The Art of Control (31 page)

With quaking hands
, Isabel slowly lowers the gun and gives it Young. He uncocks it and hands it over to me, and we both let out a loud sigh of relief. Young reaches out to Isabel and pulls her into his arms and whispers words of praise into her ear.

“I love you
so much, baby girl. It took more control not to kill your father than to do what came easy and take his life. I’m so proud of you.”

“
Please forgive me for defying you, Master,” she weeps. “Are you going to punish me now?”

“
No, my precious angel, you’ve punished yourself enough today. Let’s go home and never speak of this again,” he tells her.

As they turn to walk away, Mr. Ibanez jumps and starts spewing all sorts of shit
about how he’s a real man and should’ve killed Young when he had the chance, but I shove him back down and punch him in the mouth, effectively shutting him up. He doesn’t need to ruin Isabel and Young’s moment of calm. Just as they head towards the back door, Young looks over at me and silently mouths his final order.

“Finish it.”

I don’t mind if I do.

***

Isabel

My clothes are
covered in blood and I just want to wash everything about today off of me. Simons isn’t dead and I hate to admit it, but I’m relieved. His plan was to rape me but I gave him more than he bargained for when I damn near sterilized him by kicking him in the balls. I cringe thinking about the pained expression on his face when my foot met his spleen.

“I kicked Simons
’ ass.
Again
,” I say, feeling the need to explain what happened.

“Did he…?” Dylan asks.

“
No. That was his plan but I didn’t give him a chance. His busted balls will teach him to fuck with Mistress Isabel again.” I try to immediately retract my F-bomb. “Sorry, Sir, it just slipped out. I remembered where Papa’s gun was and I grabbed it while he was winded.”

My mind is starting to shut down and close in on
itself. So much has happened in the last few days I can’t even fathom how to take it all in. Closing my eyes, I drift away into a deep sleep. I vaguely hear the sounds of Sawyer entering the car after what seems like hours. Dylan and Sawyer speak in hushed tones and I’m not able to make out what they’re saying, but it makes no difference. I’m tired and I just want to rest.

The sound of the jet’s roaring engines wakes me with a star
t and it’s then that I realize that we’ve landed in Denver. It’s hard to believe I slept through the entire trip. I didn’t even feel it when Dylan carried me onto the plane.

With Dylan’s coat wrapped around me
covering my bloody clothing, I’m whisked away quickly into the Rover and driven home.

We no sooner make it into the house when Dylan is running a hot bath and undressing me. No words are spoken when we climb in together and soak away the horrible events of the day.

“Please talk to me, love. I need to hear your voice,” my Master breathes into my ear, cuddling me and running his fingers through my hair.

“I can’t…”

“Yes, you can. You’re so much stronger than you think. After everything that’s happened over the last six months; here we are, safe and in each other’s arms. Tell me what you’re thinking about,” he whispers sweetly, pulling me closer, the water sloshing around us loudly.

“I’ll never be a mother and my father will never pay for what he’s done.”

“He will, Isa, I promise you that. And I’ll make another promise to you right now: If being a mother is what you truly want, then I’ll do everything in my power to make it happen. I’ll seek out the best fertility doctors this world has to offer and I’ll pay any amount of money they ask to give you what your heart desires. If every medical option has been exhausted and you still can’t conceive, then we’ll adopt.”

I wince
at the idea, looking up at Dylan, terrified at the thought of raising someone else’s child.

“No,” I say.

“How can you say that after what you’ve been through? Wouldn’t you want to give a child in need a chance at a better life? A child who is living in the kind of environment you were raised in?”

As usual, he’s right.
Yes, I do want to save a child from having to endure the things I did. His eyes are smoldering and the sheer compassion exuding from him puts him in a whole new light for me. Just when I thought it was impossible to love him anymore, I do. I love him entirely, completely, eternally and infinitely, and beyond the stars and universe.

“
Yes, but…” I start to say, but my Master puts his finger up to my mouth tenderly.

“You don’t have t
o make a decision right now; it’s just something to think about. We have a lifetime ahead of us to decide what we’re going to do. I love you; heart and soul, and we’re going to grow old together.  We’ll make things right and find our way, no matter how long it takes or where life takes us.”

“What about
our happily ever after?” I ask as I stare into the truest, most loyal blue eyes to ever gaze back at me.

“No matter how long it takes, we’ll find that, too
, pussycat. I promise.”

Isabel

Setting the painting out to dry, I step back and scan the image. It’s pretty good for not having painted in almost a year. Tears prick the corners of my eyes thinking about how much I’ve missed the feeling of the brush in my hand and the exhilaration of creativity.
Thank you, my sweet lover, for your patience and inspiration.

I head into the bathroom to get cleaned up and there’s a
blue sticky note posted to the mirror.

Have a wonderful day, my precious angel.
Never forget – I LOVE YOU! P.S. How about the rig tonight, my sexy little wench?

God, I love that man. I’
ll never feel deserving of his love, even though I know, I am worthy of it. I shower, thinking about the amazing scene we played out last night in the dungeon – a gentle spanking followed by a hellacious flogging and sweet vanilla with a twist sex. This is my life and I couldn’t and wouldn’t want it any other way.

After drying off, I rub vitamin E
oil on the small scar over my right ovary and say a small prayer that the corrective surgery worked. Then I rub the oil over my right wrist. The new engraving is still raw and tender, but the scrolled blue letters of my husband’s name are gorgeous on my pale skin. Next, I quickly swallow my fertility pills with plenty of water and dig out the ovulation kit. This has become my daily routine.

While I set up the
kit, my mind wanders to my father. I’ve come to accept his suicide, but still there’s always the lingering feeling of something lost. Why didn’t he just apologize to me in person instead of writing a letter? Why did he feel it necessary to finish off Simons after I had already hurt him? All of these unanswered questions – will I ever find out what really happened? Probably not and I’m okay with that. It’s time to move on with my life and leave all of that ugliness behind.

Finding the clothes that Master set out for me, I bring
them into the restroom while I wait for my bladder to prime. I brush my teeth and overly long hair while contemplating calling the salon to get it cut. Finally feeling the urge to pee, I grab the urine cup and do my business. My stomach does a flip-flop and my heart begins to beat rapidly.
Please, please let all the surgery and treatments have worked
… I take in a deep breath and blow it out slowly.

Here we go. It’s show time.

***

Dylan

After sitting through another tedious meeting, my thoughts are now on Isabel. The vision of her painting when I left is overwhelming. Eight months after her ordeal with her father and his
murder/suicide,
and ongoing intense psychotherapy for the both of us, we’re only now starting to break through and make significant progress. The therapy has been beneficial for the both of us. For Isa, it’s helped her to deal with the things she suffered through as a child and young adult and to deal with her father’s further betrayal as an adult. For me, the therapy helps me to get over my often times crippling guilt over my parent’s death. We still have a long way to go to be free of our tragic pasts, but we’re in it for the long haul.

Only recently has Isa
finally become inspired enough to pick up her paintbrush again.  Though, it’s not been for lack of trying on my part to
stimulate
her imagination. Her newest creation: A self-portrait of a strong and fearless woman having the courage to face an uncertain and often times cruel world, a beautiful and creative woman in control. I clutch my chest thinking about our love for one another, how much we’ve come through, the possibility that we will someday become parents, and the undeniable talent that she’s gifted the world and me with.

Speaking of stimulating imagination – Sawyer has finally decided to take me up on my
offer to educate him on how to be a Dom and all I have to say is, it’s about damned time. His recent time-out with Sonya was unexpected, but Sawyer says he’s doing it so he can become the man and Dom that she needs. Hopefully she’ll wait for him because I know how much he cares about her. I’m also hoping that all of our discussions have prepared him for the training I have planned.

I’m sitting at my desk with my head in the clouds thinking of all the possibilities for Sawyer
’s edification when I should be thinking about work. Wanting nothing but the best for my friend, I have asked Isa to assist with his training and she’s agreed, under my guidance of course, and I truly feel she’ll be the perfect submissive and Domme to help teach him the ropes.

I’m jotting notes down of scenes I want played out between the two of them w
hen a deep voice comes over the intercom.

“Your wife is here, Mr. Young. I’l
l send her right in,” James informs me.

It’s
strange having a male personal assistant, but it was Mistress Isabel’s final decision and I’ve learned it’s best to let her have her way - most of the time, anyway. I have to challenge her a little or else there’s no hope of receiving her delicious punishment.

When Isa comes in,
she has the strangest look on her face.

“
The verdict is in.”

I stand and pull her to me, anxious to hear the
results.

“Go on, don’t tease me,
wench.”

Isa
grins widely, showing off her large, bright white and adorably slightly crooked teeth. “Calm your tits, my sweet lover. I’m ovulating,” she says as the air leaves her lungs.

“It worked?
” I whisper.

She nods and her eyes well up with tears. “
It really worked.”

“Holy magical
fertility clinic!” I yell, picking Isa up in my arms and swinging her around.

She squeals
out and laughs, the sound of her sheer joy making my heart overflow with the kind of love that only she can elicit from me.

“You’re goin
g to be a mother, Isabel Young, and I’m going to be your baby daddy!”

I put her down and she suddenly looks serious.

“Maybe. Remember, all this means is that I’m ovulating, it doesn’t mean that I can conceive.”

“Don’t be such a naysayer.
The doctors never said there would be any problem with that. Anyway, we’re half way there, pussycat. Hell, we never thought we’d get this far. Now, with a little bit of luck and a whole lot of
effort
, I’m sure my bad-ass alpha seed can find its way to your submissive eggs.”

Her smiles returns but the sadness in her
honey eyes is all too evident. She’s still thinking about her mother and father and I can’t deny that I’m not thinking about mine, too. We’re alone in this world with no siblings or parents to speak of and we’re all we have; the two of us are our only little family unit. Of course, I can’t forget about Sawyer - he’s family, too.

“Dylan, I’m scared,” Isa laments, her eyebrows knitting together.

“Why?”

“I don’t know how to be a mother. What if I’m terrible at it?”

“You have so much to offer, love. Your heart is so full of kindness that’s not even a possibility. Oh, Isa, don’t you know that?”

“Yes, I guess I do. No…
yes… I don’t know. I just don’t have any examples to go by. I hardly remember my mother.”

She’s right,
but I believe with every ounce of my being that won’t hinder her from being the most wonderful mother ever.

“Do you think my father was truly sorry for what he did?” she asks out of the
clear blue.

“Of course he wa
s,” I answer, feeling only a twinge of guilt for the lie I’ve just told.

“Why didn’t he just tell me? I gave him the opportunity
to say it,” she responds gloomily.

“We’ll never know
and we’ll never accomplish anything by trying to figure it out. Even though he took his own life, at least he was finally man enough to give you the closure you needed by admitting his actions towards you, your mother and Simons.”

Thank YOU
, Sawyer, for the closure.

“Yes, you’re right,” she affirm
s.

“Of course I am.
So, what do you say we skip this joint and go try to make a baby?”

“Oh, yes, t
hat sounds fabulous. By the way, I called the doctor and asked if it was okay to use whips and restraints and such.”

“What? No you did not
…” I state, shocked.

“Of course I did. He said as long as it was safe, sane and consensual, and I was the one
doing all of the whipping and restraining, everything should be fine.”

Isabel has the hugest, toothiest,
most deceiving grin ever to grace her beautiful freckled face.

“He actually said
safe, sane and consensual
?”

“Yes,” she smirks.

“Nice try. You’re a terrible liar, Isabel. You know what happens to naughty little lying wenches, don’t you?” I ask, pulling her closer and biting into her neck.

“I’m not lying, I’m kidd
ing, but please show me anyway,” she moans, going limp in my arms and giving herself over to me.

“
Oh, I plan on it. But first – to the dungeon, wench!”

“Respect the woman, desire the slut, and cherish the little girl. Then you have the mind, body and soul.”
By Unknown