The Art of Domination Read Online Free PDF Page A

of her hands and pull her hair hard. “I asked you a question. Answer me.” 
    “Y ...y…yes,” she stutters out.
    “You like being fucked, don’t you, you little slut? Say it. Say you like being fucked.”
    “Dylan… please…”
    That’s not what I want to hear.   I pull her hair harder yet. “Say it God damn it.”
    “I like being fucked,” s he finally says.
    With that, I push into her hard one last time as I cum. Fuck vanilla with a twist. What I need is some good hard S&M action.
    I let go of Isa’s hair and she immediately r olls over onto her back and crawls backwards away from me, not saying anything. I’m still trying to catch my breath when she gets up and leaves the room and heads for the bathroom, I assume. After a few minutes I go into the bathroom where she’s cleaning herself up. She won’t look at me. What the hell is her problem? She finishes up, pushes past me and leaves the restroom. When I’m done cleaning myself and getting dressed, I find her completely dressed and sitting at the kitchen bar.
    I’m standing at the refrigerator chugging some water and when I turn to look at her she’s giving me the evil eye.
    “What?” I ask her.
    “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
    Shit. Just play it off, Young. “I don’t know what you mean.”
    Her eyes narrow at me and she looks me up and down, and folds her arms. 
    “Tell me,” s he says sternly.
    Don’t do it, Young. Don’t lie to her . Now’s your chance to tell her everything. “There’s nothing wrong, Isa.” Shit, I hate lying to her.
    ***

Isabel
    Like hell there’s nothing wrong.   He calls me a slut and I’m supposed to believe everything is okay? He’s never called me that before. I don’t mind a little bit of degradation, but I just hate that word.
    Dylan is standing in the kitchen trying to look innocent and nonchalant , but he looks like a child who’s been caught in a lie. Is he really going to just stand there and pretend like nothing’s wrong?
    “So you’re not going to tell me?” I ask him. 
    Typical Dylan style, he shrugs his shoulders and turns away from me. I hate that he’s always so secretive and closed off. Whatever .
    “ Then I am going home and don’t try to stop me,” I tell him as I get up and go over to grab my coat. Now where the hell did he put my keys?
    D ylan spins around and looks cheesed off.  “Like hell you are. Anyway, I thought we were going to order in some dinner.”
    “Change of plans. Where are my keys?”
    “Fucking hell, Isa. Can we please not fight tonight? I said no and that’s the end of it.”
    Oh, for the love of tequila. This man is impossible. “Where are my keys?” I say louder.
    “Why are you being like this?” he asks, exasperated.
    He’s got some nerve. “Gee, I wonder, Dylan. Maybe because there’s obviously something eating at you and you won’t tell me. Or maybe because I don’t particularly enjoy being called a slut .” This time I half yell it even though I didn’t really mean to raise my voice. I immediately feel bad for speaking to Dylan in such a way; especially when I see the look on his face.
    “ Don’t raise your voice to me, Isabel,” Dylan snaps.
    Damn . I know he hates that.  But he still hasn’t addressed what I said. Oh, to hell with this.
    “Where . Are. My. Keys?” I ask in a much softer manner but still very indignant.
    “ Oh, fuck me. Look, I’m sorry that I called you that okay? ” he says in a sarcastic stop-being-a-big-fucking-baby tone and rolls his eyes at me.
    Who is this man? This is NOT the Dylan I know and love. 
    “Fine. I’ll call a cab.” I dig my phone out and start dialing when Dylan reaches over and grabs my phone from my hand and slams on the kitchen counter.
    “Enough! Spanking bench, now,” he half yells at me.
    I am so not in the mood for this. I can feel my temperature starting to rise and it’s obvious tha t Dylan is seriously irate, too. I haven’t been spanked in at least a