The Contract Rebecca's Lost Journals, Volume 2(13)
My Master stepped behind me, his hands settling possessively at my waist, his lips lowering to my ear. “Try it once. Do this for me.”
“I don’t know,” I whispered, surprising myself. I hadn’t said no—I’d said maybe.
“You have your safe word,” he immediately replied. “Use it and we stop.”
Thinking back now, the most profound moments of the night followed that promise from him. Everything had gone into slow motion. My Master’s hands on my body, caressing my sides, my breasts. The other man, whose name I still don’t know, watching me with a heated, anxious expression on his face.
“One time,” my Master whispered. “I just ask for one time.”
I remember wanting to please him, or telling myself that was what I wanted, and then saying yes.
“Good girl,” he murmured, and the other man had smiled and stepped forward. Before I had time to back out, the stranger was sliding his hands to my waist, his thighs melded to mine. It seemed like in a blink of time all three of us were naked. I have these random memories. Me on my knees. My Master behind me, holding my breast. The stranger licking my nipples. The stranger pressing fingers inside me. Both men inside me at the same time. I’d never dreamed that was possible, or that it could be pleasurable. Those two men together . . .
I can’t deny it was pleasurable, yet I’m still bothered by how easily my Master allowed another man to touch me. I can’t be special to him, or he’d want me all to himself, right? I don’t want to share him with another woman. It’s all so very confusing . . . and though I have time to try new things while I decide if I am going to sign the contract, I don’t like this state of limbo, or the way exclusivity begins only after I sign the contract. I need closure and certainty sooner rather than later.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Today my job took over in the most wonderful way, and I was able to quickly forget about the contract. I started out the morning with a sale. It wasn’t a big one, but it was still a sale. I set up the meeting with Ricco and my client for Monday. The most exciting part, though, was Chris coming by the gallery and my being called into Mark’s office. I soon forgot about being nervous when I heard the reason I was there. Chris set up a charity event for next month with us, and he’s going to unveil a new work that will later be auctioned off at Riptide for his charity. Mark and Chris asked me to organize it, instead of Mary, since it’s attached to Riptide.
I am beyond elated! A new work from Chris? People will be fighting for tickets to see him unveil a new work. This is so exciting, and I’m eager to dig into the details tomorrow.
As for my decision to be submissive, well, I’ve been reading up on the internet on BDSM and I’ve been tuning in to the Dr. Kat show quite often. I’m thinking about calling her again. I need someone who understands the dynamics of the Master/sub relationship, and I like the anonymity of calling in.
Aside from that, I’m supposed to have another lesson tomorrow night at his place. I just hope there are only two of us—not three.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Morning . . .
The nightmare came back. I hate that damn nightmare. I hate how real the icy water feels, pouring into my lungs. And I hate my mother’s perfume, which I used to love. That sense of doom is back. I hadn’t even realized it had left until it returned. At least tonight, I’ll be lost in some kind of sexual fantasy sure to make me forget. Escaping into his world sounds very good right now.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Last night I went to his house for a lesson, and it was just the two of us. It was sexy and amazing. He tied me up and produced a pair of nipple clamps. I’d never been clamped and it hurt at first, but it was sweet bliss once the ache faded. He’d told me he was my escape, my place where I could let the rest of the world fade away. And it did. It was one of the few times in my life that I have ever fully let go. I didn’t think; I just let myself get lost in what I felt. He’d made me feel that safe.