The Art of Domination (28 page)

“I swear I’m not working with anyone, D. I don’t know who she is. She looked like the rest of us. She came to me and told me about Isabel. She was really weird about the whole thing. She said you threw her out like old trash. She questioned me about what I knew about you. I was so pissed to hear you had found another submissive that I told her about the BDSM stuff and some of the things we did together. She wanted details, so I gave them to her.”

I can tell she’s still holding something back by the way she looks away from me.

“What else?”

She pau
ses, stutters, and then answers, “I told her about your parents.”

“Why would you do that? Jesus, Erika. I gave you a good life. I never betrayed your trust once. Even after all th
e shit you told me about your past, I never once fucking betrayed you. Even now after everything you’ve done to me, I’ve never told anyone that shit!”

“Your
aftercare was shitty,” she says as if that’s supposed to justify her actions.

“That’s a bullshit answer, but I’ll concede that. Now tell me the real reason why.
”

“
Because you never loved me.”

“
Is that what you wanted? To be loved?”

“I don’t know. M
aybe,” she replies. She gives me a sad face and it’s completely unbelievable.

“You’re lying
. You never wanted my love so don’t try and play with me right now. The only thing you were ever interested in was my money and you damned well know it.”

Erika
looks angry at being called out. “Whatever, but I’m still pissed that you didn’t love me. I did everything you ever wanted and you still didn’t fall in love with me. You would’ve been an easier mark if you had and I’d be living the high life like your stupid little cunt wife.”

I fucking knew it.
I lose my temper and damn near back hand her, and not just because of her admission, but because of what she’s called Isabel. I raise my hand and she winces and braces herself for the hit, but I stop myself just inches from her face.

“I told you
not to fucking call Isabel that,” I say with my hand in midair.

I grab her jaw and
get close to her face, and her flowery smell almost makes me gag. “This ends today. If I hear anymore from you, receive anymore phone calls from you, receive a letter in the mail from you, or see you on the same side of the street as me or Isabel, I’ll file a restraining order on you and post your threats to me on every BDSM website I can find along with your picture. I’ll allow you to remain a patron at the Dark Asylum because I know you need it and because for some stupid reason, I feel sorry for your pathetic ass. But I’m warning you, you’d better not look in my or Isabel’s direction when we’re there. Do you fucking understand me?”

She nods her head
yes
, but I want more than that.

“Say it, Erika.
Speak
.”

“Yes, Sir,
I understand.”

I get off the bed and walk towards Sawyer and the would-be Dom. I look him up and down.

“That’s how to be a Dom,
dude.
”

***

Having finished the painting of my moth
er, I leave it out to dry. She’s beautiful and the way I imagine she would’ve looked without my father; happy and content, and with me at her side. I feel anger slowly building in me and it’s not something I like. It’s like an evil seed in the pit of my stomach that’s growing much too fast.

How dare my father take a life. How dare he take
a mother away from a child. I feel a wave of nausea hit me as I sit staring at the painting. I hardly ate lunch and I haven’t eaten anything else since. I’ve been too sick thinking about Dylan at Erika’s and sick from the knowledge that my father may have killed my mother.
May have?
Who am I kidding?

I attempt to stand an
d I feel my legs go weak. I rush to the bathroom and kneel in front of the toilet as my mouth starts to salivate uncontrollably.
Get a grip, Isa.
I breathe slowly and close my eyes.

I don’t
hear Dylan come in and he startles me when I feel his hand on my back.

“What’s wrong, baby girl?” h
e asks, kneeling down next to me and pushing my hair away from my face. “Did you forget to eat?”

I burst into tears and hide my face in his chest. I catch him off guard when I throw myself at him and he falls back onto his
butt, but he still cradles me.

“
Shush. It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay, love. Tell me.”

“I read the
file on my father and my mother,” I weep into his chest.

I feel him tense up, but I don’t look up to see the expression on his face because I already know it will be one of anger. Right no
w, I don’t need anger from him; I need love. He tilts my face up by my chin and I’ve misjudged Dylan completely. He looks distressed and worried, and not angry at all.

“I’m so sor
ry you had to find out like this, Isa. I wanted to tell you myself. Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.”

“Is it true? Did he reall
y kill her?” I ask with tears flowing like white rapids from my eyes.

“I
don’t know.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Dylan.”

He smiles weakly at me. “I really don’t, Isa. All I can do is speculate at this point.  It looks like, yes, he did, but we don’t know for sure.”

“Oh, Dylan,
I’m such a shit.”

He looks confused by my statement. “What? No, no. Why would you say that?”

“Because for years I blamed my mother for leaving me. I thought she abandoned me. I hated her and blamed her for my miserable life.” I can’t even get the last few words out without stuttering and I’m crying so hard that I start to drool all over myself. I must look a complete mess.

I bury my face in his chest again and
bawl hysterically.

Dylan rocks me and whispers sweet things in my ear.

“Isa, Isa… you were only a child. You didn’t know, baby. It’s okay. She loved you. I love you. I’ll never let that man hurt you again.”

I suddenly feel dread
. I sit up on my knees to face him and grab him by his shoulders. “Promise me you won’t go near him, Dylan. Promise me!”

“Isa…”

“I mean it, Dylan. You have no idea what he’s capable of. I had no idea the extent of his cruelty until today. Dylan, please. He did and said horrible things to me. Things I’ll never tell you. Things I’ll never tell anyone. Things I hope you’ll never ask me to tell you. Please, please…”

“Isa, stop. Listen to me…”

“No, you listen to me, Dylan Nathaniel Young - I won’t have you hurt by him.
My God.
What if he killed you, too? I’d rather die than be without you, Dylan. I’d rather die!” I scream at him as I shake him by his shoulders.

He looks horr
ified at my reaction.

“Jesus, Isa,” h
e says as he pulls me into his chest again.

I
continue to sob wildly and like I’ve never cried before. Even when I was being beaten by my father, I never cried like this. I feel like I’m on the verge of a complete breakdown as my mind goes into overdrive with thoughts of what he did to my mother, the things he did to me, and what he might do to Dylan. I start shaking uncontrollably. I’m losing control. Sweet baby Jesus,
what’s happening to me?

Dylan stands up and picks me up into his arms. He carries me into living room where Sawyer is sitting. He
jumps up and looks just as troubled as Dylan.

“Fuck, Young. What’s wrong with her?”

“Call someone, Sawyer. Call someone who can help her.
Please,
” I hear him say and his voice is shaky and heartbreaking.

Sawyer digs out his phone and calls someone while I continue to shake and
sob.
Why oh why can’t I stop
? I’m trying to control myself and it’s just making matters worse.

“Isa,
love, it’s okay. Shush,” Dylan whispers in my ear, trying to console me.

I close my eyes tightly and put my hands over my ears. I can’t listen to his
pitiful voice right now. I rock myself and try to get myself under control, but my attempts are useless. I can’t stop crying. I hate acting like this. I haven’t felt this pathetic since before I met Dylan.

Within minutes, I hear another man’s voice, but I can’t bring myself to open my eyes to see who
it is. I’m so humiliated that can’t stop crying. Even worse, I’m not even crying anymore; I’m wailing like an idiot. I keep seeing my mother’s sad mascara-smeared face telling me how much she loves me, and my father hovering over me with a belt. Stop.
Just make it stop
.

Dylan carries
me somewhere and when I finally pry my eyes open, I’m lying in our bed. The stranger is kneeling next to me with a needle in his hand and stretching my arm out.
What the hell?
I try and pull it away and leap up from the bed, but Dylan holds me down.

“Stop, Dylan!” I yell at him.

“No baby, it’s okay. He’s here to help you. Relax,” he whispers in a controlled voice and it soothes me.  I feel the tightness of a band around my arm and then a sharp prick. I look over at Dylan and he runs his hands through my hair. I feel fuzzy and sleepy and my vision blurs.

“I love
you, Isa. I love you.  I love you…”

Then, darkness.

My poor Isa. I feel tears wet my eyes as I watch her drift off to sleep. The doctor walks towards the bedroom door and motions for me to come with him.

“What did you give her?” I ask.

“A mild anti-anxiety sedative. It should last anywhere from four to six hours. She’s little, so I’d imagine on the longer end. Keep an eye on her breathing and heart rate. Make sure it doesn’t dip below 50. If it does, call 911 and then call me. What happened to her?” he asks as he we head into the living room.

“She found out some very distressing news,
” I say blandly, trying not to reveal too much.

“Distressing?” h
e asks, furrowing his eyebrows at me.

“Yes. I can’t go into it.”

“That’s fine, Mr. Young.  From what I can tell by the way she was behaving, she had a nervous break. By the way, I’m Dr. Patrick Keating. Sawyer has my number and contact information.  I’ll leave you a few more doses of the medication if needed. You know how to give an injection, right?”

Unfortunately, yes,
I do. I learned how in my NSA days. That, along with a few other unmentionable and essential survival skills. I nod
yes
and he hands me a small vial. He gives me the dosing instructions and a few syringes. He shakes my hand and I note that he has a firm grip and looks me straight in the eyes.

“Thank you, doctor
,” I tell him.

“It was my pleasure. I hope we have the opportunity to meet again, but under different circumstances,” he says.

I’m a good judge of character and I can see that this is someone I wouldn’t mind getting to know better or someone I might like to add to my payroll.

He walks towards the door and nods to Sawyer.

“Good seeing you, Morrison,” he tells Sawyer and he leaves. 

“How do you know him?”
I ask Sawyer.

“We go way back,” he answer
s mysteriously.

“Elaborate, please.”

“I worked with him in the Agency. He was our go-to-man when things went to shit,” Sawyer tells me.

“I see. Thanks. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Is she going to be alright?” he asks genuinely concerned.

“For now, yes.”

“What the fuck happened, Young?”

“She read the file about her mother and father. But she completely lost it when…” I trail off, not wanting to divulge
any more.

Sawyer stands waiting patiently for me to finish.

“She doesn’t want me to go near her father.”

“Neither do I,
” Sawyer says and his candid statement dazes me a bit.

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because he’s obviously crazy and Isa needs you here with her. I can handle whatever you want done to him. You just tell me what you want to do, and I’ll do it, Young. Should things get ugly, you don’t need this shit coming back to you.”

Fuck. I know he’s
right. This man is loyal to a fault and I’m one lucky son-of-a-bitch to have him on my side. I nod to him and he seems relieved.

I remember what Dr. Keating told me and I check on Isa, counti
ng out her respirations and heart rate. I undress her, wipe her face and pull the covers up over her. I grab my laptop out of the office and bring it into the bedroom to keep an eye on her while I work.