The Art of Submission (32 page)

“Dylan… oh… Dylan….” She stutters out in a
whisper.

Yes. I love to hear the
sound of Isabel saying my name.
I continue to work her
clit knowing she’s close and so am I. The sweet sounds of our
fucking are hypnotic; the wetness, the sound of her ass slapping
against me, the squeaks of the leather beneath her knees…
fuck yes.
Then I feel her clench
almost painfully around me as she moans something incoherent and I
feel her cum, hot and wet. I’m so close, but I want her mouth. I
pull out of her, spin her around and push her down into the couch
so she’s sitting in front of me.

“Open your mouth, Isabel.” I demand.

I immediately fill her mouth, not
wanting to lose the feeling of wanting to cum. I grab a fistful of
her hair and guide her head. The feeling of her mouth around me is
mind-blowing. But I want to see her amazing eyes so I pull off the
blindfold and command her to look at me. She does and the site of
her tawny eyes and her mouth around me are my downfall.
FUCK.
Without warning I cum, hard
and quick. I try not to move as she swallows everything I give her
and I immediately fall to my knees, my muscles still contracting
from my orgasm.

Holy shit. That was
intense
. I’m kneeling in front of her, looking at the
floor, trying to catch my breath and regain some kind of composure.
When I finally look up, Isabel is watching me. She’s slightly
smiling, her lips and mouth still shiny and wet from my cum. When I
scan her body - g
ood Lord
Almighty
. She has her own cum all over her
thighs.
Fuck yes
. It’s a
beautiful site. I sit back on my haunches and stare at her, taking
another mental snapshot.
Talk about
art.
This is fucking art right here in front of me. I
wish I had one ounce of talent in me so I could put this image down
on canvas. To my delight, Isabel doesn’t move; she just sits
waiting for me. I could sit here all day taking this image
in.

Finally, I sit up, reach behind her and
unbuckle the cuffs. She pulls her arms around and examines her
wrists briefly, rubs them, and then wipes her mouth with the back
of her hand
. Fuck that’s sexy when she
does that.

“So how was that for you?” I ask, dying to
know.

She doesn’t answer me in words.
Instead, she grins from ear to ear, blushes, and then twirls a
strand of her hair between her fingers.
Nice.

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

Isabel

As soon as we get inside the mysterious
room, Dylan flicks the lights on. I’m trying to take in everything.
So this is his kinky room. His sexy room. What kind of room is this
exactly?
His naughty room
.
It’s a bit dusty though.

The first thing that catches my eye is
the X-shaped cross, like the one we saw at the club. It’s large and
takes up half a wall and there’s a light hanging overhead. I guess
he wants to see what he’s doing. On another wall is a large bed,
but it’s more than just a sleeping bed. It has straps hanging down
from the sides and at the head of it. Is that for tying someone
up?
Interesting
. On the
ceiling there are more metal parts and pieces hanging down, as well
as on another wall. Oh - and a weird leather swing that hangs about
hip level. I know what that it is; it’s a sex swing. I remember
seeing a program on television that talked about that sort of
thing. I also remember thinking that could be very fun to
try.
Nice.
Next to the bed is
a table with different types of gags?
Yuck
. No thanks. And collars?
Fascinating.
Dylan would look spectacular
in one of those.

Then I look on the wall behind where
Dylan is standing and
Holy
nightmare
– there’s a rack full of canes and whips,
but that’s not what frightens me. It’s the
belts
; three of them - two black and one brown,
all leather, thick and wide.
Why does he
have those in here?
This room is for sexy kinky
stuff.
Oh my dear God.
Has he
used those on women during sex? Or to get sex?

“
You’ve used a belt on women before?” I
ask him.
Please say no.
He
just stands there looking at me as if I should know the
answer.
Please say no.

“
Answer me,” I demand.
Oh no.
I can tell what the answer is
going to be before he even says it.

“Yes, I have, but…”

Is that what he wants to do to me? Is
that what he meant by not deserving my kindness because he wants to
use a belt on me? I think I’m going to be sick.
No, no, no
. This isn’t really happening. I feel
myself flush and then I suddenly feel weak and nauseous. I see
spots and feel lightheaded, and then I feel Dylan’s arms around me
as I start to go down. No, I don’t want him to touch me. He’s not
who I thought he was. I have to get out of here.

“Please, Dylan. Get me out of
here…
please
.” I beg
him.

When I start to float back to reality,
I vaguely feel him carrying me. Where’s he taking me? Where? I feel
a cold bed beneath me. I just want to hide so I try to make myself
as small as possible. I hear his voice but I can’t make out what
he’s saying. When I look up at him, he’s leaning down towards
me.
Shit – he’s going to hit me, I just
know it. Please don’t hurt me, please…

He looks upset or pissed, I can’t tell
which. Oh no, I
am
going to
be sick. Dylan helps me up and walks me to the restroom where I
fall in front of the toilet and dry heave.

“I’m so sorry, Isabel.
I’m so sorry.
Who did this to you?
Who made you like this?” He asks as he kneels down next to me. His
voice is sad and concerned.

I sit up, trying to regain what little
dignity I have left. I’ve embarrassed myself more in front of this
man than anyone I’ve ever known and I’ve known him for less than a
week. What am I supposed to say to him? “You first. Who made
you
like this?”

He looks gloomy and cheerless. I don’t want
his pity. I don’t need it.

“
I guess we all have our secrets, don’t
we Isabel?” He says, just gazing at me with soft blue
eyes.

Yes, we do. Why do I have to be so
damned
pathetic
and weak? He
didn’t even touch me. He could have, but he didn’t. He was so
excited to show me that room and I totally ruined it for him. Damn
me and all my issues. Damn my father. I hate him.
I hate him.

“I’m sorry Dylan. I… I... didn’t mean to ruin
this for you. I just…” I try to apologize, but he won’t let me.

“Isabel, don’t apologize…” His words are
moving and they sound sincere.

I want to believe him.
I want to
. I hope I can believe him.
I hate the thought, but I have to go back into that room. I will
not be ruled by fear. I will not.

“I want to go back into that room. Take me
back in there,” I tell him, but he looks horrified at my
request.

“
That’s a terrible fucking idea,
Isabel.”

I know how ridiculous it sounds. I don’t want
to, but I have to and I am going back in there - with or without
him. He looks irritated and even frightened at the idea of taking
me back in there. I just have to explain it to him. He’s
reasonable, most of the time, surely he’ll understand why.

“…
I want to learn to be your
sub.
Please.
” I beg him. His
eyes soften and I can see he’s considering it. But he has to
promise me, no belts
ever.
I
can deal with the rest of the things I saw in there, but not the
belts. Those will never bring me any kind of joy or pleasure,
sexual or otherwise. Me putting one on his wrists - that was
different. I didn’t hit him. I would never hit him with
one.

“
Of course not, sweetheart. No
belts.
Ever
.” He says as he
touches my hair. He’s so sweet sometimes. I do believe him this
time. I don’t think this man would ever hurt me. Not the way my
father did.
I hope I’m right about
him.

Dylan stands up and helps me to my feet
and he leads me back to the kinky room. We’re walking slowly and
for a moment, I consider running the other way. Would he still want
to be with me if I did? Probably not. I don’t like the thought of
that. I want to be with this man.
I need
to be.
As we approach the door, he takes my hand,
kisses it and squeezes it gently. It’s a kind gesture and it warms
me and gives me the strength I need to go back in.

When we get inside the room again, he
does another kind thing; he stands in front of me, blocking the
view of the belts.
Thank you.
I push the thought and image of them to the back of my mind
and focus on the rest of the room. I take a deep breath and start
moving around the room at a slow pace. I touch some of the gags and
inspect them more closely.
There is no way
in hell he’s using one of these on me. No, definitely not.
I pick up the collar I saw earlier; it’s leather with a brass
fastening buckle and a metal loop at the end. What is that for - a
leash?
Yes. I like
this
.

When I get to the big bed, I touch the
leather straps hanging down and look to Dylan for some kind of
enlightenment of how this things works. He explains that the metal
hooks are called fixing points where he can fasten different kinds
of restraints and he lists off a few. I ask to see those and he’s
nice enough to satisfy my curiosity. He moves to a tallboy type of
dresser that’s behind me and when he does, I see the belts again. I
feel his fingers on my chin and he pulls my gaze back to him so
that we’re looking eye to eye.

“
Isabel, focus on me. Only me, okay?”
He says soothingly.

He’s so handsome and his eyes are so
impossibly blue right now, all I can do is nod in agreement. Then
he walks towards the tallboy and pulls out different things for me
to look at; a pair of wide leather wrist straps, some traditional
metal handcuffs and some old-timey looking shackles connected to a
long chain. I wonder if these hurt to wear.

“
It depends on how tight they are,
sweetheart, but they’re meant to restrain, not hurt.” He says
plainly.

This is all so intriguing, but it’s not
enough for him to tell me about this stuff. I want him to show me,
I want to try them on. When I ask him, he looks amused and his eyes
light up. He stands in front of me and starts to put the wide
leather cuffs on me. They feel nice. The inside of them is not
rough at all like I was expecting. They’re soft, almost velvety
feeling. He tightens them on, buckling them down to the last notch,
but they’re not too tight. They’re actually comfortable. Then he
hooks the cuffs together in the center by a metal clasp. I’m
captivated by how my hands look in them. They’re quite restrictive,
but in a sexy sort of way. I like these very much.

“
You look amazing in those
Isabel.”

Holy arousal
.
He looks so spellbinding right now. His eyes are blue hot and his
pupils are starting to dilate. Yummy. He likes me in these. Yes –
he would look amazing in these too.
Did
I just say that out loud?
Damn it, I did. He looks uncomfortable and nervous at my
comment and he immediately starts removing the cuffs, and his eyes
turning back to cool blue. I’m pushing my luck and I just need to
keep my big mouth shut; e
specially in this
room
. Lord only knows what he’ll do to me if I
misbehave in here.

“
What else is in that cabinet?” I ask,
hoping to change the subject and take his mind off my inappropriate
comment.

“Come take a look.” He says invitingly.

I open one of the drawers and there are
various tools of the trade, so to speak. Things I’ve either read
about or seen in an occasional porno mag. Things like blindfolds,
various feather implements, a double sided paddle – one side with
faux fur and the other with leather, and a very scary looking metal
double pinwheel looking thing. He appropriately calls this drawer
the ‘sensation drawer.’
How
charming.

When I open the next drawer, I’m
shocked to find it chalk full of dildos, vibrators and different
sized plugs.
Okay.
I feel
myself blush and when I look over at Dylan and he’s watching me
closely. This is far too embarrassing and I immediately close the
drawer.

But the next drawer, yes, I like the
things in this one. This little treasure trove has different cuffs,
soft rope, a thicker rougher type rope, zip ties?
Okay
. More blindfolds, and a black
tape that Dylan explains only sticks to itself so it doesn’t hurt
the skin. How thoughtful.

But for as much stuff that is in here,
it all seems abandoned and
unused
. I wonder why. Has he seriously not been
in here for a long time?