The Art of Domination (41 page)

“You’re
right, I’m sorry. I’ll wait,” she says brusquely as she gets up.

She cleans up her plate and then leaves me sitting alone in the dining room. I take my plate into the kitchen and find her rinsing off her plate and loading it into the dishwasher. I hand her my plate and she does the same with mine. She’s pouting and I’m getting more turned on by the minute.
I grab her by her waist and turn her around quickly. I know what she wants, but I want to wait until we get the go ahead from her counselor.

“Stop pouting. I’m doing this for your own good. I want you and you’re making this difficult for me. Let’s go take a bath and get acquainted with our new home.”

“Fine, but you’re a tease.”

Isa gives me her sassy look and I
feel the urge to paddle her ass. A smile plays on Isa’s mouth.
I wonder what’s going on in that pretty head of hers.

“What are you thinking about, sugar?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you itching to paddle my ass?”

What the fuck?
This woman knows me too well. I turn away from her before she can read my expression and grab her by the hand and lead her to the master bath. It’s much larger than our old bathroom and this tub could seat at least four people. I run hot bath water, put lots of bubble bath in for us and turn on the jets.

Isa’s eyes get big
and she smiles broadly.

“Ooh, jets? Wow. This is fancy living, right here.”

“Fancy?” I laugh at her.

Isa gets undressed in record time and
jumps into the tub, but then shrieks out at me and splashes hot water on me.

“Holy hot water, Dylan!”

She jumps back out and then adjusts the water to be a bit cooler. I like it nice and hot. It sensitizes the skin and I readjust it again, the way it was before.

“Leave it alone. I like it hot and I didn’t give you permission to do that.”

Isa looks me up and down and her eyes change. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask while I get undressed.

“Because I love your dominance. Most especially when you don’t realize you’re doing it.”

“You think I’m being dominant, but most people would say I’m just being an asshole
,” I say getting into the tub.
Shit
. She’s right - its motherfucking hot, but I’m not going to admit that now after I just snapped at her.
I hate when I’m wrong.
“Get in here with me.”

She climbs in and slowly eases her body down as she gets used to the
scalding water and sits across from me. She giggles and slowly her giggle turns into laughter.

“The bu
bbles are right on my bunghole,” she says in between laughs

“
Bunghole? How old are you?” I ask kiddingly.

She grins and shrugs her shoulders.
“So who thinks you’re an asshole?” she asks.

“Plenty of people.”

“Oh, they do not. You’re just being harsh on yourself.”

Isa lives in her own world sometimes. I am an asshole and I don’t give a shit. It’s gotten me where I am today. People don’t fuck with me because of it.

“Sure, Isa. If you say so.”

“I don’t think you’re an asshole. I think you’re determined and used to gettin
g your way, that’s all,” she replies as she sponges herself down. Her statement is so sincere it makes me smile. 

“Yes, I am
determined and I like getting my way. It makes me a happy boy.”

She stops wiping herself down and looks up at me.

“What else makes you happy?”

What the hell kind of question is that? 
“Fucking you,” I tell her but as soon as I say it, I realize how arrogant it sounds. By the look on her face, she’s not a happy girl to hear my egotistical answer.

“I told y
ou I’m an asshole,” I say in my defense.

“So getting your way and fucking are the only things that make you happy?” Isa asks, sitting motionless and shocked.

I shrug. There are lots of things that make me happy. Does she really want me to list them off?

“I take it back; y
ou are an asshole,” she says gruffly and gets out of the tub.

Whoa. I wasn’t expecting that.

“Isa, stop. Get back here,” I tell her loudly as she grabs a towel and starts to dry off. The harshness of my voice makes her spin around and stare at me. I’m reminded of the first time she looked at me like that; the first time she slapped me in my car outside the café. My cock twitches at the memory. She continues to stand immobile, though I’m not sure why.  Mulling over my order, I guess.

“What part of that didn’t yo
u understand? Get back in here,” I reiterate.

She narrows her eyes at me, but she drops her towel and slowly moves towards the tub. I sit up and reach my hand out to
help her in, but she rebuffs me. She climbs in and moves to the far end of the tub. Right about now I’m regretting having a bathtub that’s so damned big. I slide over to her side and run my hand up her leg and she pushes it away.
Fuck no, she didn’t.

“Don’t do that. You belong to me and I’ll touch you whenever I want.”

She starts to say something, but stops herself, only to question me sarcastically. “Only when
you
want? What about when
I
want? How about then? Will you touch me when
I
want? Or just when it makes
you
a happy boy?”

I move ba
ck to my side of the tub dreading what’s coming next; an argument. I don’t answer her and wait, watching her. I start sponging myself and Isa comes unglued.

“Are you going to answer me?”

“No, not until you change your tone of voice.”

Her eyes narrow down to slits and I see her clench her jaw and pout her mo
uth. Here it comes - Little Ms. Sassy Panties. Let me rephrase, Little
Mrs.
Sassy Panties.

“Are you deliberately trying to push my buttons right now, Dylan?”

“No.”

“That’s complete bullshit. You won’t fuck me but you’re purposely trying to goad my alter ego to come out. What’s your deal, Young?” she says loudly as she sits up on her knees to face me.

Fuck, I hate it when she calls me that
. “Are you done cursing at me?” I snap.

She
sighs loudly and sits back down calmly. Then she reaches over and grabs the sponge from me and starts washing herself, completely ignoring me.

“Alright.
You want to know what makes me happy? You do. Everything about you, Isa. Watching you paint. Watching you get dressed. Watching you eat. The way you move when you think no one is watching you. Being with you; even when we’re arguing. I could go on and on. Is that what you want?”

She looks at me and raises her eyebrows
. “Was that so hard?”

“Yes, i
t was. Do you really think I’m an asshole?”

She
blushes and looks apologetic. She brings her knees up to her chest and hides her face behind them with just her bruised eyes peeking out at me, and I’m reminded of what Alex did to her.

“No,
” she whispers. She looks so ingenuous and lovable right now.

“Come over here, Isa.”

She scooches towards me and then backs herself up to me, her back against my chest. I sponge water down her chest and wash her arms and legs.

“Do you want to talk about what Alex did to you?” I ask.

Her body tenses up and she shifts uncomfortably.

“Not really. Why? Is there something you want to ask me?”

“It’s just in my nature to want to know everything, Isa. I want the details, however, painful they may be to hear or to talk about. Can you do that for me?” I hear desperation in my voice, but I just have to know. I want to try and put myself in her shoes and to feel the pain that she felt. I want to be able to sympathize with her completely.

“I thought you
were a sadist, not a masochist,” she asks as she turns her head sideways to look at me.

“I guess maybe I’m a little of both.
I need to know what you went through.”

She leans her head back against me and tells me all the gory details
and about how afraid she was. When I hear about how Alex beat her with a belt and how she tried to dissociate herself from the situation like when she was a child, I know more than ever that Alex must die for what he did to her. He would surely have raped her and most likely killed her if she hadn’t fought back the way she did. I’m so damned proud of her for fighting for her life. I can hear in her voice that she’s proud of herself, too, as she should be. 

After soaking for far too long, w
e get out, dry off and get ready for bed. I pick her out a pretty gown, but she grabs the T-shirt that was I wearing earlier.

“That’s dirty. Why are you wearing that?”

“Because it smells like you,” she tells me as she puts it on.

I turn the fireplace on and we spoon in bed. I want so badly to fuck her. I’d even settle for a little vanilla with a twist sex right now. She smells clean and my arousal is piquing.
She turns to face me and starts sucking at my neck and rubbing my chest, inching her way to my dick. Her hand slips inside my lounge pants and she grips me firm. She looks up into my eyes and I can’t deny her. Isa moves in between my legs and pulls my sleep pants and briefs down and goes to work. Her hot mouth feels good on me as she licks the entire length of me, nibbling on my sack. Her tongue ring is sliding up against the head of my cock and giving me chill bumps everywhere.

“I missed this,”
she breathes as she takes me entirely into her mouth. The slurping sounds are making me completely hard and I feel like exploding. She strokes me slowly, driving me mad. I want it rough and fast, but she continues to torture me with her slow paced rhythm. I thrust upwards and push down on her head, making her gag. I can’t take this.
I want it rough. 
I sit up, grab her by the hair and pull her off me and flip her onto her back, pinning her arms above her head.
Fuck vanilla with a twist
. I can’t help what I want and like. Isa grins slyly at me. She can’t help what she likes either.

“It took you long enough,” she breathes into my mou
th when I lean down to kiss her. She breathes in as I breathe out and her lungs fill with the air that was inside of me. I love her completely and I love giving her life as she gives me life. I breathe in her quintessence and it’s cathartic.

“Tell me something first. I have to know this and I want your complete honesty. How can you like being taken like this with your past history of abuse?”  It’s probably not the best time to ask, but it’s something I’ve been wondering
ever since I found out about her past. Not having a history of abuse myself, I can’t understand where her inclination for this sort of lifestyle stems from.

She looks appalled at my question.
I lay motionless on top of her, waiting for her response.

“
I like being under your control and pleasing you. I like the feeling of surrendering myself to you and the trust we have that comes from that. I already told you that my curiosity for sex like this came from the lack of excitement from vanilla sex, not for any other reason. My liking sex like this has nothing to do with my past. Why would it? Do people assume that?”

“Yes. People who don’t understand this lifestyle assume a lot of things, most of which are false. Including that we must all b
e mentally ill to like pain and discipline. That’s my main reason for not wanting to share with the world my sexual preferences.”

“How ignorant for them to assume such things.
I don’t ever think about my past when I’m under your control. I’m offended that you think I would,” Isa says, struggling to get out from under me but I hold her tightly.

“I didn’t say I thought that. I don’t have an abusive past and
I just wanted to know. I want to know everything about you. I need to know everything about you. I love you. Can’t you see that?”

Her eyes soften and burn brightly at me.
“Yes, I can. I feel the same way. So tell me; why do you like being in control?”

I stop breathing, trying to think of how to explain it. “
It’s hard to put into words. It makes me feel wanted and needed; like a God; and like I can accomplish anything. I like the trust that’s given to me when I’m in control. It’s because it’s who I am.”

Isa nods
her head, as if she understands what I’m trying to say. “Dylan, I love you so much. Please don’t ever lie to me again.”

I can see by the look in her eyes that I’ve hurt her, more so than even Alex or her father did. I betrayed her trust, something I swore I would never do. I run my fingertips over her mouth and she yawns.

“I’m so tired,” she says sleepily.