Desire shudders down my spine, quivering all the way to my core.
I think I’d like to have you as my needy pet.GentAnon’s dirty message plays through my mind, but I quickly dismiss it. This isDane.He’s real and warm and solid, not an anonymous, faceless man on the internet.
“Is that a Yorkshire endearment? It’s sweet.” I can’t keep the breathiness from my voice when I try for an offhand tone.
His low chuckle rumbles deep inside me. “You can’t hide from me, Abigail. You’re pressing your soft thighs together to suppress your lust. I see you. I see everything. You want to be mypretty pet.” He taps the folder, an authoritative gesture that has me complying without thinking. “Read it.”
Unlike the NDA, this contract has been written in slanted cursive rather than neatly typed. I know it’s Dane’s handwriting without having to ask. It’s every bit as elegant as he is. The bold strokes of black ink indicate a fountain pen, and I can easily picture his long fingers deftly holding it as he wrote this illicit contract.
By signing below, my pet, Abigail Foster, gives herself to me, Dane Graham. She will abide by my rules and obey my commands. She will at all times endeavor to please me. Nothing is more important to her than my pleasure.
In return, my pet will be rewarded. When I am satisfied with her behavior, she will be allowed to come. When she disappoints me, she will be punished with a variety of implements of my choosing. She will submit to her punishments and will thank me for correcting her.
Sometimes, she will suffer because I will it, and for no other reason. She will find ecstasy in enduring this suffering and surrendering to my control.
In the unlikely instance that I ask too much of my pet, a safe word will be honored. “Red” will endour games, and I will ensure that she feels safe and comforted.
At all times, my pet will be cherished and cared for. She trusts in me to take responsibility for her. When it comes my decisions regarding her wellbeing, defiance will not be tolerated.
My pet is a valued individual, and she will speak her mind. She will deny me nothing, and that includes giving me full access to her thoughts and feelings. Dishonesty will be met with swift retribution.
With her signature, my pet gives herself to me, her Master.
I stare at the elegant script, struggling to process that this is reality. My body trembles with lust. I can feel my inner walls clenching, and my labia are almost painfully swollen.
The contract is concise but powerful. There isn’t an endless list of rules and expectations. Dane’s willisthe expectation. He’ll issue commands, and I will obey, no matter what he decides to ask of me.
Except for the clause that allows me to withdraw consent at any time. My safe word will make everything stop.
My mind spins at the deviant possibilities. I’ve never imagined having a safe outlet for my dark desires, but Dane is offering me exactly that: erotic abandon, but with a promise of security.
I read over the final paragraphs again.
He wants me to give myself to him, not as a mindless plaything, but asme.
This contract proves it.
My fingers shake when I pick up the pen, and I can’t bring myself to look directly at him as I sign myself over to him.
In this moment, I’m choosing to trust that he means it when he says he’ll take care of me. I’m surrendering to the darkest, weakest parts of me that want to be both hurt and cared for. I never dared to dream that I could be with someone who understands my needs but also values my consent.
He plucks the pen from my trembling fingers and places the signed contract on the table. I stare at his slanted handwriting as he adds a final line:
With my signature, I vow to cherish my sweet pet.
The pen indents the paper with the force of his signature.
I take a moment to imprint the scene in my memory. Later, I’ll paint his dexterous hand firmly holding the pen, and I’ll strive to capture the confident strokes as he boldly lays claim to everything that I am.
He turns to me, and his triumphant grin is wickedly sharp.
“You lied to me when you faked your orgasm,” he says, his tone heavy with condemnation even as his eyes glitter with carnal anticipation. “What does our contract say about dishonesty?”
I swallow hard, and warning snakes down my spine. “I’m sorry. I only faked it because I wanted to please you. I wanted you to feel good about our connection.”
He trails his fingers through my hair, the tender stroke belying the dangerous, hungry tension around his mouth.
“I know, but your apology won’t spare you. You’re going to suffer for me, and then you’re going to come for me. We won’t stop until you lose count of your orgasms. You will learn that there is exquisite pain in pleasure, and you will beg for mercy before I’m finished with you.”
