The Art of Control (6 page)

“
More, Master, more,” I mewl.

Dylan’s breathing quickens and he straddles my thighs.

“Fuck, Isa, you look so God damned exquisite right now,” he groans.

I lift
my ass up as high as it will go and the peak of my orgasm washes over me, my body shuddering with release. He wallops me one last time and I teeter on the edge of ecstasy and agony. My body flushes and heats from the inside out, but the warm rush turns to a cold chill and I start to shake uncontrollably. I try to say the word that will stop it all, but Dylan reads my body language and stops
.
I’m thankful because I can’t take anymore. I’ve had my fill of pain for the night.

I wail
into the bed and float up above myself. My mind and heart are racing and I feel weightless and serene. When I open my eyes, Dylan has untied me and pulled me into the fetal position onto his lap. I’m covered with his body and his face is hidden in my neck. 

“
Oh, how I love to watch you fly, my precious angel,” he breathes into my ear.

Those words…
they comfort me and exhaustion sweeps me away.

When
I wake, I’m lying on my stomach and Dylan is lying next to me, rubbing my back and watching me obsessively. A cool wet washcloth is draped over my bottom, keeping my pain at bay.

“Hello, angel,
” Dylan says softly.

His words remi
nd me of my mother’s sweet nickname for me and my eyes wet with sadness. Dylan takes one look into my eyes and becomes distressed.

“What is it? Did I hurt
you too badly?” he asks sitting up on one elbow.

“
No, it’s not that,” I assure him.

His body immediately relaxes and he sighs. My sadistic husband has a soft side, too, and even though he likes to inflict pain on me, I know he would never hurt me beyond what I can handle.
I move onto my side and the washcloth slides off my bottom. The rubbing of the soft linen sends embers of pain through the lower half of body and I cringe and involuntarily cry out.  Dylan’s body tenses up with my show of torment and he sighs heavily.

“I
t was too much for you,” he says sorrowfully.

“No, sugar,
I’ll be fine. My ass must look spectacular. I’d like to see what you’ve done to it,” I tell him.

“It does look spectacular,” he says, looking pleased with
himself.

He’s been so earnest with me lat
ely about his feelings, guilt overcomes me for not telling him what’s really been on my mind lately. I swore I wouldn’t keep anything from him and he deserves nothing less than the truth after I chastised him for not divulging completely to me when it came to his parents. I swallow hard and prepare myself.

“Dylan, please don’t be angry with me,” I start out.

“Why would I be angry?”

Okay, h
ere it goes.
“I’ve been keeping something from you.”

I can’t bring myself to look in
to his loving, crystal blue eyes. He remains silent, but his breathing changes and I can sense his irritation with me. He continues to say nothing while I try to think of the words to say to him. I coax myself to look into his eyes and he looks a combination of hurt and annoyed.

He finally asks, “Something good or something bad.”

“I’ll let you decide that. But first, promise me that you won’t be angry with me,” I implore.

He pauses and then answers, “I can’t promise you that, but I can promise that I’ll listen to you and hear your reasons for keeping it from me.”

“I love you, Sir. Thank you. It’s about what happened with Alex and my father, and Cassie, too. I can’t seem to get over it. I thought I could. I thought I was doing okay, but…” I keep my eyes downcast and feel embarrassed at my own weakness.

“But what?” he asks
tenderly.

“I can’t. I’m not getting any
sleep and my dreams are tormented. What Alex did to me has brought everything back that my father put me through. There are things I had even forgotten about that have come back to me, awful things, Dylan. I thought I could just push it all to the back of my mind like I’ve done for so many years and I just can’t do it anymore.” My voice sounds foreign to me and it’s barely audible.
Don’t cry, Isa. Do not cry, Isa!

“Why did you think you couldn’t te
ll me that?” Dylan asks, running his fingers through my hair.

“I didn’t w
ant to tell you because…”
I’m not sure why I didn’t want to tell him
. “Because I don’t want to be
that
girl.”

I look up and Dylan looks confused but concerned.

“What girl is that?”

“T
he girl who needs to be saved, the weak one, the girl who’s pathetic and needy. I want to be strong and independent for you. I want to be in control.” I sniff. “I just want to put everything that happened behind me. You have enough to worry about with your job and I don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me, too. I don’t want to be a burden. I hate feeling helpless like this. I’m so sorry for bringing this up on our honeymoon. I wanted this time to be special, but your sweet words reminded me of my mother. It seems like everything reminds me of her lately and when I think of her, I think of my father and everything he did to us.” I hide my face in the bed, humiliated by my weakness.

Dylan pulls me up and bear hugs me. I don’t even mind the pain in my ass at the moment. His arms feel good around me and I feel loved.
I was expecting Dylan to be angry or irritated with me, but he always surprises me with his kindness when I least expect it.

“Please, please, Isa, don’t keep these things from me. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you need.
You’re never going to get over these things if you don’t talk about them. I know how hard that is for you to do. 
I know.
You’re more important to me than work and taking care of you is what I live for, so don’t deprive me of it. I want you to need me. I love that you need me. It’s okay if you need to be saved. Sometimes even the strongest, most independent people need to be rescued.”

Dylan

Isa won’t look at me and my heart aches for her. I wish she would’ve told me this before we left. She needs to talk to her counselor. Hell, she should’ve talked to her ages ago, but she’s so damned stubborn. I suppose I don’t have any room to talk. Isa has been prodding me to talk to Maggie about what happened to my parents, but there’s no way that’s happening. Not in this lifetime. Confessing everything to
Isa was more than I can handle; there’s no way in hell I’m telling a stranger.

She finally looks into my eyes and she looks heartbroken. I hate her father with
every ounce of my being for what he’s done to her.
I truly hate that sick fucker and I want him dead.

“Oh, Dylan.
Please don’t do that,” Isa whispers.

“What?” I ask, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

“I know that look. You’re thinking of the different ways to make my father pay for what he’s done to me, aren’t you?”

“You do know your husband well.”

She finally musters a smile to my comment. She rises on her knees before me and gingerly sits back on her haunches. She looks perfectly submissive as she watches me in her kneeling position. She still thinks I’m angry with her for not telling me, but I’m far from angry.

“I’
m not angry with you,” I reassure her, knowing what she’s thinking.

“
You’re not happy with me, either. Are you?”

I can’t lie to her.
“No, I’m not. I’m hurt and disappointed that you didn’t tell me this sooner.”

Isabel pouts her mouth and looks down at her knotted hands. “I
’d rather you were angry instead. I can’t bear the thought of disappointing you, sugar,” she says softly.

My precious girl.
That’s truly what she is; a girl in a woman’s body. She’s never really grown up; her damned father never allowed it. Perhaps that’s why she seeks discipline. The thought upsets me. I need to know her reasons for wanting discipline. She’s told me before, but I want to be reassured that her abusive past isn’t the reason for her need for this lifestyle. I need to be at peace that the things I’m doing to her aren’t making matters worse.

“I’m going to ask you something and I want you to answer me truthfully, Isa.”

“Of course, Sir,” she says. She pushes her shoulders back and sits up straighter, ready for my question.

“What is it about the BDSM lifestyle that appeals to you?”

Isa looks shaken by my question. “Why are you asking me this again?” she asks, unblinking and wide-eyed.

“Just answer me
. Is it strictly because of the kinky sex? Or is it because you need the discipline? With what your father has done to you, how can you crave the pain the way you do?”

Isa immediately moves away from me and sits on the edge of
the bed, staring forward and silent.
Shit.
I reach out to her and she pulls away from me.

“D
on’t pull away from me, Isabel,” I state, grabbing onto her arm and sitting next to her on the bed.

She continues to sit motionles
s and quiet. “Damn it, talk to me. What are you feeling right now? ” I demand.

“I f
eel like I’m being interrogated and accused of something disgusting,” she says softly.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like that,” I tell
her, feeling like hell at her emotional withdrawal.  “I really didn’t mean it to sound like that.”
I seriously need to learn to control my tone.

Isa stands, grabs a robe and slips
it on. She moves to the window and looks out at the view of Paris and touches the glass. “I’m done talking about this. I’m sorry I told you…” she whispers but doesn’t finish her sentence.

“
Don’t be sorry. The fact is you should’ve told me sooner, but what’s done is done. I just want you to answer my question,” I say, trying to curb my attitude and not sound intimidating. I move up behind her and turn her to face me but she won’t look at me.

“Come back to me. I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything. It was just a question.”

I tug at her hair, forcing her to look into my eyes.

“It’s a hard
question to answer and you can’t expect me to respond so quickly without having time to think about how to reply to it.”

“
Fair enough. Now tell me what I can do to make you happy right now, Mistress.”

She looks into my eyes and finally graces me with her smile.

Without a hitch, my Mistress responds. “First, you can shove that magical tongue of yours in my mouth. Then you can shove it in my pussy.”

“That’s a delightful idea
,” I say, charmed by her unabashed dirty talk.

I tip her head back and give my angel what she wants. I push my tongue past her lips and delve into the depths of her warm mouth. My tongue finds hers and we twist them together. She gently nips at my bottom lip when I pull back and she sucks at my tongue like it’s my cock, and all the blood rushes to my hardening dick. I open her robe and lower myself to my knees and do as my Mistress has instructed, thrusting my tongue into her slit, making her moan out.

Isa’s nails graze my scalp and she breathes out her answer to my question.

“You want to know what it is about this lifestyle that appeals to me? It’s this: My sexuality. It’s the only thing I feel like I have complete control of. You’ve given that to me, Dylan. Since the moment we’ve been together, I feel like my sexual identity is my own.  I have the power to say when and how much. Yes, I do need the discipline; there’s no denying it, but not for the reasons that you think. I need it because I need order in my life and for things to make sense and have logic. I need a feeling of purpose. And yes, I need and crave the pain too, but not for the reasons that you think,” she continues.

I pause and look up at her, waiting for the rest of her answer.

“Did I tell you to stop?” she says firmly, tugging at my hair, so I continue licking her slick silken folds and nibble her swollen clit. I close my eyes and listen to her seductively enchanting voice tell me what I need to hear.

“I like the pain because it makes me feel alive.
But more importantly, I surrender to the pain because it pleases my Master and I know he enjoys giving it to me and that he needs to give it to me in order for him to feel content. That, Dylan, is what appeals to me about BDSM. Pleasing you, my Master, owner and husband, and cherishing you for the Dominant that you are, and feeling a sense of pride in the pleasure and joy that I give to you when I’m obedient and things are perfect and just the way you want them to be. BDSM gives me that sense of purpose and that purpose is to submit to you completely and to accept your gift of submission to me.”

My
heart swells and I feel like imploding with desire. Isa is without a doubt a submissive at heart. No one’s words have ever been spoken so sincerely to me or affected me so deeply. Looking up into her eyes, she’s watching me intensely. I stand and pull her to me.

“Please don’t question my intentions, sugar. I promise you that my reasons for wanting and needing this are noble
and pure of heart.”

“Then p
lease don’t keep things from me, Isabel.
Because you’ve given me the gift of your submission, I am accountable for your well-being at all times.
I love you and I want to take care of you. I
need
to take care of you. It gives me a sense of purpose, too, and the only way I can do that is for you to be honest with me regarding your needs. Thank you for your answer. It’s proven to me that you’re truly the one for me.
The only one for me.
”

Isa reaches between my legs and grips me.

“I want to pleasure you. May I?” she asks obediently.

“Not yet. I want to take you somewhere tonight.” I hope
that what I have planned will be everything I’ve fantasized it would be.

Is
a and I finally unpack and I pick something out for her to wear. A short skirt should do nicely for this evening.
Something with easy access
. She’s sorting through different tourist brochures while I pick out my clothes as well. After taking a quick shower, I instruct her to get dressed and make sure to wear one of her corsets underneath her fitted shirt. When I’m done washing up, I find Isa standing in front of the bathroom mirror with her skirt lifted, her panties pulled down, inspecting her welted ass. It looks magnificent under the bright lights.

“Nice work, Young,” she praises me. “You hav
e quite a talent for spanking.”

Yes, I do.
Feeling proud of myself, I grin like an idiot. Isa turns to face me, grinning widely at me in the same idiotic way. The two of us are quite a pair.

Isa struggles to put he
r corset on, her large tits oozing out the top as she tries to stuff them into the satin fabric and tie it at the same time. I stand back and watch her fight with her large bosom before finally giving in to assist her by pulling it tightly. I place my foot on her ass and pull back hard on the strings, making her catch her breath. She looks fucking amazing in these things and it’s become a ritual I’ve grown to love.

I get dressed hurriedly,
barely able to contain my excitement for what I have planned.

We get a cab and Isa gives the driver t
he directions that I’ve written down. Watching her mouth speak a foreign language is mesmerizing. The way her mouth forms the words and the sight of her tongue caressing each syllable is hypnotic. I was never fond of the French language, but the way Isa wields each consonant makes me want to fuck her mouth until she speaks fluent gibberish.

We drive for several minutes in silence. The streets get darker and dirtier as we head into the lower levels of P
aris. The atmosphere changes the farther we drive and before long, we see prostitutes on the corners of the streets. The avenue we’re on is soon lined with sex shops, strip clubs and bars. Isa looks at me questioningly and I kiss the top of her hand, not answering her unspoken question.

The cab pulls up to the night club that is our destination and we step out into the cool Paris night. Isa tucks herself into the crook of my arm and holds on to me by my waist.  I pay the driver and when I look at Isa, she’s watching me keenly, but not asking any questions.
As I lead her inside, my hard-on starts to build.

“
Come
inside, love,” I say, guiding her by the hand. “See what I did there?
Come
inside?”

Isa simply smiles and rolls her stunning amber eyes at me.

***

Isabel

The club is seedy and dark, as is the neighborhood. The music is loud and thumping and there are bodies intertwined and moving seductively on the dance floor. The lighting is dim and the smell and mist of cigarette smoke fills the air. Walking deeper into the crowded bar, the odor of sex, sweat and booze overwhelms me. I scan the room quickly while holding onto Dylan for dear life.

Off in the cor
ner there are bodies seemingly swaying to the music. When the flash of the strobe lights hit their faces, I can see their orgasmic expressions and it becomes obvious to me that several of the couples are fucking. There’s a girl pinned on a wall by a man as he thrusts violently into her.
What kind of club is this?
No one seems to mind the sex being had in every nook and cranny of the establishment, and the din of conversation is heard underneath the blaring electronica.

Dylan guides me to
a barstool and I seat myself while he orders me a dirty martini and a vodka tonic for himself. He drinks it quickly and keeps his eyes on me while I sip at my drink and continue to look around the room. I become fixated on a couple sitting at one of the tables only a few feet from us. The woman is feasting on her date’s dick in broad view of everyone as if she’s eating dinner at a social gathering. My face flushes with excitement and unexpectedly my pussy starts to throb. I glance at Dylan to see if he’s noticed and, of course, he has. He smiles deviously at me and licks his lips. His eyes are lusty and desire is seeping from every pore in his body. He takes my drink out of my hand and sets it on the bar alongside his.

Leaning into my ear, he
whispers, “I’m going to have you here in front of all these people, Isa. I want everyone here to see how exquisite you look when you’re being fucked and what an obedient little wife you are when you swallow my cum.”

My stomach quivers with
uneasiness.

“Answer me,” he says.

“I didn’t realize that was a question,” I reply.

“
It wasn’t,” he smiles, leaning into my mouth and licking my bottom lip.

I try to lean forward to nibble his tongue, but he pulls back and
runs his hands up the insides of my thighs and pulls me off the stool. He kneels in front of me, reaches underneath my skirt and slips my panties off. Several people look over and I giggle nervously. He stands, slips my lingerie into his jeans pocket and kisses my forehead. Lifting me back onto the stool, he slides my skirt up while he unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his jeans. My breathing and heart rate become rapid, my eyes scanning the room anxiously.