His mouth curves into that sinfully smug smile that should be illegal on a man this powerful.
“The world is your oyster, Peach. Don’t disappoint me.”
And then he fucking winks.
As if he’s not already irresistible enough.
Before I can say another word, he hands me an iPad. I take it, curious, until I see what’s on the screen, and my breath catches. It’s a document. No,thedocument. A BDSM contract. My heart skips. Oh my God. Am I in one of those steamy romance novels I secretly devour like candy at 2 AM? Because this feels exactly like one of those moments.
“I need to go into the office,” he says, voice smoothly, like this is just another part of his morning routine. “But take your time, read it over, and make sure you comprehend everything before you sign it.” He holds out his hand. “Give me your phone.”
I unlock it and hand it over, watching curiously as his fingers glide over the screen with ease. A few taps later, he returns it to me, and I roll my eyes when I see the contact name he’s entered:
Sir.
“Really?”
He only smirks. “If you have any questions, feel free to call or text,” he adds casually, like he didn’t just label himself in my phone like that. “Otherwise, we’ll discuss it when I get back.”
I nod, but I barely hear him. My attention is caught by the contract displayed on the tablet in front of me, with stark words, a clear structure, and unmistakable seriousness. My pulse quickens as I skim the sections: submission, discipline, safe words, and emotional aftercare. Everything we discussed. But seeing it in black and white makes it feel real. Like a door has officially opened.
Suddenly, his fingers are under my chin, lifting my face gently. I meet his eyes, startled.
“Did you even hear what I said?” he asks, the edge of a knowing grin playing at his lips.
“Take my time, read it, and if I have questions, call or text; otherwise, we’ll talk when you get back,” I echo, a little breathless.
His smile deepens. Then, without warning, he leans down and kisses me, just a soft peck, but it lands like a thunderclap in my chest.
“You’re cute,” he murmurs against my lips, lingering for a beat. “Don’t overthink it, Peach. Just read. Listen to yourself. I’ll see you later.”
And with that, he’s gone, leaving the door open and the contract glowing in front of me like a dare.
I sit cross-legged on his bed, the contract still in my hands. I run my fingers along the edge of the iPad, my mind swirling with excitement and nervousness. I make sure I have my phone next to me in case I need to text him or something.
This is real. This isn’t just a fantasy, not just something we talked about in the heat of the moment. This is an agreement, something I’ll be signing to give him control, to trust him with my body, my limits, and my desires.
I’m not scared, no, this is something I want to explore, something I’ve fantasized about for years. But now it’s no longer just a concept, something vague and undefined. It’s a commitment.
With a steadying breath, I start reading.
Introduction: “This agreement outlines the responsibilities and expectations between the Dominant (Calvin) and the Submissive (Blair). It is designed to foster trust, communication, and mutual understanding in the exploration of a consensual BDSM relationship.”
I swallow, my heart beating faster as I move on to the next section: Roles and Responsibilities. Calvin’s role is described first. His responsibilities include ensuring my safety and well-being at all times, respecting my limits, and creating a safe environment for us to explore our dynamic. I already know he would never hurt me or push me beyond what I’m comfortable with, but seeing it written out is reassuring. Then, it lists my role. As the submissive, I am to trust him, communicate openly about my needs and boundaries, and submit to his guidance within the agreed-upon terms. The word “submit” sends a thrill through me, the idea of giving him control, of letting go, intoxicating and terrifying all at once.
I glance down at the next section, labeled Limits and Boundaries, and feel my heart rate spike. This is where I need to be honest with myself and with him. I can’t afford to be shy or hold back, not with something as serious as this. I open my Notes app and start writing, determined to be honest.
Hard Limits:
These are easy things I know I’ll never do.
Fisting: too extreme.
Water Sports: a firm no.
Scat Play: absolutely not.
Needle or Blood Play: I can’t handle the sight of blood.
