The Art of Control

Chapter 10

Dylan

Isabel’s high is replaced by uncontrolled shaking so I hold her close and give her the warmth of my body. She’s accustomed to this routine now and lays quietly as her subspace rush wears off. Luke fetches a bottle of water and holds it to her mouth as she greedily drinks it, spilling water onto her chest and chin. He gently wipes her clean and touches her hair. Isa smiles at him and nods her appreciation. My jealousy threatens to break through with the longing gaze she’s giving him, but I know Isa belongs only to me. She’s in my arms, not his and she’s going home with me tonight, not Luke. Most importantly, she’s wearing my mark of ownership and my collar.

“For never having experienced the pleasure of the bullwhip before, your pet took it unlike anyone I’ve ever seen. She’s quite an interesting little specimen. I’ve never seen a woman orgasm quite so powerfully before and it was mesmerizing to watch,” Luke says to me as he touches the tip of Isa’s nose. I do believe Luke has a crush on my wife and I can’t say I blame him. I’m crushing on her, too. I have a raging hard on from watching Isa take the whip so obediently. Now, as she lays here in my arms, I want to make sweet love to her. No bindings, no pain, just plain old vanilla with a twist.

I’m watching Isa keenly, listening to the sound of her breathing and feeling her heartbeat against the palm of my hand as it lies across her chest. Her eyes come into focus and she blinks rapidly as her eyes gloss over.

“Happy birthday, sugar. I love you.”

“My dearest p-ssycat, I love you, too. More than I can put into words, more than life itself. This has been, by far, the best birthday I’ve ever had. Thank you for your performance. It will be forever burned into my memory.”

Isa slowly rouses and I dress her, and we visit for a short time before saying our goodbyes and leaving. It’s well past nine when we decide to get a drink and something to eat. After we’re done eating and discussing the scene and how she felt about it, we decide to walk the streets of Paris for some late night entertainment.

We come upon an upscale nightclub not far off the beaten path that has a line outside about 20 people deep. Handing the doorman several €100 Euro notes, we’re able to slip inside ahead of everyone else. Loud heavy bass and smoke fill the air and bright strobe lights flicker on the dance floor. The dark corners of the establishment are filled with breathtaking women and men fondling them. I order Isa a tequila shot and two shots of Irish scotch for myself with water chasers. We down our liquor and grope each other in a small booth near the dance floor.

Isa has another two shots of tequila and the effects of the alcohol on her are almost immediate. It’s as if the beverage bypasses all her organs and goes straight to her libido. She closes her eyes and starts moving rhythmically to the music, touching herself seductively by running her hands through her hair, over her lips and in her mouth as she licks the tips of her fingers. Her hands then inch their way down her stomach and to her thighs. Mildly inebriated Isa is a hard-on provoking sight to behold.

Unexpectedly she stands and yanks me up with her. She drags me to the dance floor and starts gyrating her round ass into my crotch. She grips my hips and pulls me close as her curvy body undulates to the music. The dance lessons have definitely helped. I’m glad I insisted on them. I only wish there was a pole in our hotel room for her to demonstrate her new-found talent. I lean down into her neck and lick her salty skin and bite her earlobe. Her hands find my hair and mine slide up her thighs and under her dress, squeezing her fleshy ass. It’s as if we’re in our own little world as we dry f*ck on the dance floor and I pull Isa’s hips into my hardened dick and grind against her ass. She reaches back and grips me firmly, stroking me through my pants, and no one gives us two glances.

Hot damn, Isa is one sexy little plaything. I turn her around and crush her with my arms as I hold her close. My fist tangles in her hair and I tug hard so I have access to her throat. Isa cries out when I lick and suck at her jawline and neck with all my might. She unzips my slacks and thrusts her hand into the opening and proceeds to jack me off in the middle of the crowded room. I press my mouth onto hers and kiss her deep, forcing her to accept my tongue as I assault the wet recesses of her mouth.

“Please, please f*ck me, Master,” she whines into my mouth.

I remove her hand from my pants, zip them up, and haul her to the back of the bar and into the men’s restroom, relieved that the lights are dim so no one can see the wet precum spot on the front of my pants. We find an available stall and I shove Isa into it roughly. My need to be inside Isa is so all-consuming, I swear to f*cking Almighty I could cream myself right at this moment. I push her onto the toilet seat and she tears at my pants aggressively, yanking my cock out of my briefs and engulfing it in her impatient mouth.

“That’s it, p-ssycat, let me f*ck this beautiful face,” I grunt out, holding her hair back and pushing her head down onto my engorged dick.

Isa rests her hands on my thighs and her eyes meet mine, our gaze never wavering while I deep throat her. She pulls back, her tongue swirling around the head of my dick and I thrust into her throat again making her gag, but she throats all nine inches of me like a pro. Her eyes start to water and drool runs down her chin, and she’s never looked more alluring than she does right now.

“This mouth is mine to f*ck, do you hear me? All mine,” I growl as I guide her mouth up and down my shaft.

I force myself all the way to the back of her tight throat and hold her head there. Isa takes her hands off of my thighs and holds them behind her back in a submissive pose, demonstrating her total trust in me. Seeing her surrender herself to me so completely damn near makes me juice in her greedy mouth so I pull out quickly. Isa inhales deeply and sputters as she catches her breath. I jerk her off the seat, bend her over in front of me and peel her panties off, tossing them to the floor. Kneeling down behind her, I plunder her ass with my tongue and finger f*ck her dripping cunt.

Voices can be heard outside the bathroom stall and several people’s shoes can be seen under our door as they try to get a look through the stall door opening at the debauchery that's taking place. Isa squeals out when I tug at her hot, swollen pearl and she reaches back and pulls my hair in response. I hope they’re enjoying the sounds of our sinful self-indulgence.

“F*ck me with that big dick already,” she pants out.

Who am I to deny my horny little submissive? I stand behind her and plunge into her, f*cking her relentlessly. She rests one of her feet onto the stool and braces her hands against the sides of the stall, tilting her ass up and giving me complete access to the depths of her p-ssy as I slam into her over and over.

“Oh, God, please, please…” she screams out.

“Not God; Master,” I bark.

“Yes, Master. F*ck me harder!”

I spin her around, wrench her dress and bra down under her tits and bury my face in them. I bite and pluck at the tight buds of her pink nipples, then pull one of them to a point with my teeth harshly. Isa shrieks out and slaps my face hard and tugs at my hair, dragging my mouth away from her overabundant breast. My cheek blazes with heat from the brutal contact and my cock strains. My little angel likes it rough, does she?

“You want it rough, huh?” I snap, grabbing her by the jaw and shaking her face.

I smash her body against the wall of the stall and lift her high, hiking her legs over my shoulders. She locks her ankles behind my neck and I stab into her p-ssy again, making her screech from the depth of my penetration.

“That’s it; f*ck your Master’s cock. Love it. Own it.”

“Ahh, Master. Ahh, ahh” is all Isa can stammer out with her eyes tightly shut.

I push my fingers into her mouth to shut her up and she sucks at them eagerly. Isa’s velvet walls caress my cock, contracting and pulsating around it. I bury myself in her, filling her beyond capacity and hitting her cervix. She bites down on my fingers and lets out a muffled shriek as her body shudders and quivers with her sudden orgasm, her legs stiffening and then relaxing. She’s finished, but I’m not. I pull out of her, lower her onto the toilet seat again and fill her mouth.

“Make your owner cum,” I demand.

Isa sucks at me hungrily and then laps at the area just underneath my balls while she jerks me off. I focus on her shiny rose-colored lips and the sounds of her wet sucking. It doesn’t take much and when her glistening tongue ring hits the tip of my cock, I empty myself and a thick ribbon of cum jets onto her face and chest. Isa cleans me up the best she can, licking up what little of my jizz is left running down my shaft.

“You look divinely filthy, my little wench,” I tell her, taking a mental snapshot of Isa with cream pie all over her face. Bending down, I grab her panties from the floor and stand her up, gliding her panties up her legs and skimming my fingers along the backside of her thighs and clutching her ass.

***

Isabel

My head is fuzzy from the tequila, my face and chest are wet and sticky from Dylan’s manjuice, my legs are wobbly and my body aches from our ferocious f*ckfest. I wipe my face with some tissue paper and clean myself while Dylan puts himself back together. The sound of whispering and lighthearted laughter can be heard outside the bathroom stall. I try to adjust my hair, but Dylan’s cum has started to dry into a crusty mess in my bangs and there’s nothing that can be done about it so I simply sweep my hair to the side.

When we step out of the stall, there are a handful of men and one woman standing gathered around. A slow round of applause builds and my face heats from embarrassment. Dylan tucks me under his arm and I keep my eyes to the floor, mortified that we made a spectacle out of ourselves. Looking up at Dylan, his cheek still glows from my cruel slap, but it makes no difference because he’s smiling from ear-to-ear and nodding to the gentlemen as the small crowd parts to allow us through.

He gazes down at me and winks, “Yes, this is most definitely the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

Holy damp panties. Will I ever get over the way this man makes me feel with a simple smile and a wink? I hope not. I hope we always feel this kind of love and passion for one another. I’m glad to have made Dylan so happy and my bashfulness abates at seeing him so pleased with me.

Dylan has to assist me and half hold me up as we make our way back to the bar because of my weakened state. He orders himself another shot of Irish scotch and asks if I want anymore tequila. Hopefully he’s kidding. Damn that tequila. I lose all my inhibitions when I drink it. It goes straight to my vagina and he knows that. He’s waiting for my answer with an arched eyebrow and I suspect this is a test.

“No thank you, I’ll just have some water,” I answer and he grins at me.

Half an hour later, we’re back in our room. Every part of my body hurts, including my still swollen nipple that Dylan so brutally attacked. After taking off my dress, I inspect myself in front of the bathroom mirror. I’m flabbergasted to see hickies and nibble marks all along my neck and the top of my breasts. The red marks look splendid against my cream-colored skin. In fact, they look so sexy, I wouldn’t mind adding a few more to the collection.

Dylan strolls into the bathroom and stands behind me as I inspect my body for more evidence of our violent bathroom encounter. I find a few small bruises on my inner thighs and several on my hips. Nice.

“Do you like what you see?” Dylan asks with a naughty smirk on his face.

“Yes, I like it very much. Can I have a few more?” I ask, pointing towards my neck.

“p-ssycat, you can have as many as you can handle.”

He leans down into me and proceeds to suck at me playfully.

After our shower, it’s time for our nightly confessional. This time, I want Dylan to do the talking. I lie next to him and snuggle close, basking in his clean manly scent.

“Let’s talk about you tonight,” I say to him, running my fingers through his pleasure trail.

“Why? I’m not as interesting as you are.”

“I’m not interesting - I’m flawed and damaged. I want to know about the things you did as a child and young adult. I want to hear about when you worked for the NSA.”

“Seriously, stop saying things like that. I don’t know how many times I have to repeat that you’re not damaged. And the NSA again? Boo.” he huffs.

“Oh, come on, Dylan. Please? I want to know absolutely everything about you.”

Dylan draws me close and kisses the top of my head.

“Okay, fine, but only because you asked so nicely. Now let’s get this over with. Ask what you will.”

“I want to know about the time you killed a man,” I state cautiously, hoping Dylan doesn’t go off the deep end with my probing question.

He sighs loudly and moves away from me and props himself up on one elbow. His eyebrows are pulled in and his mouth is puckered in an irritated scowl.

“Isabel, why do you ask about things you don’t really want to know about?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

“Christ, killing a man isn’t something I’m proud of. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not ashamed of it either because I did what was asked of me in the line of duty, okay? He was a criminal and I was defending my life.”

My interest is piqued. “What do you mean? He tried to kill you? How many times has something like that happened to you?” I ask, mortified at the thought of Dylan being in danger.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down. One question at a time there, Barbara Walters,” he laughs.

It’s good to see his mood is shifting for the better, but I want answers, damn it.

“Yes, he tried to kill me. Honestly, it’s happened more times than seems feasibly possible. Let’s see…” he trails off. He looks up to the ceiling and starts silently counting.

“Good God, Dylan. It happened that many times?”

“Well, yes. I’ve been knifed once not including the other night, shot once… no wait, shot twice counting you…”

He just had to bring that up, didn’t he?

“…almost hit by a car, attacked with an aluminum bat by a lover’s husband…”

“You slept with a married woman?” I ask, appalled.

“Yes, but in my defense, she didn’t tell me she was married. Where was I? Oh, yeah, head locked to near suffocation, beaten to within an inch of my life in a nasty barroom brawl in Manila after too much tequila. Fortunately for me Sawyer was there to save my drunken ass,” he says with a deep chuckle as if recalling the memory.

Holy celestial intervention, I can’t listen to anymore. “Just stop. I can’t stand to hear anymore. Who are you?”

“Your Master and you asked,” he laughs a little too wholeheartedly.

“I know I did, but I wasn’t expecting to hear that you’ve almost died a bazillion times and that you slept with a married woman. You’re horrible. Holy insanity, that shit’s just crazy. Being hurt all those times? My poor Master. I think I’m going to be sick,” I sigh as nausea sweeps over me.

“Isa, my sweet angel, what delicate language coming out of such a heavenly mouth. Now calm your tits, p-ssycat. I’m here with you now and that’s all that matters.”

Suddenly feeling emotional at the thought of losing Dylan, I burst into tears and hide myself in his neck.

“I can’t lose you!” I overdramatically shriek out.

“Christ, love, you’re not losing me. Hush now,” he murmurs in my ear.

“I can’t lose you like I did my mother…”

“Stop talking like that,” Dylan cuts in. “I mean it. You’re completely overreacting,” he says evenly.

Yes, I suppose I am, but that foreboding sense of doom is prickling at my nerves again. I would rather die than see Dylan harmed in any way. No - I can’t lose him, too. I can’t.

“Isa, enough of this talk. My birthday isn’t quite over and I want to spend the last remaining minutes of it pounding this tight ass of yours,” he exclaims as he grips my ass.

My dearest, filthy, horny husband is insatiable and I won’t deny him the pleasure he seeks and deserves.

“Take me anyway you want me, Master,” I whisper.

“Oh, I intend to. On your stomach,” he says firmly.

I move onto my tummy and he licks down my spine to the crevice of my ass. Squeezing my cheeks, he bites into my hip bone, his erection jutting into my upper thigh.

“I want it, Isa.”

Dylan’s voice is deep and raspy, and there’s no denying my Dom is now present and fully in control. He jerks my wrists behind my back and pins them there while he lubes my puckered entrance with his saliva. With his free hand, he slips a finger inside of me, loosening me up, and then two - in and out, slow and sensual. Dylan removes his fingers and rests his dick on my ass, poking the head in ever so gently. I wince and contract down when he pushes deeper.

“Compose yourself, p-ssycat, I’m going deep.”

Dylan shifts his body and his thick member stretches me to accommodate all of him. I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly, letting my whole body go limp.

“That’s it, let me f*ck this tight hole,” Dylan pants.

He pounds deeper and harder, picking up his rhythm. Letting go of my wrists, he moves a hand underneath me and encircles my tender bundle of nerves.

“Don’t move your hands, leave them right where they are and turn around and look at me. I want to see those unforgettable eyes watch me take you.”

I crank my head to the side and watch intently, keeping my eyes not on my own body, but on my Master. He’s completely in the dominant zone as he works himself in and out of me. His expert fingers flick at my * sending sparks of heat throughout my lower belly. With his other hand, he cups his ballsack, drawing them up. The vision of him is mouth-watering and art inspiring.

He lets go of his balls and with his left hand, he wipes the sweat that has beaded up on his forehead with the front of his hand, revealing the tattoo seared into his flesh. He’s mine. My God, this man really belongs to me. I’m well aware that he doesn’t want me talking during sex, but I can’t resist myself.

“I love you so much, Master.”

Dylan takes his eyes off my ass and stares into my eyes, his intense gaze fierce and unwavering. He clenches his jaw and narrows his eyes and I think for a moment that I’ll pay the price for disobeying his wishes, but instead he leans down onto me and bites my shoulder blade, making me moan out loudly.

“Say it again, p-ssycat - tell me you love me; tell me I’m the only one,” he whines into my ear.

“I love you, Master. You’re the only one I want. You’re the only one I need. I love you. Take me. Own me. Devour me.”