The Art of Submission (39 page)

“
Can I join you?”

Abso-freaking-lutely is what I’m thinking,
but I play little miss polite and reply, “Yes, please do.”

I’m still feeling good after our last little
bit of eroticism so I wash down Dylan, paying special attention to
his nether regions. He seems to really enjoy it. As I make my way
down to his happy wand, I start stroking it, harder and harder. I
love to watch it get enormous at my touch. It makes me feel sexy
and wanted. I know what he likes, so I get on my knees and give him
head. Even having just had sex, he’s still able to cum for me and I
love it.

We finish up in the shower and then dry
off and he does the sweetest thing; he helps me dry off. His hands
through the towel feel so good on my body. I wish I could get used
to this. I want to get used to it, but that little negative voice
inside my head won’t allow me. I know this will end in miserable
heartbreak for me,
I just know
it
.

When I get out to the bedroom, I see a white
lace baby doll and panties laid out on the bed for me. It’s so
lovely. He picked this out for me?

“Do you like it?” He asks and his eyes are
shiny and sparkling blue.

Yes, I really love it. I love that he picked
it out for me, especially. It’s so pretty and girly.

“As are you, sweetheart.” He says looking me
up and down as if he’s mentally tasting me.

Sure. If he says so. He sounds so earnest,
but I wish he would stop saying stuff like that. Okay, I don’t
really wish that, but it just makes me uncomfortable. I guess
because I don’t really believe it.

“Don’t do that, Isabel. You
are
beautiful. Now get
dressed.”

Damn. Okay. Whatever he wants. I drop the
towel and start putting on the sweet set. It’s so soft and frilly.
The top has spaghetti straps and the front opens up, showing my
belly. The panties are ruffled boy shorts. He does know what I
like.

“I put the rest of your clothes and shoes in
my closet. And your lingerie is in that drawer over there,” he says
pointing to a top drawer in a large dresser.

Wow. Okay. So I have my own drawer. Things
are moving a little fast considering I’ve known him less than a
week and I haven’t even signed anything yet.

“It’s all temporary, of course.” He adds.

Well of course it is. Just as long as
our ‘term of agreement’ lasts, right? How polite of him to remind
me.
Really fucking polite.

Dylan gets under the covers and holds
one end up for me to get in, but then gets a look on his face like
he’s having second thoughts.
You and me
both, sweetheart.
Maybe he should just take me home.
It’s not too late, I tell him.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not going
anywhere tonight, now get in here.”

He says it in an
I’m-not-taking-no-for-an-answer tone, but he still has the same
look on his face and he won’t make eye contact with me. I crawl in
next to him and he just remains flat on his back, not making any
effort to get closer to me. Fine. I’m tired anyway.

It’s not long before he falls asleep. I can
tell by the way his breathing subtly changes, slows and deepens. I
can’t fall asleep, so I sit up on one elbow and take the
opportunity to look at him more closely. He’s grown a bit of
stubble as the day has gone on and he looks marvelous in the
moonlighting. He looks so content and peaceful. I reach up and run
my fingers along his stubble and he only stirs slightly. I want
him. I want to keep him. I want to be his. Damn me for being so
juvenile and needy. I should just enjoy him while I have him. I
roll back over on my back and try to fall asleep.

I lay in that same position for almost
an hour trying to fall asleep. This is absurd. I’m just wasting
time laying here. I decide to get up and peruse the closet. I’m
careful to be quiet so I don’t wake Dylan. I open the closet door
and it’s quite a spectacle in there. Clotheshorse much? Good lord.
How can one man have so much clothing? I run my hand along the
numerous suit jackets. There are even a few tuxedos hanging near
the back. Everything is very stylish and I get aroused at the
mental image of him wearing them. There are even a few new suits
still hanging with tags still on them, one of them being a light
gray 3 button suit with matching slacks with an exotic name I’ve
never heard of. The price tag on it reads $3500.
Seriously?
I mean, yes, it’s a
lovely suit, but $3500? I’m so out of my depth with this man. He
also has a rack of shoes that any woman would envy. And ties
galore. How many ties does one man need anyway?

Then I see the clothing and the four
pairs of shoes he’s bought for me. The dresses are gorgeous as are
the pant sets.
Wow.
He has
impeccable taste; and expensive, too, no doubt. I don’t even want
to look at the price tags, but of course, I can’t resist. I try to
do some simple math in my head, rounding to the nearest ten.
Oh my God
. He spent nearly $5000 on
this stuff and this doesn’t even include the skivvies or the shoes
that he purchased. I feel light headed and sick to my stomach at
the thought. I start to get angry, but then I remember his
reprimand about him spending his money on me whenever and on
whatever he fucking wants.
Fine.
I don’t want another paddling like before.
Well, actually, yes I do
. Who am I
to complain about him spending money me anyway? He’s right; I
should just say thank you.

I’m still wide awake and so I head out to the
main living area where I dropped my bag in the heat of the moment.
Now is a good time to go through the contract with a fine-toothed
comb and adhere to the requests that he made. What did he say? Keep
an open mind, that’s right.

I go over the contract for about another hour
or so, really concentrating on what I want and don’t want, and
honestly trying to keep an open mind. I just hope he does the same
at my suggestion of punishing him. I like the idea very much, but I
don’t want to push my luck. He is, after all, a Dom and I’m not
sure he wants to share that role. All I can hope for is that he’ll
look it over in the morning and agree to my requests and
revisions.

I’m feeling very inspired to paint, but
since I’m not near any of my supplies, I dig out the brand new
travel watercolor kit that I bought a while ago from my bag. But
what to paint on? I know. The back of the contract. I flip it over,
and on the last page of the contract, which just happens to be the
page where the now infamous art clause is typed, I begin
painting.
How appropriate.
I
can’t get the image of Dylan out of my head, hovering over me,
gripping himself with the light of the sunset behind him.
My dark angel.

I paint feverishly for about 45 minutes
and the image is stunning. I’m embarrassed to even pat myself on
the back for my own creativity, but this one,
yes
… this one came out fantastic. I only wish it
had been on canvas. Oh well. I leave it out to dry and head back to
the bedroom.

When I enter the room, Dylan has only
shifted slightly and he’s uncovered and lying gloriously naked on
the bed.
Yummy
. Just then he
mumbles something. A name? I get closer to hear him. He says it
again and it is a name; a woman’s name; and it’s not mine.
Erika
. Who the hell is she? Someone
who was obviously important enough to dream about, and no doubt a
tall skinny brunette. I feel saddened and irate. I don’t want him
dreaming about other women.
I’ll fix
that.

I move in between his legs and grip
him, but he’s deep in sleep and doesn’t move. I start running my
tongue along his length, slicking him good so I can stroke him, and
he moans softly. I tighten my grip and move my hand up and down,
hoping to get a response from him. His dick immediately wakes from
its slumber, but Dylan remains sound asleep.
So it is true, these things really do have a mind of their
own
. I put my mouth around him, sucking hard and
stroking him firmly. I take all of him into my mouth. He tastes
delicious and clean. I suck harder, trying to suck all the memories
of Erika out of him. Dylan shifts slightly and moans louder. Then
he wakes and sits up on his elbows.
Well
hello there, Mr. Young
. I get up to my knees and sit
on top of him. I’m still wearing the lovely white set and I’m too
anxious to take the panties off, so I just move them out of the way
and continue my quest of making Dylan forget about Erika. I’m
soaking wet in anticipation of riding him and he’s polished from my
oral activities, and he just slides right into me.

My body takes over and my hips start
dancing the same exotic erotic dance they did in his office.
He feels so amazing inside of me.
All at once, he grabs my hips and pulls me down hard. Damn
that hurts.
And feels good.
And hurts.
Yes
. I hear
myself moan, but it’s someone else’s voice coming out of me. My
hands are in my hair, then over my mouth, and I start caressing my
own body. Dylan looks so brilliant and sexy in the moonlight, his
eyes shining as they watch me possessively. I move my hand down
inside my panties and start feverishly rubbing myself.
Oh my dear sweet wet Ms. Kitty.
My
hands feel so good on me and he feels so good
in
me. Dylan sits up and kisses me. His mouth is
so divine and luscious, his tongue so smooth and mouth-watering; I
can’t resist biting him. He grunts and I know it hurt, but I don’t
give a damn. This is his punishment for dreaming of another woman.
I can taste his salty sweet blood and it’s intoxicating.

“You taste so good, Dylan; just like
Christmas morning.” I whisper and it sounds otherworldly.

My hands move to steady his head and I
can’t take my eyes off of his alluring mouth. I can see the blood
shining in the moonlight and it’s making me feel like I did in his
office,
in control.
Dylan’s
breathing has quickened and I can sense that’s he’s close, as am I.
I feel it rising in me. He hugs me to him tightly and I pick up the
pace.
I’m so close.
I can
feel
Dylan in my head, probing my mind and my
emotions.
Damn him.
He kisses
me, knowing what I want and I feel it – the miraculous, sinful
feeling of my love mitten tightening around him. I grab onto his
shoulders squeezing for dear life and “Dylan! Yes!”

He pulls down hard again and I feel his
cum fuse inside me with mine. I sit there straddling him for only a
moment and fatigue overtakes me. I roll off of him and sleep finds
me immediately.
Good night sweet Dylan.
Dream of me, now. Only me.

Dylan

I awaken to the sound of my alarm. I roll
over to turn it off, expecting to feel Isabel next to me, but I
don’t. I immediately sit up and scan the room and listen closely,
thinking maybe she’s already awake and in the bathroom, but I don’t
hear anything. I get up and head out to the kitchen and the manila
envelope with the contract is sitting on the counter with a note
scrawled on the front.

Dylan – I didn’t want to wake you.

I made some changes and revisions that I
hope you’ll find agreeable. Please keep an open mind when
considering them. I’ll be thinking about you and hoping you have a
fantastic day at work.

Isa

P.S. Thank you for yesterday. It was amazing
and I look forward to more of it.

More of it?
Yes, most definitely.
But
she left without saying goodbye.
That’s
completely unacceptable. My parents left without saying goodbye and
I never had the chance to talk to them again. Okay, so she was
polite enough to leave a note, but still. How the hell did she get
to work anyway? I immediately pick up my phone and try and call her
cell but it rings busy. Damn. Next I call downstairs and ask
security.

“This is Dylan Young from
12
^th
, what time did the petite
blond leave and what was her mode her transportation?”

“She left nearly an hour ago via cab,
sir.”

Damn it.
I
wanted to see her before she left. I head back to the bedroom, get
some clothes picked out and head to the bathroom. There’s a faint
scent of cherry blossom, peach and jasmine in there and except for
the manila envelope left on the kitchen counter, it’s the only
other evidence she was here.

With the lingering scent of Isabel
still in the shower, my mind wanders to the activities of
yesterday.
And this morning.
That was the closest thing to vanilla sex we’ve had so far.
Granted there was no bondage or extra tools involved, I still
wouldn’t consider what happened this morning completely vanilla.
I’ve established that she’s a biter. I am too, so I’m not
complaining, but damn, she really takes it to another level. I
touch my lip and it’s completely raw from yesterday’s activities.
How the hell am I going to explain that? Then I look down at my
wrists and the red marks on them are still visible as well and I
feel my cock twitch at the thought of her binding me with the belt.
Then I’m reminded of the lovely marks on Isabel’s wrists as well. I
envision
Isabel bound on Chapel Hill; her
perfect mouth glistening with my cum.
I need to stop
this. My dick is completely erect now and aching to be inside her
warm tight pussy and there’s not a damn thing I can do about. I try
and change the direction of my thoughts.