Obeying Olivia

Obeying Olivia

An A - Z Story

By Kim Dare

Resplendence Publishing, LLC

http://www.resplendencepublishing.com

Resplendence Publishing, LLC
2665 N Atlantic Avenue, #349
Daytona Beach, FL 32118

Obeying Olivia
Copyright © 2012 Kim Dare
Edited by Christine Allen-Riley and Jason Huffman
Cover art by Les Byerley,
www.les3photo8.com

Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-489-5

Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Electronic Release: March 2012

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

Because male submissives and female dominants deserve happy endings, too.

Chapter One

Mark Thompson paused halfway through wiping down the long, mahogany bar. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Someone was watching him. He was used to attracting a certain amount of attention when he worked behind the bar on these occasions, but for some reason, this particular gaze felt different as it trailed across his body.

Looking discreetly through his lashes, Mark ran his eyes over the female dominants who occupied each of the tables dotted around the room. As the private lounge of one of the best hotels in town, the room was reasonably small. And the club that had booked it for the evening had made it clear that their membership was all about quality rather than quantity.

It didn’t take Mark long to scan the entire assembly, but somehow, he failed to find the source of the stare. He mentally cursed before repeating his inspection of the room.

A male submissive stepped forward and knelt next to his mistress’ chair. Past him, another table came into Mark’s field of vision.

There!

His gaze fell on a slim, blonde woman sitting on the far side of the room. As soon as their eyes met, he knew she was the one who’d been studying him.

Olivia Marshall.

His mouth went dry. His pulse kicked into a special gear that only she seemed to inspire. He quickly looked down, not wanting it to appear as if he were trying to outstare her. When he risked another glance, she was still watching him, deep blue eyes never wavering. A tiny tilt of her head called him to her side.

Leaving the cloth he’d been using on a shelf behind the bar, Mark obediently made his way out from behind the mahogany shield that had protected him from less welcome advances during the evening.

Suddenly, the room seemed to grow. It took years for him to reach Olivia’s table.

“May I be of service, miss?” he asked.

She waved a hand toward the chair opposite her. “Sit down.”

Mark dutifully obeyed. The hair on the back of his neck prickled again. This time, he didn’t try to track down the source. He had no doubt that more than a few women had raised an eyebrow at the fact he’d been invited to join Olivia at her table.

He felt the eyes of other male submissives on him, too. Most of them stood behind their mistress’ chairs or knelt at their sides. Few had been invited to sit at an equal level with a domme.

“You don’t like being the center of attention, do you?” Olivia asked.

Sitting straight in his chair and somehow managing not to fidget, Mark looked up and met her eyes once more. “No, miss. I don’t.”

Olivia lowered her gaze first, but not in submission. She blatantly assessed Mark’s body as if he were nothing more than a new pair of shoes in a shop window. Pulse racing faster than ever, Mark remained very still, politely waiting for her to finish.

“How many women have already invited you to submit to them this evening?”

Every instinct Mark possessed screamed that he was finally speaking to the one woman of his acquaintance whom he’d consider it pleasure to submit to—and whatever confidences he needed to break in order to keep the conversation going would be worth it.

Mark stared down at the table as he dragged the right response to his lips. “I’m sorry, miss, but it’s not my place to speak about the other ladies here or what they may have said to me.” No words had ever tasted more like ash.

A moment passed, Mark pulled his gaze back to Olivia’s face. His stomach clenched at the possibility that his failure to answer properly would kill any spark of interest she felt in him, but it was too late to change his mind now.

Olivia lifted her wine and took a sip. Pale pink, painted lips caressed the edge of the glass.

Mark swallowed rapidly, unable to stop himself from imagining those same lips brushing against his mouth as she held him still to be kissed.

“Good answer,” she finally said. “I’ve heard that you’re fussy about who you play with.” She set her glass down. “Do you have a well-rehearsed answer for that observation, too?”

He didn’t. Mark sat perfectly silently for what felt like a very long time, while his mind raced. “Some male subs feel submissive toward all women. I just…don’t,” he finished lamely.

Olivia nodded. For a moment, Mark thought that answer had been acceptable, too. Then, she stood up. Mark quickly rose. At their full heights, she was almost a foot shorter than him. Long locks of blonde hair fell back from her face as she tilted her head back to look him in the eye.

“I’m in room four-thirty-three. If you decide I’m one of those rare women you do feel submissive toward, you have ten minutes. If you’re not at my door by then, don’t bother joining me.” She picked up her glass and her handbag. “I’ve already spoken to the organizer. You have her permission to leave your duties here if you decide to accept my invitation.”

Mark could only stare after her, completely speechless, as she walked across the room, stiletto heels lending a gentle sway to her hips. Black seams ran up the backs of her stockings, holding him mesmerized.

His lips ached to be allowed to kiss his way up those seams. His hands ached for the privilege of helping her into and out of such garments at the beginning and end of a night. His cock just ached.

Chapter Two

Olivia Marshall rolled her shoulders, quietly enjoying the sensation as all the tension that had built up inside her during the working week gradually began to fade away. No more trying to be polite as she pointed out why her boss’ latest idea was flawed. No more toeing the company line.

It was club night, and she was free to be herself in a way she seldom was in the “real” world. Olivia smiled to herself as she paced slowly around the hotel room and waited to see if her invitation would be accepted.

It was a nice room. At some point, someone had obviously put a lot of time and effort into decorating it. But it was hard for her to appreciate mere prettiness. The true beauty she’d seen in Mark while he’d served behind the bar put even the most exquisite of soft furnishings in the shade.

Setting down her glass of wine, Olivia flicked her hair back over her shoulder and glanced into the gilt-edged mirror that hung just to the right of the suite’s sofa.

Her eyes already held that sparkle that only appeared there when she was ready to play. Olivia raised an eyebrow at the reflection. There was no guarantee Mark would make it that far. There was only so much that could be garnered from public observations.

At that moment, a polite rap on the door let Olivia know that he had made his decision—and with five minutes to spare. Humming contentedly under her breath, Olivia strolled leisurely toward the door.

There was no second knock attempting to hurry her along. Olivia mentally put a tick in the box marked patient. Even after she’d opened the door, she still took her time. Slowly running her gaze over Mark’s body, she took in every detail.

Neatly pressed black trousers that had been just tight enough to show off a very nice backside whenever he ventured onto the public side of the bar. A white shirt, the sleeves folded back above his elbows, indicating his readiness to work.

Olivia lifted her gaze higher. Mark’s hair was very dark. He must have shaved just before leaving his house that evening because there wasn’t even a hint of stubble on his jaw.

Their eyes met. For a few seconds, Mark held her gaze, studying Olivia and assessing her expression in return. When he finally lowered his eyes, it was an obvious attempt to signal his lack of interest in staring her down.

Olivia reached out and trailed her fingertips over his jaw. She’d been right. Perfectly smooth. She couldn’t help but wonder where else he might have shaved.

Letting her smile grow wider, Olivia finally stepped back and allowed Mark in. As she returned to the suite’s sitting room, she was acutely aware of his presence, just a few steps behind her.

Sudden tension crackled around them as if the submissive had brought a whole room full of static electricity with him.

Sitting down, Olivia waved her hand toward the other end of the small sofa, inviting him to join her there.

“Thank you, miss.” His movements were neat and confident, his deference appearing both natural and highly erotic.

Olivia turned in her seat, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet up beneath her as she settled herself comfortably. She didn’t miss the way Mark’s eyes lingered on her stocking clad feet, but that was a question for later. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-five, miss.” Mark didn’t ask her the same question in return. Smart boy—she had well over a decade on him.

Olivia took a sip of her wine. “And you’ve been on the scene for how long?”

Mark turned more fully toward her, but he made no effort to relax the way she did. “Three years, while taking it seriously, miss,” he said.

“Seriously, meaning?” she prompted.

“Meaning that’s how long I’ve been looking for a twenty-four-seven, female-led relationship.”

“So you’re not just in it for the scenes?” Olivia asked, her tone still casual, as if she hardly cared what the answer would be.

“No.” There was strength in the way he said the word. He obviously hadn’t lost his spine when he’d discovered his submission. A little shiver of anticipation ran over Olivia’s skin. Her clit tingled its complete approval.