The Art of Submission (14 page)

Oh hell. I guess I did say that. Surely he
knows I only said it in the heat of the moment… but he’s just so
damned ….

“Frustrating?” He says finishing my
sentence.

Like he doesn’t already know that? I
doubt that very much. At least he’s more amiable now. He wants to
leave and yes, I would like that, too. “…Mr. Young, I
do
think I could kick your ass.” How
does he like that? He smiles his wicked smile at me, but I can tell
he still has something on his mind… what is it?

“Isabel, I don’t want to argue with you
anymore tonight…”

He’s looking at me seriously, his eyes
an intense blue.
He really wants
me
. Can’t he tell that I don’t want anyone else? I’ve
only ever done what we did with one other person… well maybe two
if….
I don’t want to think about that
right now.
“Yes. Of course.” I say, trying to reassure
him.

He forces me to look into his eyes. We’re so
close that I can feel his breath on me and it’s spellbinding. “Say
it, then. Say you understand.” His voice is desperate and
needy.

Yes…
yes
, I understand
. It’s
only you Dylan.

Dylan

I feel a sense of relief to hear the
words from her. I hardly know Isabel, but the thought of her with
anyone else, is just a little more than upsetting. She looked so
genuine when she said it would only be me, and I feel a twinge
of…
something
. An emotion I
can’t quite put my finger on.

“We should go.” I tell her.

“So… where exactly are we going?” Her eyes
are luminous and her curiosity is brimming.

“A club.” I’m being evasive, but for a
reason. I don’t want to freak her out. My alter ego has already put
a damper on the evening and I don’t want to make it worse.

She looks at me slightly appalled, “A club?
Dylan… I…um…”

What’s her hesitation?

“I don’t do clubs.” She says looking
embarrassed.

I can’t help but laugh out loud at her. “It’s
not that kind of club, sweetheart.” She’s so damned cute.

She cocks her head to one side and furrows
her eyebrows at me. “What kind of club is it then?”

Should I tell her? Ah, hell, here it goes.
“It’s a BDSM club.”

“That sounds interesting.” She says with a
shy smile as her eyes light up.

Interesting? Okay. Her reaction is better
than I had imagined.

“I need to change,
okay
?”

I love it when she asks
permission.
“I already told you that you look fine.”
Does she doubt me?

“I know you did, but you were just
being polite and I don’t feel fine.” She’s looking at the floor and
starts fidgeting her hair. Damn it -
we’ll
never get out of here if she keeps doing that.
Why is
she so self-conscious? She’s gorgeous.

“Isabel. Look at me.” She looks up, peeking
at me through her long lashes. “I’m never ‘just being polite.’ If I
tell you that you look fine, it’s because I mean it. With that
being said, if you feel more comfortable changing into something
else, then by all means, change.”

Her eyes are watching my mouth when I
speak to her. Finally, she looks into my eyes and smiles.
She has such a beautiful smile.
She
walks over to her dresser and starts searching for something to
wear. When she pulls out an old pair of black jeans and a large
oversized hoodie, I laugh out loud at her.

She asks tensely, “Why are you always
laughing at me?”

Oops. She looks hurt. “Sorry. I didn’t
mean… it’s just that…. you’re not
really
going to wear that are you? Don’t you
have anything that actually fits?”

“What do you mean? This fits.”

This poor thing doesn’t know the first thing
about how to dress.

“Can I pick something out for you?” I ask and
her eyes light up at the suggestion.

I walk over to her dresser and rummage around
in it. Finding nothing suitable for a pretty and talented artist, I
go over to her makeshift armoire and finally find something that
looks like it’s her size. It’s a light yellow halter dress. It’s
actually very decent and it still has a price tag on it. This
should show off her marvelous curves nicely. I hold it up to her
and she frowns. “What’s wrong with this?” I ask.

She looks disapproving. “It’s not really my
style.”

Then why the hell did she buy it?
Besides, I don’t think she even knows
what
her style is.

“Well, you bought it, so you must have
thought it was your style at some point. Get over here and put it
on.” I tell her.

She scans me up and down quickly, her
eyes large and bright. I think she’s going to argue about it, but
then she walks over and takes the dress from me.
Good girl.
Now if she would only be
that obedient all the time.

“Just for your information, I bought it a
long time ago, when I was much younger.” She says in a huff.

Much younger than what? She’s only 25 for
fuck’s sake. She heads towards the bathroom to change, but I stop
her.

She looks back at me bemused.

“I want to you change here, in front of
me.” I want to see her.
All of
her.

She looks mortified and stares back
down towards the floor. She starts to mumble something about not
being comfortable, but I cut her off. “You just had my cock in your
mouth not 30 minutes ago, and you’re going to get shy on me
now?”
Fuck
. There goes my
alter ego again.

She looks aghast at my crudeness. “Geez
Dylan. You don’t have to be so vulgar.” She says quietly, creasing
her forehead at me.

I can’t argue with that. I half roll my
eyes at her and shrug my shoulders trying to soften the blow of my
alter ego’s sharp tongue. “I want to see you Isabel,
please
…” The sting of saying please
wasn’t quite as bad the second time around.

She smiles timidly and starts to take
her clothes off.
Yes. Thank
you
. She kicks of her shoes, fumbles with her jeans
nervously and then quickly takes them off. “Slower, Isabel, I want
to enjoy the show.”

Her cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink
as she blushes. Her legs are a fine site. Then she takes her
t-shirt off, lifting it over her head slowly and drops it to the
floor. All she’s wearing is a surprisingly lovely pair of pink
ruffled panties, a matching bra and knee-high white socks. At least
she has good taste in underwear.
Very good
taste indeed
. She’s still looking down at the floor,
her feet slightly pigeon-toed, and she starts twirling a lock of
hair between her fingers. Her breasts are large and firm, her tummy
soft, round and flat. Good lord Almighty.
She’s fucking perfect
– and I tell her so, but
she looks up at me as if disbelieving. We’re definitely not getting
out of here if she keeps doing that with her hair.

She smiles shyly and her hand falls to
her side. I walk towards her and stand directly in front of her.
She’s little – with the top of her head only reaching my mouth.
She’s looking up at me with sleepy half-closed eyes. I run my hand
down her cheek and she closes her eyes. Her lips part and she lets
takes in a deep breath. I let my hand follow her body, down to the
base of her neck, then to the top of her breasts, over her nipple,
down to her waist and her hip.
Her skin is
so soft and smooth, like satin.
With my other hand, I
grab her hair at the back of her head and pull it to bring her face
to mine. Her eyes are closed and I kiss her forehead, then her
perfect little nose, then her pouty mouth. She responds
immediately. She tips her head to one side and kisses me deeply,
her tongue probing my mouth briefly. I pull away from her so I can
look at her. Her eyes are still closed
and she
looks
angelic.

“Dylan… don’t stop….
more
…” She whispers.

I can’t deny her. I kiss her long and
hard, my tongue caressing the inside of her warm wet mouth. I move
my mouth down her neck, onto her large firm breasts, biting as I go
along. I want to taste her –
all of
her
. I kiss her breasts through her bra, nibbling her
stiff nipples as she pants softly. I glide my mouth down her belly,
kissing and biting her as I follow the mouth-watering scent of her
pussy. She starts to moan softly. I kneel in front of her, my hands
on both of her hips. When I reach her pubic line, I run my nose
along up and down and across, right at the top of her panties. I
feel her hands in my hair, tugging at it.
Fuck… that feels so good.
I push her legs
slightly apart and I tug at her panties, pulling them down so I can
see her. To my delight, she’s well groomed and look at that
-
she’s a natural blond after all.
I pull her panties down lower, just above her thighs, low
enough to slip a finger into her.
She’s so
wet
. I look up her and she’s watching me obsessively.
I insert another finger inside of her and she closes her eyes,
throwing her head back and letting out small whimper.
She smells so good…her own unique scent, clean
and sweet.
I move my fingers in and out of her,
slowly, enjoying the content look on her face.

As I continue to finger fuck her, I run
my tongue along her clit. It hardens under my tongue as I lick up
and down the length of it, then encircling it.
She tastes divine and I tell her so.
I move my
fingers around, searching for her sweet spot…
yes
… there it is
. It’s rigid
and slick and I can feel it swell to my touch. I pull my fingers
back against it firmly in a come-here motion. Briefly I think how
much better the real thing feels compared to the
painting.

“Oh my God Dylan….” she says all breathy.

I keep up the motion, again and again,
pulling at her, harder and harder, licking her sweet honey hole,
sucking her, biting her. Both of her hands are in my hair, pulling
hard
.
Her hips are swaying
rhythmically, meeting my mouth.
Fuck
… I feel her legs stiffen and she rises on
her tiptoes. Her breathing is loud and quick. I pick up the
pace
… she’s almost there…
“
Cum for me, Isabel
…” I
demand and she complies.

I feel her pussy tighten as warm cum shoots
out and down the front of me, and catches me by complete surprise.
She screams something garbled, throws her head back and then
forward – her hair falling into her face. She collapses to her
knees with a spasm and a jerk as her orgasm slowly subsides, and I
catch her. She’s lays in my arms with her head on my chest,
quivering uncontrollably, as her breathing gradually slows.

Fuck.
That was intense
. I’ve never seen that before.
I’ve never actually been with anyone who can do that – and I was
the one who made her do it.
Nice work,
Young
. I can’t wait to get her into my dungeon and
make her do that again and again.

I push the hair out of her eyes and look down
at her. She’s so stunning. She slowly sits up on her knees after a
few moments and then sits back on her haunches. She looks at me
sheepishly. Her cheeks are flushed and her shining eyes are
scanning me. Her eyebrows furrow and she looks down at the
floor.

“I’m so sorry about that, Dylan. I’m so
embarrassed.” Her voice is barely a whisper. She gets up, wobbly on
her legs and I rise to meet her and steady her.

What is she talking about? She eyes my
shirt and then I see. She came so hard it’s all over the front of
my shirt.
Damn that’s hot.
Well there’s a first time for everything. I’m smiling at the
site of it, but she’s not amused at all. Why is she so
embarrassed?

“What do you mean,
why
? I’ve never cum like that before. I’m so
sorry.” She shuffling from foot to foot and fidgeting with her
hair. This is obviously a nervous trait.
A
sexy-as-hell nervous trait.

Sorry for what? Hasn’t this girl ever had an
orgasm before? She’s 25 years old, and I know she’s not a virgin,
so what gives?

“No, not like that. I wake up wet
sometimes, and I can make myself cum, but it’s never been
like
that
.” She briefly looks
up at me to gauge my reaction.

“What you just had was a G-spot orgasm. What
you do to yourself is a clitoral orgasm, don’t you know the
difference?”

Her eyes glow with revelation. I guess she
didn’t. I’m educating her - and I like it. It makes me wonder
though, how many men has she been with?

She eyes me speculatively. “I don’t want to
fight with you again, Dylan.” Her voice is guarded.

“I don’t want to fight either; I just want to
know.”

“You won’t be mad? Like you
were…
before
?” She asks
looking worried and I give her my patented ‘really?’ stare and she
rolls her eyes at me.

“Four - and the first one doesn’t really
count.” She says bashfully.

Neither does Greer.
No -
don’t go there.
Only four? Well, that explains a lot. “So you’ve been with
four men and you’ve never had an orgasm?”