Chapter 21 - Quinn
TWENTY-ONE - Quinn
“Your playhouse?” I say, repeating it in the hopes that saying it out loud will dilute some of the shock I'm feeling. It’s not that I'm scared of anything I'm seeing. I just never imagined Olivia being this into the BDSM lifestyle. No wonder she said I had a lot to learn.
Olivia steps aside as I walk into her basement, my eyes roaming around, taking all of it in.
I feel her watching me as I slowly step over to the giant X and run my fingers over the polished black wood.
I reach up and pull at the handcuffs at the top of the X, and I can't even diagnose how I feel.
My eyes are wide, but I want to smile. I'm both impressed and taken aback—a walking conundrum.
“Yes,” Olivia answers, still watching me closely, wondering how I’ll respond to seeing all of this—always the teacher testing the student.
I leave the X and walk over to a wall covered from baseboard to crown molding with floggers of all different sizes and materials.
There is a flogger for every color of the rainbow, and the dangling tails go from completely innocent-looking with simple leather material, to long whips that look like torture devices full of thorns or faux-barbed wire on the tips.
My eyes widen to the diameter of the sun as I look at them, struggling to determine how it makes me feel.
Do I want to grab the most terrifying one and test it out on Olivia’s unmarked skin?
Or do I want to run away and never look back at the devious and dark world she has introduced me to?
My dark devil hungers for the former.
“What are you thinking?” Olivia asks from behind me.
I continue my self-guided tour, finding my way over to a wall of neatly wound ropes of different colors and thicknesses. “A million different things,” I reply.
“Can you be more specific?” she asks. “The most important thing about this dynamic is open communication. We have to talk to each other about how things like this make us feel, so don't be scared to speak your mind. I want to know what you do and don't like.”
I nod, but keep my eyes on the king-sized bed with black satin sheets and four wooden pillars that reach for the ceiling like outstretched arms.
“Umm,” I begin, unsure of what words to say next. “Honestly, I have no idea how I feel. I'm just taking it all in, I guess. How long have you had all of this?”
Olivia clears her throat. “A little while. I've slowly built my way up to it over time.”
“And you've used this with every guy you've been with?”
“Of course not,” she responds quickly. “Not every guy is capable of being a Dom, so it’s not even worth showing it to most guys, and I don’t date a lot. You're one of the few, and only the second to see it in its finished state.”
“So you have used this stuff with someone else?”
“Well, I didn't build it to use it on my own,” she says, a growing level of aggression in her voice. She clears her throat again as I walk over to the black bench with pink leather straps all over it. “Okay, I'm sensing a strange energy shift that I don't like.”
“Oh?” I say, fiddling with the straps.
“When you ask about whether I've used this stuff with someone else, it sounds an awful lot like judgment and jealousy, and I don't like either.
I'm a grown woman who enjoys a certain kind of sex, and I'm picky about who I choose to engage in it with.
I don't feel bad about it, and whoever I do choose does not get to judge me for who I chose before them.
You're not exempt from that, Quinn. All you need to concern yourself with is the fact that I have chosen you now.
I want it to be you now, so don't worry about who I knew before I ever met you, and certainly don't judge me for enjoying the types of things that men get a pat on the back for enjoying.
If a man can have a sex dungeon in his basement and be thought of as a badass for it, then so can a woman.
If you don't vibe with that, then please tell me now so I know not to waste my time.”
I pull my eyes away from the bench and find Olivia standing near the stairs with her head tilted.
She has the same fiery look in her eyes that I've come to know in the office, but she never had it aimed at me before.
Now I understand why people have always been intimidated by her.
The look in her eyes is so intense I feel like I might spontaneously combust if I don't cool her off with a splash of reassurance.
Forgoing the rest of my tour of Olivia’s playhouse, I walk over to her in a bee line, taking her hands in mine and looking her in the eye so that she knows what I'm about to say is sincere.
“You're right,” I start, choosing my words carefully.
“I'm not trying to judge you, and I apologize for coming off that way.
That wasn't my intent. You have all the right in the world to do whatever you want, with whoever you want, whenever you want.
I guess I was just a little caught off guard.
All of this is very new to me, and I've never met someone who is so open about stuff like this, but I like that about you.
I love the way you communicate and how you don't give a fuck what anybody thinks.
That shit is so fire to me, and I'm following your lead on this.
I don't want you to think that I'm offended or disgusted by any of this, because the truth is you're speaking my language. You tap into something inside of me that I have never felt comfortable with letting out before. Everything about this room makes me feel more free. It shows me that it’s okay to be myself with you, and that you're okay being yourself with me. That’s all we want, right? To be with someone that we’re completely comfortable around?
That's what it’s all about. So, please don't feel judged.
Judging you would be judging myself, because I'm right here with you.”
Olivia scrunches her forehead like she's struggling to come up with a response, which is pretty rare for her.
She's usually so quick-witted that it’s hard to keep up.
Now, she only glares up at me, her eyes roaming my face like she's searching for the truth in it.
After a moment she nods and lets out a breath that sounds like it was being held for an hour.
“Okay,” she says. “Thank you.”
I shake my head. “No need to thank me. I should be thanking you for showing me all of this—for introducing me to this world I feel so at home in.” I turn around, still holding one of her hands as I gesture toward the basement with the other.
“It’s like you're holding up a mirror and showing me myself for the first time, and telling me that I'm perfect the way I am—that it’s okay to embrace the darkness.
I can't believe you have all of this. I feel like a kid in a candy store. I want to try every fucking thing.”
I feel Olivia tug her hand away from mine as she steps in front of me, her face finally relaxed. “Good. Out of everything here, what intrigues you the most?”
Ignoring the way she pulled away from me, I take a hard look around the room again, eyeing each toy I see.
I let my dark devil out of its cage, allowing it to roam around the room like a lion on all fours, then my eyes settle to my left and I smile big.
Instead of saying it, I walk over to Olivia and place my hands on her waist, gently pushing her to the center of the St. Andrew’s cross, and no matter how much she tries to fight it, I clearly see the smirk pulling at her lips.
“I want you right here,” I say, with a new, devilish smile forming.
“Okay,” she says innocently. “And what do you want to do to me while I'm here?”
I push Olivia backward until her back is flat against the wood, then I reach over and pull a toy off the wall that I've never used in my life. Just touching it sends lightning dancing through my veins.
“I think,” I begin, inspecting the toy before looking at her, “I want to find out what happens when the tails of this flogger splash across your skin.”