The Contract Rebecca's Lost Journals, Volume 2(7)
He sat down on the couch, leaving the middle cushion between us free, and I got the impression he felt that I needed that space. He was right. I needed it—but I didn’t want it. I wanted to be close to him. I wanted him to touch me. I always do when he’s nearby.
“The contract was to be negotiated,” he reminded me. “I told you that when I gave it to you.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Yet you simply said no.”
“It felt overwhelming.”
He considered me for such a long moment, I was about to go nuts. “You want this,” he finally said.
“I want you,” I surprised myself by admitting. I just couldn’t live with the terms required to have him.
“Then you have to trust me with your pleasure.”
“That contract asked for far more than my pleasure.”
“And why is that bad?”
“You want too much.”
“How do you define too much?”
Sharing me. “The unknowns,” I said, which was still an honest answer. “I don’t even understand what a lot of the things in that contract truly mean.”
“And if we can take away the unknowns?”
“How can I know, when they mean nothing to me now?”
Before I knew his intent, I was on my back, and his big body was sliding over mine, the scent of him insinuating itself into my nostrils. God, I love how that man smells. I can still smell him in my apartment now as I write this.
“I’ll teach you what they mean,” he promised.
The idea of him teaching me was/is unbelievably arousing, as was the thick press of his erection against my stomach that assured me he wanted me that night.
Still, I have limits. And Dr. Kat had told me to tell him my limits, so I said, “There are things in that contract I’ll never agree to.”
“Then we take them out.”
“What if they’re things you want?”
“We’ll negotiate. One of the best parts of the contract is openly discussing what we both want. It’s about trust. You tell me what’s okay. You know I won’t cross that line, and you always have your safe word. You’re the one in control.”
“How am I in control?”
“You set the limits and we stop when you say stop. That’s total control, something you don’t have in a different type of relationship.”
This was news to me. I hadn’t thought about this relationship in that way until then.
“You have your safe word,” he added. “You say it—I stop whatever I’m doing. You remember what it is?”
“Red,” I said, breathless. He’s good at making me breathless.
“Good,” he approved and his eyes glistened with desire. “I’m going to do something I’ve not done in ten years. I’m going to set the contract aside for now. We’ll go one lesson at a time, and I’ll teach you what everything means.”
Ten years? “Why would you do that?”
“Because I want you as my sub, Rebecca, like I haven’t wanted another sub in a very long time. Say ‘yes’ and we’ll go one lesson at a time. I’ll be the teacher and you’ll be the student.”