Left of the Slash, page 22
This time, there are no conflicting feelings. I know who I am now, and I'm leaning into it heavily. The conversation with my father was life-changing—the kind of talk that alters brainwaves and thought processes forever. In just one day I have come into my own, giving in to my true desires no matter how devious they may be, but I did it with calm, thought-out moves that didn't land me in handcuffs. I could've easily punched Nick in the side of his big ass head when I saw him talking crazy to Olivia, but I kept that card in my pocket and played a better one. Now his entire work life has shifted. I beat him at his own game, because if I would've played my first card and hit him, it would've been assault, and I'd probably be both fired and arrested right now. He would've loved that, and so would Stephen. Now, they both have to answer to me, their superior. No jail time. Just Olivia’s playhouse and a dance in the darkness.
I have one goal tonight, and it can be summed up by one word. More. I want more of the things I've been running from. I want more of this lifestyle I've only just been introduced to and barely scratched the surface of. I want more of being a Dominant. More control. More pain. More pleasure. More Olivia.
That last one will be tricky, because I know who Olivia is. Standing in the Wonderland parking lot showed me where her head is at. I know she's still the woman she was when we first started our journey together—the woman who isn't interested in anything serious, the woman who is married to the company her late father left for her. She's still her father's daughter, and I get that. But I'm diving deeper. I'm twenty-seven years old and looking only to invest my time and energy into real things. I'm not here for the bullshit. I don't know what that will mean for us, but it doesn't stop me from being as real as I need to be, because the truth of the matter is that I'm not coming into my own for Olivia. I'm doing it for me, but I wouldn't mind if she was the beneficiary of it.
When I reach her door, I can smell the aroma of cooking food through it. Whatever she's making in there must be incredible, because nothing is able to contain it. I didn't expect her to cook anything, but my stomach is instantly glad she did. It rumbles as I knock on the door, and goes into a panic attack when Olivia opens it and the smell hits me full force. But it’s not the food that makes me stagger back. It’s Olivia’s beauty that tips my world over.
What she's wearing is simple—a white tank top with white and pink leggings—but her form changes the entire look. This is what a woman should look like, in my humble opinion. I have nothing against anybody’s body type, but a full-figured woman will always make my heart pound like a fucking drum. Everyone can have whatever they want, but give me the hips, the thick thighs, and the round ass that makes my mouth water. I want it all, and Olivia has it in abundance. Thank the heavens.
“Fuck,” I say aloud, although I meant it to be a whisper. I lick my lips and bite the bottom one as I scan her body from bottom to top, and find her smiling when my gaze reaches her flawless face. “You look good enough to eat.”
Her smile somehow grows. “Thank you. I tried to keep it simple because I'm cooking and didn't want to mess anything up. You hungry?”
I think, For you? Yes. But I only say, “Absolutely,” as I step over the threshold and she closes the door behind me.
I follow Olivia inside and take my seat at the bar looking into the kitchen. I watch her finish plating what looks like chicken teriyaki and perhaps some rice, then she grabs two wine glasses and fills them both with Chardonnay, setting everything down in front of me before making her way around the bar to sit down. I let her get settled, then grab my wine glass and hold it in front of her.
“A toast to the evening?”
Her eyebrows go up before she takes her glass. “Oh. Okay. What are we toasting to?”
Multiple thoughts run through my mind. I think about Dad, who played his role perfectly this morning with the exact advice that I needed to move forward in my life. I think about what happened between Nick and I in the office, and how I chose to beat him with my mind instead of my fists—even though my fists ache to smash against his face and perhaps break his fucking nose so that he remembers to never disrespect my woman ever again. I also think about how I made the move to end up here in Olivia’s house tonight. I could've waited until she invited me back, but I let her know that I wanted to be here. I staked my claim, and it’s a perfect metaphor for what I intend to do for the rest of my life. I could toast to it all, because I don't feel like the same person I was the first time I sat on this stool—back when I was struggling to make sense of it all, hiding from the parts of myself that weren't perfect or didn't put me in the best light. Those days are over. Light is overrated.
“How about … to owning who you are. Both the light and the dark.” I eventually say.
Olivia smirks as she clinks her glass against mine. “To owning who you are. The light and the dark.”
We toast and sip our wine, maintaining eye contact the entire time. I wonder if she knows how much I'm thinking about skipping the meal she just spent time preparing. Does she want to leave it all here and get right down to the playhouse like I do? I've been thinking about it nonstop since the last time I was there, surrounded by all of the toys that I know she can't use on herself. She needs me to make the playhouse what it is, and it doesn't matter if anyone else has ever stood in that space. It’s mine now, just like Olivia. Another claim being staked.
Olivia is the first to set her wine glass down and start eating. I take multiple sips of the Chardonnay while she cuts her chicken and puts a forkful in her mouth, and she looks at me similarly to how Rob was gazing at me when I went in to work this morning. It’s a look of curiosity and something akin to distrust. When I start in on my food, she leans back while chewing and keeps her eyes on me, and I know questions are coming.
“So, today was different,” she begins. “That was quite the way to handle Stephen and Nick. How long did you have that one planned out?”
I swallow my food and reach for the wine. “Oh, I made that up on the spot. I wanted to fuck him up for talking to you like that, but I’d just come from visiting my dad and I'm not too fond of the idea of being in a cell next to him. So, I chose to put both of them in a cell of their own. All of that lashing out and acting like kids is over. The unprofessional shit is in the past now, and as I grow more into this position, I’m sure I’ll find different ways of torturing them if they can't get it together. At least, that’s the plan until you finally decide to fire them.”
“And you're doing that … for me?”
“It’s for everybody,” I answer. “The entire company deserves better than their mediocrity, and you're the CEO. Not to mention who you are to me. I won't allow them to disrespect you. I may have avoided jail after the Wonderland incident, but I might not be so lucky next time, so I chose this path instead. Do you not approve?”
“No, I definitely approve,” she says with a huge smile like she's being entertained by the memory of what happened last night and this morning. “I'm not ashamed to admit that I found the Wonderland incident incredibly hot, which is why we ended up in my backseat, and this morning was just as hot. It was just different from what I was expecting from you. I know you punched Jon in the face, but that was because he attacked you in the conference room. Last night was similar to that, but this morning was different.”
“It was smarter,” I interject. “It’s something my dad told me when I saw him. Our conversation was a good one. He said a lot that I really needed to hear, and now I'm just trying to take his advice. So, some things might change a little for me, but it will all be worth it.”
“Good. I'm glad you took my advice and went to see him.”
“Me too,” I reply with a nod. I look at her and smile, because she was the one who told me to go see Dad. I might not have gone if it wasn't for her, and she may have inadvertently changed my life. It’s something I won't forget. “This food is incredible, by the way. You really know how to get down in the kitchen.”
Olivia smirks as she takes in another bite. “Thank you. I do my best. I guess being thirty-five has its perks. Been a lot of places. Learned a handful of recipes over my long life.”
I let out a laugh. “Look at you, acting like you're fifty-five instead of thirty-five. You're still young, baby girl.”
Olivia stops mid-chew and gazes at me. I see longing in her eyes, but there is also the undeniable shine of hesitation.
“Baby girl,” she repeats. “Is that your pet name for me?”
“I don't think about it before I say it,” I tell her. “It’s spontaneous, but if it bothers you, just say the word and I’ll drop it. I may be learning, but I know better than to push anything on you.”
She shakes her head, and I'm relieved when she starts chewing again and grins. “No, I like it. I don't usually like people calling me pet names, but that one just sort of rolls off your tongue effortlessly. So, it’s cool.”
“Good,” I reply. “I'm learning all sorts of new things about you. I didn't know you were turned on by what happened at Wonderland. From the show you put on in the parking lot, I was convinced you were actually pissed about it.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “I wasn't pissed. It was just … a lot. Simon and I dated for a little while so I knew him pretty well, and Jed was an associate at my old job. So as much as I wasn't a big fan of either of them, I was just shocked to see them both get knocked around like that. Plus, it just produced strong feelings in me that I'm not used to, which is what we were sort of arguing about outside … until.”
I lick my lips as I remember what comes after until.
“Yeah … until,” I say with one eyebrow raised. “I learned quite a bit about you last night, too, and I love everything I've learned so far, but I want to know more. Ever since you introduced BDSM to me, I've been surprised at how well I fit into it. It’s almost like I was meant for this all along, and I want to know more about both of us.”
“Yeah? So you have questions and want to ask the expert perv?”
I let out a belly-shaking laugh. “Yeah, actually I do. Teach me all of your pervy, deviant ways, oh filthy one. But seriously, like, what all are you into? I know the playhouse is down there with a bunch of shit in it, and we signed your contract-o-sex, but I want to hear it from you. Tell me, what are your favorite kinks?”
Olivia smiles hard like she's been waiting her entire life to discuss this topic.
“Oh, I think I love this question. First of all, I love so many kinks, which is why the contract-o-sex,” she says with an adorable giggle, “has what it has on it. That list was definitely not all-encompasing, either. But if I had to choose a certain kink of mine that just hits different, I think I’d have to say it’s degradation. Praise is incredible, too, but nothing gets me going like being degraded … and this is the part where people would call me a slut.”
I laugh out loud. “I'm sure you're right, but people are dumb as fuck, and they're also brilliant at lying to themselves. Ninety percent of the people who would call anybody a slut, want to be a slut themselves. They just don't have anybody to be a slut for.”
“Exactly, and that’s just it. I don't want to be degraded by random people on the street. I would gladly stab a man for calling me a slut while I was walking down the damn sidewalk. But for … a particular person …”
Me. She stopped herself from saying it, but I know that I'm that particular person. Olivia can try to deny it, but I know she wants me to be the one—the left of the slash to her right.
“It’s like when you said that Simon and Jed treated me like a slut,” she goes on. “But then in the parking lot you said that I was your slut. That was as hot as a fucking star, and I internally exploded like one. I wanted to stay mad, but I just couldn't. So, call me all of the filthy things you can think of, just make sure to say the word my in front of it to really set me ablaze. Take control. Make me your slut. Make me your whore. Make me filthy for you. Make me lose control of who I am and become whatever disgusting, vile thing you want me to be for you. It’s like my way of saying that you're special. I’m only all of those things for you because you've earned it. That’s what submission is all about. That’s why it has to be earned. I'm not giving all of this to a random person who I don't trust.”
“Ah, so you do trust me?” I ask jokingly.
She laughs. “More and more every day.”
“Sticking with that answer, huh? Fine. I’ll just keep working on it until I get a resounding yes out of you.”
“Good luck with that, Sir.”
“Ooh, there's that word again. I don't know if it qualifies as a kink, but I fucking love when you call me Sir.”
“Yeah? Well, Sir, I have some peach cobbler in the fridge. Would you like some dessert, Sir?”
I take mental notes of everything Olivia has said tonight and store them in a safe in my mind. She likes degradation, and I've never dived into that before. Just like everything else in this lifestyle, learning about it sparks something in my brain. It’s another puzzle piece that I didn't know was missing, making the picture of who I am that much more complete. She wants to be a slut and a whore for me, and I would love nothing more than to make her exactly that. My whore. My slut. My. Fucking. Woman.
I shake my head as I set my fork down on the empty plate, and bring the glass of wine to my mouth to finish it off. “Nah, no peach cobbler. You're the only thing I want to eat right now.”
Olivia nearly spits out her wine mid-drink, and has to pull the glass away from her mouth before she spills it.
“Oh,” she exclaims. She sets her glass down and bites her lip. “So, what are we doing now, Sir?”
There's that fucking word again. My cock stiffens every time I hear it, and I'm already tired of waiting.
“You know what we’re about to do now,” I answer. “I want to explore the playhouse.”
Olivia grins. “Yes, Sir.”
THIRTY-TWO - Quinn
It’s different this time. When I first stepped into the playhouse, I was a kid attending a new school on the first day—everything out of place, nervousness and anxiety waiting for me at every turn. All I could really do is look around and try to take it all in as fast as I could, because she was waiting for me to take the reins and be her relief valve. Well, that was then. Now, I've been here before, and I'm not the new kid. I'm the principal. All of this is under my control, and I will rule with an iron fist.
I remember when the realization that I'm a sadist hit me. I wondered why I wanted to hit Olivia if I liked her so much. Why did her pain bring me so much pleasure? The awareness of it brought a ton of shock and surprise, but I knew it was true the same way so much of this has been a revelation to me. I'm learning about myself in real time, and now that I'm down in the playhouse again, there is no fear of the unknown. There is only more to explore. I used the Saint Andrew’s cross last time, but there is also a spanking bench, and a massive bed with restraints attached to its posts. There is an entire world down here for me to grab ahold of, and my body is pulsing with excitement. I'm going to fucking wreak havoc in this room.
“No,” I turn around and say to Olivia, who is already preparing to drop to her knees at the bottom of the stairs. This has become sort of a ritual, where she gives herself to me, presenting her submission and offering it to me on her knees. It’s a truly beautiful sight, but I have something better in mind.
Olivia stops mid-crouch and stands up straight, her face contorted with confusion. “No?”
“No. Don't kneel,” I say. “Go over to the bed and sit on the edge. Wait for me there.”
She licks her lips as she nods, and then starts walking. “Yes, Sir.”
My heart thrums when I hear her say those two words again, but I keep myself still as I watch her walk past me. When she reaches the bed, she turns around to face me, then sits, her eyes focused on only me. I'm the sole thing in her world, and it feels like a gift from a very kinky heaven. She looks so good sitting there that it’s a struggle to wait even for a second. I'd rather drop my pants and impale her as fast as I can, but in this lifestyle that I am sinking myself into, patience is key. So I exhale, and make my way over to a wooden chest resting on the floor next to a pillar.
Inside, I find a wide array of vibrators of all shapes, sizes, and colors. There are wands, roses, hearts, G-spot vibes with hooked ends, and plenty more than can do things my cock never could. But I choose to keep it simple. I grab an electric-powered wand—the original blue and white Magic Wand that has to be plugged in and is nearly as loud as a jet engine—and carry it over to the bed, where I plug it into a wall outlet close to one of the nightstands. I toss the wand onto the mattress next to Olivia, then I finally allow myself to give into my desires by cupping her face in my hands and kissing her hard while standing over her. She has to crane her neck up at an angle for her mouth to reach mine, but our tongues do a mating dance like they've been dancing together for ages. My fingers glide over the back of her neck and climb up the base of her skull until I can grab her hair and pull it backward so that she’s looking up at the ceiling, then I just look at her. I watch her mouth drop open in an exotic, intoxicating expression of lust and desire, and it makes me quiver with need. In my twenty-seven years on this Earth, I've never needed anyone the way I need her.
While still using her hair to hold her in place, I look down at Olivia and speak to her. “You won't have any control tonight. I want you helpless. Completely at my mercy, knowing that I could do whatever I want to you, and that you’ll love whatever I choose. Do everything I say, and don't deviate even a little bit. Now lift your arms.” Olivia does as she is commanded, raising her arms so that I can remove her shirt. I toss it off to the side then drop to my knees to remove her pants. She lifts her ass up just enough for me to get them off, then I throw those too, unconcerned with where they land. Once I have her naked, I speak again. “Now crawl backward onto the bed until you reach the pillows, and lie on your back with your arms and legs outstretched. I want you spread eagle for me.”
