The Art of Control by Ella Dominguez Read Free Book Online Page A

fear of his reprisal. Dylan has told me on more than one occasion that the sound of my voice distracts him, so I’ll just keep my mouth shut.  The smell of maple and vanilla drifts past my nose and it’s then that I realize what the sticky liquid is that Dylan’s licking at. He pours more hot syrup down my spine and I cringe from the sweltering heat. He laps that up, too, and quickly soothes it with ice, letting the melting cube drip down my ass and back. It feels fantastic and soothing, and my panting begins to slow. I concentrate on my Master’s breathing and movements, and my own heartbeat in my ears. I love him so much and I want him to be pleased with my acquiescence and total submission.
    I’m purring softly, yearning to be fucked. Dylan lies next to me and starts brushing my hair, his engorged prick pressing against my thigh. I turn my face to the side and gaze at him dreamily. He’s smiling devilishly at me and I’m not quite sure what to make of his expression. I watch him cautiously, knowing that my sadistic Master isn’t done playing with me yet. His eyes betray his need to give me more pain and I wait patiently until he decides to give me more.
    “You belong to me, Isabel,” he says out of nowhere.
    He’s not telling me something I don’t already know.
    “You’re my property and I want yo u marked as such.”
    Here we go with this again. My belly flutters with nervousness at the thought of being marked. What exactly does he mean by that anyway? Another piercing? A tattoo? What? Though the thought of being marked for Dylan is sexy as hell and I’m excited at the idea of it, I’ll be damned if I’m getting my clit pierced. Screw that business . My little tingly friend is off limits.
    I smile at him and he digs his fingers into my ass, making me cr y out in pain. His devious smirk widens and he licks and bites his bottom lip.
    “Are you going to answer me?” he says.
    “I didn’t think that was a question,” I respond.
    Dylan’s eyes gleam and dilate. “It wasn’t.”
    Leaning into my ear, he licks the crook, his lusty breath driving me insane.
    “Master, please…” I purr.
    “Please, what? ” Dylan teases.
    “I want you inside of me,” I beg.
    “Not yet. I’m not done wit h you. I want to see that lush ass turn blood red,” he whispers into my ear.
    He moves on top of me and breach es my wet entrance with his fingers, only to withdraw them, leaving me slick and uncomfortable. Without warning, the wooden brush is slapped on my butt again. He swats it time and time again, the blood rushing to the surface, sending my mind reeling. Holy stars and stripes, I swear to Mother Mary I can actually see stars as I close my eyes tightly. I’m near the limit of my pain tolerance. Just a little more. I want just a little more.
    “ More, Master, more,” I mewl.
    Dylan’s breathing quickens and he straddles my thighs.
    “Fuck, Isa, you look so God damned exquisite right now,” he groans.
    I lift my ass up as high as it will go and the peak of my orgasm washes over me, my body shuddering with release. He wallops me one last time and I teeter on the edge of ecstasy and agony. My body flushes and heats from the inside out, but the warm rush turns to a cold chill and I start to shake uncontrollably. I try to say the word that will stop it all, but Dylan reads my body language and stops . I’m thankful because I can’t take anymore. I’ve had my fill of pain for the night.
    I wail into the bed and float up above myself. My mind and heart are racing and I feel weightless and serene. When I open my eyes, Dylan has untied me and pulled me into the fetal position onto his lap. I’m covered with his body and his face is hidden in my neck. 
    “ Oh, how I love to watch you fly, my precious angel,” he breathes into my ear.
    Those words… they comfort me and exhaustion sweeps me away.
    When I wake, I’m lying on my stomach and Dylan is lying next to me, rubbing my back and watching me