The Art of Submission (51 page)

Now he’s awake and I only briefly feel a pang
of guilt for the harshness I’ve just inflicted upon him.

“Isa, what the hell is going on?” He asks
surprised and his eyes trying to adjust to the light.

I want to know why he never answered my
question about the contract revision. Did he or didn’t he go over
it? Why has he been so evasive the last few days? Again, he doesn’t
answer and I flick the crop on his chest again. If I have to beat
the answer out of him,
I will.

“
Yes, I have.” He says sounding only
slightly concerned.

Of course he has. But he hasn’t signed it
yet. How convenient for him. Then I slap the crop on his thigh
unsympathetically.

“Motherfucker!” He yells, cringing at the
pain.

Now I want his answer about Cassie and he’d
better not hesitate.

“What? Who?” He asks feigning innocence.

“You know who. Cassie. Your
receptionist
.” I say, replaying the
conversation we had only a few days ago, but this time, the tables
are turned. What was it he said? It’s a simple yes or no question,
right?

“
Listen to me, Isabel,
don’t
talk to me like that, do you
understand
?
Unfucking tie me
right now.” He says narrowing his heated blue eyes at
me.

Really?
Still
he won’t answer me? Whatever. That’s fine. I already know the
answer. I tell him that I knew this would end in miserable
heartbreak and that he can keep all his skinny brunettes and
artwork and this wonderful dungeon. He can keep all my artwork
too.
Fuck him.

“
Unfucking tie me God damn it! Right
the fuck now!” He yells at me.

The sound of his voice takes me by
complete surprise. I’ve never seen him this enraged before and
suddenly I feel sorry for tying him up. He liked it
before
.

I get off the bed and uncuff his wrists. When
I move towards his ankles, he sits up and pushes me away. Shit.
He’s seriously livid. He won’t even look at me. Then he gets his
pants back on and walks out of the dungeon. I briefly stand there
trying to control my own anger at his reaction and his lack of
explaining himself about Cassie.

When I go out into the living area, he’s
pacing around, massaging the back of his neck. I know what that
means. He’s irritated, but somehow I don’t think he’s bored this
time. I stand watching him as he circles around near the fireplace.
He still won’t look at me.

I try to talk to him.

“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?” He screams at me.

That’s funny. I thought it was
our
dungeon. I guess he didn’t
really mean that.

“You don’t get to punish me, do you
understand?” He says, still yelling at me.

So I get punished for arguing with him about
clothes and for playing with myself, but he can sleep with his
receptionist and dream about Erika while I lay next to him without
consequence? What kind of bullshit is that?

“How ignorant are you? What part of Dom/sub
don’t you fucking understand? I’m the one who’s in control.
ME.”

Did he really just call me ignorant?
And what about me? I need a little bit of control, too….
doesn’t he understand
that
?

“You’d better be glad you got rid of
the belts.” He says in a voice that isn’t his own. It’s deep and
mean and his eyes….
oh my God.
They remind me of the way my father looked at me when he
would punish me for some perceived broken rule. I suddenly feel
like hiding in a corner and crying.

“I’m leaving and when I get back, I want you
gone.” He whispers.

He’s kicking me out? He slept with
Cassie and he’s kicking
me
out? Fine. Yes.
I should go.
All of a sudden, Dylan grabs his keys and leaves and just
like that, I’m all alone in the middle of his apartment.

Holy heartbreak -
I never thought my abusive past would rear its ugly head, but
it has and in the worst possible way. Now I’ve lost Dylan because
of my need for control. I stand in the middle of Dylan’s apartment
for several minutes trying to force myself to move. Finally, I coax
my body to go through the motions. I get what few belongings I
have. Then I walk into the spare room and grab the three paintings
I made and take them into the kitchen. I grab a piece of paper and
write Dylan a note and leave it with the paintings.

I feel numb as I catch the elevator to the
main lobby and call for a cab. Seven days of strange frustrating
orgasm-frenzied bliss is all I get with my Dom. It’s more than I
deserve, I guess. He wants what I can’t give him and I want what he
can’t give me – a little bit of control. So I guess it just wasn’t
meant to be.

Damn my father. This is entirely his fault
for making me feel helpless my whole damned life and like I’ve
never had any control. Damn Dylan for sleeping with his
receptionist and waking my inner Domme and then denying her.

When I get back to my place, I finally break
down crying hysterically. I just can’t take feeling so useless
anymore. How long am I going to live my life acting and feeling
helpless and worthless? I decide there’s no time like the present
to face my abusive past and confront it head on before it fucks up
any more of my relationships. I muster up what little bit of nerve
I have and I pack a small bag. Then I catch a bus to the Grey Hound
station and purchase a round trip ticket to Georgia. With
everything that’s happened the last few days, the thought of never
seeing or being with Dylan again is too much for my fragile and
broken spirit to handle and I push it to the back of my mind.

Dylan

Feeling sick about my rash decision to
kick Isabel out, I drive like a madman back to my place.
Please be there… please be there…
When I get back inside my apartment, Isabel is nowhere to be
seen or heard. I check in the bedroom and the only thing in there
is her lingering scent. I immediately go into the dungeon. It’s
clean and her scent lingers there, too.

When I check the spare room, it’s
empty. When I go back into the kitchen and flick the lights on, I
see three paintings on the counter, the one from earlier this
morning and then two new ones. I pick them up to inspect them and
heartbreak overwhelms me. The images are stunning and
breathtaking.
My God.
Her
talent is beyond words. This is what I inspired? Her words come
back to me… ‘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?’ My poor, Isa. She
thinks I betrayed her. Then I read the note.

Mr. Young,

These are yours to do with whatever you
want. Keep them or dispose of them, I don’t care. Your precious
belts are hanging in your closet. I hope you find a perfectly
suitable brunette that you can use them on.

I.I.

I feel my throat tighten with despair.
Dispose of them?
Never.
Another brunette?
Never.
I jump up and head out to the garage. My Benz is parked in
its designated spot. I just stand staring at it wondering how she
got home. A cab no doubt. I hate the image of her taking a cab or
riding on a bus. I jump in and drive faster than I should to her
place.

When I arrive, I park out front. When I look
up at her window, the lights are off. I buzz her apartment but
there’s no answer, so I just start buzzing any and all apartments
until the front door unlocks. I climb the stairs two at a time
until I arrive at her door. I knock but there’s no answer. I wonder
if she’s even home. Where the hell else would she be? I scan the
hall to make sure no one is watching and I pick her lock. Actually,
it wasn’t hard at all gaining entry into her apartment which is a
little disturbing to me. I flip on the light but she’s nowhere to
be seen. I look around and see some of her dresser drawers are open
and empty.

What the fuck? My heart sinks and my
mind goes into overdrive. I reach into my pocket and try dialing
her number again. Nothing.
Fucking
hell.
Where the hell is she anyways? I call Sawyer and
tell him to do a GPS tracking on Isabel’s phone. To my utter
disgust, he can’t find anything because she has the entire unit
turned off. I guess I’ll just wait here until she comes back
and
I fucking hate waiting
. I
move towards her bed, looking at her paintings. Again, I’m
staggered by her talent. As I try and bide my time, I start going
through some of her things. I open up what I think is a closet door
and find it to be a tiny painting room. The images are
breathtaking. Then I open up a desk drawer and find an uncashed
check written from her father. I wonder what that’s for. I’m
immediately reminded of the reaction Isabel had towards my offer of
paying her to keep quiet. Is that what her father does? He pays to
keep her quiet about how he abused her? My poor damaged Isa. She
has issues I can’t even begin to comprehend. And she thinks I
betrayed her. Why the fuck didn’t I just tell her the situation
with Cassie? I just want to know where she is. I lie down on her
bed with her scent wafting around me and I drift off to
sleep.

Why did you betray me, Sir? How could you do
that to me? Gold eyes sad and accusingly looking at me. I knew I
wasn’t your type and that this would end in miserable heartbreak
for me. I’m so stupid and naïve for falling for you…

I wake up sweating and my heart
pounding.
Fuck
. Isa, where
are you? It’s morning, just after 7 o’clock and still Isa is
nowhere to be seen. I call Sawyer and have him do another GPS check
on her phone. Still nothing. I get up and head out to my
car.

I decide to drive to Studio 210. Maybe she
decided to go to work today, I’m hoping so anyway. When I make my
way in, people are just starting their shift and getting settled
in. The brunette sees me and makes her way towards me.

“Is Isa here today?” I ask, my concern
betraying my normal cool exterior.

The woman looks confused by my question. “No.
Why would she be? She quit yesterday.” She flatly states.

What the hell? She quit? I just stand
staring at the woman confused by her response and then turn to
leave, but not before the woman tells me how Isa ripped Greer a new
asshole.
That’s my girl.
I
leave feeling proud of my brave Isa.

I repeatedly try calling Isa’s phone
with no luck in getting through. I’m starting to seriously get
worried and sick. I head to my office and log onto my computer to
do a more thorough search of her records. I check her credit card
statement to see if any unusual activity has been noted, but no;
she hasn’t used it in weeks. One thing stands out though; she took
a large sum of money out of her banking account first thing this
morning.
Fuck.
This can’t be
happening. Where the fuck is she? My anxiety kicks into high gear.
I call Sawyer and tell him to start doing a search of all the
hotels within a 50-mile-radius to see if Isa stayed at one of them
last night while I start calling all the hospitals.

The rest of my day is a blur of anxiety,
anger and frustration. I call Raul to keep an eye on Isa’s
apartment and to let me know immediately if she shows up. I haven’t
eaten all day and I feel sick; sick to my stomach at the thought of
where Isa can be and heartsick. I try working on the Castele
account to try and take my mind off of Isa, but it’s no use and I
end up falling asleep on the office couch.

I wake up well after midnight, feeling
alone and cold and thinking about my parents. Why? I haven’t
thought about them since… well, since Isa left the other day
without saying goodbye. But before that, I hadn’t thought about
them for months, maybe even years. I remember feeling the same
heartsick and worried way when they went missing. The agony of not
knowing where they were or if they were okay was the worst thing
ever. That’s not entirely true. When I found out what had really
happened to them, that was much worse.
I
hope Isa is safe
. I could never forgive myself if
anything happened to her. I drift back to sleep, with horrible
dreams of my parents and Isa invading my mind.

Day 2 without Isa. I just go through
the motions. I go to my place and get cleaned up. I grab some
clothes and nearly break down at the site of her clothing still in
my closet. Her scent still faintly remains and I can barely contain
my sadness.
Get a grip, Young.
Isn’t this what I wanted? A solitary life? No
responsibilities to anyone? Just random meaningless sex? A
submissive who doesn’t question or challenge me? Yes, it is what I
wanted before…
before Isa.
Now I just want her back.

My day is agonizing, doing random GPS
searches, trying to work, not eating, and harassing Raul and Sawyer
incessantly. I haven’t really explained myself to Sawyer about what
all this about and being the good man that he is, he hasn’t asked
any questions. But my nerves and my irritation throughout the day
have surely given away how desperate I am to get Isa back.