Page 3 of Bartholomew
“What the hell, Ollie?” Mark exclaimed under his breath.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Lorraine chuckled, with no actual humor in her voice. Mark and Lorraine were much closer to Levi than to me, but as members of the Abditory board, everyone knew them. They knew well what Levi had just gone through; what I was about to go through.
“I couldn’t handle any more talking about the ceremony. I needed to get away and get my head back on straight. What better place to do that than here?” I chuckled with what I hoped was my signature grin plastered on my face. Fake it ‘til you make it, right?
“Meredith is here tonight,” Mark commented, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“Is that so?” I said with great interest, my mood suddenly changing for the better.
“Yeah, she’s unattached tonight and is around here somewhere,” Lorraine agreed, looking around the crowded room for the busty brunette I had played with numerous times in the past.
Meredith was just fun. She was a polyamorous, pansexual switch. In short, she could not make a decision to save her damned life, and she was just great fun to play with. We had met a year ago at an event here at Abditory. One of Gideon’s rope girls had introduced me. Mer and I had hit it off like a hammer and a nail, in the best way possible. She had no intention of having any full-time partners, choosing to just play and be open and have fun. Nothing could have suited me better. The fact that she was here tonight, on what would likely be my last night at Abditory for the foreseeable future, was a sign from the hypothetical sky daddy himself that, for at least tonight, I was right where I was supposed to be.
The beautiful brunette suddenly appeared in my peripheral vision. I kept my eyes on her until her own eyes found me. The smile on my face was as genuine as could be now. She sauntered over to me, her full hips swaying and sashaying, calling me to her like a secret siren’s song called young sailors to their deaths in the depths of the sea. What a hell of a way to die.
“Well, hello there, handsome,” she all but purred at me.
“Hello, there yourself, Mer.” She walked straight into my open arms. She was soft, warm, and curvy in my arms. “Fancy a little fun tonight?” I suggested, stepping back to see her face once more.
“Is that an offer, Mr. Temple?” That lilt of a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth told me plenty, but I wanted the words.
“It damned well is. I would love to play tonight, if you are interested,” I clarified, making sure my intentions were crystal clear.
“Is your bag in a locker?” she asked, her eyes flitting around me and looking for the duffle bag I typically had slung over my shoulder.
“No bag tonight, dear,” I explained.
“No bag. Hmm, seems like you aren’t prepared to play,” she teased. My hand found her wrist quickly, tugging her lightly into me until I pulled her into my chest.
“Let me be clear, darling. All I need in order to play are these.” My fingertips danced up each of her arms, and I visibly saw the shiver travel down her body.
“Oh, I do think playtime is in order, Ollie. Absolutely.” Her eyes found mine, and that spark lit the last little bit within me that shifted my need from a burning ember to a raging inferno.
“Let the fun begin, then. Do you need a few minutes or —” I began.
“I’m pretty fucking sure you have everything I need there, Ollie Temple.” She was a sassy swot of a woman, and I could not wait to get my hands on her. I led Meredith through the crowd and towards one of the private rooms that were located down a long hallway at the back of the dungeon. It was a bit of a maze in the back of the building, but having themed rooms, private rooms, and more back here made this place amazing in my eyes.
We entered the private room, and I looked around. There wasn’t much special about this room other than the ornate four-poster bed. It was one of many reasons I liked this room so much. It made restraining a woman so much easier and also provided a modicum of comfort for the submissive, letting me torture them that much longer. Not that I had my restraints or anything with me tonight to make use of such things. That was the beauty of how I preferred to enjoy kink, though. I didn’t need fancy equipment or anything. Dominance was so much more than toys and implements. Dominance of the mind was much more my game.
“Anything you want to experience tonight in particular? Anything you want to steer clear of?” I asked her, watching intently as she moved about the room, shaking the day’s stresses off as she moved.
“The normal stuff we always talk about. We don’t have equipment, so a lot of the normal negotiations are moot. Normal safewords apply. No other people invited in. I’d prefer no heavy degradation tonight,” she explained, noting her wants and desires as we always discussed prior to a scene.
“I’m in no mood for anything degrading or mean tonight.” Catching her around the waist as she paced by me, I pulled her into me. “Except perhaps some orgasm denial. In that regard, I might be quite mean,” I teased.
“Oh, but that is just the sweetest torture, Ollie. You know how I love it.” She looked up at me, her hands moving up my biceps, following the lines of my body until they clasped behind my neck. “Can I have one kiss before we begin?”
Her request was the same every time. She wasn’t much of a kisser during a scene, for whatever reason. But at the very beginning and at the very end, she almost required it. It was sweet. Charming, even.
I leaned in, kissing her lips softly, sweetly. It wasn’t love, and it wasn’t romance. It was affection and respect. It was mutual trust, and the shared desire for a wonderful scene. And honestly, I enjoyed the little ritual of it.
“Thank you, Ollie,” she whispered as our lips parted.
“No more, Ollie, brat,” I teased her, getting us both into the headspace of what we were about to do.
“Yes, Mister.” Mister had been a favorite of mine for the past year. There were the typical honorifics used for Dominants, with Sir being at the top of everyone’s list. Mister was just different. Still a title of respect, but it was easier than Sir, or Master, which seemed to be another favorite. I wasn’t a Master. I was a Mister, and it suited me well.
“Good little brat,” I praised, bopping her on the nose. She scrunched her nose up all cute, and all I could think of was how I wanted her face contorted in pleasure, as soon as fucking possible.
