The Art of Domination (23 page)

When I wake from my unplanned nap, the sun is completely set. I rub my eyes and Isa is kneeling at the foot of the couch watching me in silence. She has a piece of paper in her hand and sits
unmoving. I sit up and she hands me the paper. I reach for the remote and turn up the lights to see what it is she’s handed me.

I’m stunned. It’s me and Isa’s contract, but it’s been rewritten
and edited.

“What is this?” I ask her
heatedly.

“Just read it, please,” s
he says softly, still sitting completely motionless and with no emotion whatsoever on her face.

I look down at the contract and all of her limits, hard and soft, have been crossed out.  My expectations have been revised as
well and some of the things written in ring all too familiar. Then it hits me, the new contract matches that of me and Erika’s.  Isa has a good memory; a little too good.

I look up at her feeling sick to my stomach.
It’s only then that I see her red eyes and that she’s been crying. She remains stoic and completely static.

“Have you been crying?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Why?”

No response.

“Is
this what you think I want?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Still,
she has no emotion on her face.

“
Why? Because I wanted to punish you for defying me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Fucking hell.

“Listen to me, t
his isn’t what I want.”
Or is it?

Isa scans my face as if she’s reading my thoughts
and senses my doubt.  “Isa, please say something.”

“What would you like to me to say, Sir?”

I have no answer for her. I’m numb as she sits perfectly submissive, not once showing any sign of the real Isa.
Why does it have to be like this?
Yes, I want her to be submissive, but not because she feels obligated. I want her to
want
to be submissive for me.

“Is this what you really want?” I ask her.

“Yes, Sir. Whatever you want is what I want,” she says blandly.

Okay.
She wants to play this game?
Then let’s play this game.
“Get your clothes off and make me some dinner,” I tell her brusquely.
That should elicit a response from her
. I know how she hates being ordered around.

Without
pause she gets up, unclothes in front of me and walks swiftly into the kitchen and starts cooking.
What the fuck?
I sit at the kitchen bar watching her, waiting for the moment she wavers; for the moment she backs out of this absurd notion of hers.

Isa doesn’t once make eye contact with me the entire time she makes dinner. Then she readies a plate for me and sits at my right side, hands in her lap, and without a making a plate for herself. She’s still naked and starting to shiver.  I sit watching her, not able to bring myself to eat seeing my precious Isa obviously struggling.

“Aren’t you going to make yourself a plate?” I ask her.

“May I, Sir?” she asks
.
This is fucking ridiculous
. I say no just to see her reaction.

“
Not until I’m done.”

“Yes, Sir.”

No way.
She’s really going through with this? I start to eat, feeling disgusted with myself and irate with Isa. I can’t bring myself to look at her. I only halfway finish my dinner when I get up and make her a plate myself.

“That’s no
t necessary, Sir. I can do that myself,” she whispers.

“
Go get some clothes on and come sit down and eat,” I tell her impatiently.

“Yes, Sir.”

I sit back down and wait for her. A few moments later, she comes out, sits back down and eats her food in complete silence.  When she’s done, she pushes her plate away and sits quietly with her head down.
This is absolutely fucking absurd.

“Why are you doing this?” I say with a raised voice.

“Because this is what you want in a woman. Complete mindless submissiveness. I love you and I want to give you whatever it is that you want, Sir. And most importantly, what you feel you need.” Tears well up in her eyes and she quickly sniffs them back.  She quickly picks up our plates and loads them into the dishwasher without saying anything more. I can’t believe she really thinks this is what I want. I’ve never lead her to believe that.
Have I?
I can’t deal with this right now. I’m too tired.

I
get up and leave for the bedroom. Tomorrow will be a different day. Isa will wake up realizing how preposterous this whole thing is and everything will go back to normal. Then I can plan out how to deal with the situation with her father.

***

This is what h
e wants; an Erika replica. He says he hates her, but he continually reminds me that I’m not a good submissive. I saw what he likes in those photos and in that wretched video. What he
truly
likes; a compliant and mindless wench who doesn’t question him. Fine. That’s what he’ll get.

My alter ego is begging to come out
in the worst way. I need to keep her at bay long enough to satiate my man’s needs.
Get undressed and make him fucking dinner?
Yeah, sure.  He loves me like this.

He told me to think about what
this relationship really means to me and I did. I thought about it long and hard as I stood there naked, cold and uncomfortable against that damned wall. It means I have to give up who I am and become what he wants me to be;
who
he wants me to be. How long can I do this for him? How long can I pretend to be Erika for him? Just long enough for him to realize he’s just as broken as I am, I guess.

This would all be a whole lot easier if I didn’t love him so damned much. I am after all, his wife. That’s the real re
ason he asked me to marry him; so I’d be his obedient damned wife. And stupid me, I agreed all too eagerly.

Why do I have to be so indecisive? Yes, I want to be submissive for him.
I thought I was being that. Why can’t I just accept my role? I know he loves me. I know he wants to protect and take care of me. I heard it in his voice when he was speaking to my father.

Just suck it up, Isa.

He leaves me alone again without so much as saying goodnight and I’m left standing in the kitchen waiting for his next command.  I’ll stand here all fucking night like a good submissive waiting to be told what to do.

It’s late in the night, well past midnight
, and I’m getting wobbly on my feet. I’ve been standing here for at least a few hours and I’m tired and cold. The fireplace has burned out and there’s no sound whatsoever.  Dylan is still sleeping in the bedroom and I’m having a hard time keeping my eyes open. I focus on a spot on the wall and try thinking about how good things were between Dylan and me before Erika made her appearance.

Dylan comes out of the bedroom another hour or so later looking panicked and rubbing his eyes. He’s looking around frantically and calls my name. Then he sees me standing in the kitchen and looks relieved.

“What are you doing up this late?” he snaps.

“You didn’t tell me I could g
o to bed,” I remind him.

He looks shocked and just gapes at me.

“Are you fucking insane?” he yells at me.

“Yes
, Sir. I’m a headcase, remember?”

“Enough with the headcase bullshit. Have you been standing here all night?” he asks loudly, still gawking at me.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Enough, Isa.”

“May I go to bed now, Sir?”

Dylan grimaces with my question. “No. You can stay your stubborn ass out here all night if that’s what you want,” he yells as he waves his hands in the air.

“
Yes, Sir,” I say monotone. I’ll call his bluff. He wants a true submissive, then that’s what he’ll get.

He stands staring at me with furrowed eyebrows and his hands on his hips.

“You’re seriously going to stay out here all God damned night?”

“Yes, Sir. I would prefer to go to bed, but if you don’t give me express permission, then I’ll wait here until you do.”

Dylan throws his hands up in the air, resigned.

“Fine.
Get your ass to bed, slave.”

I’ve been doing so
well at not showing any emotion, but his words cut and I feel myself wince.

“
Is that what you want to hear? Is that what you want me to call you?”

“Is that what you called Erika?”

He rolls his eyes, looks down at the floor and shakes his head.  “Yes.”

“Then that’s what I want you to call me, Sir.”

“Jesus, Isa. Please. I don’t want to do this with you. Just come to bed,” he says softer and pushing his hair out of his eyes.

“Yes, Sir.”
I go to walk towards the bedroom and my legs almost give out. I’ve been standing stationary for so long, I’ve lost feeling in them.

Dylan lunges forwar
d and catches me just before I fall and he lifts me into his arms. I hide my face in his chest, wanting to cry, but I remain impassive. He carries me into the bedroom, lays me down on the bed and undresses me, not saying anything. He rubs my legs with some muscle rub and then tucks me in. I can’t look at him.

“
Why are you doing this to us?” he asks.

Me? Why am
I
doing this to us? I want to scream at him that this is what
he
wants, but I just close my eyes like a good submissive and don’t argue with him. I turn away from him and fall asleep immediately.

I wake to the sound of Dylan yelling
. I jump up and run to the office where’s he standing shirtless, in full Dominant mode and screaming into the phone. I stand at the doorway, eavesdropping again.

“Motherfuck
er. Find out who it was, now. I’m tired of this bullshit. I will not have Isa put in any kind of danger. Her show is in four days! What the hell are we supposed to do then? Fuck her father and fuck Erika, too. And you know what else? Fuck anyone who stands in the way of our happiness.
Just do it.
I don’t care how. Just fucking make it happen!”

Ouch.
I don’t know what that was about or who was in the receiving end of that ass reaming, but I feel for them. I hastily make my way back down the hallway and into the dungeon where I get undressed and kneel on the subbie mat to wait for my instructions.

Dylan walks out of his office. I hear his bare feet pad down the hallway
and into the living room. He calls out to me, but I remain silent. I lower my head, close my eyes and wait for him to find me.

A moment later, he comes into the dungeon. He stops
and stands in the open doorway quietly. I slow my breathing and concentrate on calming my nerves. The door closes and I hear the sounds of his pants button popping and his zipper being slowly unzipped. I hear his pants slide down his body and fall to the floor.

The sexy sounds set my nerves on fire.
I hear something pulled off the wall and something taken out of a drawer. He moves in front of me and pulls my chin up to look at him.

“Open your eyes.”

I do as I’m told and when I open them, the vision of my handsome Dominant husband standing above me fantastically naked makes my heart ache.
I love him so damned much.

“How long have you been in here?”

“Not long, Sir.”

“Is there som
ething you want to say to me?” he asks.

I’m not sure what he expects me to say, but I say the first thing that comes to mind. “You’re
absolutely beautiful, Sir.” His mouth parts as he takes sharp breath in.

“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”
he asks as his voice cracks.

No, I don’t.

“Move to the swing, love.”

I raise my eyebrows at him,
happy that he didn’t call me slave.

“That’s right,
I said love, because that’s what you are to me – my love, not my slave,” he says sternly and I don’t argue.

I move to the swing as he
ordered and seat myself in it. I lean back into it and he tips it back so that my head is lower than my torso. He saddles my feet in the stirrups and fastens them in tightly. Then he spreads my legs beyond a comfortable position, fully exposing myself to him. He moves to my arms and straps them in above my head and apart.  Dylan brings the swing up waist level for him and his hard-on is now in full force. He reaches down and picks up the cat o’nine tails that he took down from the wall and a large dildo. He’s never used either of those on me before and I’m shaken to see them in his hands.