Page 57 of Bartholomew
“I don’t know,” he muttered. “I don’t want to fight. I want to see you smile. I want things to be better between us.”
“I want that, too. I don’t know how to do both, exactly,” I admitted. “I don’t want to fight. I want things to be better. But at the same time…”
“What about this?” he began when my words trailed off. “What if we promise to do better moving forward? We can’t change the past. But we can work together and do better from here on out.” I mulled over his words, finding a lot of maturity and wisdom in his words. We couldn’t change what had happened. We could only move forward.
“Okay, forgiven,” I conceded with a small smile.
“Keep ‘em coming, sugar,” he teased.
“You said that you all learned about the whole DBMS thing at that club, right?” I asked.
“BDSM, but yes, at Abditory,” he answered with a smile.
“Right, BDSM. Did you take classes together, or how does that work?” I envisioned the five brothers sitting at desks like schoolboys. I couldn’t keep my laughter from bubbling up at the thought.
“What has you giggling, firefly?” he asked, his eyebrow quirked up in question.
“I’m imagining you boys sitting in a classroom at desks, taking notes on how to pleasure a woman,” I sputtered out between giggles.
“Oh Jesus,” he laughed along with me. “No, it’s not quite like that. There are classes at Abditory, many in fact. But it’s not sitting at desks like school was growing up. There are classes on rope where you can learn different ties, the physical anatomy of bondage, and more. Then there are demo nights where specific things, such as rope or whips, or even toys, are discussed and then demonstrated. It’s a really great way to learn,” he explained.
“Oh! What classes have you taken?” I asked, finding my interest piqued.
“Hell, that’s a laundry list of things, but my favorite class was regarding the mental aspect of kink.” He turned slightly as he spoke, fishing for another blanket from the side table.
“You can just share with me, if you wish,” I offered. It wasn’t much, but the small peace offering had his face lighting up with hope.
“I would love that.” He pulled the blanket over him, extending his legs to lie on the outside of the couch alongside mine. “So, the class I took on the mental aspect of kink was all about using dominance in a mental capacity. Now, it got pretty dark towards the end of the class, which is all good and fine, but not for me. That’s a level of sadism I simply don’t possess. But it taught me how to captivate the mind of a submissive and enhance the scene that much more.”
“I’m not sure I’m fully understanding,” I admitted. “Can you give me an example?”
“Absolutely. Last night, I asked you to not orgasm. I asked you to hold back for just a moment for me. Do you remember?”
“Of course I do,” I said with a blush.
“God, that blush slays me, firefly. Well, I used my words to prolong the moment; to hold you there in that place and make you ride that sweet edge of bliss with me.” Even now, his words pulled me in, drew me to him in a way that made my breath catch in my throat and had me hanging on his words.
“Oh,” I barely stuttered out past the lump in my throat. “I think I see now.”
“I’d like to show you more,” he quipped, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.
“You mentioned that it’s about a power exchange. What does that mean, exactly?” I ventured forward, choosing to gloss over his innuendo and not let myself get reeled in by his sexual prowess. One night of lovemaking and he had me in the palm of his hand.
“It means exactly that. There is an exchange of power that takes place between partners. A submissive gives the Dominant control of the scene that they are going to play out. There are a lot of different styles for power exchanges. From playing just a single scene out, to total power exchanges where the dynamic plays out in their daily life all the time,” he clarified.
“That sounds intense. I couldn’t imagine giving someone full control of me twenty-four seven.” I tried to wrap my brain around such a thought.
“Well, that’s just it. Even in that dynamic, it’s all about what is negotiated. So, you only exchange power over the things you both agree on. Everything is discussed and consented to. It’s the beauty of kink and what separates it from how things are here, in Zion.” I let his words sink in, imagining what it would be that I would want him to have control over.
“What would you want?” I asked, throwing caution to the wind.
“Well, that depends on what you want. As a Pleasure Dom, I derive pleasure from giving pleasure to my submissive. Giving her the scene she wants drives me and gives me pleasure.” Suddenly, a thought occurred to me.
“Do you… have a submissive?” I asked with trepidation. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer to that question.
“No! No, no, no. I have had play partners in the past, but I’ve never had someone who I have called my submissive,” he hurried to rectify my misunderstanding. That gave me a small margin of relief. The thought of him playing with someone else in the manner he had described cut like a knife right through me.
“So how does one become a submissive?” I asked, the question making the most logical sense to ask next.
