in closet floor. I cover up with a painting tarp and fall asleep.

My dreams ar
e tortured. Erika is being punished by Dylan in the most erotic and sensuous ways. He looks content and happy while he whips her. She’s wearing my ring and laughing at me. I try to get his attention, but he’s completely fixated on her and he ignores me. My father suddenly appears. He keeps reminding me that no one will ever love me and that I’m worthless. His face is hard and cold, and his eyes pierce right through me.

I wake up sweating and on the verge of
tears. I immediately start putting the image of my father down on canvas, trying to get him out of my head. After two solid hours of painting, I walk back into the closet and sleep again.

I wake briefly and feel
Dylan carrying me to the dungeon, but I’m too emotionally exhausted to resist him. He lays me on the bondage bed, undresses me and then lies next to me. I turn away from him and drift off.

The sun coming through the small
stained-glass window wakes me. When I try to sit up, my right wrist is cuffed to Dylan’s left wrist.
What the hell?
I’m also wearing my wedding ring. Dylan is unbelievable. He’s still sleeping and I try and get the cuff off, but he has it tightened enough that I can’t slip it over my wrist. I look around near the bed and on the end tables, searching for the key, but it’s nowhere to be seen.

Dylan feels me
moving around and he wakes startled. He quickly sits up, looks over at me and our wrists and then sighs with relief.