HisIndecentBoxSetpub (32 page)

“
I
want you inside of me,” I told him shamelessly.

“
You
failed again.”

There was the
condescension I had expected, but it meant nothing to me. We both
knew I had failed. Was there any point in saying it?

“
From
now on, tell me when you first feel your orgasm coming on,” he
said.

“
Alright.
I understand. I still want to fuck you.”

“
You've
got to earn it, love.”

I scowled. “Aren't
you just punishing yourself too?”

“
You're
not going anywhere. I have plenty of time to fuck you.”

The way he said it
was almost arrogant, like he knew he had me, which he did. I hated
how he was so sure of himself. Then again, that was a large part of
his appeal. Damien Reed was in control. He knew what he wanted and
how to get it. If he wanted to ensure that I'd obey him next time,
threatening to deny me sex was a good way to do it.

“
You're
absolutely wicked,” I told him as I crawled off of his lap to
pull my panties and skirt back on. When I turned to look at my butt,
it was nice and red, a reminder of my reward.

After my meeting
with Damien Reed, I called up my best friend Tanya to go out to
dinner. All of that hot kinky action had helped me to work up an
appetite, and I nearly dove into the bowl of chips and salsa that we
were presented with as an appetizer at the Mexican restaurant.

Tanya looked chipper
as normal. She had practically been aglow twenty-four-seven ever
since she began officially dating Vinny. I didn't really see what she
saw in the guy, but if he made her happy, that was all that mattered,
I supposed.

“
How
are things with Mister Italy?” I asked between chews.

“
Mister
Italy?” She grinned at me. “Vinny would laugh if he heard
you call him that. He's very proud of his Italian blood, though he
was born in New Jersey.”

Of course, he was.
All guys who looked like that were born in New Jersey. He was tall
and lanky, though Tanya assured me that he had a rocking body beneath
his clothing. His skin was tanned, and all of his features were dark.
Brown eyes, brown hair. And that horrible horrible blowout hairstyle.
Nope, I definitely did not see what she saw in him.

“
He's
my little Italian stud muffin,” she squealed.

“
I'm
glad you're happy.”

“
And
what about you? Are you happy dating Professor Reed?”

“
You
know he hates being called that.” I shifted uncomfortably in my
chair.

Since I wasn't
taking Damien's Art Appreciation class anymore, it was easy to forget
he was a professor at the college I attended. It was strange to think
of him in such a way, made him seem even older. I never really
thought about the age difference between us, considering how young he
looked.

“
I
think it's kind of sexy you're dating a professor. There's a
forbidden danger to it,” Tanya said.

“
There
is,” I admitted. Damien would be fired if anyone ever found out
that we were together. It was against the rules for a professor to
date a student, even though we were both adults.

“
We
should go out on a double date sometime,” she suggested.

“
No,”
I said the word almost in a panic.

“
Why
not?”

“
Aside
from the risk involved of being seen and Damien losing his job, our
relationship really isn't like that.”

“
What's
it like then?” She quirked her head to the side curiously.

I sighed, not really
feeling like explaining. Tanya was my best friend though, and if
there was anyone that I could talk to about anything, it was her.
Maybe discussing it would make me feel better.

“
He
wants me to be . . . his submissive,” I hesitated on the last
word.

“
His
submissive? Boy, he really is a kinky freak.”

“
Yeah.
He says he doesn't do traditional relationships. If I want to be with
him, I have to be his submissive.”

“
And
how do you feel about that?”

I thought about it
for a moment. “Excited. Afraid. Nervous.”

“
It
sounds like fun. Vanilla sex is good, but too many men are boring in
the bedroom.”

“
I
suppose.”

She didn't really
understand. It wasn't just about sex, and it wasn't going to be only
in the bedroom. Damien would demand my subservience to him all the
time. I would be his to control at a whim.

“
There's
more to it than that,” I said, but by that time our food had
arrived, and we were both more interested in eating than talking
about our relationships.

When we were
finished eating, we parted ways. Feeling no less confused, I went
home and sat in front of my desk with the contract in hand. The
papers felt thick between my fingers, a tedious read. Frustration
welled up inside of me, the same emotion I felt when I had looked
upon the questionnaire for the first time. Except for this time, I
didn't have to spend hours writing down answers. I just had to read.
Read and sign. Sign my freedom away. Give myself over to him.

THE CONTRACT

It was a tedious
read of necessity. The terms of my submission. There was no doubt in
my mind Damien Reed had painstakingly written every line. That was
the kind of meticulous man he was, precise and perfect. And now it
was my job to painstakingly read every line he had written,
comprehend them, and commit them to memory.

If I could have put
the task off, I would have. But I felt like Damien and I were at a
point in our relationship where I could not procrastinate much more
without the threat of losing him. I had already dragged my feet, and
my apprehension to engage in this BDSM relationship was more than
apparent. He had gently nudged me along, but for how long would he
continue to do so. It wasn't worth finding out.

Page after page of
impossibly controlling clauses made my scowl deepen as I read on.
According to this particular contract, Damien would be allowed to
control pretty much every aspect of my life, from the clothing I
wore, to the time I went to bed. The idea of signing the contract
filled me with dread.

Thankfully, this was
just a mock-up, and I wouldn't have to sign the actual contract until
we were together the following evening. Before I signed it, I would
have a chance to discuss what I had read with Damien. I wondered how
pissed off he would be if I told him the entire thing needed to be
rewritten. Surely, no man was this demanding.

Having read all six
pages, I set the contact aside and curled up in bed, trying to
distract my mind long enough to go to sleep. The only other thing I
could think of though was what had happened during the evening, about
the sensual shower Damien and I had shared and the delicious spanking
that came afterward. My nether region pulsed in response to my
thoughts, but I was too tired to pleasure myself.

The next afternoon,
I found myself in front of Damien Reed's house. Though I wasn't sure
if it was necessary or not, I brought the mock contract with me. I
leafed through it to give myself a refresher of the key points I
wanted to bring up. Then I stepped out of my car and approached his
doorstep.

Damien opened the
door with the same serious expression he always wore, greeting me
before he ushered me inside and to the living room. I seated myself
on the sectional sofa and graciously accepted a bottle of water. As
it had been the previous day, there was new paperwork waiting for me.
Hopefully, it was the revised contract, and not something he expected
me to read or fill out.

“
Did you have
time to read the contract last night?” he asked, sitting next
to me.

“
I did.”

“
And?”

“
There are
definitely some things I'd like to discuss with you.”

“
Perhaps you
should look over the new contract before we get into that.”

I nodded and leaned
forward to pick up the new contract, which was much thinner than the
one I had brought with me. When I flipped it over and looked at the
typing, it appeared to be a gutted out version of the original
contract. At the top, it was titled Contract of Consideration, and
there were far fewer rules and clauses than there were in the mock
contract. Diligently, I read through it, taking note of how most of
the harshly controlling stuff had been removed. Almost involuntarily,
I felt my body relaxing, the tension of having to discuss my
discontent quickly fading away.

“
It's
different than the one you gave me last night,” I said when I
had finished reading it and flipped back to the first page.

“
To suit the
situation,” he told me. “Right now, I want you to get
used to the idea of being a submissive.”

“
What about
this other contract? It had a lot more stuff in it,” I asked,
glancing at the much thicker contract I had laid on the coffee table.

“
You won't
have to sign that one until it's time for your formal collar. And
even then, it won't be the same contract. Clauses will be revised
according to how our relationship evolves up to that point. And
everything I put in there is open for discussion. I want you to feel
completely comfortable before you put your signature down.”

That did make me
feel a lot better.

I thumbed through
the papers a final time, just in case there was something I had
missed. It all seemed innocent enough, with a basic principal that I
was willing to obey and learn, and in return, Damien would teach,
guide, and discipline me.

Toward the bottom of
the contract were my assigned safety words. 'Yellow' would be used
for when I was about to reach my pain threshold. 'Red' was to be said
if I needed all activity between us to cease. If my mouth was gagged,
and I couldn't say either word, I was to hold up two fingers for
yellow and three fingers for red. The contract assured me that I
would never be bound to the point where I wouldn't be able to either
say or signal my safety words.

At the bottom of the
contract, before the signature lines, was a list of all of my hard
limits. I read through it to make sure nothing was missing. Then I
took a deep breath and looked up at Damien.

“
I'm ready,”
I said and then waited for him to hand me a pen, so I could sign my
name in the field for the submissive's signature. This was it, our
relationship would likely never be the same again. It was the first
step to giving myself over to him completely.

As I scribbled my
name across the line, I felt a tightness in my chest.
The doubt is
natural, this is new and unfamiliar to you. There's not reason to be
afraid.
I tried to comfort myself.

When I was done
signing, I pushed the contract toward Damien and he signed it as
well. And with that, it was done. My first step into BDSM had been
taken, and I would have to mind my P's and Q's around him from now
on.

“
What happens
next?” I asked.

“
Follow me.”
He stood, leading me to the classroom.

What Damien called
his classroom was actually just a guest bedroom with extra chairs,
but it had served its purpose well enough, which was to accommodate
my lessons in sexual nature and fantasy. I had experienced my sexual
awakening in this very room, and for that, it would always hold a
fondness for me.

As usual, I took a
seat on the bed and waited for instruction. Damien went to the chest
of drawers, opened the top drawer, and pulled out an object. When he
turned around, I saw that it was a thin leather collar, the kind one
might put on a dog. It felt strange having it fastened around my
neck, as if I was losing a part of my humanity.