Read Online The Art of Domination by Ella Dominguez - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ella Dominguez
Tags: Romance, Contemporary
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reeling and my body feels as if it’s spinning and rising and falling.
I take mental notes of every sensation that I’m feeling and try to envision what Dylan looks like and the look in his eyes. I wonder how he must feel being in complete control and not holding back.
Abruptly, I feel leather slapped against my belly and the severity of it startles me. He’s never hit me that hard before. I writhe from the pain, but again he’s relentless and whips the entire length of my body. Still, I can only hear the music and see darkness. My adrenaline is surging and I feel as if I’m going to pass out from the pain. Just when I think I can’t take anymore, the whipping stops and Dylan’s fingers are inside me again, pulling and tugging at me.
I hear him climb on top of the table with me as it creaks with the weight of both our bodies. He moves between my legs and his warm, wet tongue moves up and down my clit and then slips inside of me. It feels like heaven. He moves on top of me and tugs at the clamps again and the sensation is so powerful that I arch my back trying to ease the pressure on my nipples. I moan out loudly and bite down on the gag once again. He leans down onto me and whispers into my ear.
“I own you, Isabel Young - all of you - mind, body and soul. Your body is mine to do whatever I want with it,” he says as he bites my earlobe.
I’m sweating from the intensity of what’s going on and shivering when the cool air hits my body. His licks my neck and then my cheek. Finally he removes the gag and kisses me. He tastes divine. I thrust my hips upwards to meet the hardness that’s between us.
“Not yet,” he says softly and climbs off the table.
Again I’m left alone, squirming and pulling against my restraints. The hot wetness that he’s dripped on me has hardened on my skin and only then do I realize that it’s wax. When Dylan comes back, he runs something wet across my lips with his fingers. I lick my lips and I taste wine. It’s slightly sweet and fruity. Dylan lifts the back of my head and tips my chin up so that he can pour a little of it into my mouth. I greedily drink it as I’m parched from all my panting and heavy breathing. Some of it spills out of my mouth and runs down my chin and neck, and Dylan licks it from my skin and kisses my lips. Again, he runs ice over my mouth and down my body and tugs at the nipple clamps.
His torture just goes on and on for what feels like hours. The table is hard and cold and uncomfortable. He just keeps teasing my clit in between lashings and drips searing hot wax on me. Anytime I try to moan or scream out, he sticks his fingers into my mouth and gags me quiet. Why does he torture me so? I thought he loved me. He said I have to trust him and I do. But to what end?
That damned song just keeps playing over and over, ‘everything in its right place.’ I can’t take this anymore. I start to whimper and feel as if I’m going to start crying. I remind myself there are no safewords tonight. The darkness, the music, his touches, the pain, the pleasure, his fingers inside me bringing me near orgasm and then denying me… I want to scream out for him to just fuck me and get it over with.
What time is it? What day i s it? Where am I?
Chapter 7
Dylan
My perfect little wife. She’s doing remarkably well considering what I’m putting her through. It’s been nearly two hours and she hasn’t blacked out on me yet. Should I keep going? I want to. I want her to pass out from sheer exhaustion and pain. I love her. Yes, I love her . So why am I doing this to her? Because it feels good; because I like seeing her like this; because I like giving her pain and pleasure and punishing her; because I love seeing her mentally begging me to fuck her. She wants to know my secrets so I’m showing her what it is I truly like doing. This is only the tip of the iceberg; I hope she realizes that.
When she starts to whine uncontrollably, I climb on top of her and caress
I take mental notes of every sensation that I’m feeling and try to envision what Dylan looks like and the look in his eyes. I wonder how he must feel being in complete control and not holding back.
Abruptly, I feel leather slapped against my belly and the severity of it startles me. He’s never hit me that hard before. I writhe from the pain, but again he’s relentless and whips the entire length of my body. Still, I can only hear the music and see darkness. My adrenaline is surging and I feel as if I’m going to pass out from the pain. Just when I think I can’t take anymore, the whipping stops and Dylan’s fingers are inside me again, pulling and tugging at me.
I hear him climb on top of the table with me as it creaks with the weight of both our bodies. He moves between my legs and his warm, wet tongue moves up and down my clit and then slips inside of me. It feels like heaven. He moves on top of me and tugs at the clamps again and the sensation is so powerful that I arch my back trying to ease the pressure on my nipples. I moan out loudly and bite down on the gag once again. He leans down onto me and whispers into my ear.
“I own you, Isabel Young - all of you - mind, body and soul. Your body is mine to do whatever I want with it,” he says as he bites my earlobe.
I’m sweating from the intensity of what’s going on and shivering when the cool air hits my body. His licks my neck and then my cheek. Finally he removes the gag and kisses me. He tastes divine. I thrust my hips upwards to meet the hardness that’s between us.
“Not yet,” he says softly and climbs off the table.
Again I’m left alone, squirming and pulling against my restraints. The hot wetness that he’s dripped on me has hardened on my skin and only then do I realize that it’s wax. When Dylan comes back, he runs something wet across my lips with his fingers. I lick my lips and I taste wine. It’s slightly sweet and fruity. Dylan lifts the back of my head and tips my chin up so that he can pour a little of it into my mouth. I greedily drink it as I’m parched from all my panting and heavy breathing. Some of it spills out of my mouth and runs down my chin and neck, and Dylan licks it from my skin and kisses my lips. Again, he runs ice over my mouth and down my body and tugs at the nipple clamps.
His torture just goes on and on for what feels like hours. The table is hard and cold and uncomfortable. He just keeps teasing my clit in between lashings and drips searing hot wax on me. Anytime I try to moan or scream out, he sticks his fingers into my mouth and gags me quiet. Why does he torture me so? I thought he loved me. He said I have to trust him and I do. But to what end?
That damned song just keeps playing over and over, ‘everything in its right place.’ I can’t take this anymore. I start to whimper and feel as if I’m going to start crying. I remind myself there are no safewords tonight. The darkness, the music, his touches, the pain, the pleasure, his fingers inside me bringing me near orgasm and then denying me… I want to scream out for him to just fuck me and get it over with.
What time is it? What day i s it? Where am I?
Chapter 7
Dylan
My perfect little wife. She’s doing remarkably well considering what I’m putting her through. It’s been nearly two hours and she hasn’t blacked out on me yet. Should I keep going? I want to. I want her to pass out from sheer exhaustion and pain. I love her. Yes, I love her . So why am I doing this to her? Because it feels good; because I like seeing her like this; because I like giving her pain and pleasure and punishing her; because I love seeing her mentally begging me to fuck her. She wants to know my secrets so I’m showing her what it is I truly like doing. This is only the tip of the iceberg; I hope she realizes that.
When she starts to whine uncontrollably, I climb on top of her and caress
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