The Art of Submission (42 page)

She agrees to be at my beck and call. Damn
straight. But, ‘ditto’? Again, this comes down to her lack of
experience and knowledge of the D/s roles. It’s not my
responsibility to be at her beck and call, even though I do like
the idea. I need to stop thinking that way. I’m a Dom, damn it.

I’ll explain to her what a scene is. She’s
seen it in action, but I guess she doesn’t know the
terminology.

No, she doesn’t get a say in what my
responsibilities are, but Isa is stubborn and headstrong, so I
guess I might as well read her ‘2 cents.’

Yes, I do have impeccable taste, thank you
very much. So she did like the clothes. Leave it to Isa to not miss
a thing. She’s right, the clause doesn’t state ‘provide,’ but like
I told her last night, I’ll spend my money on her however the fuck
I want and I’m not backing down on that.

It is my responsibility to keep her safe as
her Dom. Again, this is lack of experience and knowledge in our
roles. It upsets me deeply to think that no one has ever made her
feel safe before.

Yes, further explanation on hard limits. I
wonder how that discussion will go over.

Oh, Isa - you do make me laugh. Yes, I can
afford a housekeeper and I already have one who comes three times a
week. I’ll have to explain to her that I don’t particularly want my
part-time housekeeper cleaning the dungeon and our sex toys.
Surely, she’ll understand why.

Isa doesn’t miss a thing. Yes, dear,
I
will
move clause #7 up to
the #1 slot. I won’t be shared? Though, I do enjoy a three-way, I
won’t freak Isabel out with that little bit of knowledge and I
don’t want to lose her over something like that anyway. So far,
she’s proving to be quite a handful and she’s more than enough
woman for me.

Here we go again with the punishment
issues. So she does realize that what happened last night was
punishment and even admits that it was spectacular.
Yes, it was – to say the very least
.
The image of her bright pink ass invades my mind and I have to pull
myself back to the topic at hand. She admits she has
serious issues
. Yes, I’ve figured
that out. Don’t ask why? What the hell? She can’t tell me something
like that. Of course, I’ll ask why; I want to know why. I want to
know everything about her. I want to know who the hell hurt her so
badly that she’s afraid I’ll hurt her.

Okay. I’m upset about the last clause
but I need to move on. She doesn’t want my money under any
circumstances. That’s a first. That’s usually the only thing women
want from me. Well, that and my big… no.
Stay focused.
She agrees to not talk about us,
yet she asked if this was legal and binding? So when I tell her
that it’s not, she can still damn well go out and talk as much as
she likes? Threaten me if she likes?
Fucking Erika
. No, stop; Isabel is not like
Erika. Erika came to me and asked if she could be my sub, Isabel
did not; I went to her. What does she mean by ‘pay off’ money and
‘so-called relationship’? Why did she use that terminology? We need
to discuss this.

Remove the family clause altogether?
What the hell? She doesn’t even elaborate why. It’s just something
that’s so unimportant it’s not even worth considering or
discussing?
Okay
. What’s
going on there?

I’m reminded of how far she lives from
her only living parent and now this. What did she say when I asked
her about birth control?
Come on,
Young
,
think
….
it happened when she was very young.
Shit.
Did her father hurt her? I feel sick
thinking about it.

I can’t even bring myself to read the
rest of the contract. I set it down and pick up my phone to call
her. I need to hear her voice. I’m sent straight to voicemail
again.
Fucking hell.
Why the
hell am I feeling so emotional about this woman? I hardly know her.
It all comes back to the paintings. Her amazing and beautiful
talent. Her sincerity. Her kindness. Her feistiness. Her ability to
be in my head at all times. Her ability to pull me out of myself
and make me see things like I’ve never seen them before.

My poor Isabel.
What did her father do to her? I need to know what happened
to her.
I need to know.
I
just need to stop thinking about this for now and try and get
through the rest of the contract. I pick it up and
continue.

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

Isabel

The rest of my morning is spoiled by my
thoughts of Dylan’s beautiful and leggy brown-haired receptionist
and her reminder of how inadequate I really am. No, I’m not his
type, but that doesn’t explain the last few days. Wasn’t I his type
then? He has, after all, asked me to be his submissive. That must
mean he wants me, right?
No. He just wants
my paintings
, my little negative voice tells. I can’t
think about that right now and I push it to the back of my
mind.

When lunchtime arrives, I head to the
employee lounge and finally bring myself to look into the envelope,
fearing it contains more changes or additions to the contract. When
I pull out the contents, I’m surprised to see a note, and two sets
of keys.

Isabel,

I have to leave on urgent business for at
least the rest of the week. I wanted to tell you in person and I
tried calling you numerous times, but I was unable to get through.
I’ve left you my house keys so that you can access your clothes.
Please feel free to stay there while I’m gone. I’ve also left you
my car so that you’ll have safe transportation to and from work. I
expect you to utilize it.

On another note, I wasn’t happy that you
left this morning without saying good bye. I find that completely
unacceptable. Please don’t do it again.

I’ll call you later this evening. I look
forward to hearing your voice.

Dylan

P.S. Your welcome
and
thank you
for
yesterday. It was beyond amazing and I look forward to giving you
more of it.

Oh my heart melts when I read his
words.
Beyond amazing
…
yes, it was
. So I’m not his type?
Maybe Dylan has changed his preference in women.
Maybe
… I reread the note again. Gone
for the rest of the week? That royally stinks. I really wanted to
see him. It seems so awkward that he would offer his house and car
up to me so soon. He doesn’t even know me. I could be some weirdo
stalker or serial killer. Well, I suppose, he could be the same.
Speaking of stalking, I need to talk to him about seeing his car
out front of my apartment Saturday night. I also need to ask him
what the deal is with his bitchy receptionist. I get irate just
thinking about her again and I lose my appetite.

As I head back towards my desk, I’m
stopped by Greer’s voice calling to me from his office.
Oh no
. What does he want?
Like I don’t know.

“Come in here, Isabel.” He says motioning
towards me.

Panic sets in. Did Monica rat me
out?
Shit.
I head into his
office, but I stand in the doorway, not venturing all the way in
for fear of what he’ll try.

“What do you want?”
Damn it, Isa.
Why do I keep asking that
stupid-ass question?

He raises an eyebrow at me salaciously and
smiles that disturbing smile of his. “I just wanted to say that if
you promise to look as appetizing as you do today, I’ll make a
serious effort to sell more of your paintings.”

Yuck.
Doesn’t
this jackass know anything about sexual harassment laws? “No thank
you. I have no interest in selling any more of my paintings.” I
almost finish my sentence with an ‘or you,’ but I hold my
tongue.

He narrows his eyes at me and stands to say
something but we’re interrupted by, none other than, Monica. What’s
her deal? She’s been watching me like a hawk lately. Whatever, I’m
not complaining. I immediately make my retreat and head towards my
desk.

Why did I wear this dress today? It’s done
nothing but cause problems for me. I’ll just stick with my
unfashionable attire and avoid any more issues. Oh hell, who am I
kidding? Greer ogles me regardless of my clothing.

I remember what Dylan’s receptionist
said about his car being in the employee lot. I walk towards one of
the gallery’s side windows to peer out and there it is, his
Benz.
Damn that’s a nice car
.
I get nervous at the thought of driving it. I haven’t actually
driven in a few years. Not since my ex-boyfriend, or whatever he
was, let me drive his car. A thought hits me, how the hell am I
going to explain why I’m driving that car when we all leave
tonight? I don’t dare stay late in case Greer gets any ideas. I’ll
just have to leave early and try and slip out before everyone else
does. I know Dylan wants me to drive it to work, but I don’t want
to have to explain myself to Greer or Monica, or anyone else, for
that matter.

The rest of my workday drags on and I wish I
had brought my damned phone charger with me so I could talk to
Dylan. I want to ask him what his history is with his receptionist.
I suddenly remember the few times I’ve encountered her and the way
she acted towards me. It all makes sense now that I know she has a
thing for him.

I wonder if he’s read the contract yet.
I wonder what his thoughts are to my revisions.
Especially the last part.
I wonder how that will
go over. It’s nearing 4 p.m. and I decide to sneak out of the
office a little early. I make it out of the office unnoticed, head
to Dylan’s car and get the door unlocked. Just when I’m starting to
feel a sense of relief, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around
to see Greer standing behind me.
Oh
shit.

Dylan

I turn to the last page of the contract,
anxious to see what Isabel has decided about the art clause.

Addendum:

Isabel shall allow Dylan to view all
past, present and future artwork, and to borrow the artwork as he
sees fit. Dylan will also be allowed to watch Isabel paint
anytime
he sees fit.
Isabel will keep a journal including, but not
limited to, thoughts of painting, where the inspiration is gleaned
from, and possible new interests in new artwork ideas. The journal
shall be allowed to be read by Dylan on a regular basis with the
agreement that Isabel will not be punished or judged on anything
posted therein
.”

I agree to let you see my
paintings, past, present, etc. I have difficulty in agreeing to let
you watch me paint, but can we compromise and say that sometimes
you can watch me paint? Maybe as I get more comfortable with the
idea (
if
I get
comfortable with the idea), then you can watch me more
often?

I don’t keep a journal,
Dylan. I never have, I never will, but I would be willing to
discuss where the inspiration comes from since I don’t write it
down. My journal is my artwork. That’s why my paintings are so
personal to me.

Addendum II:

A. Dylan reserves the right to make any changes,
revisions or additions to the above consensual contract at anytime
as he sees fit. Changes, revisions and additions will be discussed
in advance with Isabel before such things will go into effect.

Can I also make changes and
additions as well?

B. Hard limits and soft limits will be
discussed in person and added in writing in an additional addendum
at such time that these can be agreed upon.
Yes. Agreed. Again, I
will need
further explanation of what hard and soft limits are.

What’s with all the punishment
clauses anyways? Perhaps we need to add a clause in your
responsibilities to include accepting punishment when I feel your
being unreasonable with your requests or my needs aren’t being
met.

Turn over→

She agrees to let me watch her paint
‘sometimes’ and maybe even more often than that. Fucking fantastic.
I feel my heart swell at the thought. So she considers her artwork
her journal? That’s why it’s all so personal to her.
My sweet private, naughty,
Isa
.

Can she make changes?
No, not really
. That’s my
prerogative as a Dom, not necessarily hers as a sub. I just remind
myself –
lack of experience.
It’s going to take quite some time for Isa to get used to her
role.

Yes, more discussion on hard and soft
limits.
When the time
comes
.

What the fuck
?
Is she serious about punishing me? I can’t believe she put that
down in writing. When my requests are ‘unreasonable’ or her needs
aren’t ‘being met?’ Why the hell wouldn’t I be meeting her needs?
And my requests are
never
unreasonable. Shit. Fucking hell. Fucking stubborn
woman.
Damn it, Isa
. Lack of
experience, Young…
lack of
experience
.

Turn over? Okay.