The Art of Control

Chapter 7

Dylan

Here we go. The look in Isa’s eyes changes from that of sublime and self-conscious to commanding and intense. It’s fascinating how quickly she can change into Mistress Isabel under the right conditions and with the right prompts.

“Yes, it’s time to play. I’ve been waiting all day, sugar,” she says smoothly.

Her tone and heated look speak directly to my dick. I swear to God I see stars when the blood flow rushes from my brain to my cock. Isa stands at the foot of the bed and starts to undress me. She starts by unzipping my pants and pulling them off of me in one swift motion. Next, she practically tears off my briefs with her teeth. She rips at my shirt aggressively, popping several buttons, scattering them across the bed. Her breathing is quick and she moans when she gets sight of my bare chest. Tenderly kissing my patched wound, she then straddles me. My little minx then proceeds to bite my nipples and neck, and I have to focus on not jizzing all over myself and ruining the moment. Focus, Young. Hot damn, I love it when she’s so ferocious.

She rises up while still sitting on top of me and I sit up and reach behind her, unzipping her dress. I slip the straps down and expose her breasts, sink my teeth into her fleshy tits and suck at her hardened nipples. She groans out loudly and throws her head back while she digs her nails into my shoulders. Abruptly she brusquely pushes me back on the bed.

“I need to get ready,” she tells me.

Moving the chair next to the bed, she orders me to sit in it and wait while she gets things set up. She grabs the two bags from the small closet and disappears into the restroom. I start stroking myself into complete hardness, thinking about what she has planned for me. I can hear the sound of her voice softly coming from the bathroom as she hums a familiar 80’s tune, though I can’t quite name it. I start chewing my bottom lip impatiently, wondering what she has planned.

A few minutes later, Isa comes out wearing a fire-engine red lace and velvet corset and matching crotchless panties. Her inviting lips are glossed with the same devilish red color. Christ, I’ve never seen her in this shade of red before and she looks arresting in it. She dims the lights to my dismay, but I don’t dare question her motives or actions and simply allow her to act out her fantasies on me. Pulling out several chords of long soft rope from one of the bags, she gets a wicked twinkle in her eyes.

“I’m going to demonstrate what I learned in my homework this week. I’ve been practicing and waiting patiently to show you.”

She stands directly in front of me and leans into my neck, kissing it gently. When she steps back, she eyes my neck and grins widely at the lip print she undoubtedly left.

The next half hour is spent with Isa binding me carefully and creatively. So she’s been studying Shibari, has she? She wraps several lengths of the soft rope around my thighs, waist, chest and arms, putting in decorative knots at various places and centering on my chest. Her artist’s hands are nimble and she only fumbles with the rope occasionally, and if I didn’t know any better, I would’ve guessed she had done this sort of thing before.

When she’s done fashioning the bindings around my body, she takes another length of rope and ties my wrists behind me. She sinks her teeth into my neck and licks the crook of my ear before moving to the bag again. She pulls out a blindfold and secures it over my eyes, blocking out all of the light. This is new. I’m unsure of how I feel about not being able to see what’s going on and my heart rate spikes with anticipation and nervousness. Why the hell am I nervous, anyway? It’s not as if Isa would ever do anything to hurt me. Or would she?

“Are you afraid, lover?” she whispers into my ear, her hot breath making my hair stand on end.

F*cking hell – the sound of Isa’s bewitching voice and her scent tickling my nose hairs makes me want to crawl out of my skin and right into her p-ssy.

Every one of my other senses comes to life when I’m thrust into total darkness by the blindfold. Isa’s movements can be heard as she makes her way around the room and digs into the bag of unknown items. Soft music fills my ears to the tune of Fiona Apple singing Criminal. I haven’t heard this particular song in eons and listening to the lyrics sets me on edge. What exactly does Isa have planned that she’s feeling like a criminal and needs to be redeemed from? The more I listen to the song and imagine Isa mouthing it to me, the more it makes me shift uncomfortably in the chair. My cock is rock hard and the cool wetness of my precum drips down my shaft.

“Is that for me?” Isa asks.

Her warm, raspy tongue licks the head of my dick and I unexpectedly moan out when her slick tongue ring glides over the tip of my strained cock.

Again, I hear sounds, some I recognize and others unfamiliar to me. So this is what it feels like to be blindfolded. This is complete lack of control right here: Bound and unseeing. My mind and alter ego scream at me to reject what’s happening and put an end to it, but my heart and cock tell them to shut the f*ck up and enjoy it. I’m torn between wanting this thing Isa does to me and needing to dominate her and be in command of the situation. I decide to hold my tongue and leash my inner Dom, and soak up the sinfulness that Isa has decided to gift me with.

The microwave buttons beep loudly against the backdrop of the music playing and the carousel turns squeakily inside of it. I do my best to ready myself mentally for whatever torture Isa has planned.

The microwave beeps after only a short time and Isa moves up next to me. I can feel the heat of her body radiating onto me and I wrench against the bindings around my wrists, wanting to tear them off, throw her down onto the bed and f*ck her in agonizing ways until she screams my name.

“What are you thinking about?” Isa asks, catching me off guard.

Should I tell her? Here it goes… “I want to tear these ropes off of me and f*ck you in excruciating ways until you cry my name,” I answer without holding back. I may regret that little confession, but so be it.

Isa giggles deviously. “And you can when I’m finished with you, but I’m glad to see you’re in the right subspace,” she says sarcastically.

I lick my dry lips and Isa swiftly grabs my face and sucks my tongue before I can get it back into my mouth.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” she breathes into my mouth.

My face flushes from the foreign feeling of embarrassment that only Isa can draw it out of me.

“Once.”

“Then let me say it again – you’re jaw-dropping, awe-inspiring beautiful, my sweet lover,” she whispers as she nibbles my bottom lip. I push my head forward, wanting to kiss her, but she pulls back and moves to the microwave, taking out whatever it is she heated.

The next thing I feel is odd and mysterious, and not painful like I had anticipated.

I’m not sure how long I stay sitting like this, an hour maybe? The song cycles through over and over as Isa brushes the warm liquid over my body and everywhere except for where I most want her to touch me. On occasion, she reheats the liquid and continues on. When she’s finished, the sound of the bag can be heard again as Isa digs something else out.

The familiar sound of something being squeezed from a tube can be heard and Isa rubbing her hands together rapidly. Finally, she puts her hands around my cock. They’re warm from the friction of her rubbing them together and lubed. Her tight, slick grip moves up and down the length of me - slow, then fast, and slow again. Her movements are neither paced nor methodical. Instead they are unpredictable and it’s f*cking maddening and frustrating as hell. I can’t get into the rhythm of her motions and it’s frustrating as hell, to say the least. It’s quite obvious she’s doing this on purpose. Whatever was painted on my body is starting to dry and the feeling reminds me of when I was a child and would play in the mud, and the way the mud felt when it dried on my hands.

I notice a very distinct warm sensation on my dick that’s not coming from Isabel’s hands. It’s a lingering kind of heat and the smell is fragranced like cinnamon. It’s a new sensation to me and not completely unwelcome. Just when I start to feel the buildup of an orgasm, Isa stops. God damn it. Suddenly the chair is tipped back and I jerk, thinking I’m going to fall over, but then the back of the chair hits the edge of bed. My body relaxes once I realize what’s going on. The bed dips as Isa climbs on and she pulls the blindfold off of me. My eyes are still adjusting to the light when Isa straddles my shoulders and smothers me with her cunt.

“F*ck me with that long, splendid tongue of yours,” she demands politely.

I stick my tongue out and Isa pushes down onto it and begins riding my face. I open my eyes to see her fingering her * with one hand and pinching at one of her nipples with the other. Her eyes are completely dilated and fixated on mine. Just when I think I can’t breathe, Isa eases off of me, allowing me to catch my breath. When I’m ready for her, I push my face into her again and start biting and sucking at every part of her p-ssy, her fuzzy labia and mound, her *, her inner thighs - anywhere I can reach. Isa spreads her p-ssy open for me and I grind her * through my teeth, making her scream out.

The pain in my wrists is penetrating my thoughts as I continue to pull against my restraints. Drool runs down my chin and the sides of my mouth while I please my Mistress. My tongue starts to ache but not for long. Isa sits back on my chest and her body quivers with release, her juices running down my chest. She reaches over and places the blindfold back on my eyes and climbs off of me. My Mistress then moves between my legs again and puts her mouth over me. When I feel her tongue ring hit the tip of my cock, I arch my back, giving into the sensation of release. It doesn’t take much more effort on her part and this time, she allows me to cum. I throw a few obscenities into the air and slump back down into the chair.

Isa slowly and carefully unbinds me and then guides me into the restroom. I hear her flick the light and she removes my blindfold. I’m facing the mirror and the vision of my own painted body is incomparable to anything I’ve ever seen. The outline of where the rope was is bare and free from paint, but it leaves a design through the decorated areas that’s just absolutely f*cking brilliant. I can’t take my eyes off of my own abstract image. The colors are complimentary, dark and brooding with only an occasional hint of brightness. I grow hard looking at my mirrored self. When I’m finally able to look away from the mirror, I gaze at Isa and she’s watching me curiously and smiling only slightly.

“You’re the best work I’ve ever done,” she says.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” I respond, pulling her into my arms.

The next hour is spent with Isa snapping photos of me in every possible position and pose she can think up. I readily comply with her wishes and demands just to see her smile. Her eyes shimmer with joy and a wicked smile is spread across her face. I can’t bring myself to wash off the paint, so we lie in each other’s arms at the end of the night, both naked and painted skin-to-skin.

Eventually, when our lighthearted chatting dies down, her eyes sadden.

“Tell me what’s on your mind, love,” I encourage her.

“My mother. It seems she’s been on my mind a lot lately and my father, too. I wish I was able to think of her without thoughts of papa overtaking the very few happy memories I have of her. I hardly remember her and what I do recall… I’d rather not remember.”

The room is quiet except for the sounds of our breathing. Isa rolls on to her side to face me and runs her fingers through my hair.

“I’m so afraid of losing you and everything we have together,” she says quietly, her eyes scanning mine for some kind of reassurance.

“There are no guarantees in life, Isa, and bad things happen to good people. But I can promise you that I’ll never leave you to face this world alone and I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe and always be here for you.”

All I can do is pray my words are comforting to her. I don’t know what else to give her but my undying love. That and my words are all I have to offer. I hope they’re enough. By the smile and the gleam in her warm amber eyes, it’s enough for now.