The Art of Submission by Ella Dominguez Page B

understood my
telepathic message before, in Greer’s office, why can’t he now? I’m
practically begging him.
    “Isabel. We can’t do this here. Not right
now…”
    What? No! If he rejects again, so help me…
why does this man tease me so? I thought he wanted me. If he really
wanted me, he would just take me.
    “I want you more than you can imagine. Just
not here. Not right now…” He says in his polite businessman
tone.
    Why does he keep bringing that stuff
up? He mentions ‘vanilla sex’ and I only know what that means
because I heard some of the girls talking about it at work. I don’t
even know what that acronym means. Yes,
I’ve lived a sheltered life, okay? I’m not proud of
it. Do I really have to say this? Oh no. He looks like he’s
reconsidering all this. Please no. Don’t let my stupidity scare him away.
    “ It means
bondage-discipline-sadomasochism.” He says patiently.
    Okay. The discipline thing again.
    “Can I take you somewhere tonight?...” He
looks excited.
    He wants to take me somewhere? Right now?
    “Yes. Why ? Do you have plans or something?”
    What is that tone? Is he sulking? Whatever it is, he
looks damned hot. But seriously, of course I don’t have plans. I
never have plans. Who the hell would I have plans with anyway?
Isn’t it obvious I have no personal life whatsoever?
    “Good…”
    All of my plans with him?
Abso-freakin’-lutely. Like there would be any kind of argument
there? “Yes, Mr. Young.” I eagerly reply.
    “Oh, Isabel. You’re going to make a wonderful
submissive.”
    Oh heavens. The look in his eyes right
now is staggering. Blue hot .
Me – his submissive? Yes, I like the sound of that very much .
    Why oh why can’t I just have him right
now? I’ve waited my whole life for a man like this and he’s finally
here, right in front of me… and he wants me to wait? Oh dear - look
at that. He’s got a hard on .
How can he expect me to ignore that ?
    “Can’t I just have a little taste
before we go?” Holy
hallelujah . I can’t believe I said that out loud. Why
was I not born with a brain-mouth filter?
    He smiles deviously at my comment, his
eyes squinting just a bit when he does. Goodness, whatever shall I do? To hell with
these games. I want him.
    I pull him towards my bed and sit in
front of him. I can feel how turned on he is through his pants.
He’s so hard. The way he’s
looking at me right now makes me feel… dare I say it? Wanted . I clumsily fumble with his
pants button and zipper. I’m doing my best to look graceful and
sexy, but really I’m just a feeble klutz. I finally get his pants
undone and pull him free of his very sporty briefs. Cute. I
wouldn’t have guessed him to be a brief man.
    Holy hard on. What does he think I’m going to do with that ? I mean… I’m game, but … it’s just
so... big . Like hard on in
3D. I look up at him hoping he’ll explain how this is supposed to
work. He touches my face, runs his hand through my hair and gives
me look of pure pleasure, and that’s enough for me. I’ll just do my
best and hope for a positive outcum. I inwardly laugh at my own
no-pun-intended remark. I’ll start with the basics. A little
licking, some gentle sucking. He tastes so delicious and he smells
wonderful - clean. But just when it’s getting good, he stops me.
No! Why?
    “Stop… I want to try something.” He ways with
a wicked gleam in his eyes.
    I wonder what he’s planning. Something
naughty I hope. I see him scanning my apartment, and then he spies
something on the coat rack. A scarf? What does he plan on doing
with that ? He walks back over
to me, kneels in front of me, and gently starts blindfolding me.
Oh, I get it now. Yes. This is
nice. I’ve never done anything like this before. The
scarf feels so soft around my eyes. I touch it, trying to get used
to the feeling of not being able to see what I’m doing. Then I feel
him front of me, all his hardness in my hot and greedy hands. My
breathing is so loud and