The Art of Domination (6 page)

I’m well on my way to falling asleep too when my phone beeps again with a new text message.  I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone.
Motherfucker
.  It’s another message from Erika. This is such bullshit.  I jump up out of bed and head out into the hallway to call her. She immediately picks up.

“You just can’t
stay away from me, can you D?” she asks.

“Serious
ly, Erika, stop texting and calling me or I’ll file a restraining order on your ass, do you understand?” 

“Oh
, you will not. Stop being so bitter. What’s wrong? Doesn’t Isabel like you talking to your exes?”

Bitter?
She has no fucking idea just how bitter I am. “I told you not to ask about Isabel and I meant it.  What the fuck do you want?”

“I told you in the texts, I want to meet in person so we can discuss some things.”

“Discuss what? How you plan on trying to blackmail me again?”

“I already told you that my contacting you
doesn’t involve any money. I was just hoping maybe you would try and persuade me to keep my mouth shut,” she says cloyingly sweet.

What the fuck does she mean by that? 
“Look, if you have something to say, then just come out and say it.”

“I
will; in person.”

I hate this woman
and her bullshit games. “Whatever, Erika. When?”

“Tomorrow if the weather allows at Dub’s Pub.”

“Tomorrow is fine but I’ll pick the place. I’ll be damned if I’m meeting up with you at one of your local hangouts. We can meet at Vallagoise’s. I’ll text you the time later. I mean it, don’t text me again or call me at this number.”  Erika starts to stay something but I hang up on her, not wanting to hear anymore of her bullshit.

I stand in the hallway for a few minutes feeling unsettled. When I turn a
round to go back inside, Isabel is standing just inside the doorway looking at me puzzled.

“Why are you out here?” s
he asks. 

Fuck.
Don’t do it, Young. Don’t lie to her again.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” I say, but even I can hear my own deceptiveness in my answer. 

Isabel furrows her eyebrows at me and scans me up and down. “You know y
ou’re a terrible liar, right?”

What the fuck?
Her reply takes me completely by surprise.

“You’ve been lying to me all damned day and I’ve about had it. If you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong
, then fine, but just stop lying, okay?”

How the hell does she know me so well? I give up. I can’t
argue with her. “Fine,” I tell her and we sulk back into her apartment.

***

After my spanking I just want to go
back to sleep. Dylan’s lying is more than I can stand at this point. He’s never lied to me before, that I know of, but today he’s seems to be on a roll. He’s pouting from my scolding and he gets undressed quickly and crawls under the blankets. I crawl in next to him and snuggle up to him, but he seems put off. I was hoping for some nookie but I guess that’s not going to happen. I roll over on my side and fall asleep.

I wake up to the sound of Dylan’s v
oice. When I sit up I hear it -
that fucking name again
. He hasn’t said her name in at least three months and now suddenly he’s dreaming about her again after he proposes to me? Is that a coincidence? I doubt it. I get out of bed and try to contain my rage. I get on some PJ’s, shoes and my coat and head down stairs to check my mailbox and try to take my mind off of being so damned angry.

When I get back inside the apartment, I thumb through the mail and find a letter addre
ssed to me from Cherry Canyon Gallery, the gallery that is hosting my show and the gallery which Dylan sits on the creative board.

Inside the envelope is a letter stating
that I’ve been commissioned to paint a piece by an anonymous buyer. My heart skips a beat. Me? Someone specifically requested that I paint them a piece? I feel myself smiling like a loon. I look at the second letter and it’s from the buyer. In it are very specific instructions on what they want to be portrayed in the painting. And by specific I mean, very detailed descriptions. The sexual positions are frankly boring and very vanilla in nature, but whatever. Who am I to judge a person’s tastes? It should be interesting to see how I can manage this. I’ve never painted for anyone else but myself so this will be an all new experience for me.

I
’m so excited, I want to wake Dylan and tell him, but then I remember what he was dreaming about or more specifically,
who
he was dreaming about, and I start to pout again.  I grab an extra blanket from the closet and sprawl out on my couch and eventually fall back to asleep.

I feel Dylan’s hands in my hair and when I open my eyes several hours later, he’s kneeling next to me.

“Why are you sleeping here?” he asks.

I almost hold my tongue from saying what I really feel, but then decide not to. “Because I didn’t feel like hearing Erika’s
name whispered in my ear again,” I tell him while giving him stink eye.

His eyes widen and he gets a sudden case of drop jaw. “What did you say?” 

“You heard me. You were dreaming about her again,” I tell him as I get up from the couch and proceed to fold the blanket and put it away. He finally pulls himself up and starts to pace the floor.

“Isa, I’m sorry, I…” he stops and
sits down on the bed.

“You
what
, Dylan?”

H
e just shakes his head no, like he can’t think of what to say.

“You know what this means don’t you?” I ask him.

He looks confounded by my question. “It means you’re getting your ass spanked. Now get those pants off, bare you ass to me and get over here,” I tell him as I sit on the couch and motion for him to stand in front of me.

Dylan looks a combination of surprised and
apologetic, but he doesn’t argue. He pulls his pants and briefs down and stands in front of me. I reach over for my hand brush on the side table because I don’t particularly enjoy using my bare hand to do this sort of thing. Not like I’ve done it often, but the two other times I did spank Dylan, I think my hand was sorer than his ass.  I stand up behind him and to the side, and push on to the middle of his back. He leans down slightly with his hands on his thighs.  He’s much taller than me so this is awkward, but that’s not going to deter me. I’ll be damned if he’s getting away with dreaming of that woman again.

Hot damn he looks fucking
scorching right now.
His ass is perfect and just begging to get punished.  I rub his ass softly and almost decide not to go through with it, but my alter ego takes over before I have a chance to back out.

I’m not pla
ying around and the first smack on his ass is hard enough to stun him.

“Fuck!” he
harshly yells.  He puts his head down and grips his thighs harder. I do it again four more times and then move to the other side. His bottom is fantastically red and my panties are now fantastically wet. Oh, hell.
Concentrate, Isa.
I give him five good slaps on the other cheek and then set the brush down. I move in front of him and pull him so he’s standing upright again. He has a pained look on his face and he looks like I feel. He reaches down and pulls his pants up and I hug him and kiss him.  We both sit on the couch and cuddle, not saying anything to each other.

Finally I ask him, “Why are you dreaming about her again, Dylan
? What am I not giving you that you need?”

Dylan pulls me close to him and closes his eyes. “You give me everything I need and then some, Isa,” he says, but I don’t believe him.
Why else would he still be thinking of that wretched woman?

Oh, Isa. Here I am lying to her and she thinks it’s her fault I’m dreaming about Erika. Why can’t I just tell her? I want to. I want to so badly, but I she’ll never understand the kind of relationship Erika and I had. She’ll look at me differently once she knows the things I did to Erika and about what happened with my parents. She’ll never look at me with the same love and affection again. She may not even love me at all anymore. I couldn’t handle that. I need this woman.
I
need her to love me and her discipline.

After a good half hour of just sitting quietly and holding each other, we finally get up off the couch. I look out the window and see that the snow is still coming down and my car is barely
visible underneath a large pile of snow. I can faintly hear the snow plows up the street, but it’s no use; we’ll be here for at least the rest of the afternoon if not the rest of the evening.

I call Sawyer to
see what’s going on with our accounts and he assures me everything is taken care of and there’s nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.  Isa is in her kitchen cooking something that smells good and my stomach growls ferociously. I’m starving and I’m sure Isabel is, too.  I sit at her small table and see a letter addressed to her from Cherry Canyon Gallery.  When she looks over at me, she quickly reaches over and grabs the letter out of my hands before I have to chance to read it.

“I wanted t
o tell you about that myself,” she says smiling.  “Someone has commissioned me to paint a piece for them. Can you believe that?
Me
.”

She looks so damned precious right now, all proud of herself. “Of course I can believe it. You’re work is fantastic. Who is it?”

“It’s an anonymous buyer. It’s all very secretive and mysterious,” she whispers and her eyes get wide and exaggerated. 

I can’t help but laugh out loud at her.

“Dylan Nathaniel Young, it’s not you, is it?” she asks putting her hands on her hips and narrowing her eyes at me.

“No. I swear it’s really not me,
” I tell her putting one hand on my heart and raising the other in my best Boy Scout pledge.

“If I find out it was you, you won’t be able
to sit for a week, young man,” she says as she turns back to her cooking. 

“Oh,
really?
”I sneak up behind her and grab her by her waist and hug her from behind. I bite her neck and she moans and pushes her ass back into me. “How about I fuck you so hard you won’t be able to sit for a week?” I ask.

She tur
ns around and gives me a shocked look. “You’re bad,” she tells me while she watches my mouth. 

“You know it. So how about it?” 

“Are you asking me or telling me?” she says as she grips my dick.

“
I think you already know the answer to that.” 

I reach behind her, turn off the stove and
pull her to the bed.  I undress her slowly and she returns the favor for me. I’m rock hard in anticipation of getting inside her. I quickly go to her bathroom and find the lube from the last time we were here. When I come back in the living area, she’s lying on her stomach and looking at me sideways giving me her fuck-me-eyes. I reach to her headboard and pull the scarf down off her bed frame and tie her hands together at the wrists and bind them to the headboard.

I lean down
onto her and kiss her back and neck and then squeeze some lube onto my finger and slip it inside her already wet pussy. She buries her face in her pillow and moans softly as I finger fuck her. I push her legs apart, slick myself with some more lube and slide myself into her slowly. She thrusts back onto. I start slow but quickly pick up the pace. She’s tight, wet and pulsating, and the feeling is un-fucking-believable. 

Fuck vanilla with a twist
. I suddenly feel the urge to punish her and I start thrusting harder.  Isabel lets out a loud gasp and groans my name loudly. The sound of my balls slapping up against her and Isa’s whining are bringing me to my climax.  I pull out of her and flip her onto her back and pull her legs up over my shoulders in the football stance. I sink myself into her again and start where I left off, going deep and hard.

Isa’s eyes are
tightly closed and she’s biting her bottom lip as she breathes shallow and quick. Damn it, she feels so good and she looks fucking astounding. I reach up and squeeze her breasts and nipples and roll them between my fingers and watch Isa squirm from the pain and pleasure.

“Open your eyes, Isabel.”

Her eyes flutter and open slowly.

“Tell me you love me.”

“I love you. I love you. Only you,” she stutters out and licks her lips.

The sight of her pink tongue slicking across her mouth and her words are my undoing and I cum hard and fast inside of her. 
When I’m finished I pull out and lay next to her, trying to catch my breath. When our breathing has slowed, I reach over and untie Isa.

“Well. How was that? Think you’ll be able to sit down?”
I ask her as I lean up on one elbow, but she doesn’t look amused.

“What did you
mean by vanilla with a twist?” she asks.