The Art of Submission (21 page)

Now I’ve changed all that. Do I really
want to corrupt this woman with the things I plan on showing her
and
doing
to her? How will it
affect her art? This is too deep for this time of day. I just want
to get her home safely and then get to work on the
contract.

The rest of the flight is quick. Once we
land, I wake Isabel and we depart the plane without incident. She’s
quiet and only answers me with yes responses. She’s still pissed. I
hate this.

The drive back to her place is
excruciatingly quiet, but I’m just too tired to care right now.
This has seriously been one of the longest days of my life. So much
has happened and I can’t help but feel –
invested
in her. I want her
– all of her
. I know that more now more than
ever as she sits here angry with me.

I park the car and she starts to get out
immediately, without waiting for me to open the door for her. I
call after her to wait for me.

“You don’t have to walk me up, Dylan. This is
fine. I’ll talk to you later.” She says flatly and closes the door
quickly.

I don’t think so.
I jump out of the car and quick step to catch up with her. I
meet her at the entrance and stop her. I can see she’s exasperated
with me, but I don’t want to leave her like this.

“Dylan, please. I already told you, this is
fine.”

“Isabel, wait. I want to come up.”

She looks annoyed at me. “I don’t think
that’s a good idea. Just make up the contract or whatever it is you
were talking about and we’ll discuss it later,” she says looking
around and not making eye contact with me.

With that said, she unceremoniously kisses me
quickly, says good night, and lets herself into her building,
leaving me standing alone.

Fuck.
This is
worse than her not accepting my hand. I’m at a loss and I just
stand there like a big dope for what seems like an eternity. I
start to buzz her apartment, but stop myself. I just need to get
home and make up the contract.

On the drive home, I kick myself for the way
I’ve behaved today and for letting my alter ego out. I was lucky
that Isabel agreed to even talk to me again after the stunt I
pulled at the café and I was lucky again with everything that
happened at her apartment. I can tell she’s hungry for affection.
So am I, but in a different way. I’m asking a lot of her, more than
I probably should.

Damn those
paintings
. Why did I have to see them? Why did I
purchase them? I wouldn’t be sitting her in my car, alone on a
Sunday night contemplating a contract and taking on a submissive if
I had never seen them.

I want this girl and if that means I have to
concede a few things, then so be it. She deserves that much. I
can’t expect her to be mine alone and her not expect the same from
me, and I don’t want to lose her over something that really is a
nonissue for me, because frankly, I don’t want to be with anyone
else.

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

Isabel

As we start to walk into the club, I try and
resist, but Dylan’s grip is tight and unwavering. As soon as we get
inside, I find us in a small room where someone asks him for a
membership card and then they ask me for a photo ID as well. It’s
all very professional, surprisingly. I feel a little weak in the
knees, but Dylan encourages me by wrapping his arm around my waist,
leaning down, smiling and whispering, “It’ll be fine, Isabel.”

He leads me past another set of doors and
we’re inside what looks like a bar area. It’s very dimly lit with
candles and Christmas lights. The walls are painted black and red,
and there is one wall that is entirely brick. There are all sorts
of strange memorabilia hanging on the walls, items like whips and
riding crops, and a few things I’m not familiar with, but they look
medieval in nature. There are photos of various old-timey women in
leather and lingerie posing suggestively hanging on another wall.
The smell… what is that? It’s sensual and pleasant. Not quite like
incense, but more like expensive oil and leather.

A few people standing near the bar nod at
Dylan as if they know him, and Dylan nods back to them. Then to my
horror, I hear gruesome sounds coming from the back; the sound of
loud snapping, a man speaking loudly, and then a woman screaming. I
think I’m going to be sick and I feel all the blood drain from my
face. What the hell was I thinking by coming here? I mean,
seriously, what did I expect?

Dylan must sense my utter terror or it
must show on my blanched face because he leans down and asks me if
I’m okay. My mouth is so dry I can’t even speak in response.
No, I am not okay!
I want to
scream
.
I want to get the
hell out of here. Luckily, the sound of his voice pulls me back to
reality and soothes me a little; and he called me sweetheart
again.
Yes. I like it when he calls me
that
.

He doesn’t waver, though. He takes my
hand and leads me towards the back.
Oh
no.
I feel like I’m on the verge of angst
overload.

It’s as though I’m watching myself from
above, like a dream as Dylan guides me over to an area where I see
several people standing and watching something. We push our way
through a few others, but we’re still standing towards the back of
the crowd.

That’s when I catch a glimpse of a
large wooden X and a brunette cuffed to it.
I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
Her ankles and
wrists are cuffed at each end of the X and there’s a man standing
near her, flicking her with what looks like a whip of sorts. It has
a small braided leather handle, and many leather straps at the end
of that. The woman is wearing a shiny black vinyl bustier and
skimpy matching underwear. The man who is with her, and I assume is
her dominant, is shirtless and also wearing tight vinyl pants. He’s
standing in front of her, asking her questions like ‘do you like
this?’ and ‘you know you like this, don’t you?’ He runs the whip up
and down her body and then quickly snaps it against her
skin.
Holy madness.
I can’t
believe he’s actually hitting her with it. She moans, but somehow,
she sounds as if she’s enjoying it. And to my alarm,
I’m enjoying watching it
. I start to
imagine what it will be like for me. Will be?
Yes.
I’m actually considering doing
this.

Just then, I feel Dylan’s hand move up
from my waist and onto my back. He runs his fingers up my spine and
caresses me there.
Oh my God.
It’s feels so good and I can feel myself shudder at his
touch. The feeling of his rough fingers on me and with what I’m
watching is almost too much for me to take. I’m getting seriously
turned on and I can feel my panties getting damp. I look up at
Dylan and the look on his face is staggering. He’s watching me, his
eyes half closed and I can hear his breathing. I tell him I want to
see more, because I know that’s what he wants – and what I want,
too.

“
Of course,” He says to me and he
smiles broadly.

I can hardly wait to see what’s next. He
leads me over to an area where there are only a few people standing
and we get front row seats to the spectacle. What I see confounds
me a bit. It’s a strange kind of bench, the likes of which I’ve
never seen before. It’s like a step-bench, but meant for kneeling
on. It’s padded with black leather. There’s a redhead kneeling on
the lower end, with her body draped on the upper end. She’s wearing
a vinyl or pleather red bra and matching thong. What’s up with the
all vinyl wear around here? Is that part of the dress code? The man
who’s with her is also wearing leather, I think, or pleather chaps.
Interesting. That look is not flattering and I hope to God Dylan
doesn’t own a pair of those ridiculous things. The man is scolding
her loudly and telling her that she deserves what she’s getting. I
assume what she’s been getting is a spanking because her bottom is
bright pink. It’s so hard to believe that I’m standing here
watching this. It’s surreal.

Just then, the man brings his hands out
from behind his back and he’s holding a large wooden paddle.
What the hell?
Is he going to hit
her with that? It’s large - really large.
Holy horror
… he hits her with it…
hard
. I feel myself involuntarily
jump at the sound of it and I try to crawl behind Dylan. Then the
man hits the woman’s bottom again and again. The woman screams and
I feel like I’m going to be sick.
Oh my
stars and stripes
. This is too brutal, but I just
can’t take my eyes away. It’s like watching a train wreck. The poor
woman’s bottom turns from pink to red and I just want to hurl the
nasty man across the room and run and comfort her. Why isn’t she
telling him to stop?

Dylan obviously senses my revulsion
because he tries to lead me away, but there’s no way in hell I’m
leaving this woman alone with this wretched abuser. I swear to
everything Holy, that if he hits her
one
more time
, I’m stepping in; I don’t care what happens
to me, this is uncalled for.

Just then, the brutalization stops.
Thank heavens. I don’t think I could take anymore. Then to my
absolute incomprehension, he whispers something to the woman which
I can’t hear and he starts rubbing her bottom and back. Then plants
a gentle kiss on her and tells her she’s been a good girl.
What the hell?
I don’t get it. Am I
missing something? I look up to Dylan for some sign or explanation,
but he just gives me a small smile. I am the only obtuse person
here? Dylan will have to explain this to me later.

Shortly after that strangeness, Dylan walks
me back to the bar area. As we sit, I start replaying what we’ve
just seen in my mind. I’m so out of my depth here. My dreams didn’t
at all compare to what I’ve seen here tonight. Still, some of it so
intriguing and arousing.

Suddenly Dylan leans over and whispers,
“Please don’t do that, especially in here.”

What? Is he kidding? The look in his
eyes right now… I’m not sure he is.
Oh my
God
. He’s not planning on spanking right here – right
now-
is he?

He looks comically at me and then suddenly
bursts into laughter.

“Jesus, Isabel,
no
. Why? Do you
want
me to?” He asks mockingly.

Oh brother. Whatever Dylan. How am I
supposed to know when he’s serious or kidding? I hardly know him. I
just roll my eyes at him.
Yeah, yeah,
laugh it up chuckles
.

Dylan then orders us some water with lemon.
Really? Water? I need something stronger after a scare like that,
but he proceeds to tell me that they don’t serve anything stronger
here. Why I wonder? Did they lose their liquor license or
something? Again he laughs at me. I’m so glad he’s enjoying himself
at my expense.

Then he continues to tell me that people take
this lifestyle very serious. I guess that makes sense. I mean, I
haven’t seen any drunken antics here or serious debauchery. There
are memberships, rules, regulations, etiquette… Wow. This is so
interesting. I just sit listening to him talk about all of it,
mesmerized by his passion for it.

“What made you get into this
lifestyle?”
Damn it, Isa.
Why
do I do that? Can’t I have a single thought in my head without it
coming out of my mouth?

I know immediately from the look on his
face and his curt answer that this is a touchy subject. He
obviously has his secrets.
Don’t we
all
? I wouldn’t expect him to ask about my past and
about the choices I’ve made in life so far. I wonder if we’ll ever
be at place where we can share our secrets.

“We should leave…” He says, still
pouting.

I need to explain that I didn’t mean to pry
and it was just my stupid curiosity and lack of brain-mouth filter.
Anyway, I don’t really want to leave just yet.

To my delight, he silently accepts my
apology and takes me to see one more performance. This time it
involves two women and a large leather table. One of the women is
heavily bound and the other is performing various sexual acts and
discipline on her. Even though they are both attractive, I feel
extremely uncomfortable watching them and honestly, I’m just not
into that. I can tell Dylan is definitely enjoying himself, though.
He never once takes his eyes off the tall brunette who’s handing
out the punishment. I’m surprised he didn’t drool on himself.
T
ypical man.

I feel myself growing jealous of the gorgeous
raven-haired disciplinarian and I guess it’s because I know that’s
what he really prefers in a woman. Why the hell is he with me
anyways? I can’t compete with that type of woman, and honestly, I
don’t want to. My self-esteem is fragile enough, I don’t need to
try and live up to an image that I’ll never attain. I manage to
finally pull his gaze off the lovely pair and tell him I’m ready to
go.

On our way out to the car, he calls
Brody to let him know we’re on our way.
Yuck. The pilot.
I don’t want to think about
that.

During the drive to the airport, I
wonder what’s next. How does all this work anyway? Do we just jump
in headfirst or is there a class or something I need to
take.
BSDM 101?
As usual, he
laughs at me, but whatever. I’m getting used to it.