The Art of Control

The Art of Control

 

 

 

The Art of Control © Ella Dominguez 2013

All right reserved

 

 

 

Dedication

Thank you to my husband and daughter for their continued support of my now completely out of control writing habit.

 

Acknowledgements

Lots of love to my family for their confidence
in me when I lacked it.

Thanks and more thanks to my coworkers for their encouraging words and support.

Special thanks to Rebekka Ivacson for her amazing artwork and for allowing me to showcase it.

Mucho kudos to a particularly stellar group of beta readers for helping to make my work better and more enjoyable.

Loads of appreciation and huge THANK YOU’s to my loyal readers. Your kind words have meant more to me than you’ll ever know.

Epigraph

 

Submission
by Someone Insignificant (www.poemhunter.com)

 

Sadistic, yet affectionate and caring eyes 

E
ntice me toward my ultimate prize

Total submission to my beautiful Mistress

Gone is my old life of humiliation and stress

To submit my whole being to a caring Dominatrix

To erase the humiliation and learn trust will be my life’s fix

Not here expecting, I’m here just to obey

To submit totally and completely in every way

After years of unseeing, my eyes now opened to a new day

My beautiful, Domina Mistress now shows me the wa
y
 

 

Chapter 1

Dylan

The drive home isn’t quick enough. The last two months since Cassiegate have made work mind-numbing as hell as Sawyer and I struggle to get all of our work accounts caught up. I need a break and so does Sawyer. As I speed home, I can only think about Isabel and holding her close to me. I touch the envelope in my breast pocket and smile. I can hardly wait to see the excitement on her face when I give it to her. Maybe now she’ll forgive me for my bad behavior on our wedding night.

She’s never brought it up, but I know my wife and I know how badly I hurt
her by doing the things that I did. Namely, lying to her; secondly, not allowing her to use our safewords. I’ll never make either of those mistakes again. Deep down I know if I were to deny her use of the safewords, she would abide because she wants nothing more than to please me, and for that reason, I won’t ever pull that shit on her again. Just knowing that I can request it of her is enough for me.

I’ve done some unspeakable things to her already and pushed her pain tolerance beyond what I ever thought was possible, but she’s never once wavered
or second-guessed me, and because I’ve learned to read her body so well, she hasn’t had to use our safewords since the night in the cabin at Beaver Creek; the night all hell broke loose.
Our bond should be so strong, that she should never need a safe word and
I hope to God she never has to use them again. I would think myself a pretty shitty husband and Dom if she did ever did need to call them out.  I love her more than life itself and even though I enjoy the physical exchange of pain and power and pushing her limits, I never want to hurt her emotionally again.
Not ever.
I may be a sadist, but I’m no son-of-a-bitch.

Finally at home, I pull into the garage, park
, and make my way inside. I check her studio first, but she’s not there. Next, I climb the stairs quietly to the kitchen, hoping to catch her by surprise. Sure enough, Isa is standing at the counter dicing vegetables, wearing a long apron with jeans and a tank top underneath. I silently move behind her, grab her waist, pulling her into me. She jumps with surprise and giggles when I bury my face in her neck. I inhale her sexy scent as she leans forward, pushing her ass into me.

“Did you finish your
chores?”I ask.

“Yes, Sir,” she whispers.

“Did you do your homework?” I prod.

“Y
es, Sir,” she answers.

“Did you paint me something spectacular?”

“Of course, Sir.”

“Good girl,” I praise her.

“How was your day?” she asks.

“You
know; the same old bullshit.”

She turns to face me
and kisses my mouth softly.

“Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

Her eyes are gleaming brightly at me as she waits patiently for my command.

“I can think of a few things,” I reply suggestively.

“Tell me.”

“For starters, you can wrap that perfect mouth
of yours around my cock,” I tell her as I unbuckle my pants. Without hesitation, she drops to her knees, pulls my dick out of my slacks and strokes me firmly. She runs her wet tongue the length of me and engulfs me in her greedy mouth. She looks up at me and our eyes meet.
Holy hell, I love this woman
. I can barely think straight when I’m around her.
Focus, Young.
Her left hand strokes me while her right hand rests on my thigh. Her mouth moves to my sack and she gently nibbles and sucks it, her eyes never leaving mine.

I’m amazed at the progress Isa has made as a submissive and the eagerness she’s shown to please me.
Though her feistiness remains a constant, her tantrums are few and far between, and she’s much more open and honest with me about the way she feels, even when she’s unhappy about something. Not having to try and decipher her moods has made my life easier. I’m sure she feels the same way about me as I’ve been more candid with her as well about my wants and needs. We’re both works in progress as I try to be a better Dom for her and her, a better submissive for me. Our regular visits to the Dark Asylum have been beneficial in this process and I’m thankful for the insight our BDSM community has given us.

She slides her tongue up my shaft one last time and breathes out, “What next?”

“Tell me you love me.”

“I love you, Master,” she answers with heated eyes.

“Stand up,” I say, pulling her upright. “I have something for you.”

She grips me again and smiles. “I can see that,” she says playfully.

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” I laugh. I pat my breast pocket and her eyes light up.

“I have something for you, too,” she says
enthusiastically.

“Oh, really?”

She nods and smiles.

“Me first.

Reaching
inside my jacket, I pluck out the envelope and Isa looks at it questioningly when I hand it to her. She opens it and pulls out an itinerary and passports. When she reads
Paris,
she smiles broadly.

“I think our honeymoon is overdue, don’t you?”

“Oh, sugar, we’re really going?”

“Yes.”

She jumps up and down and then proceeds to hug me tightly and kiss my neck.

“So what is it that you have for me?” I ask, wanting my surprise, too.

Isa gets a devious smile on her face with my question.
I can hardly wait.
She puts the envelope down and walks over and takes out a small jewelry box from a cabinet drawer.
Oh, no. She’s been spending her money on me.

“Isa…” I say in my in fatherly tone.

“Just open it,” she cuts me off.

She hands me the box and I narrow my eyes at her, but she looks so damned
thrilled I can’t be irritated for any amount of time.

O
pening the lid, I see a shiny oversized ring inside.

“A cock ring?”
I ask, slightly shocked at the sight of it.

“Yes. This one is strictly for looks,” she clarifies as if I don’t already know
that and she thinks she’s educating me. “It’ll look amazing on you,” she states as she takes it out of my hand and grabbing my still exposed semi-rigid penis.

She starts to put it on me,
shimmying it down my shaft gently.

“It’s the next best thing to a collar for you,” she tells me, keeping her eye on the prize.

When the ring finally reaches the base of my cock, she smiles widely.

I cup her chin
to meet my gaze. “I love you,” I whisper, not being able to hide my desire for her.

Isa’s smile fades and her eyes change color.
Fuck yes.
I know this look all too well.

***

Isabel

“Prove it,” I whisper.

Without hesitation, he slowly lowers himself to his knees and looks down at his hands resting on his thighs.
My dear, sweet, occasionally submissive husband.
God, I love this man. I raise his face and stare into eyes that are burning true blue.

“Lick me,” I command.

He reaches underneath my apron and unbuttons my pants and removes them, along with my panties. I lift one of my legs and rest my foot on his shoulder. Pushing me back against the counter, he buries his face in my pussy. His tongue finds its way and probes deep inside of me.
Oh, that magical tongue and the things it does to me.
He licks and sucks, sucks and nibbles and tongue fucks me like a champion. Grabbing the back of his head, I thrust into his face, smothering him. When he starts to get breathless, I pull back and allow him to catch his breath and recover. His face is shiny with my juices and I damn near come undone at the sight of my beautiful husband with a face full of my arousal. Eagerly, he pulls me forward and continues his attempt to devour me. I thrust towards him, over and over until he again becomes breathless

S
tepping back from him, he asks, “What next?”

I pull him up and he kicks his pants off.
Holding onto his dick like a leash, I lead him up the stairs to the dungeon. Once inside, I lean against the bed post and give my order.

“Undress for me.”

He slowly unknots his tie and drops it to the floor. Next, his nimble fingers unbutton his shirt. He takes his jacket off, then his shirt and he tosses them to the side. The room is silent except for our breathing and the cascading sounds of his clothing dropping to the floor. Oh, the sweet torture of watching my gorgeous Master undress is a sight to behold.

Finally, he
removes his undershirt and stands fantastically naked in front of me, his cock ring glinting in the romantic dim light of the chandelier. Walking over to him, I stand directly in front of him and run my fingers through the soft, dark patch of hair below his navel, twirling my fingers in it and watching his mouth. His lips part and he exhales slowly. I move my hand down to his shaft and stroke it gently, then caress his sack. I abruptly squeeze it and Dylan winces in pain and hisses through his teeth.


These belong to me,” I tell him.

He closes his eyes tightly, throwing
his head back and continuing to hiss as I squeeze tighter.

“Say it, Dylan.”

“Yes…” he breathes out.

I squeeze firmer
yet. “Yes,
what?
” I ask more sternly.

His eyes open and his fiery
gaze meets mine. “Yes, Mistress, these balls belong to you,” he grunts out.

Easing my grip on him, he
exhales slowly and his body relaxes.


Now undress me,” I request politely.

Dylan
reaches behind me and unties the apron strings from around my neck as he leans down into me. Then he reaches behind me and unties the strings from around my waist. His slow movements are sheer torture, but it’s a sensual game I enjoy thoroughly. He slips my shirt off over my head and smiles when he sees I’m not wearing a bra. His warm rough hands brush my skin delicately as they move around front of me. Running his thumbs over my nipples, I step away from him.

“Did I give you permission to touch me?” I ask.

His hands drop to his sides and he looks bemused.

“Move to the cross,”
I tell him. I have yet to shackle him there and I’ve been patiently biding my time, waiting for the right moment.

Dylan’s eyebrows furrow as he internally struggles with my command. His stance shifts slightly and I become impatient with him.

“What are you waiting for?” I say melodically. I’ve learned that in Domme mode, I get a much better response when using sensual domination as opposed to austerity, and when I ply Dylan with soothing commands as opposed to severe ones.

To my joy, h
e blinks rapidly and looks apologetic. I know just how to get the most out of my submissive Dominant. He slowly moves in front of the cross and stands motionless, facing away from me. When he turns around, his forehead is creased again. Realizing that I need to act promptly before he changes his mind, I back him up against the cross, push his legs apart and swiftly cuff his ankles in place. Next, I grab his left wrist and raise it to bind him. He’s a good head taller than me and I have to tiptoe to reach the cuff. When I look at Dylan, the corners of his mouth are lifted in a small smile as he watches me labor to shackle him. This Mistress isn’t having any of that.

Narrowing my eyes at him, I tell him,
“I’d wipe that look off my face if I were you.”

Dazed by my unwavering domination, h
e blinks rapidly again, his contrite eyes peering at me through his dark thick lashes.

I move
to his other wrist and cuff it, too, and step back to eye my handy work. I think perhaps we’ll try a little edging tonight. I’ll bring him near orgasm time and time again, only to deny him until I see fit to allow him to cum.
Yes, that sounds fantastic.

D
ropping to my knees, I lick and stroke him the way I know he likes it. He starts to groan and tense up, and just as he does, I stand and back away from him. His tightly closed eyes open, confusion settling on his face. When his breathing slows, I move in front of him again and stroke him, slow at first and gradually speeding up. When I look down at his beautiful cock, a small amount of precum is dripping down his dick. I smear it around the head of his cock with my thumb and then lick it off my finger. Dylan’s mouth twitches with my action and his tongue slicks over his lips. I stroke him again and when his body reacts to my touch, I abruptly stop and step away from him. His eyes narrow at me in frustration and he growls through clenched teeth. 

“Do you want to cum?” I ask him teasingly.

“Yes, Mistress,” he answers.

“You’ll cum when I’m good and ready. Do you understand?”

Dylan’s eyes move from my mouth to my eyes and back, but he does answer. I’m driving him insane, the same way he does me and I love it. I’m in control right now and I love it. I call the shots right now and I fucking love it. When my question still goes unanswered, I move in close to him and run my nails down his chest, grazing him and leaving a red trail of claw marks.

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