The Art of Domination (31 page)

He’s such a tease. “Dylan Young
, I want you,” I say louder.

“I heard you,” he replies without looking at me.

“You’re cruel.”

“No I’m not. I’m just busy making dinner, that’s all.”

“Fuck dinner. I want dick.”

He
turns his head and looks over at me with raised eyebrows and puts his utensils down.

“What was that you said?”

“You heard me,” I say, not wanting to repeat the curse word that I know he hates hearing come out of my mouth.

“No, I don’t think I did. Would you care to repeat yourself?”

“Not really.”

“Isa…”

“Dylan…”

He sighs and narrows his eyes at me
, and shifts his body so he’s facing me.
I love his angry look.

“Please, Sir. I’m sorry I cursed. I want you. Don’t make me wait until after dinner,” I say in my sweetest most submissive voice.

He smiles crookedly at me and runs his index finger across his bottom lip.

“What would you like me to do to you?”

“Whatever you want, Sir.”

“Good answer.”

He walks slowly towards me as he unbuttons his pants. When he’s standing in front of me, he lets them fall to the floor and he kicks them to the side. He rubs his hand over his dick through his briefs as I watch eagerly.
I want it.
I reach out to touch him, but he backs away.

“Did I give you permission to touch me?”

“I want it, Sir.”

“I can see that,” h
e tells me as he looks down at my thighs clenched together.

“Stand u
p and undress for me. Slowly,” he orders.

I do what he asks and then stand before him naked. The heat of the fireplace is sending shivers up my legs and I feel my body tense while Dylan watches me.

“I’m going to fuck your mouth while you play with yourself. Any questions?”

“No, Sir.”

“Sit back down, spread your legs wide so I can watch, and open your mouth,” he tells me and I almost cum with his just his words.

I sit down, lean back and spread myself for him. He
slips his briefs off, gets on the couch and straddles me, and pushes my head back against the back of the couch.

“Play with yourself. Make your
self cum for me. Give me a good show, Isa,” he commands as he pushes his cock into my mouth.

He grabs a handful of hair and starts thrusting into my mouth fast while I finger m
yself. I find Lady G and start rubbing and circling my fingers around inside of me, trying to emulate the way Dylan stimulates me. When I open my eyes, Dylan has his head cranked to the side, watching me finger myself. He looks gorgeous and lustful. He pushes deeper into my throat, making me gag and my eyes start to water profusely, so I close them tight.

“Open your eyes, Isa. Watch me.”

I open them while he continues to guide my head and fuck my mouth hard and fast. After several minutes, that wonderful orgasmic feeling starts to build. I find my rhythm and I feel myself getting full and ready to cum, but I await further instructions so I slow my pace.

“I want you
to cum first, Isa.”

That’s what I wanted to hear.
I pick up the speed again while Dylan’s pace slows. I start moaning and spit runs down my chin. I can feel it. Right there.
Right there
… 

I cum, and warm wetness drenches
my palm.

“Good girl
, Isa. That was beautiful. Now take me deep, baby; all the way back and cup my balls.”

He shifts his positioning and kneels
with one knee on the back of the couch so he can push further into my mouth.
Good God.
I can barely breathe like this. I’m gagging fiercely. Knowing what I’m thinking, he pulls all the way out and gives me a chance to catch my breath. I try to wipe the drool off my chin, but he stops me by grabbing my hand and pinning it up by my head and to the back of the couch. I squeeze his balls firmly with my other hand and he groans out.

“Lick t
hem, baby.”

I lick his sack and suck gently. When I look up at him he throws his head back like he’s being possessed by
something otherworldly and he growls deeply.

“Yes, Isa, that’s it.”

He’s stroking his hard-on while I continue to suck at his balls, but I move my free hand up to his shaft and place my hand over the top of his. I guide his hand up and down and run my thumb over the head of his dick. 

“I’m going to cum, Isa, open your mouth.”

I stop sucking and lean my head back and wait for my appetizer. He strokes off a few more times and then shoots his warm cum into my mouth. He tastes to damned good and I lap it up like a little whore. Yes, that’s what I am. I’m Dylan’s little wife whore and I’m completely okay with that.

I smile at my dirty thought and Dylan’s eyebrow goes up as he finishes.

“What are you smiling about?” he asks, completely out of breath.

“About
how I’m your little wife whore,” I say shyly.

“Mmm. That’s a nice thought.”

He leans down to my mouth and licks it and then slips his tongue inside. I bite down on it and suck it viciously while I pull his hair.

“Damn, love, w
hat’s gotten into you?”

“You, Dylan.
You’ve gotten into me. I love you and I can’t get enough of you,” I tell him.

“I like that.”

“I want more, Sir,” I say, but he just smiles and stands up.

“Pace yourself, Isa.
We need to eat first. You’ll need your energy for later.”

Oh, goodie- goodie. I wonder what he has planned for me next
.

Sweet, Isa; my little wife whore. That’s a fan-fucking-tastic thought. She’s getting dirtier as the days go on. I can hardly remember her being shy anymore.  Well, her version of shy. Even though she’s always been a very eager semi-submissive and semi-Domme.  She trots to the bathroom to get cleaned up and I get dressed and finish making us dinner.  When she comes back out, she’s fully dressed and she joins me in setting the small table.

“Why are you dressed?” I ask her.

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t give you permission to get dressed. Take it off. I want
to see you.”

“Dylan, it’s cool in here.”

“Yeah, so? It’ll make your nipples nice and stiff for me. Now take it off.”

She stands gawking at me with her m
outh open. I reach over and tip her chin up, closing her mouth.

“Do it, love.”

“Dylan…” she whines.

I reach up to her already perk nipple and pinch it.

“Can I at least keep my bra and panties on?”

“Oh,
fine. Just stop whining already,” I tell her.

She smiles at me and takes off her pants and sweater an
d sits at the table. I serve our food and we sit quietly. She’s watching me attentively and smiling occasionally. I wonder what’s going on in that pretty head of hers.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Us. You. I still can’t believe that we’re married. I wonder when that will sink in.”

She’s picking at her food and hardly eating and I push her plate closer to her.

“Stop playing with your food and eat. I told you that you’ll need your energy for later.”

“Okay, okay,” s
he says and starts eating.

I’m finished before she is and I sit watching her.  Out of the blue I hear something at the front window and I jump up.  I grab the gun off the kitchen counter and sneak quietly towards the window. Isa looks startled to see me holding a gun.

“Dylan...”

“Quiet!
Go upstairs!” I whisper yell at her, but she stands motionless like a deer in headlights.

I point towards the stares and mouth
now
to her and she moves double time up the stairs. I stand at the front door and lean against it when there’s a loud knock. I stand to the side of the door and fling it open and I’m face-to-face with Murphy and Alex. They both jump back when they see how close they came to getting their faces blown off.

“Fuck, Young!” Murp
hy yells.

“Jesus Christ, Murphy!  What the fuck
are you two doing here?” I ask and bring my gun to my side. 

“Sawyer
sent us. We drove ourselves up,” Alex chimes in.

Leave it to Sawyer. I can’t blame
him and, frankly, I’m glad they’re here.

“When was the last time you used a gun anyway?”  Murphy asks.

“I don’t remember. Back in the NSA sometime. Why?”

“Because
you might want to think about brushing up on your skills.”

Where the hell
is this going?

Murphy grabs my gun from my hand and points out that the safety is still on.
Fucking
hell
.  I feel like a complete jackass now. I promptly turn off the safety and roll my eyes at him and Alex shakes his head.

“I’m glad you two are here. I just w
ished you would’ve called first,” I tell them.

“We tried, but we couldn’t get through. We thought maybe something was wrong.”

“No, we’re fine here. It’s been quiet. Are you two hungry? There’s some food leftover from dinner and some hot coffee.”

“Sounds great,” Alex says pushing past me and taking his coat off.

They both make themselves comfortable and get settled in. I’m glad they’re here, but it puts a damper on my kinky plans with Isa.

Shit.
I jog up the stairs and Isa is sitting on the bed, hugging a pillow. Her eyes are wide and glossy.

“Is everything okay? Who’s here?”

“It’s just Alex and Murphy. Sawyer sent them over to keep an eye on us.”

She immediately looks relieved and stands to hug me.

“Why do you have a gun?”

“Why else? For protection?”

“Do you know how to use it?”

I feel emba
rrassed about my little faux pas, but I don’t admit that to Isa. “Yes.”

“How do you know how
to use it?”

“From my days with the NSA.”

“Ooh. Were you a secret spy?” she asks as she sits on the bed and looks up at me with an animated look.

Oh, Isa. She’s so funny.

“No, but even if I was, I couldn’t tell you.”

I sit next to her and push her back on the bed and run kisses along her belly
.

“Don’t try and distract me, Dylan Nathaniel Young. I want details.”

“Juicy details?”

“
Mmm hmm,” she says closing her eyes.

I slip my hand into her panties and push my fingers into her. “Now
here are some juicy details, right here.”

“Oh, Dylan…
please. Tell me about the NSA.”

“
Boooring. I want to talk about this right here. How fantastic this tight little hole is. How good it tastes.” I slip my fingers out and lick them.

“There are people downstairs
,” Isa whispers.

“Yeah, so?”
I climb on top of her and kiss her.

“Tell me about the NSA, Dylan.”

Ah, hell.
I roll off her and lay on my back next to her. Why does she want to know about this boring shit anyway? She moves up next to me on one elbow and looks anxious, like I’m about to tell her about stories about sabotage and treachery or something. I rest my hands behind my head and try to think where to begin.

“Stop procrastinating
.”

“Christ,
Isa. I don’t know what you think there is to tell. It was all very mundane.”

“
I doubt that very much.”

“How about you ask questions about it and I’ll answer. That’ll be easier for me.”

“Oh, goodie, like 20 questions,” she says bouncing on the bed.

“Twenty
? That many? ”

“Twenty
is an arbitrary number, sugar. It could be less. Or… it could be mooore…” she says drawing her last word out like she’s torturing me.

“Just get on with it, would you?” I ask impatiently.

“
Okay, okay. I read that you were really young when you started working for the NSA. How did that come about?”

I don
’t like the tone of her voice because it reminds me too much of a journalist. I give her a dirty look and she looks confused.

“What?”

“Nothing. Yes, I started there when was I was almost 17.”