The Art of Submission (11 page)

“Say something to me.” I demand.

“You still
want
me?” she asks, looking
bewildered.

That’s what she’s wondering? After everything
I just said, she wants to know if I still want her? “Absolutely.
But I want to be very clear about what I want, Isabel. I want you
to be my submissive. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“N… no. Not really.”

It’s obvious she’s uneasy.

“I get that you don’t completely know what
this means and I’m willing to explain things more clearly, and
teach you everything you need to know. But I have to know…. without
a doubt, that this is something you’re willing to do of your own
free will.”

She still looks hesitant. Maybe I was wrong
about her. Maybe she isn’t interested in this sort of thing,
despite what her paintings are saying. She’s looking at the floor
and she’s fidgeting with her hair again. Damn it. I’m not going to
be able to contain myself much longer if she keeps doing that. I
reach towards her and lift her face to look at me. This time she
doesn’t back away. That’s a good sign.

“I need your answer, Isabel.”

“I... I’m not sure. This is a lot to think
about. After everything that’s happened today and the way you make
me feel… I’m confused. I don’t know anything about that lifestyle.
I don’t want you to hurt me.”

The way I make her feel? How do I make her
feel? At least she’s talking about it which means she’s thinking
about it. I guess that’s all I can hope for at this early
stage.

“I understand, and I’ve already told you that
I’ll explain the way things work more clearly. The most important
thing I want you to know about being a submissive is that it’s not
all about pain. It’s about balancing on a fine line between
pleasure and pain.”

“What about the rest of your deal? About my
paintings? Do you still want all those other things we talked about
before?”

Oh. That. I already know how she feels
about those demands and my last plan of attack didn’t go over so
well. A flashback of
the slap
leaps into my mind and I feel my cock twitch at the memory.
What the hell is that about?

“Yes, I do want those things. But maybe
we can discuss some of those requests later.” I tell her and there
it is. That’s the look I was hoping for. Now she looks acquiescent.
But t
hat slap
. I need to let
her know right now, that shit doesn’t fly.

“Now. About that slap.”

Her eyes get large and the look of fear is
back. This time, I don’t mind it. It’s good for her to be a little
afraid. Her eyes flit down to my bottom lip, which is now swollen
and scabbed.

“And that, too. That’s
not
going to happen again. Do you
understand?” She nods in agreement, but I have to admit, there’s a
small, or maybe not so small, part of me that wants her to do it
again.

I reach over to her and she doesn’t
flinch. I touch the same lock of hair she’s been playing with. It
feels soft and I twirl between my fingers. I can feel myself grow
harder. I move closer towards her and I can smell her. Fuck. She
smells…
so good.
What is that
she’s wearing? She’s being so amenable that I take the opportunity
to steal a glance at the paintings above her bed. My God; they’re
staggering.

I look back down at her and I can’t
help but smile a little.
I am going to
have her.
This beautiful and talented woman is going
to be
mine
.

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

Isabel

I’m appalled by his words. Did he
really just threaten to spank me?
Spank
me
? Lest I forget...
over his
knee?
I don’t know whether to be pissed or aroused,
but I’m both. What is this man playing at? What kind of a freak is
he?
My kind of freak
. What
kind of a freak am I because I’m actually turned on? I’m standing
outside his car window like some kind of petrified jackass, just
staring at him. I can tell by the look on his face that he’s
genuinely livid. I don’t know if he’s serious about getting out and
spanking me right here, and frankly, I don’t want to find out – or
do I? Fine. I’ll get in his fucking over-the-top car.

I can smell him. Damn it. He smells so
good.
Don’t go there, Isa.
Who the hell does this man think he is talking to me like
that –
and turning me on
? I
can’t bring myself to look into his magnificent eyes and I just sit
glaring out the front window, seething mad.
Who the hell does he think he is talking to me like
that
? I turn and before I can stop myself, I slap him.
Hard.

Oh my God
. Did
I really just do that? My hand stings and tingles from the hit. He
looks shocked and infuriated. His usual arctic eyes are now blue
hot.
Holy wetness – my pussy and panties
are soaking wet and I’m aroused as hell
. I can’t take
it anymore and lunge myself at him. To my astonishment, he mirrors
my response. He’s kissing me viciously. My God
. No one has ever kissed me like this.
He grabs
me by the nape of my neck, pulling at my hair and holding me in
place with his other hand. His tongue is in my mouth, thrashing and
probing, stroking the interior surfaces of my mouth, and gliding
over my teeth.
He tastes
divine
. My hands are in his hair, pulling and fisting
it.

No!
I’m still
pissed at this jerk. He just threatened to hit me in broad
daylight
. Hell no
! I bite his
bottom lip to get him off and push away from him
. Breathe, Isa, breathe. Stay calm…
I can hear
his breathing; it’s loud and quick, like mine, but he still hasn’t
said anything. Finally – he starts driving towards my apartment.
He’s driving way too fast and it’s making me nervous.

I glance over at him and I see the
effects of my tantrum.
Shit
.
His cheek is red and his bottom lip is bleeding.
Oh no.
I didn’t mean to do that. Now
remorse and guilt set in. What was I thinking?
What the hell was I thinking?
His threat of
spanking me surely didn’t deserve this punishment. He rejected me
and led me on, but he didn’t deserve
this
. I’ve never hit anyone before. I’ve always
been on the receiving end of that sort of thing. I feel sick to my
stomach. I need to apologize.

“
Dylan…. I… I…”

He’s not having any of it. I guess I can’t
blame him. I just want to crawl into a little hole and hide. He’s
not saying anything and the deafening silence is worse than
anything. I’d rather he yelled at me, screamed at me… something.
Anything but this damned silence.

He pulls up outside my building, still saying
nothing. He won’t even look at me. I have to say something. I have
to try and apologize again.

“Dylan, I’m sorry. Sort of. You’re just
so… so…
frustrating
.”

Why did I say it like that? I
am
sorry. I really am, but… I’m so
confused. He makes me feel so reckless. Even after my feeble
apology, he doesn’t look at me. So that’s it. Once again, I’ve
blown it. I slink away in shame.

I no sooner make inside my door and I
start boo-hooing like an infant. I’m so pathetic
. I hate crying
, especially over my own
stupidity. I just stand leaning against the door trying to pull
myself together.

I’m startled by a knock at the
door.
Now what?
I open it and
I can’t believe it. He’s here. What?
Why
? I can’t speak so I just allow him in. I
don’t dare take my eyes off of him for fear of what he’s come back
to do to me. His eyes glance at my bed and the thought of what I’d
like him to do to me in it flashes in my mind. It’s a nice thought,
but the reality is, he’s probably here to kick my ass.

“
You know you drive me crazy when you
do that.” He says with heated blue eyes.

What’s he talking about? When I do what?

“Play with your hair.” He says with his eyes
darkening.

Oh heavens - I know this look; I’ve
already seen it once today.
Predatory
… but this time, I don’t mind. I didn’t
even realize I was doing that with my hair. I wonder what he’s
thinking.
About the slap no doubt.
Why oh why did I do that? He moves towards me and I
panic.
He’s going to hit me, I just know
it.
Please…
not him,
too.

“Are you going to hit me?” I ask him, but I
already know the answer.

“
No. Are
you
going to hit
me
?” He asks mockingly.

No – that wasn’t the answer I was
expecting at all.
Touché Dylan.
I already told him that I was sorry for Heaven’s
sake.

“You call
that
an apology?” He says with an undertone of
sarcasm.

I don’t even know how to respond. After all,
he’s right; it was a very pathetic apology.

“
Look, I didn’t come back here to argue
with you,” he says rolling his rolling eyes at me.

He didn’t come here to hit me
or
to argue… then why did he come
back?

“Because I want to spank you.” He says
matter-of-factly.

I knew it. So he does want to hit me. Why
doesn’t he just get it over with then?

“
No. I want to spank you, and there’s a
difference.” Again, matter-of-factly stated.

What? Spank – hit… what the hell is the
difference? I suppose if he wanted to hit me, he would’ve just done
it, but he didn’t, so… spank? Like in a sexual context? Is that
what he means?

“
Isabel. When I said I wanted you, I
didn’t fully explain
how
I
want you…”

He still wants me?
BD what? What is that? Submissive - I know what that means.
Dominant, I know what that means. Discipline?
My father tried disciplining me and all I ended up with were
black and blue marks.
Is that what he means to do to
me? Wait
… he still wants me?

“
Say something to me.” He says
sternly.

“You still
want
me?”

“
Absolutely….”

No. I don’t understand. Not really. He
wants me to be his submissive? I’m so out of my depth here. This is
awkward.
Who is this guy?

“I get that you don’t completely know what
this means, Isabel, and I’m willing to explain things more clearly,
and teach you everything you need to know…”

My own free will? I haven’t had that
since…
ever
. Free will is a
myth; an urban legend as far as I’m concerned. So he wants to teach
me to be his submissive? Yes, I can let him teach me. I want this
man. I want him more than anything or anyone I’ve ever wanted
before. I want so badly to be part of his life. I
want
to be his submissive. It is
after all, what I’ve been dreaming about and painting
about.

I’m still deep in thought, confused by all of
this when he reaches towards me and lifts my face to his.

“
I need your answer,
Isabel.”

Wow. He looks anxious. Desperate even.
He
really
wants me. But I
don’t want him to hurt me; physically or emotionally.

“I... I’m not sure. This is a lot to think
about…”

“
I understand, and I’ve already told
you that I’ll explain the way things work more clearly….” He tells
me.

All this talk about being his submissive is
confusing. Pain and pleasure – a fine line? But, what about what we
talked about before - all those unreasonable demands regarding my
paintings? Does he still want all that, too?

“
Yes, I do want those things. But maybe
we can discuss some of those requests later.”

He doesn’t look like he’s quite
convinced of himself, but I want him, and a ‘maybe’ is good enough
for me.
For now
.

“Now. About that slap.”

His eyes narrow at me. Oh no. I knew it
would come down to this – my stupid lapse in judgment.
And his poor lip
. I just want to
kiss it and make it feel better.

“And that, too. That’s
not
going to happen again. Do you
understand?” He says firmly.

Yes, yes. I understand. Whatever you want,
Mr. Young.

He reaches over and touches my hair.
He’s so beautiful. Is this really happening? Is he really here in
my apartment, touching me? I want him so badly. I feel an aching
deep within my belly like I’ve never known. I see him casually try
to sneak a peek at my paintings, but I don’t mind –
much
. They are, after all, what
brought him to me. He moves closer and I can feel his breath on me
and he smiles. He has such a charming smile.

Please… take me now, Mr. Young.
Please
…