The Art of Submission (34 page)

“I see.
Fine.
Then let’s discuss it and then I’ll be on my way.” Now she’s back
to being her stubborn self.

She walks out of my office hastily and
I follow her. She heads straight for the kitchen where she picks up
her bag off the counter and digs out the contract. She sits on a
stool at the breakfast bar and starts flipping through the
contract.
Shit. This isn’t going to go
well, I can sense that already.
I don’t want to do
this, not when she’s acting like this. We’ll discuss it later.
She’s in the middle of flipping through it when I pull it out of
her grip and set it aside.

“You know what? It’s getting late. We can do
this later.”

She looks surprised, but she’s determined.
“No. Now is fine. The sooner we get this over with, the
better.”

Get this over with? Fucking stubborn woman.
She’s not getting her way this time. “I’m not going to argue with
you, Isabel. I’m not discussing it right now and that’s the end of
it.”

She seems resigned and if I’m not mistaken -
relieved.

“Dylan, I really do have to go home. I work
tomorrow, it’s a long drive from here and I have nothing to wear. I
appreciate the offer, though.”

Shit. She’s right. How does she get to work
anyway?

“I take the bus.” She says
matter-of-factly.

What the hell? She
is
taking public transportation to my
horror.
Hell no
. That’s
unacceptable and I tell her so.

“Unacceptable for whom? It’s cheaper than
owning a vehicle and we don’t all have private on-call drivers.”
She states.

Unacceptable for me,
of course
. Although now that she
puts it like that…
oh hell
.
What the fuck ever. I’ll deal with that later, too. I’ll revise the
contract to include a clause about providing transportation for her
and that issue will be settled.

“If you really insist on leaving, then
I’ll drive you home, but I just want you to know that I’d prefer
you stay tonight.” My words are a little less harsh this time and
that seems to do the trick. She starts hemming and hawing around
and I can tell she wants to stay.
I have
an idea
.

“There’s a store right around the corner from
here and we can pick you up something to wear, that way we don’t
have to be up so early. Then, maybe… you know… we could clean the
dungeon tonight.”

“Dungeon? That’s what you call it?” She looks
disgusted at the sound of it.

“Yes. Why? You don’t like that term?”

“It just seems so… medieval. So… dark and ….
I don’t know… creepy.” She sounds so immature and inexperienced and
I can’t help but find her amusing.

“Well, dearest Isabel, heaven forbid that it
sound ‘creepy and dark.’ What would you suggest we call it?” I
can’t hide my sarcasm, but I wish I had.

“You can call it whatever
you
want, darling Dylan, it is,
after all,
your
room.” She
says with a raised eyebrow and oozing sarcasm.

Little Miss Sassy Panties is back and I laugh
out loud at her. I know she doesn’t like it but damn she’s fucking
comical when she’s feisty.

“Actually, it will be
our
room, and if you don’t like the
term dungeon, then we won’t call it that.” I’m more serious now and
her attitude seems to have died down a bit. She smiles at me
sweetly.
Yes. That’s the Isabel I
like
.

“Can I think about a name for it, a fun
name?”

A
fun
name?
What the fuck? Her eyes are bright and big and
how the hell am I supposed to deny her when she’s looking at me
like that? What the hell is this woman doing to me? My dungeon is
not meant to be a place of
fun
. Isabel seriously has no concept of what a
Dom/submissive relationship is supposed to be. It is not meant to
be
fun
for fuck’s
sake
.
I mean, sure the end
result is sort of fun, but…
oh
hell
. Again this goes back to her lack of experience
in this lifestyle and it’s my own damn fault for falling for
someone who knows nothing about BDSM.
Falling for
? What the fuck am I even thinking? I
haven’t ‘
fallen’
for
anyone.
Have I
? Motherfucker.
I can’t think straight right now.

“My room isn’t going to have a ‘fun name’
okay? Just think of something else you want to call it.” I say
rolling my eyes at her.

“Oh. So now it’s ‘your’ room again?” She asks
hurt.

Fucking hell.
“That’s not what I meant… I just meant… look
Isabel…”

“No. You’re right. It is
your
room and if you want to call
it
a dungeon
then fine. I
mean, what the hell do I know about this BDMS stuff anyway? I
didn’t mean to suggest that this lifestyle is all fun and games,
even if at the end of the day, it turned out to be sort of
fun.”

In my head again. Yes. Fucking again.

“Seriously, how the fuck do you do that?” I
can’t hide my irritation with her telepathy.

She looks dismayed at my question. “Do
what?”

Does she really not know? I let out a loud
sigh. “Never mind. And it’s BDSM. And I don’t want to talk about
this anymore, so let’s just go buy you some clothes.”

“You should just take me home, Dylan.” She
says sounding resigned.

Hell no
. She’s
not getting out of staying with me that easily. “Don’t start,
Isabel. I’ve already decided you’re staying. And besides, I’m not
done with you yet.”

She gets a look of worry and then asks, “What
do you mean by that?”

“Don’t be naïve. I think you know what I
mean.” I say giving her my ‘really?’ stare.

“Oh. I see. Should we really be doing all
this without having signed the contract?”

Is she fucking
serious
? “It’s a little late for that, don’t you
think?”

“So you’re not interested in having a
contract anymore?” She asks all big-eyed and sweet looking.

“Nice try, Isabel.” I say laughing out loud
at her. She obviously gets the irony in my laugh.

“Well, a girl can hope and dream, Dylan.” She
says sadly.

Fuck. Me wanting this contract and her
hesitancy about it is really going to be an issue. I need to deal
with this right now. “Tell me something, Isabel. What about the
contract makes you dislike it so much? Is it the idea of it, the
sex stuff or is it specifically about your art?”

“Where shall I begin? If I highlight all the
issues, Dylan, there won’t be any white left on the paper.”

Shit. Does she really feel like that?

She sighs and looks down at the counter. “The
art stuff, is a bit much Dylan. And I suppose I’m exaggerating a
bit, but there a lot of things in there that I just need to wrap my
head around.”

Good. So there is hope. “Isabel, that’s what
we need to discuss. The requests in the contract are things I would
like, but are open for discussion. A contract of this nature has to
be, you know… revised, amended and...”

“Negotiated?” She asks looking up at me
hopeful.

Fucking hell
.
She just had to say it. I can’t bring myself to agree with her and
I just shrug at her. “Tomorrow, when you have time, I want you to
you seriously go through the contract and really pick out the
things that are completely unacceptable to you. But please, Isabel,
try to keep an open mind about some of the things, especially the
art clause. It’s something that I really want and the things I’m
asking for are for both of our pleasure and growth. My intentions
are not to hurt you or make you do anything that would repulse you,
okay? Make revisions to some of the things that you have
reservations about, revisions that would benefit the both of us. Do
you understand? After what we’ve done the last few days, and the
way you make me feel, I really want this to work between
us.”

I’m doing my best not to sound needy, but I
know it’s coming out that way.

“Okay.” She simply replies.

What? Okay? Just like
that?
I don’t understand this woman at all. Fuck.
Whatever. I’ll take okay.

“So how about we pick you out some clothes
now?” I ask.

“Okay.”

I like this. She can okay me all day long as
far as I’m concerned. We leave and head out to the car.

When we get on the elevator, Isabel turns to
me and says, “Thank you for today. It’s not at all how I thought it
would turn out. Oh, and for whatever you have planned for me
tonight, thank you for that, too. Just in case I forget to tell you
later.”

Holy shit.
I
feel my heart in my throat and I want to hug her, but I resist.
She’s so fucking adorable and –
sincere
. But as much as I like hearing the
words, she really needs to stop thanking me. I mean, hell, I should
be thanking her for her wonderful art and for allowing me to break
out of my vanilla prison.

I plan on driving us to Larimer Square to do
some shopping. I know the perfect place to pick her out a nice
outfit. I’ve been past the store several times, but I’ve never
actually been inside. I’m sure there’s bound to be something lovely
in there for my spirited artist.

She’s quiet on the drive over and it
gives me time to think about our time together this afternoon.
Damn. Today has turned out excellent.
The
site of her flawlessly fuckable ass in front of me flashes through
my mind. The way she tasted.
Fuck. I need to
concentrate on driving as I can feel myself getting stiff at the
mental image of her sitting in front of me with my cum on her
perfectly pink mouth. I glance over at her and she’s watching me. I
wink at her and she smiles.

We arrive after a short drive and we’re lucky
enough to find parking right out front. I make my way around to
open the door for Isabel and as usual, she thanks me. I can’t even
remember the last time a woman thanked me for such a simple act. We
stop in front of the store and she looks apprehensive.

“Dylan, this store is… its lovely. I’m sure
there are a lot of very nice things in there, but…it’s a bit out of
my price range.” She looks embarrassed and she starts fidgeting
with her hair. Did she really expect to pay for her own clothes?
Does she not know how much money I make? I take her hand and stop
her from playing with her hair. God knows they’d never allow me in
the store with a rock solid hard on. She tries to lead me in
another direction, but I stop her.

“Isabel, no. This store is just fine. I’m
sure we can find you something more suitable than what you’re used
to wearing in here. And just for future reference, I don’t expect
you to buy your own clothes when you’re with me; or buy anything
for that matter.”

She looks stunned and tries to interject with
some kind of refusal, but I’m not having it and I practically have
to drag her inside the store. I want to see her dressed nicely. She
deserves it. End of story.

When we get inside the store, her protests
cease as several people stop to look and see what all the commotion
is about. She blushes and tries to release her hand from mine.
Nope. Not having it. I lead her over to an area where there are
nice dresses. Come to think of it, while we’re here, I should just
buy her an entire wardrobe. I’ve seen what she has at her apartment
and it’s completely unacceptable.

I wave someone over to help us and ask
them to find Isabel suitable attire for work and casual wear,
including all the extras. Isabel looks infuriated.
Hot damn she’s cute when she’s
pissed
. The woman helping us looks confused by
Isabel’s reaction and I just shrug it off.

“What size are you, dear?” The attendant asks
Isabel.

Isabel stands silently defiant as if that’s
going to deter me from answering for her.

“She’s a size 5 in clothing, 24” waist, 6 in
a shoe, 34 DD in a bra.”

Isabel looks horrified at me.
What?
It’s my job to be observant.
Hell, I unclothed her and fucked her; did she expect me not to
notice the fine details? Isabel starts to protest again and I lean
down and threaten to take it out on her ass if she makes a scene.
She squeezes my hand so tightly I swear I heard a few knuckles
crack, but she gets the point.

Her eyes narrow at me and she replies in a
sticky sweet tone, “Yes, Dylan.”

Fucking hell
.
I know this look and I’m beginning to think maybe I’m the one who’s
going to get punished later. I feel a strange quivering deep in my
belly thinking about it. What the hell is that? Fear?
No
. Excitement?
Maybe
. I lead Isabel back towards some chairs
and grab her by her shoulders, and sit her down. I’m leaning down
into her face so we’re eye to eye.

“Stay here and don’t be angry with me. I want
to do this for you. What was that you said about everyone deserving
kindness?”

She looks at me taken aback to hear her own
words given back to her, but it still doesn’t stop her sharp
tongue. “And what was that you said about not deserving kindness
because of the things I want to do to you?”

Okay then
.
“What exactly
do
you want to
do to me, Isabel?”