The Art of Domination (49 page)

“Did you really mean it when you said I’ve belonged to you my whole life?”

“Absolutely. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. I just didn’t know it until I met you.”

Dylan slides over to me and kisses me gently.
My belly flutters with his confession. He’s so casual with his statement as if it’s no big deal and I should’ve figured it out myself. 

“Oh, Dylan,
I’ll never figure you out,” I admit.

He sits back and raises his eyebrows at me.

“Men are not difficult creatures to figure out, Isa.”

“
No, men in general aren’t, but you’re not just any man.”

A smiles play
s on the corners of his mouth, but his smiles fades and he looks distraught about something.

“What’s wrong? Is it something I said?”

“No.  I…”

I can see he wants to tell me something.

“You know I love you, right?” I say to him, trying to convince him that whatever he tells me won’t make any difference in the way I feel about him, but my words make him look even more troubled than before. 

He shakes his head and opens his mouth to say something, but only silence and a long sigh comes out.
He swirls his fingers around in the bathwater and scans the dissipating bubbles.

“You want to know a secret?” I ask him.
Maybe if I tell him something I’ve never told anyone, he’ll feel better. Maybe then he’ll feel safe enough to tell me what he’s holding back.

His
sad blue eyes shift up to meet mine and he sits motionless.

“When I was
16 and I felt completely hopeless, the only thing that got me through was thinking about the day I would be free from my father’s cruel words and his iron fist. I used to imagine I would be rescued by some magnificent, beautiful hero; someone who understood me and didn’t care about the horrible things I had endured and about my flaws. I gave up a long time ago trying to find that person until you came along. You’re everything I ever wanted, too, sugar. You’ve belonged to me your whole life as well, you just didn’t know it. Nothing will ever change the way I feel about you.
Nothing
.”

He s
cans my face and his eyes reflect love. “Christ, I love you, Isa. You have no idea the lengths I would go to protect you, the measures I would take to keep you, or the distance I would go to find you if you left me.”

“Why would you think I would leave you?”

He reaches out and pulls me close to him and kisses me with purpose, like the world is ending and this is the last kiss we’ve been granted.

“I’d never let that happen,” he breathes into my mouth.

He stands, pulls me up with him and leads me out of the bathtub. He wraps a towel around his waist and proceeds to dry me off, paying special attention to my nether region.

“I think it’s dry,” I tell him.

“I was hoping it was wet,” he retorts.

“Dungeon?” I ask.

He smiles and straightens up. “You need your rest. You have a very big day tomorrow. I’ve made appointments to have you fitted for a gown and have your hair and make-up done here.

“When did you do that?”

“Earlier this afternoon. I have a few dresses picked out I want to see you in. I think you’ll like them.”

We walk into the bedroom and I grab the comforter and sit in front of the fireplace while Dylan fires it up.  The moonlight is filtering into the bedroom and I can see water droplets on Dylan’s shoulders from the bath. He kneels down next to me and stares into the fire. The flames reflect in his eyes and he looks dark and handsome, devilish and naughty. His gaze is unwavering and he doesn’t blink once. I wonder what he’s thinking about. I lay the comforter out and sprawl out next to him. He blinks rapidly and then looks over at me. I’m laying s
pread eagle with my legs open, inviting him to dive in. I’m pinching my nipples and watching him, hoping he’ll take the hint. He smiles and his eyes move and down my body.

“Dylan…” I whine when he doesn’t take action.

“Does my little pet want this big dick inside of her?” he asks softly and teasingly while he rubs himself.

I eagerly nod
yes.
He stands, drops his towel and stands in between my legs.

“Give
me a good show, baby; like you did at the club. I want you take me and own me.”

Oh, my.
How can I deny my alter ego when Dylan is begging for her to come out?

I get up
rapidly and lead him to the dungeon when security comes in over the intercom.

“Mr. Young,
I’m sorry to interrupt your evening, but there’s a package here. It was delivered to the front door and it’s unmarked. We haven’t touched it.”

Dylan jumps into action and gets dressed more quickly than I’ve ever seen him get dressed.

“Go to the dungeon and wait for me,” he says out of breath while he gets his shoes on.

“Why the dungeon?” I ask.

“Because it doubles as the panic room. Now don’t ask questions and just go.”

Panic room?
“But Dylan, what about you?” I ask, feeling frightened by the look on his face.

He walks over, pulls me close and hugs me tightly. “I’ll be fine. Wait in th
ere until I come and get you.”

I grab
a night shirt and quickly go into the dungeon and wait. I’m pacing around tensely. Trying to distract myself, I put some music on the stereo in an attempt to calm my nerves.
What the hell is taking so long
? I’m oblivious to the time because there isn’t a clock in the room as Dylan doesn’t want time be a distraction when we’re playing. I start taking some of the toys out and inspecting them, just trying to pass the time. I’m not sure how long I wait when the door slides open and Dylan comes in. His face is pale and he looks livid.

“What was it?” I ask, standing up.

He shakes his head, but I’ll be damned if he’s not going to tell me.

“Tell me, Dylan,
” I demand.

His eyebrows furrow and his forehead creases. I think he’s not going to tell me and I’m about ready to throw a tantrum.

“It’s a disc of videos.”

He doesn’t need to say anymore. I already know what the videos contain. I sit on the bed and feel light-headed and dizzy. My face gets hot and the heat radiates down to my belly.

“Let’s go,” he tells me.

He takes my hand and leads me to bedroom, wraps me in my robe and guides me towards the stairwell to the office. Sawyer and Murphy are
in the office waiting for us, and I feel shy and self-conscious, but they’re all doing their own thing and could care less about little old me. I stand next to Dylan and he asks them to excuse us. They step out and we’re left alone to watch the videos.

He puts the
disc in the computer and opens one up. I feel my stomach drop at the image before us. It’s Dylan and I in the dungeon and I’m in the sex swing. It’s the double penetration scene we did only days ago. I can’t watch this. My fragile ego can’t handle the way I look being fucked. I turn away from Dylan and look out the large window. I can hear our conversation and I’m outraged that someone was watching our private moment and recording it. Dylan stops the video only a few minutes into it and starts making his way through the videos. I only occasionally peek over my shoulder to see which episode is playing. The recordings go as far back as several months.

“What’s the point of this? Why did she send these to us?”

“To remind us that she’s still in control,” Dylan answers and his voice reveals his infuriation.

For Dylan, anyone else but himself being in control is difficult. He sighs and then slams his hand onto the desk, startling me.

I turn to look at him and he’s pulling out a note from the package. All that’s written on a small piece of paper is:

You and that little bitch are full of dirty secrets. When do I get my turn on the cross?

What the hell is that supposed to mean
? I look at Dylan confused by the note and he quickly puts the note back into the envelope.

“What does that mean?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer and shakes his head at me. He calls for Sawyer and Murphy and they come back in and start discussing what security measures will be taken at the gallery show. Dylan pulls up surveillance on the outside of the building and nothing can be seen except for a tall person delivering the package.

I’m tired of this crap. I just want to forget about the fact that someone has been watching me and Dylan
have sex and I excuse myself to go to bed.

I wake up several hours later when I feel Dylan pull me close and breathe into my ear. No words are said between us and we both fall asleep.

I wake up after another bad dream. This time, someone is watching from behind the curtains in the dungeon and laughing at me and Dylan while we make sweet tortured love. I see the flash of a camera and our picture in the newspaper.  In the picture, we’re nude and in a compromising position.

I wake myself up, not wanting to know how it ends. I forbid myself to dream anymore and lie next to Dylan, listening to his light snoring sounds. I wonder what he’s dreaming about. He hasn’t said Erika’s name
since his spanking a week ago. I prop myself up on one elbow and watch him sleep. I look over at the clock and it’s just after 4:00 a.m.

Irritated with myself for being unable to fall back to sleep, I climb out of bed, dig out my sketch pad and tu
rn on the side lamp. I pull the chair up next to the bed and start drawing my sleeping prince. He’s so damned beautiful; much more beautiful than I deserve.
No. I do deserve him
. I deserve to be treated kindly and to be loved. I repeat the words to myself, but my very inner core doesn’t believe them. I just need to keep reassuring myself that I am worthy of love and maybe someday I’ll really believe it.

After drawing for more than an hour, I
recall what Dylan wants me to paint; the image of my pussy taking all of him, so I go to my studio and lay it down on canvas. It’s my most erotic piece thus far and it looks sinfully fantastic. I leave it out to dry and go back to bed, crawl in next to Dylan and fall back to sleep.

When I finally awaken, it’s well past 11:00 and I’m
aggravated with myself for sleeping so late. Dylan is nowhere to be seen and I quickly get showered and dressed. I’m brushing my teeth when Dylan walks in and hugs me from behind.

“Good morning, sexy. Today’s a big day for you. Are you excited?” he asks.

His mood is lighthearted and playful. I like seeing him like this. I rinse my mouth and turn around to kiss him.

“You taste like bacon and coffee,” I tell him.

“You have a good palate,” he says grinning at me. “So? Are you excited?”

“More like nervous.”

“Don’t be. It’s going to be a grand occasion for you.”

“Don’t you mean
us
?” I ask.

“Yes,
us,
” he smiles.

There’s no mention of the videos or the psychotic woman stalking us and I’m happy for it. I don’t want to think about her at all. A
round 1:00 in the afternoon, a prim and proper couple arrives with half a dozen dresses and shoes for me to try on. The man carrying the dresses is very handsome, but very obviously gay. The woman is about Dylan’s age and quite attractive. I watch Dylan closely to see if he pays any attention to her as she’s tall with brown hair. To my delight, he doesn’t look twice at her and only keeps his eyes on me and the dresses.

The frocks
are all gorgeous and no doubt, overpriced.  We converge in his office and he sits on the couch to watch and give his opinion. I try to look for the price tags, but they’ve all mysteriously been removed. I eye Dylan and he smiles. I’m sure he had them removed intentionally, knowing how I feel about his overspending.

I try on the first three and Dylan nix
es them straight away with a simple flick of his wrist and a disapproving shake of his head. I actually like the fourth dress and give him the evil eye when he shows his dissatisfaction.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I like?” I ask him.

“No,” he answers with cool blue eyes.

I put my hands on my hips and he rolls his eyes at me.
“Fine. Which dress do you like?”

I can tell by the tone of his voice it doesn’t much matter one way or the other which dress I li
ke and he’s only appeasing me at this point. He’s not only the Master of His Universe, he’s also the King of His Castle. I may be the Queen, but there’s no doubt that Dylan is the one in charge.

“It must be nice to be the King,” I tell him.

He smiles deviously at me and licks his lips. “Oh, it is.
Very
nice.”

He runs his hand over his cock and I feel my cheeks blush. I look over my shoulder to see if the clothiers are paying any attention and by the look on the woman’s flushed face, I know she’s seen his gesture as well. I shoot Dylan a knock-it-the-fuck-off look and he laughs.