The Art of Domination (20 page)

“You’re ridiculous,” s
he says.

“Yeah, so?”
It’s the best defense ever. Who can argue with ‘so’?

“Yeah, so, you’re ridiculous,” s
he repeats derisively.

“Yeah, so?”

“Are you going to apologize or not?”

“Given those choices, I’d prefer not to,” I tell her and she turns back on her side away from me

“You’re ridiculous,” s
he repeats.

I bury my face in her neck and inhale deeply. Her scent is intoxicating
and her stubbornness is arousing. I push my semi-rigid hard-on into her ass and she scoots away from it. I pull her by her hips back to me and nibble her neck.  When I lift her camisole, she’s wearing a pair of panties underneath. I pull her so she’s lying on her back again. I reach over her and switch on the side lamp.

“What’s this?
” I ask snapping the waistband of her panties against her skin.

She looks
contrite but she’s not backing down. “What does it look like?”

“Do you think because we’re married
now you don’t have to abide by our contract anymore?” I snap at her. She knows I fucking hate her wearing panties to bed and I take it as a personal insult that she wore them.

She lays motionl
ess, not answering my question and scanning my face.

“Answer me,
” I demand.

“Honestly, I was angry and I f
orgot. It wasn’t intentional,” she says sincerely. I can see by the look in her eyes that she really didn’t mean it to be an insult.

“Take them off,” I order
and without hesitation she removes them and drops them on the floor. She lifts her cami so I can see her, then rubs her hand over her tummy and over the top of her mound while she watches me. When I look into her eyes she’s licking her lips.

“Do you like what you see?” s
he asks playfully.

“You know I do.”

“Good. When you apologize, you can have some.”

Oh, hell no.
“Let me remind you, as your husband and your Master, I don’t need your permission. I’ll have some with or without an apology, but because I love you and because it was a shitty thing for me to accuse you of, I’ll apologize anyway. So for what it’s worth - I’m sorry for accusing you of hitting on Sawyer. I love you. Now open your legs like a good wife and let me fuck you.”

She smiles slyly and I move on top of her between her legs. I kiss her, pushing my tongue into her mouth and tasting every part of it.
As I slick my tongue across her teeth, I taste toothpaste. She smells clean and her hair is still damp from her shower, and I want nothing more than to sully her cleanliness.

I lift her cami high ov
er her breasts and bite and suck at them while she fists my hair. I flick my tongue down her belly and move towards her freshly shaved pussy. It’s sheer smooth and impeccably groomed.  I tug at her pussy hair lightly and I lick her thighs. The moonlight is shining through the windows and I can see her eyes gleaming brightly at me while she watches me tickle her clit. I rub my thumb over it and it swells to my touch.  I slip two fingers into her wet hole and tease her for a few minutes. Then I pull my fingers out and reach over to the night stand and grab the lube.

I begin prepping her ass when she asks, “This again?”

“Ye
s. This ass belongs to me and I’ll fuck anytime I want,” I say as I finger her tight hole. “Christ, you’re tight,” I tell her.

“
I’d like to keep it that way so please be gentle this time. It’s still sore,” she begs as she wriggles around.

“I’ll think about it,”
I say stubbornly to remind her that I’ll do whatever I want, but of course, I’ll do as she asks. I don’t want her to fear this. I want her to love it as much as I do.

I push her knees apart and spread h
er legs wide. I stay kneeling while I slip inside her pulsating rose bud. It feels absolutely exquisite as she tightens and contracts around me. She lets out a whimper and closes her eyes tightly and clamps down tighter on me. I pause and slip out just enough to let her relax and then tease her puckered entrance with the head of my dick. Now she looks like she’s starting to enjoy it. I thumb her clit while I gently thrust in and out of her, only pushing in half of my cock.  Then I slide two, then three fingers inside her pussy.

She starts to shift around on the bed and groan. When she opens her eyes
, they’re glassy and languid.

“Say you love
me, Dylan. Say I’m the only one.
Please
…” she whines.

I’m in the zone and her neediness pulls me out for just a moment. I’m concentrating on not coming, but the sound of her voice saying my name and begging me to love her is driving me fucking insane.

“I love you, Isa. You’re the only one for me. Now be quiet,” I say as I lean down on top of her and kiss her. She wraps her arms around my neck and starts meeting me thrust for thrust, taking all of me into her tight little hole. When I look down, the vision of her perfect ass squeezing around me is my ruin and I cum inside of her. I pause momentarily, allowing myself to catch my breath.

When I’m done, I pull out and tell Isa to play with herself until she finishes. I lay next to her watching
as she fingers her drenching wet slit, slipping her fingers inside and then pulling at herself.

“Fuck yourself
, Isa. Make yourself cum for me,” I tell her.

She looks over at me and I kiss her while she continues to drive her fingers in and out of herself. 
She briefly sucks my tongue while I reach down and guide her hand as she pushes her fingers deeper into herself. I push my fingers inside of her alongside hers and I tickle her swollen little nub and pinch it. She cries out when I flick her clit and she cums hot and fast. I guide her fingers up to both our mouths as we suck her juices off.

“Good girl,
” I say, praising her.

She smiles
, reaches for a towel on the bedside table and wipes herself dry. Then she pushes me to the far edge of the bed so she’s lying in the middle.

“I’m not sleeping in the
wet spot again,” she says sleepily and dozes off.

***

I wake to the smell of coffee and bacon. My stoma
ch is grumbling loudly. I sit up to see Dylan walking in with breakfast for me. He’s made a delicious veggie omelet and my favorite chocolate glazed donut flavored Keurig. He ties a napkin around my neck and feeds me like a royal queen. I love it when he does this for me. It makes me feel so special. He wipes my mouth gently with the napkin and occasionally pecks me on the lips with kisses in between bites.  Sometimes he even seductively licks the crumbs from my mouth. 

While he feeds me, he rambles on about work. I’m only half listening and mainly just watching his dirty mouth.
I wouldn’t mind having his dirty mouth on me right now
. It does such magical things to my body. His language is interspersed with curse words, though I don’t think he realizes it, or why else would he be so offended when I use the same profanities? It’s the typical double standard, I guess.

His hair is a fantastic mess and he keeps pushing it back, revealing his winter blue eyes. I think I see of hint of gray coming in around his temples. 
He’s too young to be getting white hair already, but I love the thought of growing old and gray with him.

“You’re not listening to a word I say,
are you?” he says, interrupting my thoughts.

“No, not really. I’m just inwardly admiring my husband,” I tell him and reach out to tou
ch his newly sprouted silver hairs.

“You see what you’re doing to me? You’re giving me gray hair, woman,” he says playfully when he realizes I’ve noticed the silvery streaks.

“It’s sexy as sin on you. But I’m never going gray. No way. I’ll dye my hair until I’m 90.”

He dons his boyish grin and laughs at my comment.

When I’m finished eating, he draws a bath for me with lots of bubbles, undresses me and helps me in. I’m sad to find out he won’t be joining me, but he at least washes me down and teases my clit for a few moments.  Before long, he’s off to work on the mystery of who the masked woman is who’s making our lives miserable. I take my time in the tub and luxuriate in the heat for a good hour and until my body is pruned and shriveled.

I get dried off and walk in to the
bedroom where Dylan has laid out something pretty for me to wear; a matching push-up bra and boy shorts, a soft pale yellow angora sweater, over-priced jeans, cream-colored bootie slippers, and a headband. I could get used to a life like this; one of being taken care of and pampered beyond reason.
Could get used to?
Who am I kidding, I
am
used to this. I often times feel as if it’s all a dream and it will end shortly. Those feelings have started to slowly subside over time, but every now and again, that little negative voice still resonates through my brain.

The last few day
s have been more than trying with a wedding; an admission by Dylan of enjoying causing pain and me accepting his pain and enjoying it. Then those God awful photos and that phone call. And I can’t forget the icing on the cake - the threat from both my father and that lunatic. Why can’t our lives just go on drama-free?

I think about how lovely the last several months have been.
Halloween was a blast. Dylan dressed up as a devil and I was a pregnant angel. The looks we got at his company costume party were priceless. Thanksgiving was just as memorable and I thoroughly enjoyed playing turkey and getting my pussy stuffed and eaten like one. Christmas and New Years were so wonderful; the best I’ve ever had. The perfect snowed in days we spent together fucking, sucking and spanking.  Bondage, nipple clamps, and getting my tongue pierced...  The gorgeous and I’m sure over priced diamond collar that was my Christmas gift… Our New Year’s Eve spent fucking on the elevator after his work party. Oh, the good old cum soaked, drama-free days…

After my spell of
day dreaming, I change the bed sheets and underpad and take the dirty linen to the laundry room. After that, I make my way to the living room and clean up the broken mug from yesterday’s argument. I laze around all afternoon, doing touch-ups on my paintings and trying my best not to interrupt Dylan, Sawyer and the two other men that are with him. I creep past the doorway and try to eavesdrop, but Dylan catches me and shoos me away. I finally decide to make them all some coffee and lunch in hopes of coaxing my new husband out and spending some time with him.

I cook
like a domestic goddess for an hour, knowing they’ll all eventually come sniffing around like hungry dogs, one at a time, as the smell of the food wafts into the office. Right on cue, Dylan is the first to come out and inspect the provisions.

“Looks
and smells good, love,” he says.

I like this term of endearment much better and I love that he’
s making a real effort not to call me the other thing. He sits down at the breakfast bar and eventually the goon squad comes waddling out. I almost laugh at their ridiculousness. It’s amazing how grown men act when there’s food on the table. I set lunch out on the bar and set up our dining room table for them. When I set the plates out, Dylan winks seductively at me and I know exactly why.

The last time we used this table, and actually, the
only
time we’ve ever used this table, was when we fucked on it. That was the first snow day we shared together, or as I like to refer to it as Fiesta Fucktastica.

The G
squad are telling tall tales of their past conquests and days of glory in the CIA, NSA and other 3-letter acronym places that they’ve worked. It’s all secretive and on occasion they peer over at me and whisper something and laugh perversely like a bunch of teenage boys who are talking about the size of a girl’s tits.  Hopefully, I’m not the girl they’re discussing and it’s not my tits their laughing about.

Dylan scarfs down his food in record time and then pulls me into the dungeon when no one is looking. 

“Get undressed and wait for me by the cross,” he orders.

I make double time unclothing myself and kneel on
the subbie mat. Dylan makes his way around the room slowly and methodically, not at all concerned about the group of men eating lunch in the dining room. He moves behind me, removes my headband and drops it on the floor, pulls my hair up into a high pony tail, and stands in front of me.

“Undress me,” he tells me. His voice is commanding and oozes with sex appeal.

I stand and proceed to undress him, never making eye contact and keeping my eyes downcast until he gives me permission to look at him. When I’ve removed his last piece of clothing, he pulls my chin up so that we’re looking eye-to-eye.  The look on his face is hypnotizing. This is full Dominant Dylan. His eyes are fully dilated and his breathing is deep and paced slowly. He scans my face and my body, his eyes moving slowly up and down me. I feel my body heat under his gaze and I start to get damp with anticipation.

Loud l
aughter comes from the dining room and I feel nervous tension for what we’re about to do while there are other people in the house.