The Art of Submission (20 page)

It’s just like I remember, though there
are subtle changes. The lighting is dim. The smell is arousing and
fond memories flood my mind.
I’ve missed
this.
There are several people milling around near the
bar, talking feverishly and making hand gestures. A few people look
over at us and give us a friendly nod. I hear the familiar sounds
of scenes being played out in the back; the crack of a whip,
commands being given, and an occasional scream.

I look down at Isabel to judge her reaction
and she looks mortified. It must be from the scream we’ve just
heard. She looks as if she’s ready to run.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” I ask her.

She’s speechless and she nods her head no. I
need her to see what’s going on, that everything she’s hearing is
normal. I take her hand and lead her to the play area. I walk
straight for the St. Andrew’s cross, thinking this will be good
area to initiate her with.

On the cross, there’s a brunette shackled by
her ankles and wrists at each post. There are several people
watching the scene and we stand towards the back of the group. The
brunette’s dominant is slowly running a flogger up and down her
body, flicking it occasionally, to which the woman moans. He’s
asking her generic questions and giving her commands to which the
woman answers appropriately. The sound of the flogger hitting her
skin, the woman’s whimpering voice and her answers are arousing me.
I look down at Isabel, hoping she’s not completely freaked.

To my delight, she doesn’t look like she
wants to run anymore. Her eyes are large and shimmering, her mouth
slightly parted and she’s standing stock still, taking it all in.
She’s still holding onto my arm, but this time I think it’s for
support and not out of fear. I can’t take my eyes off of her. She
looks arresting in this lighting.

I take my hand off her waist and run it
up along her bare back. I just want to feel her right now. I see
her shiver with my touch. She cocks her head to one side, licks her
lips, and then closes her eyes ever so briefly. She reaches over
and runs her hand over her stomach and then down her thigh.
Holy shit. She’s turned on.

She looks up at me with dreamy eyes and asks,
“Can we see something else now?”

Yes! She likes it. I knew
it. I was right about her.
“Of course,” I say to her
and I can’t help but grin like an idiot.

The next area I want to acquaint her with is
one of my personal favorites; the spanking bench. I’m hoping she
has the same positive reaction as before. When we approach the
scene, there only a few people watching and so we’re up front and
center of the action. This time, there’s a red head kneeling on the
bench, her master is standing over her with his hands behind his
back, loudly admonishing her. The red head is wearing a thong and
you can see the evidence of her punishment on her bright pink ass.
When the Dom doesn’t hear exactly what he wants, he pulls his hands
out from behind him to spank her again. He’s holding a large thin
wooden paddle and hits her moderately hard. The sound is loud and
woman lets out a small scream.

Isabel jumps at the sound and when I look
down at her, her eyes are practically bugging out of her head.
She’s holding onto my arm again and trying to hide behind me. She
looks up at me with shock, but then her eyes are right back on the
scene. She watches in wonder as the woman takes it again and again,
her ass turning from bright pink to red. Every time the paddle
makes contact, Isabel jumps, but not once do her eyes shift their
gaze. Maybe this is too much for her. I wrap my arm around her
waist to lead her away, but she resists and she stops me.

“I’m okay. I want to stay.”

Well I’ll be damned. Isabel never ceases to
surprise me.

As the last crack of the paddle ceases,
the man puts the paddle down and then inaudibly whispers something
to the woman, caressing her ass and rubbing her back. Then he
kisses her gently and tells her what a good girl she is. When I
look at Isabel, she looks confounded. She looks up at me as if
asking for explanation. I just smile at her
… oh I’ll definitely explain it to her alright.

Since the scene is essentially over, I decide
she’s seen enough for now and I lead her back to the bar area where
we sit. She’s not looking at me, but rather staring at the bar top,
and she starts twirling a strand of hair.

I lean over and whisper to her, “Please don’t
do that, especially in here.”

She immediately drops the lock of hair
and looks at me in horror. “Why? You’re not going to spank
me
here
, are you?”

What? No. Is that what she thinks? Oh,
Isabel. The look on her face is so genuine, her eyes large and
fearful, I can’t stop myself from laughing out loud at her.

“Jesus, Isabel,
no.
Why? Do you
want
me to?” I say in between laughs.

She rolls her eyes at me furiously and she
shakes her head no.

After my small laughing fit, I ask the
bartender for two waters with lemon.

“I could use something a little stronger, if
you don’t mind.” She says.

I tell her they don’t have anything stronger
and she looks confused, so I explain that alcohol isn’t served in a
place like this. She asks if it’s because they lost their liquor
license. This girl is funny. I don’t think I’ve laughed this much
in… Well, ever.

I tell her that no, they didn’t lose their
liquor license, and that people take this lifestyle very serious.
There are memberships, rules, regulations, etiquette and
responsibilities. She’s taking it all in and surprised at most of
the information I’ve just laid on her. Then she hits me with a
question I never expected.

“What made you get into this lifestyle?”

No one has ever asked me that before. I’ve
never even asked myself. This is heavy. I don’t know what to tell
her. I know the reason, deep down, but I’m not ready to share that
with her now - or maybe ever for that matter.

“Why not?” I tell her flatly.

She must sense my irritation to her question
because she immediately backs off.

“We should leave. We have a lot to discuss
now that you have an idea of what this lifestyle entails,” I tell
her, still irritated with her question.

“Dylan… I… I didn’t mean to pry. I was just
curious is all. Everyone is entitled to their secrets…. We don’t
have to leave just yet, do we?”

She’s in my ahead
again
. She’s looking at me contrite and sexy as hell.
Yes, we do all have our secrets, don’t we? From the way she said
that, the way her eyes drifted off for just a moment, I can tell
she has her own secrets to hide, as well. I can understand where
her curiosity comes from, because I, too, want to know her secrets.
Someday… maybe… we can share them.

For now, she wants to see more, and I can’t
deny her when she’s looking at me with her wildfire eyes, so I will
give her what she wants. I’ll show her one last scene and then we
have to get going, because frankly, I can’t wait to fuck this woman
in my dungeon anymore. I want to get back home, get a contract
drawn up, and get her inside of her panties.

After watching a final short scene that
involved the bondage table and two females, we head out. She didn’t
seem to be as into that scene as she was the others, and I suspect
it was because of the lesbianism. Personally, I wouldn’t have
minded watching the rest of it, but to each their own I guess.

I call the hangar and let Brody know we’re on
our way and once back in the car, she looks over at me and asks
very seriously,

“So now what? How does this work? Is there a
class or something that I take, BSDM 101?”

Oh, Isabel, she’s so fucking funny, but I can
see she’s genuinely curious. I laugh out loud at her and then
answer her.

“It’s BDSM and no Isabel, there’s no BDSM
101, but there is an orientation of sorts at the local Denver club
if you’re seriously interested. What I need to do is get home and
draw up a contract. I’ll give it to you to look over and then have
you make any changes you need. Then we can go over it more
thoroughly together and get it smoothed out.”

I don’t actually like the idea of her taking
the orientation class. I want to be the one to teach her
everything, not some complete stranger. She looks taken aback
slightly, but I’m not sure why.

“Contract? What kind of contract?”

“It’s a consensual contract that describes
exactly what you will and will not do. What kind of things I expect
out of you as my submissive, that sort of thing.”

She still doesn’t look satisfied at my
answer. “What is it, Isabel?”

She hesitates to answer me and I squeeze her
thigh, trying to get her to respond.

“It just all seems so… businesslike.
So…
cold
.”

Really? Does it seem like that? I guess
I never thought of it that way. I mean, it is a business agreement
of sorts, but that’s what makes it work. But,
cold
? Before I have a chance to answer her, she
cuts in.

“Never mind. It’s fine. You’re the
professional at this.” Her voice is nondescript and she stares
ahead.

Me, a professional at BDSM? Not quite. Not at
all, actually. I inwardly laugh at the thought of being a
professional Dom, but I know that’s not what she meant.

When we arrive back at the hangar, we park
the car and head towards the jet. Brody has the jet warmed up and
waiting for us. As we get seated, I see Isabel nervously look at
Brody who is watching her a little too closely for my comfort. She
shifts uncomfortably in her seat and I grab hold of her hand and
squeeze it to comfort her. What did Brody say to make her so
uncomfortable? I glare over at him. He senses my irritation and
quickly heads into the cockpit. I have to know what’s going on with
that.

“Isabel, did Brody say or do something to
make you feel uncomfortable?” I’m trying my best not to sound
accusatory.

She looks down at her hands and starts
fidgeting with her hair.

“I don’t want to cause any problems, Dylan.”
Her voice is barely a whisper.

What the hell does that mean?
I know what it means
. It means he
did something. I feel my temperature rising, but do my best to
remain calm. “Tell me, Isabel. And look at me.”

She looks up, her eyebrows furrowed. “He
asked if we were serious and I said that we are very serious. I’m
sorry.” She immediately looks back down and shakes her head.

Why is she sorry? She didn’t do anything
wrong.

“It’s just that… I told you that lying is
never okay and then I lied to your pilot. I just didn’t want him… I
didn’t like where the conversation was going with him… and…I…”

What did she lie about? I have to stop her.
She’s obviously feeling guilty about something when it’s not
necessary. “Stop, Isabel. You don’t have to apologize. He shouldn’t
have asked you that. I’m not even sure what lie you’re referring
to.”

Her eyes meet mine and she has a look of
bewilderment. “About us being very serious.”

Does she mean we’re not? I’m serious about
her; doesn’t she feel the same way about me? Shit. I just assumed.
“Aren’t we serious, Isabel?”

“I don’t know.
Are we
? You said you only wanted me to be your
submissive and nothing else.”

Oh. That’s where she’s going with this.
I need to clarify. “Being my submissive
is
serious. Once we sign our agreement, I don’t
want you to be with anyone else and I’ve already told you as
much.”

“And what about you? Does that mean you’re
not going to be with anyone else either?”

Shit. She’s not going to
like my answer.
“That’s something we can discuss
later.”

She looks irritated. “Later? Why not
now?”

“Isabel,
not
now
. When I make out the contract, that’s something we
can discuss.”

How the hell did we get onto this subject
anyway? I thought we were discussing Brody and his inappropriate
pass at my would-be submissive.

“We have to
negotiate
your monogamy? Please tell me you’re
kidding.” Her tone is one of incredulity and
aggravation.

I let out a loud sigh. “I’ve already
told you,
I don’t
negotiate
.”

“Oh yes, how silly of me to
forget
.”

She turns away and stares out the window.
That’s fine. I’m really not in the mood to argue with her. I’m too
preoccupied with Brody’s actions and what I plan on doing about
that. I wonder if he’s ever made passes at the other women I’ve
been with. To be completely honest with myself, I don’t really care
if he did or not; I only care that he did with Isabel.

As the plane starts to take off, Isabel jumps
and grabs the arm rests. I reach over to offer my hand like I did
before, but she doesn’t take it and stays staring out the
window.

Fuck. She’s mad at
me.
I don’t like this feeling. What is it anyway?
Rejection? It’s something I’m completely unfamiliar with. I guess
that means I won’t be getting any mile-high head on the journey
home.

After about 20 minutes or so, Isabel falls
asleep. I grab the same pillow that she used before and prop it
under her head. She looks so innocent when she’s sleeping like
this; completely oblivious to her surroundings. Ironically, much
like her real-life. She lives in her own little world, creating her
wonderfully wicked pieces and painting things she knows nothing
about.