The Art of Submission (25 page)

This whole punishment thing and the
mention of payoff money reminds me too much of my father.
I think I’m going to be
sick
.

I continue reading the contract and find the
list of my expectations. The list includes clauses about personal
hygiene, studying BDSM daily, honoring and respecting Dylan, not
having any other partners except Dylan, sleeping naked and not
wearing underwear unless necessary, not invoking the safe word
unless absolutely necessary, and several punishment clauses which
make my stomach turn. As if that’s not enough, there’s one last
jacked up request – I shall accept a permanent mark that Dylan
desires – anywhere on my body, indicating ownership by him.

I feel lightheaded and nauseous after
reading all that absurdity. Not wearing underwear unless
necessary?
As if wearing underwear is not
necessary?
Oh brother. Counting out strokes?
In his dreams.
A permanent mark
indicating ownership? I
am
going to be sick.

Just when I should have stopped reading, I
flip to the last page and as if it was added as an afterthought,
there’s a clause about my paintings.

“Isabel shall allow Dylan to view all past,
present and future artwork, and to borrow the artwork as he sees
fit. Dylan will also be allowed to watch Isabel paint anytime he
sees fit. Isabel will keep a journal including, but not limited to,
thoughts of painting, where the inspiration is gleaned from, and
possible new interests in new artwork ideas. The journal shall be
allowed to be read by Dylan on a regular basis with the agreement
that Isabel will not be punished or judged on anything posted
therein.”

This man is out of his head if he
thinks I’ll agree to all of this. Who the hell does he think he is?
What the hell is he
thinking? What the hell was
I
thinking? I’m so absolutely livid
right now. I can agree to some of the sex stuff, but a permanent
mark? And when it comes to my artwork… it’s just so
personal
to me. How dare he try and
dictate demands regarding my art and my body.

I pick up the contract, put it in my bag,
grab my jacket and start to leave. Monica sees me leaving and she
can’t resist a dig at me.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She says,
standing and putting her hands on her bony hips.

I have no patience for this woman right now.
“What does it look like? I’m leaving.”

She looks taken aback at my sudden
burst of courage, but I don’t give a damn. I head out front and
look for a cab. This can’t wait until the end of the week; I want
my paintings back. If he expects all of those things from me, or
for that matter, any of those things, then I want them back
today.
Right now
.

The cab ride to his office is agonizingly
slow. My anger is soon replaced with apprehension and anxiety, and
my bravery is starting to dissipate. I just need to hurry and get
there before every last ounce of my courage is gone. When I arrive,
I head straight to the elevators, passing the same security guard
that accosted me just a few days ago. He looks surprised to see me.
The elevator ride is interrupted by several getting on and off and
I’m losing my courage quickly.

Finally, the elevator doors open up to the
35th and into the lobby. I’m met by two sets of wide eyes that
immediately recognize me. I quickly approach the desk and without
hesitation, demand to see Dylan and I’m not taking no for an answer
this time.

The brunette looks shaken at the tone of my
voice and she immediately picks up the phone.

“
Isabel is back to see you. Do you want
me to send her away?” She says with an eyebrow raised as if that’s
what she expects Dylan to tell her to do.

How very efficient of her to remember my
name. I’m starting to lose my nerve again and I feel myself
fidgeting. Just then Dylan is standing outside his door. His
appearance surprises all of us, but most especially his
receptionists, I think.

“
That’s all ladies; you can leave for
the day.” He says bluntly.

I wish I could’ve seen the look on their
faces when he said that, but I’m just too determined right now to
turn around and see. He tells me to come in and motions me inside
his office. He looks almost happy to see me and I start to cave a
little, but then I scan his office and see my paintings hanging
prominently on the wall near his conference table. Just the site of
them gives me the bravery I need.

I tell him I came to pick up my
paintings and he looks stunned.
Stay calm,
Isa. You can do this.

“Oh really
?”
He says raising his eyebrows at me.

Here we go again with that tone. I’m
not giving in. I will not let him effect me. I’m not here to argue
with him and I’m not giving in.
I will not
let him effect me.

“I thought we agreed I could keep them for
awhile.”

That’s a laugh. “No.
You
agreed…” I say coldly to him.
I’m not doing too badly. I think I might actually accomplish what I
came here to do.

“Is that why you’re really here, Isabel?” He
says with arctic blue eyes staring coldly at me.

I don’t reply and just stand unfaltering in
my determination.

“
Have you had a chance to look over the
contract?” He says businesslike.

Him and that damned contract. I already told
him that I would get back to him at the end of the week about it.
I’m concentrating on keeping my voice controlled, and I think it’s
working because he just stands there gaping at me, with no
response.

Fine. I’ll take my paintings now, thank you
very much. I walk towards them and attempt to take one down.

“Isabel, stop!”

His voice is so loud that it takes me
by complete surprise and I automatically spin around to face
him.
If he thinks he can tell me to stop,
he’s got another thing coming.

“
You don’t get to tell me to stop…” I
tell him, but I can feel my courage starting to waver.

“Don’t take one more step towards those
paintings, Isabel.
Don’t
.” He
states with his eyes narrowed at me.

He’s so damned arrogant. Who the hell
does he think he is anyway? These are
my
paintings. I take a step backwards, but I’m
careful not to take my eyes off of him.

“Don’t do it
.”
He says in a low harsh voice.

He sounds aggravated and his stance has
shifted into dominant mode. I feel ridiculous right now, but I’m
here and there’s no turning back now. I’m getting my paintings
back, one way or another, with or without his consent. I slowly
inch my way towards them and I raise my hand in attempt to sneak
one down.

“
So help me God, if you touch those
paintings Isabel, I’ll take you over me knee...”

His voice warns of impending meltdown
and I don’t give a damn. This man has got some nerve. Did he really
just threaten me -
again
? If
anyone gets spanked here today, it will not be me.
Just let him try.

“
You just go ahead and try it.” This
time I don’t mind my missing my brain-mouth filter. I dare
him.
I just dare him.

Before I have a chance to react, he’s
moved at the speed of light, grabbed me, pulled me over to a chair
and pulled me over his knee. I can’t believe he’s doing this to me!
I am not a child damn it! He pins me with one of his legs over mine
and his arm across my back. Get off me you bastard! Fucking hell!
Fucking A! Damn it to all hell! I’m trying my best to work my way
out from under his grasp, but he’s strong and has me in an awkward
position.
I swear on everything holy and
unholy, if he lays a hand on my ass….

“
Are you sorry, Isabel?” His asks in a
condescending tone.

What the hell? Is he serious? This bastard
has gone too far. If he thinks for one minute that I’m going to
answer him, he can kiss the ass that he plans on spanking.

“
Answer me. Say you’re sorry for the
way you behaved.” His voice is loud and demanding.

Oh for the love of Pete, get real you
maniac.

“This is the last time I’m going to say
it Isabel. I want to your apology.
Now
.”

He can go straight to hell.

“Then have it your way.”

What? Does he
really
intend to spank me? And then I feel it,
his hand comes down hard. I feel the sting immediately and I let
out a loud gasp and a scream.
What in the
name of Holy madness is going on here?
I
have to get out of here
. I try to get away again, but
it’s no use. He hits me again, only harder than before.
This can’t be happening.
Again, even
harder.
Oh my God
.
What’s happening to me?
After five
smacks to my left side, he moves to my right cheek and begins the
same sweet painful torture. But this time, it’s different. I felt
the tide turning on the fourth smack.
No,
no, no.
This can’t be happening. I can feel my pussy
starting to throb. How can I be aroused? What’s wrong with me? Shit
that hurts, but it also feels …
so
good.
By the tenth spank I can’t take it
anymore.
I’m going to cum and I will not
allow it.
I give in.
I’m
sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please, no more.

“Sorry for what, Isabel?”

Don’t make me say it. Fine. I just
can’t take the pain and excitement anymore. “I’m sorry for the way
I behaved.”
Damn him.

He finally eases his hold on me and I
immediately jump up. My arousal has turned to fury.
How dare he
. Just when I thought I
couldn’t take anymore from him, he says it; the thing that sends me
over the edge.

“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” He says in
the most God-awful sardonic tone ever.

I try to gather my senses, but they left me
long ago.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” I’m
screaming, raging, blindingly mad. I feel myself leave my body and
now I’m just watching from above, like a dream.

His dazzling blue eyes widen and he
stands to back away from me, but I leap at him, shoving him back
down into the chair, pinning him the only way I can, holding him by
his coat lapels. Then I slap him –
hard.
I only vaguely feel the sharp pain on my
palm.
How dare he spank me.
I
get even by brutally kissing him and I can taste his fear.
This is my revenge.
He attempts to
reach up and touch me, but I want none of that. To hell with him.
He deserves this punishment for the way he just treated me. I bite
down hard on his bottom lip; I stand back and slap him again. He’s
stunned.

“
Now apologize to me you arrogant
bastard.” How does he like it? Who’s the submissive now? He looks
completely shaken, but I feel his cock harden under my knee. I want
his answer. I’ll make him answer me the way he made me answer
him.

I raise my hand to slap him again and
pause, trying to elicit a response. I want his answer; I want him
to say sorry for the way he behaved. I give him a taste of his own
medicine, but he still doesn’t answer me.
Why oh why won’t he answer me?
I don’t want to
hit him again.
Please don’t make me hit
you again you stubborn ass.
As I stand ready to slap
him one more time, not really sure if I can do it, he finally
breaks.

“I’m sorry…” His voice is soft and
apologetic.

“Sorry for what,
Dylan
. Say it
.” That’s not
enough. I want to hear all of it.

“I’m sorry for the way I behaved.”

His voice is quiet and almost
childlike. What the hell was I thinking? Why do I allow him to make
me so reckless? Why do I enjoy punishing him? I’m torn between
feeling absolutely turned on and angry; angry at him for spanking
me and angry at myself for being turned on by it and then reacting
the way I just did. But he enjoyed it. I felt it; I felt his
arousal.
I’m so confused.

He just sits there staring at me with
those miraculously blue eyes, saying nothing. When I back away from
him, getting ready to run from the room, he stands up and
immediately pulls me to him.
I don’t
understand. What is he doing? Why isn’t he angry with
me
? He hugs me tight - tighter than anyone has ever
hugged me and it comforts me. I can’t deny myself this. I wrap my
arms around him and hug him as hard as I can and I hear his breath
hitch. We just stand there hugging each other for what seems like
forever.
I don’t want to let
go
. I can hear his heart beating through his chest and
it soothes me.

Oh Dylan. The things you do
to me
…

Dylan

As we stand there hugging, I’m overcome
with feelings for Isabel. I’m still erect from my punishment and
now the close contact with her is overwhelming. I pull away from
her, grab her face and kiss her.
She
tastes so good
…
sweet
, and she smells
heavenly
. She mutters my name softly and it’s my
ruination. After everything she’s just done to me, the pain, the
awakening of my pleasure in taking it, I can’t take anymore. I have
to be with her,
now
.