Page 69 of Bartholomew
“I’d like to do something with you tonight,” Ollie piped up from across the table. We had fixed a delicious dinner together. A traditional breakfast frittata with some fruit on the side. Breakfast for dinner. Ollie had called it brinner, which I found wildly adorable.
“What’s that? Another item on our list?” I asked eagerly.
“In a way, yes. I want to have a scene tonight if you are willing.” A scene tonight? I felt nervous arousal swirl deep in the pit of my stomach.
“I think I could be convinced,” I teased, raising an eyebrow at him.
“I like that little bit of sass, babygirl. More than you know. But yes, I would love to do a scene tonight. I’d like to have you wear one item I bought for you, and I want to try a few new things,” he explained. I could feel that part of me, the part that wanted to protest and hide myself away because of how I looked. I didn’t want it to, but I couldn’t help it. I looked down at my mostly empty plate, pushing the last few bites of food around aimlessly.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.
“No, nothing is wrong,” I sighed, still not wanting to look at him.
“Then why won’t you look at me? Why did you clam up when I mentioned new things?”
“It’s not the new things. Well, not entirely. It’s just that the new outfits…” I trailed off, trying to find the right words to convey how I was feeling, part of me not wanting to discuss it at all.
“I know that it’s difficult for you, but that’s why I want to do it. You need to know how incredible you are; to see how beautiful I think you are.” His words were a soothing balm to my embarrassment, helping but not getting rid of the deep wound that laid deep within me.
“What are these new things you want to try?” I asked, needing to change the subject, even if only for a little while. I could not keep thinking about wearing one of those skimpy little outfits.
“I want to try out a few new toys, a few new touches. And I want you to see how sexy you truly are in those outfits I bought for you. You are going to look positively scrumptious, Delilah. More than you already do.” I blushed at his words, cursing the dreaded heat that spread across my face. It was a tell of mine I could not control, and it annoyed me. Especially where Ollie was concerned because he constantly noticed. Or worse, commented on it. Though, his comments largely consisted of how much he loved it.
“So, does that mean you’ve given more thought to being in a dynamic?” I asked, those excited butterflies swarming in my stomach.
“It does. I would like to begin a trial period with you,” he answered, setting his utensils down and folding his hands together.
“Because you aren’t sure you would want me as a submissive?” I couldn’t help the insecurities from spilling out.
“No! No!” he quickly protested. “I want to do a trial period to see if it’s what you want. It will be a good time for us both to explore.” His explanation made sense, and I tried to focus on the good. He wanted to do this with me, or at least, he wanted to try.
“Then, okay. I want to do this trial period with you,” I agreed wholeheartedly.
“We will do a one-week trial. To see how we feel about it.”
“So, about this scene tonight…” I urged, eager to learn more about what tonight would entail for us both.
“For tonight, I want you to focus on pushing away those voices inside your head that say you aren’t good enough. I know that’s difficult. You’ll stumble and struggle. I expect that. But I want you to try to make a conscious effort to ignore them. Focus on what I’m saying to you, not what you think you’re reading into my words.” His words sunk in, and I vowed to myself to put my best efforts in.
“Focus on how it feels to listen to my words, to obey them. I want that from you. Your obedience. And your sounds. Don’t hold back those gorgeous sounds from me. I want you to go to our room, pick out one of those outfits, and put it on. I am going to clean up dinner and then join you. When I arrive, I want you standing at the foot of our bed, legs spread shoulder width apart, hands down at your sides, and your eyes lowered. Can you do that for me?” I listened to his instructions, letting that feeling of submission outweigh the insecurities I already felt.
“Yes, I can do that,” I spoke confidently. I wanted this. I wanted him.
“Then, get to it, firefly.” His voice was powerful, commanding, and I wanted nothing more than to obey. I stood from the table, quickly making my way to the bedroom. He had planned this, I realized as I saw the outfits laid out on the bed for me to choose from. That thought gave me great joy. He wanted this.
I looked over my options. The blush, the blue, and the green. All frilly little things that left little to the imagination.
Push it aside, Delilah.
I steeled myself against the voices in my head, telling me I would look awful in each of them. The green. That’s what I would wear. I hadn’t even looked at it when I had taken it out of the box this afternoon. It was beautiful. They all were, but the green item was a beautiful chemise. Much shorter than I would have ever felt comfortable in, but this was for Ollie, and I wanted to please him.
Setting the other two aside, I took the green article into the bathroom. I cleaned myself up, removing my clothing and tossing them into the hamper. I took a moment to look at myself in the mirror. Those damned mirrors.
Push it aside, Delilah, I reminded myself again. I had a feeling that was going to become a mantra of the evening if I were going to obey Ollie’s orders. Whatever it took, I would obey.
I slipped the chemise over my head, letting the soft, sheer fabric cascade over my body as I adjusted the cups over my breasts. It barely contained them. I glanced in the mirror; shock etched on my face. The fit of the bodice lifted my breasts, making them look curvier, firm, and quite enticing. My nipples were visible through the lace. The chemise fell to my upper thigh and tucked in nicely at my waist, giving me an hourglass figure I hadn’t ever paid attention to. I felt almost — no; I felt pretty in this. Not pretty. Sexy. Feminine.
Brushing a comb through my hair, I quickly tamed the waves and tangles until it framed my face in loose, almost curls. I shrugged off my reflection, eager to get into position and for the scene to begin. I plucked at the hem of my chemise as I stood at the end of the bed, positioning myself the way he had asked, and patiently waited.
