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Barty is squirming. He knows he is, but there is so much nervous energy in his body he absolutely cannot sit still. They’re good nerves for sure, but their overpriced food has come and gone, the music is too loud for casual conversation, he can’t fucking get a drink to help him wind down because of his fucking meds, and now he has nothing to occupy himself with but nervous excitement.
It’s BDSM night at a cabaret, how could he not be excited?
He’d come across the unique venue on social media a couple months ago, a promotional video sporting pole dancers, burlesque pin-ups, drag and circus performers — very talented and beautiful people of all shapes, sizes and colours. Needless to say, he followed the account immediately. Entitled L’Amore Cabaret, the venue didn’t have a traditional stage, the tables and plush booths were arranged in a wide circle, the core left open for performers to do their magic, with a second floor mezzanine to accommodate more patrons. Seating was first come first serve, and Barty wanted a good spot for his first time, so he’d convinced Regulus to meet him at the door 15 minutes before they were due to open, where a small group was already waiting to buy same-day tickets in front of them.
Barty was not sure what the dress code for such a place was, so he opted for his signature platform combat boots, tight black t-shirt and ripped jeans combo, with the added flair of fishnets poking through the denim holes. Regulus wasn’t much for clubbing or late night social outings in general, but he’d been intrigued when Barty had shared the club's page with him, even more so by tonight’s theme. He agreed to tag along, even if his stiff dark slacks and white shirt ensemble was more suited to going to the theatre than to watching scantily clad people show off their many talents.
Him and Regulus don’t look bad, but as more people queue up Barty notices they look... Well. Just plain and boring, to be completely honest. Neither he nor Regulus are strangers to accessorising with jewellery to elevate an outfit, but even with his various piercings and bracelets or Reggie’s many rings, they don’t hold a candle to all the leather, latex, chains, studs and collars of the people around them. When they get inside the club proper, there’s even more to look at — animal masks, lingerie, jockstraps, harnesses. It’s not lewd or vulgar, people are just wearing what they feel good in and no one is judging them for it.
It’s pretty cool, actually.
Barty is obviously looking forward to the performances, that’s the main attraction of L’Amore — he sort of has no idea what sort of things he’s about to witness, but to him, the highlight is going to be the demo stations, hands down. Patrons can actually try out stuff under the hands and guidance of experienced play partners. He was interested in the themed night when he first saw the post about it, but the demos were the ultimate selling point. He’s no stranger to BDSM practices, but it’s basically all in theory. He tried playing with Regulus a couple times, but between their inexperience and the fact they both fall more on the submissive side, it hadn’t really worked out.
Once the lights finally dim, a tall silhouette makes their way down the stairs, stilettos clicking in time with the music, before introducing themself as Mxstress Meadowes, their MC for the night. The masked and corseted MC explains there will be an intermission during the show, and points out where the different demo stations will be during the break: wax play and impact play on the first floor, shibari and tickling on the second floor. With a flourish of their tulle skirt, the first act is introduced, and they're off to the races.
Pole tricks, paddles, whips, gags, masks — L’Amore is quite the feast for the mind and eyes.
As applause for the last act dies down, Mxstress Meadowes’ honeyed voice announces the start of intermission. The loud club-esque music comes back on and Regulus quickly excuses himself to go to the bathroom, presumably in an effort to beat the line. Barty watches as stage crew in plain black clothes quickly set up the lower floor stations, bringing out a selection of candles, lighter and knives to an area off to the side, as well as two wooden pieces of furniture to the stage area — a St. Andrew’s cross and a padded two-tiered bench.
Interesting.
Barty opts to just sit and watch for a bit.
Patrons approach their desired stations and the people in charge of running them seem to have a quick chat with them before they start the demos. There usually is some degree of undressing, as both wax and impact play are generally best done on bare skin, so skirts are pulled up, shirts are undone and draped off, trousers are dropped to the floor. Some instructors are more talkative than others, both instigating and checking in, some are quiet and stoic. Some take a good few minutes to show off their skill, some do quick little snapshots, just a taste. Although there is no sex allowed, some demos include kissing and more intimate touches and teasing.
When Barty decides to venture upstairs, he comes across Regulus in line for the impact play station, eyeing the tall man with the black leather harness stretching across his bare chest.
“You good?” Barty mouths as he catches his friend’s eye. Regulus gives one of his characteristic sharp nods, to which Barty playfully sticks out his tongue before motioning to the stairs, indicating he’s going to the second floor.
He walks around the space casually. It’s not a very big space, what with the large cut out in the middle to allow for viewing the stage below. There’s a mirror running along one wall that gives the impression of it being bigger than it actually is, though.
Out of all the stations, he knew he was most likely to want to try shibari. He knows everyone here is chill, but there’s a little part of him that wants to seem nonchalant about watching for some reason. And while he does appreciate the artful knots and designs being woven, he’s very much more interested in the bondage aspect. Something about being all wrapped up just makes his brain tingle.
He watches noncommittally for a little while, just passing through, going to observe the tickling station for a bit. When he comes to the railing overlooking the stage area, he spots Regulus making his way to the cross, reaching both hands up to hold onto the metal rings at top of each arm of the big X. Barty watches smugly as the tall man comes up behind his friend, says something in his ear and, getting Regulus’ consent, snakes his arms around to undo his belt and pop open his trousers, letting them fall around his ankles and exposing his pale legs. The man runs his fingers up the backs of Regulus’ legs, leaning in to say something again before he hooks his fingers on the hem of Regulus’ pants, hiking them up to give him better access. Barty can see Regulus physically shiver in anticipation all the way from the second floor. Lucky bastard. Barty wil ask for a review later, but for now, seeing his friend be brave makes him want to do so as well. He walks purposefully to the shibari station.
There are three riggers working. When he passed by before, Barty was trying to not look at the station as whole too closely, so he hadn’t really noticed the people in control of the ropes, but as soon as he takes them in now, he’s drawn to one particular rigger. She has long, bright red hair pulled up into a high ponytail that accentuates her round cheeks and heart shaped face, pouty lips painted a dark blood red. She’s wearing tall boots and a bodysuit that shows off her generous curves, the leather straps of the harness overtop it cutting beautifully into her soft thighs.
“Hiya, pet, wanna come closer?”
It takes him a second to realize she’s talking to him .
“Oh— Um,” Barty stammers.
“It’s alright, I don’t bite,” she says with a wink as he takes a few steps to get into the station area proper. The wicked smile on her face communicates she very much does bite. Just maybe not in public.
“What’s your name, hun?” She closes the final distance between them so she doesn’t have to yell too much over the music to be heard.
“Barty.“
“Hi, Barty. I’m Lily. Nice to meet you. So, how would you like to be tied up today?”
“Uhhh,” he flounders a bit.
“Is it your first time?” Lily asks, her smile softening a bit.
He gives a small nod, suddenly shy.
“Ooh, I get to pop your cherry? That’s exciting. Did you have anything in mind?”
He does, kinda — arms tucked into his chest, ankles bound to his thighs while he lays on his back— but he’s honestly not sure if it’s… appropriate? Too involved? He has no idea what the parameters are, and there’s other people waiting their turn, so he doesn’t want to hog a rigger.
“Not really,” is what he ends up saying.
“Okay, I’ll ask you some questions so I can get some idea of what you’re comfortable with, does that sound good?”
Barty nods, tucking his hands into his pockets to prevent fidgeting.
“Can I touch you? It'll mostly be the ropes touching you but I do have to make contact sometimes.”
“Yeah, that's fine.”
“Do you have any injuries I should be aware of, old or new? Are there any places you experience pain generally? Are you in any pain right now?”
He shakes his head no.
“Okay, perfect. Would you like your arms bound?”
He nods.
“Legs?”
“Ah, sure?”
“Are you sure?”
“Uh, yes, legs are fine. Sorry.”
“No need to be sorry, pet. I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“Okay.” Barty nods, trying not to feel silly for his inexperience. “I’m cool with whatever you want, to be honest.”
“Hmmm, whatever I want…” Lily looks him over for a moment. “Alright, I think I know how I want you. Would you like to sit or stand?”
“Standing is fine.”
“Arms behind your back, please.”
Barty moves his arms so his wrists are together, arms mostly straight, but Lily gently touches him and says, “Here bend at the elbow, it'll be more comfortable. Good boy.”
Barty flushes.
“Is that okay?’ Lily asks. “Do you like praise?”
“Y-yes.”
“Hmmm, good,” Lily hums as she slides the rope across his waist. “If anything feels uncomfortable or painful for whatever reason you let me know, alright?”
Barty nods, feeling a bit self-conscious. People are milling about and watching — interested, curious, appreciative. It’s not a bad feeling, but there’s a certain vulnerability to it he wasn’t fully expecting.
He ducks his head down to instead focus on Lily in front of him. With the lighting in here he can’t quite tell what colour her dark-lined eyes are, could be hazel, or maybe green? He watches as they flit back and forth, following the precise movements of her hands as she places the rope. Her fingers are warm against the bare skin of his arms when she slides them underneath the bindings, checking the tightness.
“Can you turn a bit for me, hun?” Lily directs with a gentle push to his shoulders. He follows the direction and his eyes catch on the mirror he’d noticed when he first came up to the top floor. He takes in the intricate pattern Lily is meticulously weaving along his back.
“Woah.”
“Hm?” Lily hums, before, following his gaze to their reflected image. She smiles, smug. “Like what you see? You might be my best harness of the night, Bee. And I'm not even done yet.”
“Lucky me,” he says, a bit of his characteristic cheek coming out for the first time.
Lily rises up to lean close to his ear, her breath tickling his neck, not unpleasantly. “Lucky you, indeed.” She punctuates it with a harsher tug of the rope, just enough so he feels the muscles in his shoulders pull tight for a second before she releases it.
Barty watches through the mirror as she finishes up on his torso. She walks a slow circle around him, wide hips swaying as she assesses her own work. Unlike with the strangers’ eyes on him, Barty relishes Lily’s attention, preening under her watchful gaze. She stops in front of him, hands coming up to run along the rope snug across his chest.
“You said I could do as I please,” she says. It’s not quite a question, but Barty nods his assent anyway. “I have an idea. How do you feel about a head cage?”
“Like a muzzle?”
“Not quite. What I have in mind wouldn’t be for any kind of restriction, more decorative.”
Barty honestly isn’t really sure what she means, but he’s willing to try anything. He knows if he doesn’t like it he can say something and Lily will untie him.
“I’m game if you are,” he says.
“Copy that,” Lily replies, before ducking down to retrieve a neatly tied coil of shiny rope. “This is what I like to use for head ties, it’s thinner and softer than what I generally use for body ties. Are you okay to kneel? I can—”
Before she can finish Barty is already on the floor, looking up at her for further instruction.
“So eager, aren’t you?” she says with a chuckle as she uncoils the rope. “A very good boy for me. Now, don’t look away, alright, hun?”
The pressure of the rope on his head feels good. Lily’s careful hands slide across his forehead, cheeks and even his neck. He wants to close his eyes and enjoy the sensation, but fights the instinct, as per Lily’s instruction. Where he usually revels in pushing against limits put on him by other people, be it playfully with a friend or rebelliously with his father, with Lily he’s happy to do as he is told, craving her praise.
“You’re doing great, Bee,” she says softly. “We’re nearly done.”
She ties the end of the rope at the back of his neck and says, “A pretty cage for a pretty boy. You can look away now, you did very good.”
Barty twists to find his own eyes in the mirror, taking in the sight. Lily knows what she’s doing with those ropes, that’s for damn sure.
“So, what’s the verdict?” she asks.
“It looks great. Feels it, too. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. I do have to say,” Lily hooks a couple fingers on the rope at the base of his neck. “You look very good on your knees for me.”
Before Barty can answer, he’s interrupted by the MC’s voice coming through the speakers around them.
“Hello again, lovers,” they say. “I hope you’ve been having fun with our delicious demos, but please start making your way back to your tables, the second half of our show will be starting in just a few short minutes. Toodle-oo!”
He would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed at how quickly Lily manages to untie him, and he could be imagining it, but he thinks she might also not be too pleased about it. He’s definitely not imagining the lingering look she gives him as the last bit of rope slides free, a question poised on her tongue, but she doesn’t voice it. Barty is about to politely thank her again and bid her goodbye, but damn she’s beautiful and she’s looking at him with those eyes and — fuck it, he might as well go for it.
“Can I see you again?”