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Authors: Ella Dominguez

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Chapter 4

Isabel

Isa woke to the sound of her own heavy breathing. She had dreamt of ropes wrapped tightly
around her wrists and of a handsome man touching her face and whispering words of seduction into her ear. She had no idea where the fantasy was coming from, but she didn’t question it, she simply rose from bed and began to put it down on canvas. As she painted the image, the memory of her first clumsy time with sex returned to haunt her with its awkwardness. Although it was well over a year since that encounter, she was still mortified at how lame it had been. Alex hadn’t even waited until she was wet before he dry thrust into her. There hadn’t even been any time allowed for her to get turned on before he came and scurried out of her life like a rat that had finished eating a stolen meal.

Even the s
econd man she had been with was a joke in the sack. All her time reading up on sexual positions post Mr. Two Pump Chump was time wasted considering her next lover was strictly a missionary position man.

Would sex always be boring
and unappealing for her? Maybe her expectations were too high, but were being excited and aroused asking too much? She had read about the mythical orgasm, but she had yet to experience it herself. Maybe the
Big O
was an urban legend; something men made up to string women along with so they could get into their panties. Oh hell, with her looks and lack of education, she was lucky any man was interested in getting between her legs at all.

Education.
She smiled as she laid down another layer of dark blue acrylic paint. Her art class was beginning in only two short weeks. She had been saving her pennies to take the six week session and she was excited at the prospect of learning about the classics while sketching naked men.

The painting was coming along nicely as she recalled the previous year and all the dullness of it. I
t was hard to believe it had been a year and a half since she had made her break from Papa. Time was flying by and in another six months she would be twenty-one years old.
What then?

Two hours later, her kinky masterpiece was complete. It wasn’t half bad, she grinned. She signed her name at the bottom before walking out of the closet and over to a window facing the street. The silvery moonlight glimmered against the falling snow and
her eyes scanned the inky night sky in search of stars to make a wish upon, but there were none to be seen. Opening the window, she reached a hand out to feel the flakes against her palm and inhaled a deep breath of crisp winter air. As much as she cherished her freedom, the sting of loneliness was palpable. Would she always feel like this? Would there ever be true love and acceptance in her life? Her amber eyes welled up and the bitter taste of disillusionment whipped through her. She longed for her fairytale ending and for a princely man to save her, but knew life was too cruel for such juvenile fantasies. Unable to bear children, incapable of understanding or comprehending love, powerless to accept herself… No one could ever care for such a deeply flawed and damaged individual. The dismal thought left her feeling depressed and deeply saddened. She was truly unlovable and her own flesh and blood was to blame.

***

Dylan

Dylan
dressed and moved about his bedroom with purpose. Tuesdays and Thursdays were training days and a new batch of wannabe submissives was awaiting his instruction. In particular, there was a leggy, dark-haired temptress he was impatient to sink his teeth into again. Dressed in his best, most comfortable attire, he readied himself for another night of debauchery and enlightenment.

The drive to the club
was filled with thoughts of his upcoming endeavor – starting his own company. He had sought all the legal advice he could and even had his finances in order to get everything underway. The only thing missing: a core of employees that he could trust with his life. In the line of work that he was going into, trust was key and hiring people off the street wasn’t an option. He had a few people in mind he wanted to bring on board, but hadn’t yet approached them – the first being Sawyer Morrison. They had kept in touch over the last year and a half and Morrison had proved to be an invaluable resource for knowledge and advice. It was strange considering he initially thought the man didn’t like him. He would even go so far as to say he considered Sawyer to be his
friend.
Reality struck him full force when he came to the conclusion that Sawyer was, in fact, the only person he considered to be a true friend and someone he could share his secrets with.

When they had last spoken, Morrison
stated he was taking a family medical leave to care for his cancer-ridden wife and his heart went out to him. He didn’t know a great deal of personal information about Morrison, but he knew that Sawyer didn’t have anyone else in his life or family to speak of. It was part of the reason that Dylan felt a connection with him. Just as he parked his car, he felt the urge to speak with Sawyer and check on his well being.

As soon as Morrison answered the phone, Dylan
could hear the liquor in his voice.

“She’s gone, Young.”

Sawyer’s husky, distressing tone and words washed over Dylan in waves. He knew too well the feeling of loss, yet he had no words of sympathy to give him except for, “I’m so sorry, Morrison.”

“She’s really fucking gone. Now what am I supposed to do?”
he suddenly broke into deep sobs.

Morrison was the most resilient man he knew and to
hear his anguish cut through Dylan.

“And the God damn CIA…” his voice turned cold and harsh. “They said I was a liability. That my drinking… that I’m not worthy to carry their fucking badge anymore.
After everything I did for them. After lying to Serena for so many years about what I did for them…”

Dylan put the key back into the ignition and drove away from the club. Morrison needed him and there was no denying that he needed Morrison, too.

When he arrived at Sawyer’s condo, the skin around his eyes appeared bruised from his sorrow and tears, and his lids drooped with drunkenness. His normally organized and spotless home was a chaotic mess and his clothing, wrinkled.

After c
leaning Morrison up, Dylan put him to bed. Just as he attempted to leave, Sawyer reached a hand out and gripped his wrist.

The corners of his eyes tightened in despair as he fought th
e tears that bordered his lashes. “I loved her so much, Young. If you ever find someone you love as much as I loved Serena… don’t ever lie to her, don’t ever hurt her, and don’t ever fucking let her go.”

His body suddenly went limp with exhaustion
and intoxication, and his statement left Dylan reeling. He walked to the window as the words sunk in. Pushing the drapes aside, he stared up at the dark, moonless night that was devoid of stars and watched as the snowflakes whirled around in the wind outside. Finding love had never really been on his agenda. How could it be when he was incapable of loving himself? No one in their right mind would ever accept him after having murdered his parents. And could he blame them?
Fuck no.
He had brought it all on himself.

He waited a few more minutes until Sawyer’s breathing deepened before
writing him a letter, offering him a job as head of security with his company and leaving it on his bedside table. He hoped Morrison would clean himself up and accept his proposition, or else he had no idea what he would do. There was no one else he wanted as his right-hand man. Fuck the CIA. If they couldn’t see the true value in a loyal person like Sawyer, then their loss would be his gain.

It looks like we’re stuck with each other.

Sawyer’s words that had been spoken in jest couldn’t have ended up being a truer statement.

With Morrison resting and after having cleaned up his condo, Dylan drove through the snow to the Dark
Asylum. The pretty brunette named Erica was waiting for him and he was anxious to get his hands on her once more. When he arrived, she made her way from across the room to him and his cock immediately awakened at the ravenous look in her eyes. This would be their fifth time together at the club and he was eager to push her body to the brink again. He had never met a submissive quite like her. She was a bottomless bottom and damn if he couldn’t stay away from her.

She was
genuinely limitless. Inexhaustible. Boundless. It was an intriguing and frightening concept, and one that he fully intended on putting to the test. With the infinite possibilities of Erica on his mind every waking moment since first meeting her, all the other submissives who were vying for his attention had fallen off his radar.

Erica fucking Lawson.
It was hard to think about anything or anyone else.
Hard…
he inwardly laughed to himself because that’s exactly what he was as she moved catlike toward him with that hungry, insatiable look in her mahogany eyes. He was hungry, too; hungry to give her the kind of pain that she craved; starving to fuck her in agonizing ways and make her beg for more.

Slowly, she knelt before him and pressed her palm to his groin. “I’d like to offer myself to you, Sir,” she tugged the waistband of his pants down to expose his hard cock.

Gripping his dick, she squeezed tightly as her hand began to glide up and down. She batted her lashes and stated her objective.

“I’d like to be your submissive. Full-time.”

Dylan’s interest was piqued. He never had any intention of having a full-time submissive. That meant responsibility and caretaking on a whole other level than just enjoying their training. When he sat quietly contemplating her offer, her grip tightened along the ridges of his shaft.

“I would belong to only you, Sir. I would be yours to do with whatever you want. Whenever you want...”

It was tempting…
So tempting…

“No limits, Sir. Nothing is off the table with me. My body for your pleasure; to use and abuse however you see fit.”

God damn…
No limits…
save for giving head. How could he say no to that? He would be crazy to say no to that… His eyes grew wild at the thought of exploiting and manipulating her body without restriction. If only she would accept his cock in her mouth…
Fuck that
. He could live without getting head so long as she could take every other twisted thing he intended on doing to her. Full-time? Hell yes. The endless possibilities of what he could put this woman through was something he was definitely going to claim for himself.

 

Chapter 5

Isabel

Isa sat staring at her interlaced fingers, dreading
the inevitable. When Anderson left a week earlier, he had drained her bank account dry. She had tried to come up with some way of how she could make ends meet, but her paycheck wasn’t due for another week and a half, she had no food in her pantry and rent was four days past due. How could she have been with such a despicable asshole? Wasn’t it enough that he had humiliated her, incessantly put her down and gave her nothing but hell about her artwork? She was happy he was finally out of her life, but now she was being forced to do the one thing she swore she would never do: ask Papa for help.

She picked up the phone and dialed
her father’s number only to hang up. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. It had been four long years since she had spoken to him; four peaceful years not hearing his voice or harsh words. She knew she should’ve run the other way when Anderson kept sniffing around like a hound in heat, but no… she was too damned starved for attention to send him on his merry damned way. If only he hadn’t been so persistent…

Holy absurdity, his small pecker wasn’t even worth all the havoc he had wreaked in her life. Nearly a year wasted with his worthless
, no-orgasm giving ass. Isa grumbled to herself as she stood and began pacing her apartment floor. There was nothing in her name worth any real value that she could sell except maybe her artwork.
What a laugh
. Who the hell would want to buy her perverted paintings anyway? She pushed her unkind words about her art to the back of her mind and quickly chastised herself for thinking of them in that way. They weren’t perverted. They were honest. They were part of her and who she was. They were all she had worth anything, even if the value of them was only held within her heart.

Anderson had tried to stifle her creativity
just like Papa had, but he had failed. They both had. That’s why Anderson left. Not because she wasn’t really good enough for him like he had said. Or maybe she wasn’t good enough for him. Either way, she didn’t care. He was gone and good-fucking-riddance.

But this?
To be made to call her father now after all this time? She hoped Anderson’s miniscule cock and balls shriveled up and fell off for making her resort to that. It would serve his cheating ass right. She swore to herself if she ever saw him again, she would exact her own version of sweet revenge on him.

Seated on the edge of her bed, she
forced herself to do the unthinkable and redialed Papa’s number. As soon as his voice came over the other end of the line, it was as if no time had passed between them when he tore into her.

“You must be in a shit load of trouble to be calling after all this time.”

Her voice was barely a whisper of a sound when she answered, “Yes, Papa.”

When she heard her own childlike tone, she inwardly screamed at herself t
o be strong. Her mind was frantic with fear and her heart was lodged in her throat, but all she could do was stand motionless like an imbecile and take his abuse like she had done all those years ago. Four fucking years she had lived on her own and supported herself, and she was still the same pathetic little girl who couldn’t stand up to him. She wordlessly urged herself to hang up the phone, but she knew he was her only source of help
. God damn, Anderson Hayes.

“What’s the matter? Did your whoring ass get pregnant?”

His malicious words lacerated her heart. He knew damned well she couldn’t carry a child and his statement only devastated her further, causing her to sink to her knees. Her bottom lip trembled but she bit it harshly. The least she could do for herself was to not allow him to hear her torment.

“I
need you to send me money.” Her stomach roiled at how feeble she sounded.

“I didn’t hear a
please
with that, Isa,” he laughed acidly under his breath. “Beg, you little cunt.”

God damn him
. She swallowed her pride and let the words slip past her lips with her eyes tightly closed. “Please, Papa. I need your help.” She moved the phone away from her mouth, fearful she was going to vomit.

“Of course you do.
You’ll always need me and you’ll always be just like that slut mother of yours, too; useless, ignorant, and dependent on me.”

After giving him her address, she hung up the phone, dropped it to the floor and hugged her body as she began to rock herself slowly. Her fragile nerves were splintering and her mind shutting down. With her lips clamped together, she drew in a deep breath through her nose and coaxed hers
elf to rein in her emotions. Rising from the floor, she stiffly walked to the open window and stared up at the pink and orange globe that peeked over the eastern horizon. A spring breeze blew in and the brisk morning air caressed her cheek and dried her tears as if telling her that everything was going to be okay. The sunshine streamed through the tree leaves outside and flickered across her floor and a peaceful sensation came over her with the realization that Papa was more than a thousand miles away and he couldn’t hurt her anymore. His words were all that he had to destroy her with and she wouldn’t allow him the satisfaction. Not anymore. Not ever again.

***

Dylan

Twenty one fucking months of lies. That’s all Dylan’s relationship with Erica had turned out to be. All for what? The God damned money.
As he stared at the Denver cityscape out his lawyer’s window, sunlight strained its way past the thick venetian blind and dazed him momentarily. Pushing the shades aside, he focused on a lonely patch of green grass amongst the pavement outside. While his legal counsel discussed how to deal with the blackmailing cunt he had entrusted his secrets with, he recalled their last ugly meeting.

It was supposed to be
a nice dinner out with his favorite masochist followed by another night of kinky fun. Instead it turned out to be the worst night of his life. She looked good in her tight-fitting, red summer dress, her hair neatly pulled back into a low ponytail and her nipples taught and poking through the light fabric of her frock. He sighed irritably. Yeah, she made sure she looked good all right while she fucked him over in the worst possible way.

Her lusty brown eyes
shined brightly when she told him she wanted money. His response?
How much?
While reaching for his check book. He was such an idiot. He thought she simply wanted to do a bit of shopping and he was all too willing to give her what she wanted in order to see that sweet smile of hers, a smile that he now knew was nothing but a fucking lie.

A couple hundred
thousand should do fine for now,
she had answered back. He must’ve looked like a complete pussy-whipped piece of shit to her as he sat wide-eyed staring back at her with his pen in his hand.

What are you waiting for?
She coolly asked when as he sat staring gape-jawed at her.

Start writing or else I’ll
tell all of Denver what you’re into. How you like to make me have sex with other men in front of you while you jack off. How you enjoy beating the hell out of me and fist fucking me just so you can hear my screams. I bet the newspapers would love to hear about all that and about what you did to your parents, D…

Holy fucking Christ, she didn’t even bat a lash
when she tore his heart out.

I can see you’re a little flustered. It’s understandable
given the situation, so I’ll give you twenty-four hours to finish writing that check out. I know you like even numbers so, for now, let’s go with exactly two-hundred thousand dollars.

She casually walked away from him and their life together as
though none of it had mattered and what she had just done was like another uneventful day at work. The unemotional expression on her face as she strode away made it perfectly clear to him that he meant nothing to her and he never had.

But she underestimated him. He may have not wanted anyone to find out about his sexual preferences and proclivities, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to allow her to threaten him. He refused to live like that and h
e didn’t need twenty-four hours to come to that decision. It took him all of two minutes to gather his senses and drive straight to his lawyer’s office where they promptly began drafting a notice of cease and desist of all threats and contact, or else charges of conspiracy to defraud and blackmail would be brought against her.

Two hours later, the full brevity of the situation
still hadn’t quite sunk in.
Flustered.
He was a helluva lot more than that. He was at a complete loss for words after everything that had transpired between them.

All of it… lies
. He still couldn’t believe it. Almost two fucking years wasted with her. He had told her things he hadn’t told anyone. He had allowed her into his home to live with him. He trusted her with his life. She had slept next to him and held him, and all of it was nothing but one huge fucking game of emotional and sexual treason. He may have never loved her, but that didn’t take away from the sting of her betrayal.

He belted out a breathy, ironic laugh causing his lawyers to look over at him. Karma was a real
cock sucking bitch, unlike Erica fucking Lawson. No head for nearly two God damned years? Jesus, he was an asshole for having let her fuck him over like that and for thinking that he had it made with her. Hell, it served him right to have his life fucked up beyond repair after what he did to his parents.

Once at home, he stood outside his dungeon and eyed all
of the equipment and tools that he had mastered during his years of being a Dom. He would miss it. Every last bit of it. but most especially the powerful feeling that came with dominating a submissive. Glancing over his shoulder, the spare room door sat ajar.

Erica fucking Lawson.

How could he have been so blind? A hot tide of inner loathing stung the back of his throat at his own ignorance. Sawyer had tried to caution him about her, but he was so damned fascinated with her that he had ignored the warnings. It wasn’t necessarily a fascination with
her
as much as it was a fixation on what she was allowing him to do to her. He had been living out his sadistic fantasies with her and she had always come back for more. Even begged for it. All along he thought it was because she enjoyed it, because she needed the pain like he needed to inflict it, that she accepted his actions because she cared about what made him happy,
but no
. It was simply because she wanted what was in his bank account. Of course she only wanted his money. He was unlovable.

He pivoted on one foot and
kicked the door to her room open. All his pent up anger ripped through him like a firestorm as he began to tear the room apart, shredding everything that his hands came into contact with. His grunts and garbled moans echoed throughout the hallway as he destroyed the last of her possessions; belongings he had bought and given to her like a lust-struck, jackass.

When he was done ravaging Erica’s room, he made his way to the dungeon and hid everything away underneath fresh linen and slammed the door closed behind him.

Everything he knew, everyone he had grown close to, the only real family he had, was gone and his life as he knew it - was over. No more BDSM. No more Dark Asylum. No more hedonistic and sadistic pleasure. No matter how much he needed those things, he couldn’t ever risk someone holding those things over his head and threatening him.

Seated in his office chair
and his elbows braced on his thighs, he held his head in his hands as he closed his eyes and let his anger seep away. At least he still had art. No one could ever take that away from him. Not even that threatening little backstabbing bitch Erica fucking Lawson.

BOOK: The Art of Redemption
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