The Art of Submission (50 page)

I walk back to Dylan’s room, take off
the dress that he picked out and put on my own clothes. I just quit
my job and now what? It’s my own damned fault for getting
comfortable with myself and the situation between us.
Jesus. It’s only been a week.
What
the hell was I thinking? I’m so stupid and naïve.

I get myself off the floor, turn off my
phone, and head to the spare room and pack up my painting supplies.
I throw myself on the spare bed and cry again. It’s been such an
exhausting day. As I lay there looking at the ceiling and thinking
about how I so badly wanted things to work out with Dylan, I drift
off to sleep with tears in my eyes.

It’s just after 10 o’clock when I
finally wake up and talk myself into turning my phone back on. I no
sooner get it turned on when it rings. It’s Dylan.
Keep it together, Isa. You can do this… just
breathe
.

“Hi sweetheart.” He says, sounding happy to
hear my voice.

Seriously? After he just fucked his
receptionist he’s going to call me that? Does he call her
sweetheart, too?

Stay cool, Isa.
“How was your
night?”
I
ask him coolly.

“
What’s wrong, Isa?” He asks
concerned.

Gee, I wonder
.
Maybe the fact you just got done boning your receptionist, you ass.
How convenient for him that we haven’t actually signed the contract
yet, leaving his monogamy clause unenforceable. “Why would anything
be wrong?” I say trying to contain my rage.

Get on with it, Isa.
I just need to know if he went over the contract. I keep it
professional and call him Mr. Young because I know how much he
just
loves
that.

“
Mr. Young?” He asks
sarcastically.

I come back with some of his own sarcasm
about that being his name. He’s still avoiding my question. It’s
funny how he’s been avoiding talking about the contract for the
last two days. Why is that? I guess he wanted to get in one last
fuck with his ‘type’ of girl.

“Seriously, Isa, what the fuck is going on?
Is this because of this morning? Because I wouldn’t allow you to
cum without permission?” He asks irritated.

That’s what he thinks? That I’m pissed
because of this morning?
How
obtuse.
I tell him this morning was just fine. If he’s
not going to discuss the contract, then this conversation is over.
I hang up, but Dylan is persistent and calls me right back.
Oh hell.

“
Are you ready to agree to my
revisions?” I ask him, not giving in.

“What the fuck, Isa?” He asks in Dom
mode.

Hell no
. Dom
Dylan doesn’t get to make an appearance right now. I can’t talk to
him right now. I desperately need time to think things over about
us and to reconsider whether or not I want to do this whole
submissive thing with him.

“Isa…” He says whispered.

He starts to say something to me, but I
can’t listen to him anymore and I can’t stand the sound of him
calling me that. Why doesn’t he just call me what I am; stupid and
naïve? I’m such an adolescent for falling for him so soon. I hang
up and go into the dungeon. I’m tired, emotionally and physically.
I’ll sleep in here one more night and then go back to my place in
the morning. I’ll decide later what to do. Yes –
later.
I can’t think about Dylan
with Cassie right now and I push the wretched heartbreaking image
to the back of my mind.

Dylan

The flight to Denver is excruciating.
What the hell changed from this morning to now that made Isa
suddenly question whether or not to be with me? I start fiddling
with my phone. I just happen to look at the incoming calls and
notice a call from Isa just after 6 o’clock. I must’ve been in the
shower when she called.
Shit.
Cassie was waiting in my room when I was in the shower. A
sick feeling overwhelms me. Did Cassie answer the phone when Isa
called?
Fucking hell
. What
the hell did Cassie tell her
?
No wonder she’s so upset. Doesn’t she know how much she means
to me? Of course not. Why would she? I haven’t told her as much. I
mean, hell, it’s only been a week. I don’t even know myself what I
feel for her. I just know that I want to be with her and that I
don’t want anyone else.

I try repeatedly calling Isa, but she’s
obviously turned her phone off. I would leave her a message on her
voicemail, but I don’t know what to say. Everything I need to tell
her, I have to tell her in person.

When we finally arrive in Denver, it’s well
past midnight. Raul drives me to my place. When I enter the condo,
it’s dark and quiet and I see Isabel’s bag on the floor near the
breakfast bar. Good. She’s still here. I walk into the dungeon,
knowing that’s where she prefers to be, and I find her peacefully
sleeping on top of the sheets, fully clothed, like she’s waiting to
go somewhere.

I lay down next to her and she doesn’t stir.
I spoon up behind her, taking in her sweet peach scent. I brush my
mouth against her ear, taking in her salty taste. I drift off to
sleep with my face in her hair.

I vaguely feel my body being manipulated and
I can’t tell if I’m dreaming. I’m so tired and I remember the last
time I woke up in my bed with Isa hovering over me and the sweet
semi-vanilla love we made.

“Dylan… wake up… wake up….” I hear Isa
whispering to me.

Then I feel a sharp snap of something
on my chest.
Fuck!
It’s
painful and I wake with a start. I attempt to jump up, but I can’t
move. My shirt is open and my pants are off, but my briefs remain.
My wrists and ankles are bound and I’m spread eagle on my own
bondage bed.
What the fuck?
I
lift my head and see Isabel standing over me with a riding crop in
hand.
Holy fuck.
I don’t know
whether to be pissed or aroused. Her eyes are narrowed and she
looks deadly serious. Suddenly I feel
afraid.
Why is she so angry?

“Isa, what the hell is going on?” I ask her,
trying to hide my fear.

“You never answered my question, Mr. Young.
Did you or did you not go over the revisions in the contract?”

I lay frozen at the look on her face.
When I don’t answer her right away, I feel the snap of the crop
again on my chest.
FUCK
! The
pain stings and completely shocks my system. For someone who’s
never done this, Isabel wields the crop like a pro and it’s both
frightening and hot. She’s still standing above me, between my
legs.

“Yes, I have.” I blurt out before I even have
a chance to think.

“I see. But you haven’t signed it yet, have
you?” She asks clenching her teeth.

“No. I haven’t.” I say
whispered.
Where is she going with
this?

“How convenient.” She says angrily and then
flicks the crop on my thigh. MOTHERFUCKER!

“Did you fuck her?” She asks coldly.

What? Who?

“You know who. Cassie. Your
receptionist
.” She says with her
voice oozing contempt.

Cassie? Wait…
I’m having a déjà vu here. Except the last time this
conversation happened, it was the other way around. And no one was
fucking bound and at the end of a crop.

“It’s a simple yes or no question, Mr.
Young.”

“Listen to me Isabel,
don’
t talk to me like that, do you
understand?” Who the fuck does she think she is?

She has me bound because she thinks I
fucked Cassie?
Hell no.
That’s not how this shit works. I’m the Dom here. I
am.
I. AM.

“Unfucking tie me right now, Isabel.” I say
low and harsh.

She doesn’t waver. “That’s fine; don’t tell
me. I already know the answer. I knew I wasn’t your type from the
beginning and that this would end in miserable heartbreak for me. I
just didn’t think it would end this soon. You can keep all your
beautiful skinny brunettes and your amazing artwork and your
beautiful dungeon and fuck yourself Dylan. And you know what else
you can keep? All my artwork that you inspired, because it doesn’t
mean anything to me anymore. That’s all you really wanted anyways,
wasn’t it?” She says enraged.

I only half hear what she says when I go into
meltdown mode. “Unfucking tie me God damn it! Right the fuck
now!”

How dare she fucking bind and punish me
in
my own fucking
dungeon
.

When Isabel sees just how infuriated I
am, she starts to look contrite.
Fuck
that
. I don’t need contrite and sweet now.
Fuck no.

Isabel immediately gets off the bed and
then unties my wrists first. When she moves down to uncuff my
ankles, I sit up and push her away. I don’t need her fucking help.
I know how this shit works. I unbuckle the ankle cuffs and jump off
the bed, get my pants back on and go into the living room.
Who the fuck does she think she is?
I’m pacing around the dark living room trying to get my
temper under control, but my Dom isn’t letting me. He’s talking all
sorts of shit about Isa and how she’s trying to tame me and control
me. Just then Isabel comes into the living room. She just stands
watching me as I stalk around the living room trying to avoid
looking at her.

“Dylan…” She starts to say.

“Don’t
Isabel.
Seriously, if you know what’s good for you –
don’t.
Who the fuck do you think you are
punishing me in my own dungeon?” I scream at her. I think she’s
going to say something apologetic, but she doesn’t.

“I thought it was
our
dungeon.” She says. The moonlight is coming
through the windows and I can see it reflecting off her narrowed
eyes.

“You don’t get to punish me, do you
understand?” I say still yelling and completely ignoring her
remark.

“So I get punished for arguing with you about
clothes and for playing with myself, but you can sleep with your
receptionist and dream about other women while I lay next to you
without consequence?” She says whispered but obviously pissed.

So she is trying to tame
me.
“How ignorant are you? What part of Dom/sub don’t
you fucking understand? I’m the one who’s in control.
ME
.” I yell harshly at
Isabel.

“Dylan… I… I… need a little bit of
control, too. Don’t
you
understand that?”

I don’t have time to filter my thoughts when
I tell her, “You’d better be glad you got rid of the belts.”

Isabel looks affronted and takes a step back,
her eyes large and fearful.

Shit.
Did I
really just say that?
She just needs to leave.
Now
. I don’t know what my alter ego
will do or say next. When I tell her to get out, she looks hurt and
rejected. She immediately looks down at the floor and starts
playing with her hair.
Fuck
that
. I just want her gone.

I grab my keys and leave. My heart is still
pounding and my adrenaline is still rushing when I get out to my
car and speed away from my place without a second thought.

I drive for about 30 minutes on the
highway trying to recall everything Isabel said during my angry
haze; our time together ending in miserable heartbreak, not being
my type; me only wanting her for her paintings… All of her words
flood over me. She thinks I fucked Cassie and I did and said
nothing to dispel that thought. What else did she say? I was
dreaming about another woman?
Then the image of
Isabel’s sad dejected look when I mentioned the belts comes back to
me and the look of hurt on her face when I told her to get out.
Suddenly I feel sick to my stomach. I immediately pull off the
road, feeling like I’m going to vomit. I open the door, lean out
and dry heave.
What the fuck have I
done?

**********************

Isabel

I wake up hot and uncomfortable. I’ve
just had a bad dream about Cassie laughing at me while she
pleasures my Dom. When I roll over, Dylan is laying directly behind
me. It’s his heat that I feel and the reason I’m sweating. He looks
peaceful lying next to me. When did he get here?
Why
is he here at this hour? I want
nothing more than to hug him, but then the image of him with Cassie
comes back to mind. I get incensed at the thought and this time, my
alter ego takes over.

Now it’s time for Dylan to learn a
lesson in self-control. I turn on the mood lighting and quickly and
quietly bind Dylan’s wrists to the cuffs that are lying at the side
of the bed. Then I remove his pants, surprised that I’m able to
maneuver his body without waking him. Then I quickly fasten the
cuffs to his ankles. Still, he just sleeps peacefully. Now I need
to pick my weapon of choice. I go over to the rack where the
whipping implements are and spot a lovely black leather riding
crop.
Yes – this will do just
fine
.

I walk back over to the bed, climb on
and unbutton Dylan’s shirt. Then I stand above him, watching him
sleep. I call his name.
Wakey
wakey
… Before I know what’s happened, my alter ego Isa
has snapped the crop on his chest.