Dominus Litus II

She sat in the Queen Anne chair outside a room that bore a brass plaque with the words “Profundum Officium”. The large double doors were heavily carved, with large brass handles.  She’d been sent an email with this day, this time. It was perfunctory, as if the sender knew she’d show up.

And here she was.

It was a fucking summer camp, after all. Why the preponderance of scene setting, she wondered? Someone took themselves far, far to seriously. And if this was the tenor of the camp, she wasn’t at all certain that it was for her.

She was looking to some scene play, role-playing, fucking, sucking, being beat…the sort of things she might touch on at a Fuck ‘n Munch.  Not that she attended them often. She didn’t really fit with a clique. She was shy on the surface, but underneath? A veritable cauldron of simmering hot needs.

She was, first and foremost, a slut. No, a submissive  slut, she amended. And while she had no issues with being one, she also wasn’t ready to commit to a week of posturing bullshit.

Not her style.

Just. Not.

She figured they were keeping her waiting, hoping to make her edgy and uncomfortable. Maybe even weeding out the faint of heart. Wasn’t going to work with her. Once she decided on a course of action, it was hard to stop her. That included this bullshit routine of keeping her waiting, staring at those imposing doors, making her wonder (with a nervous flutter in her belly) what the fuck lay beyond.

The seat under her ass vibrated. Actually. It jolted. She jumped to her feet with a squeal, and whipped around to  stare accusingly at the plump red velvet cushion as she rubbed her ass.

The chuckle came from behind her, and she turned back to see the doors standing open. A middle-aged man stood there. He looked…normal. Like he could sell insurance or something. Not at all imposing or Domish.

“Well, that certainly got your attention, slut!” His smile was broad. And as he stepped closer, she could see it. Oh, he may not have been a Dom from the stories she liked to read, but there was a look there, deep in his eyes. Pleasure at her distress, however minor.

He waved his hand toward the open doorway.

“Please, do come in.” There was just the smallest hint of sarcasm under what was, undeniably, an order.  She scooted through the doors and he followed her. She wondered if he was staring at her ample ass. Whatever.

**   ***  **

He gestured her to a chair in front of a heavy desk.  She had to admit, she’d half-expected to be ushered to a pillow and be made to kneel. That would have pissed her off.

He sat and picked up a sheaf of papers. She thought she saw her name on the front page. Her application forms.

“your paperwork is in order. You have read and agreed to all the initial terms. I am here to talk with you, face to face, to be certain that you understand.”

“I’m not an idiot!” She almost rose to her feet.

“Don’t interrupt.” His tone was mild, but again, that underlying tone of “order”.  She bristled, but held her tongue…for now.

“It is all well and good to read the paper and sign your name with a flourish at the end, in a ‘fuck you’ kind of gesture.” He paused, looking over the top of his glasses.

It pretty well summed up how she’d felt after printing off 11 pages of forms. Sign this, initial that. Yada yada.

She met his gaze steadily. And finally dropped her eyes to her fingers, clenched in her lap. Quickly her baby-blues flashed back up to him. He had a soft little smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

Fucking funny, indeed. Damned arrogant bastard, that’s what he was.

“At camp there are no councilors. There is no “I’m outta here”…for your safety as well as ours.  You will have a safeword in case you have unanticipated issues. In case it is too overwhelming. You’d be escorted to your room, and held there securely until you are able to rejoin the activities.”

“If you are accepted into Dominus Litus, you will do so with a full, working knowledge of what you are getting yourself into…without any specific details. After all, we wouldn’t want to mess up a good fantasy, would we?”

His eyes were hazelnut brown, she saw. In them she saw sincerity…and an odd sort of hunger.

“How do I know if I can even afford this? So far you’ve said nothing about rates or board or…”

He walked over her words.

“Sliding scale, based on your income. Some submissives can afford to pay more. Dominants, the same.  It helps subsidize the camp for those like you, Marissa, who cannot afford an expensive camp experience. “

“I …I don’t see how you make a profit on an arrangement like that. How you pay a staff…pay for food…”

He smiled. “Little manager.” He shook his head, looking at her.

“You won’t be happy until I explain a bit about how this works, I can see.  I own the land. I own a lot of land.  There are no camp councilors…only people who pay for the privilege of attending. The roster will be small, and there will be a perfect balance of Tops and Bottoms….but it will not be robust with people. Think of it as an …”

He paused, smiling at her.

“….an intimate adventure.”