The Art of Domination (30 page)

“Was he your first?”

“Yes, but he didn’t really count.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Don’t make me say it, Dylan. It’s embarrassing.”

“
Oh, please. I’ve fucked you seven ways to Sunday and cum in your ass, and you’re embarrassed? Give me a break.”

“Don’t
be crude. This is different,” she says as she slaps my mouth playfully. “He was a two-pump chump, okay? He came so quickly I wouldn’t even call what we did
sex
. I didn’t even have time to get wet. There are you happy?”

I start howling with laughter from her answer.

She sits back and gives me a dirty look.

“That’s so not funny, Dylan.”

“Shit, Isa. That’s SO funny. But in his defense, I can’t blame him for coming so quickly. I have a
hard
time myself holding out. See what I did there,
hard? Hard
time holding out?”

She
shakes her head like she’s not amused at all by my wordplay.

Her playfulness fades and she looks solemn again. “Do you think I’m damaged?”

“Isa, no. Baby, no. Why would you ask that?”

“I saw the file on me, too.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Tell me the truth. Am I damaged goods?”

I grab her face, angry that she would think that about herself.  “Listen to me right now. I don’t want to hear you say that about yourself again. I think you had a shitty childhood and have gone through and seen things that most people have only read about, but you’ve come out on top, Isa. Look at you. You’re beautiful, smart and talented beyond words. You are not damaged goods. You’re my wife and I’d appreciate you not talking about yourself that way.”

“Why did you lo
ok that stuff up about me? Now I don’t have any secrets to share with you,” she says miserably.

“It’s just in my nature to be curious.  Anyway, that file o
nly contains facts about you, not your secrets. It doesn’t include the things that you’ve felt or experienced, or the things that have inspired your artwork. Those are the things I really want to know about you. Are you angry with me for looking that information up?”

“
Honestly, yes. I find it very hypocritical that you know what my last Pap smear results are and you won’t even talk to me about Erika or your past.”

She’s right and I know it
. “What could you possibly want to know about Erika?”

“Everything.
How you met her. How long were you with her? Where did she work? What was your relationship like with her?”

“Fuck, Isa.
Why the morbid curiosity?”

“Because I love you and I want to know everything about you. Can’t you understand that?”

“Yes, I can.” I confess.

“Then stop being such a
caca head about it and tell me.”

“
Caca-head?”

“Would you prefer shithead?”

“I’d prefer you stop using profanities altogether, but you already know how I feel about that, don’t you?”

“Stop changing the subject and tell me.”

Leave it to Isa to call me out like that. “Jesus Christ, fine. I met her at the Dark Asylum club. I was training new submissives when she approached me. She was looking for a full-time Dom and made it very clear that she was interested in me. I wasn’t really interested or looking to be a full-time Dom. I was happy just training new ones. We did a trial run and… you know. Things worked out. She proved to be…” I pause, not wanting to answer her fully.

“Say it.”

“Very willing.”

“
Oh, I see,” she sighs.

“I had never been with someone that was so completely…
willing.
It was intriguing and exciting to have complete control over someone who had no limits.”

“I see.”

“If you want me to stop, I’ll stop.” I tell her, seeing that she’s getting irritated.

“No, te
ll me,” she answers looking down at her wedding ring.

“We were togeth
er for almost two years. It’s the longest relationship I’ve ever had.”

“Did she live with you full-time?”

“Not at first.”

“I see,
” she replies, still not making eye contact.

“Isa, let’s talk about something else.”

Isa’s eyes shoot up to me. “Like hell! You tell me everything. I don’t want her holding any secrets over me,” she says angrily.

“She worked as a nurse assistant at a clinic and after awhile, I made her cut her hours back
to practically nothing so she could be more available to me. That’s when I moved her in full-time.” I can hear my voice getting quieter. I feel like I’m in church confessing my sins. I’m embarrassed and ashamed, but at the same time, it’s liberating.

“Into my studio?”

I look down at her and she’s watching me unhappily. I run my fingers through her hair as she rests her head on my chest and looks back down.

“Yes, i
nto your studio.”

She sighs loudly
again. “I hate that you lived with her; that she lived in our home. It was her home before it was mine. I hate that you have memories of her there. I’ll never live up to her, will I?”

I push her off my chest and lay down on top of her, holding her face.

“Stop it with that. Why do you do that to yourself?”

“Did you fuck her on Chapel Hill?”

I’m stunned at her question and gape at her.

“On the dining room tabl
e? On your desk? On the balcony? On the kitchen counter and in your bed, too?”

Fucking hell.
  I don’t respond, because I know she already knows the answer.

***

“
Would you want to live in the same house where I had sex and lived with another man and where his memories still lingered?” I ask him. I’m trying to control my voice, but I’m becoming exasperated with his lack of realizing how crappy this situation is.

“Isa, love…”

“Don’t,
Isa love,
me. Answer me.
Honestly
.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” h
e admits. 

That’s what I thought. This is just the
same old double-standard male BS.

“How many women have you been with?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

“Enough, Isa. I’m done answering your questions,” he glowers as he starts to get off the bed.

I grab him by his bicep and pull him back down to the bed.

“Answer me,” I demand.

“I didn’t count.”

“You have a general idea of how many, Dylan.”

“I don’t know.
A lot, okay?”

“Like 20?”

“Jesus. I said a lot.”

“Okay. Like 50?”

He shoots me his sarcastic look.

“75?”

He rolls his eyes.

“You man whore! How many?
A thousand?”

He looks
taken aback by my accusation and name calling and then rolls onto his back and hoots loudly with laughter. I slap his chest, not at all amused, but he still continues to laugh like a moron.

“A thousand?
Really, Isa? I wish!”

“Eww, t
hat’s gross. Why would you want to have sex with a thousand women?”

“Because I’m a man and why not?
” he says, still laughing.

“I want a number, damn it.”

“Fine. I’ll just give you an average since I didn’t actually count. I’ll say 8 a year, give or take a few, since I was 15. You do the math.”

I hate math. What is t
hat? 8 x 15 is 120, give or take a few…

“Eww, t
hat’s gross. You man whore.”

“Oh, stop it with that. I’m not a man whore. I just believe in spreading the love.”

“Gross. I’m surprised that big dick of yours didn’t shrivel up and fall off a long time ago.”

“Well,
lucky for you it didn’t,” he says smiling wickedly.

“Very lucky
for me, indeed. No more spreading of the love though, right?”

“I guess,” h
e says casually.

“You guess? What the hell kind of answer is that? You’re playboy days are over, Dylan! You’re mine
, God damn it. That big dick belongs only to me now.”

“I’ve told you not to use that kind of language. And you already know
that it belongs only to you,” he says sternly.

“I’m hungry.” I say, trying to avert a potential spanking.

“Uh-huh, I bet you are. Are you hungry for a big sausage?”

“Always. But right now, I’d like some real food.”

“Fine. Let’s see what we have to make,” he sulks.

We go downstairs and Dylan gives me a q
uick tour of the small cabin. It’s very cozy. It has an upstairs loft bedroom and a small bedroom downstairs. There’s one bathroom up and one down. The kitchen is open to the living area and there’s a very small study off the main entrance. The woodwork is beautiful and smells wonderful. There’s comfortable understated furniture in the living room with a small loveseat and two recliners. I wonder if Dylan decorated this himself or if someone else did it. It looks like the kind of furnishings a man would pick out and there’s not an ounce of femininity in this place. I like it though. I like the pure manliness of it.

He already has the fireplace going and the smell of coffee lingers in the air. I start to rummage through the cabinets to see what there is to make, but Dylan tells me to sit on the couch.

“I’ll make us something. You relax a bit.”

He wraps a blanket around me a
nd gets to work making dinner. I stare at the fireplace as the embers pop and crackle and I can feel the heat radiating towards me. The food smells good as does the coffee and I feel like this is home. I wonder if there are memories of Erika lingering here, too.

“Did you bring Erika her
e, too?” I ask, still looking into the fire.

I hear Dylan stop what he’s doing. “No. I bought this place after we broke up. I needed the solitude.”

Good. This is a place all our own. Dylan walks over, kneels in front of me and grabs me by my shoulders.

“I know you’re curious, Isa, b
ut I don’t want to talk about that woman anymore. I really don’t.”

“Just one more question?” I ask.

He sighs impatiently then sits back on his haunches. “What?”

“What happened today with her?”

“I set her straight. She won’t be bothering us anymore.”

“Did she tell you who
called me? Was it her?”

“No, i
t was someone else. She doesn’t know who it was.”

“Nothing else happened?”

“What do you mean? If you’re asking if I fucked her, no, I didn’t,” he says defensively.

What the hell
? “I wasn’t asking that, thank you very much. Why are you getting so defensive?”

“I’m not. I’m just bored with talking about her.”

“I want details. Juicy details, Dylan, and then I’ll leave you alone.”

“Juicy details? Okay. I caught her fucking her new Dom. She was cuffed to the spreader bar with her ass up, face down and wrists cuffed between her legs. Is that jui
cy enough?” he says in a huff.

“You don’t have to be a creep about it.”

“Her new Dom has a small dick, too. And her smell about made me puke.”

“Well not every
one can be blessed with a big schlong like you, can they? And what did she smell like?” I ask. If he wants to play this game, I can play too.

“Oh, fuck me. She smelled like her usual floral bullshit. Are we done, now?”

“Maybe,” I say petulantly.

He narrows his eyes at me and sits up on his knees as if he’s going to put me over his knee, but instead he stands up and goes back to the kitchen. 
Boo.
I was kind of hoping for a paddling.

As I sit watching Dylan make us something to eat, I’m overwhelmed with love for him. He really does take care of me. He’s so beautiful and sexy on so many levels. He moves gracefully throughout the small kitchen, pushing his hair back from his eyes occasionally. The way he stands, with his feet apart reminds me of his Dominant stance and I feel my pussy start to throb. 
God, I want him.

He looks over at me as if he can read my thoughts and smiles seductively.

“What are you thinking about?”

“You. I want you.”

“You have me.”

“
I want you inside me. Right now,” I clarify.

“Oh, I see,” h
e answers nonchalantly, turning back to making dinner.