The Agreement

by Lund, S. E.

  It made sense to me in a neurological way, but psychologically, it still made me feel uncomfortable. I was now getting used to being totally restrained, hand and foot, my eyes covered with a blindfold while he played with me, eliciting more and more response from my body and mind. In fact, I might have been too eager for Drake, for he seemed to want to proceed more slowly than I did. He told me I had to learn patience.

  That he knew how fast and how far to go.

  If there was one negative to our relationship, it was just that it was so constrained by his desire to keep things so compartmentalized. I had one role in his life – being his submissive. It was also difficult being unable to be open about what limited relationship we did have, to sneak around, not seeing each other outside of 8th Avenue. It made the old apartment all the more special, but at the same time, a sense of grief often filled me when I left. I knew that this relationship was probably doomed to die a natural death once we'd explored everything and reached whatever limits we both had. I also felt sad that I couldn't share the rest of my life with him. Christmas was coming and I'd be alone at the very time when I wished I had someone with me to celebrate. Drake had no family left, except a long-lost mother who he never saw.

  I had to shut that thought off, push it into the back of my mind. For the present at least, I was in a state of near bliss, going through my day on the days I would meet him aroused, breathless, butterflies in my stomach thinking of his strong warm body and hands claiming me once I was completely under his control.

  I trained myself not to think of ever seeing him outside of the apartment and relating to him as anything other than his play partner and submissive. I just shut that part of me off as best I could. But the sadness lingered, a tiny part of me watching myself from the outside as I walked up the steps to the old brownstone, sad for myself. Pitying myself that I'd found such a wonderful man but couldn't be his completely, couldn't have him completely as my own.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Drake was waiting for me when I arrived at the apartment on 8th Avenue on Saturday night. I'd made an excuse to stay at home alone when Dawn called me wanting to go see a film. I claimed to be sick, and luckily, she called Jill instead and I was off the hook.

  I ran up the stairs, excitement building in me that tonight was the night – our first fetish party together and I wondered what he had planned. He said he'd been out to one of the leather shops in Manhattan to look for appropriate fetish wear for me and I'd gone on Friday to get waxed, so I was smooth, the way he liked. No wacky design left in the pubic hair like the attendant suggested. No heart, no landing strip. Just pure bare skin. Luckily, my skin and hair seemed the type not to react badly to the waxing and I loved how smooth I felt to the touch.

  Drake stood in the doorway, smiling. He wore a really nice pair of low-slung black leather pants and nothing else, his chest and feet bare.

  "There you are," he said, pulling me into his arms once I had my coat off. He rubbed his face in my hair and breathed in deeply. "You smell so good."

  I wrapped my arms around his waist, my hands sliding up his strong back, over his smooth skin, and then down to cup his ass through the leather pants.

  "I think I really really like the pants. What are you wearing underneath?"

  "Commando," he said, grinning against my neck, his cheek raising. "I have to be ready to fuck you at the drop of a hat."

  "Oh, God…" I said, gasping when his hands slipped under the hem of my dress to feel my naked pussy.

  "Oh, God is right," he said, murmuring against my neck. "I don’t know if I can wait until later to fuck you but I want to at the club."

  I pulled away and looked in his face, in his eyes, which were already dark with lust. "But not in front of anyone, right?"

  "Katherine," he said, his voice a bit hard. "We're in scene."

  I inhaled deeply and nodded. "Forgive me, Master."

  "Forgiven," he said. "As if I could ever not forgive you." Then, he frowned a bit. "As for what happens tonight, do you trust me? Do you trust me to know what you need and what you can handle?"

  I looked into his blue eyes. "Yes. Completely." He frowned and waited, and I realized what I'd done. "Yes, Master."

  "Good girl. I decide what happens tonight, not you. Your one out is to use the safe word."

  "I never want to use it, Master," I said, frowning, my voice wavering from nerves.

  "Neither do I," he replied. "Now, I see I'm going to have to wipe that frown off your face." Then he turned me around in his arms, tickling me from behind. I giggled and tried to wrestle out of his arms, but he was too strong. Finally, when I was in near hysterics from his fingers, he let me go.

  "Off to the bathroom," he said and smacked me on the ass. "I have something for you."

  I mock-screamed at his smack, which didn’t hurt at all, and ran to the bathroom as he chased me, his hands reaching out.

  I stopped inside the bathroom and leaned against the vanity, wondering what he had for me. He entered with a box in his arms. It was from the leather shop and I knew what it was – a leather corset dress as he said. He'd taken measurements of me the last time we were together and said he'd pick something out for me to wear.

  "Take off your clothes."

  I complied immediately, eager to try on whatever he had in the box. He was busy unwrapping it and when I was completely naked, I stood waiting, excitement building in me.

  He glanced up from the contents of the box and smiled. "That's what I like to see." He came to me and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against him. He kissed my neck, bit my shoulder just a bit and then stepped back.

  "I got you a very nice black number," he said. "But first, there's this." Then he reached into the box and pulled out a thick black leather collar. It was lined with felt on the inside and had a silver buckle and a padlock.

  "My collar," I said, reaching up to feel my neck. I smiled and held my hair up so he could put it on.

  "Wait," he said, holding up a hand. "There's more to it than just putting it on. This is symbolic, Katherine, of our relationship. It signifies that you're mine, completely and totally, when you wear it. Do you understand that? Completely and totally mine."

  He held my gaze, his eyes intense.

  "Yes, Master," I said, my throat a bit choked. "I understand."

  "Good girl," he said and kissed me. "It means no hesitation from now on when you wear it. No questioning my decisions. No avoiding what I order you to do. You obey immediately and completely without thinking or reservation. You only think of how to please me. If you don't submit fully and with pleasure to what I demand, you have to expect that I'll punish you. Up until now, we've been just playing a bit with D/s. This is serious now. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, Master," I said a bit too quickly, eager to have him put it on.

  He took my chin in his hands, and caught my eye. "Katherine, I want you to focus. Tell me what this means. When I put this collar around your neck, what does it mean?"

  I inhaled, blinking. He was really serious about this part. I had to rein myself in and think clearly.

  "It means I am yours totally. I obey you completely without hesitation."

  He looked long in my eyes.

  "Master," I said, grimacing.

  "Good girl. But it's more than just a symbol of possession. It means I've chosen you and you've chosen me. I'm offering this to you – being your Dom. You've accepted with all that means. It means we're exclusive. People take collaring very seriously in the lifestyle. Do you understand how serious this is? It's not given lightly. It's not just for show."

  I swallowed and looked in his eyes. He was very serious, his face almost grim.

  "Yes, Master."

  He nodded but kept looking at me as if searching my face for a sign that I did understand.

  "Now turn around and hold up your hair."

  I did and he stepped closer behind me, kissing my shoulder first, then he wrapped the collar around my neck, watching in the mirror as he
fastened the closure and secured the tiny padlock. Then he held up the key. The black leather was shiny, thick.

  "Slave," he said, his voice serious. "This key is mine, just as you are mine when you wear my collar. When I put this on and close the lock, wherever we are, you must obey me immediately, and fully. No hesitation, no complaints. If you do hesitate or complain or fail to comply, I must punish you. Do you understand?"

  I nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes, Master."

  I examined myself in the mirror. The collar was thick, but not uncomfortable, the soft grey felt buffering the feel of the hard leather.

  "You look delicious, slave. I want to eat you. In fact, I think I will eat you before we go. But first, I'm going to dress you."

  Then he slipped the black leather corset dress out of the box and I stepped into it. The skirt was far too short, barely covering the tops of my nylons, and the bodice far too big, but I realized that he could tighten the corset with ties in the back.

  He pulled the ties and soon, the top fit more tightly, the boned bodice pushing up my breasts, squeezing them together so that I was a bit uncomfortable.

  "How's that feel?" he said, his voice a bit husky. He ran his hands over the tops of my breasts which spilled out over the leather cups.

  "It's a bit tight," I said, adjusting my breasts against the leather.

  "Can you breathe?"

  I took in a breath. "Yes."

  "Good. That's perfect. You look…" he said, eyeing me up and down. "Delicious." Then he reached into the box and pulled out a black lace garter belt and black fishnet stockings. "Put these on. Then I'm going to eat you."

  I complied, my body warming to the thought he was going to make me come. I pulled the garter belt on and then sat on the edge of the tub and pulled on the stockings, one after the other. He knelt down and fastened each garter to the stockings. Then, before I could move, he forced my legs apart and I had to grip the back of the tub for support as he lifted one of my thighs over his shoulder.

  I wedged the other foot against the wall, and when he kissed me, I almost jumped.

  "Oh, God, Master, I don't know if this is a wise position…"

  "Don't argue with me, slave. Tell me if you feel like you could lose your grip."

  "Yes, Master," I said, closing my eyes as he began licking me all over, his fingers spreading me open.

  "I'm going to be very fast, Master," I said, barely able to speak. "I've been aroused all day."

  He glanced up at me. "Good. Just remember to ask permission to come."

  I nodded, my heart rate increasing as he slipped a finger inside of me.

  "Nice and wet," he said, then he started licking me again, slowly, agonizingly slowly, before covering me with his mouth and sucking me inside. It didn't take long after he slipped several fingers inside of me before I was ready to come, and I had to suck in air to be able to pull myself out of the moment.

  "Master, I'm ready…"

  "You're what?"

  "I'm going to…"

  He stopped his motions, leaving my body and flesh aching with need. "I'm not sure if you deserve it. I think I want to hear you beg."

  "Please, Master. May I come now?"

  "I'll think about it."

  Then he began licking me again, his fingers fucking me slowly. My impending orgasm began again and I gasped.

  "Master, I…"

  He once again pulled away and my orgasm stopped. I groaned, my thighs quaking, my flesh aching, needing more stimulation.

  "Please, Master," I said, my arms shaking just a bit.

  He licked me again, then sucked my clit between his lips. I clenched around his fingers, my body so ready, just needing a bit more stimulation. When he moved his fingers in me, stroking me, that was it and I gasped.

  But he stopped again, glancing up at me. "I didn’t hear you ask nicely enough."

  I breathed in deeply as the sensations subsided.

  "Please, Master, let me come," I said, my voice shaky.

  "I don't think so. I think I'll leave you in need. Aroused. You'll be all the more aroused by what happens at the party."

  I groaned, wanting to protest, but I remembered what he had just said to me about submission and so I swallowed my need, my flesh swollen and achy. He withdrew his fingers from me and stood, leaning over me, holding me in his arms and kissing me so that I tasted myself on his tongue.

  We stood up, but my legs were shaky and he had to practically hold me up. He stroked his fingers through my hair.

  "You'll be so ready later," he said, taking my hand and stroking it across his erection. "And so will I. Perhaps some of your inhibitions will be overcome."

  He was hard as rock, his erection trapped behind the leather pants. I sighed, content to wait and see what he had planned. Then I watched as he slipped on a crisp white linen shirt, leaving it untucked, and then his socks and boots. Finally, he pulled on a black tuxedo jacket over top.

  He looked amazing.

  The drive to the mansion where the fetish party was being held took almost half an hour. On the car stereo, Led Zeppelin, Sunshine of Your Love, played in the background while Drake described what would happen when we arrived at the home of a wealthy investment banker who hosted the once-monthly exclusive and very private dungeon party and fetish night.

  "Will we wear masks?" I asked, a bit nervous. "Master?" I added, catching myself.

  "No need for this party," he said. "These people will be more afraid of you knowing them than you should be of them knowing you. These are some of the wealthiest and most powerful players. I'm already a member of the host's inner circle, but you'll have to sign a disclaimer, agreeing to keep private anything you see at the party, not revealing any names to anyone, and if you see anyone on the street, you'll ignore them unless you're in a social situation and it demands that you acknowledge them. This is to protect the people who attend, many of whom are very powerful people and could be harmed if word got out about their involvement in BDSM."

  "What if someone knows me?" I said, still nervous.

  He reached out and touched my lips with his finger.

  "Master," I said quickly. "Who is the owner? Would I know his name?"

  He shook his head. "No. Just a very powerful banker with lots of money he made himself. He doesn’t run in your father's old money circles. You might see his name on the Forbes 500 list, but not in the news. These people are very private."

  "How did you meet him, Master?"

  "Someone who knew him and knew me introduced us and I got an invite. After he watched me for a while, I was offered membership. Lara is a member as well. She may even be there tonight."

  "Master, Lara will be mad that we're together."

  He nodded. "I've smoothed things over with Lara."

  "Are these all the kinky types from the one percent?"

  He laughed at that but then he reached over and touched my lips with a finger. "Remember your manners, Katherine. You're being a bit lax because of excitement but I can't be lenient tonight as I usually am. If you disobey me in front of my very powerful and wealthy friends, I'll have to punish you."

  "I'm sorry, Master. I'll do better."

  "They're not all from the one percent. Some are there simply because they're good at what they do, kink-wise. Like Lara. She has several very powerful submissives, which is why she's invited. Men who run this country, but who like to be dominated in the bedroom."

  We drove through a heavily wooded area in Yonkers to a mansion set high on a hill, surrounded by a security fence with remote control cameras spaced along the perimeter. A guard at the gate accepted Drake's ID and checked his name on a list and then waved us through.

  My heart rate increased as we drove to the front entrance. A valet opened my door and helped me out. Then Drake came to my side and took my arm. He handed the valet his keys and we walked in the front door, into a luxurious foyer done all in rich marble and mirrors, a huge crystal chandelier in the center of the room suspended from a vaulted ceiling. D
rake pulled an invitation out of a pocket in his overcoat and handed it to a shaved-headed security guard dressed in a business suit, a wireless earphone in his ear. The guard examined it and then checked me out, eyeing me up and down.

  "She's new, Sir?"

  Drake nodded.

  "Sir, she'll have to sign," the guard said. He pointed inside the entry to a table set up with an older brunette dressed in a black corset and mini skirt, thigh-high stiletto boots. She wore no collar. We went to the table and the woman smiled at us.

  "Master D," she said, making eye contact with him. I took it from how she greeted him as an equal that she was a Domme.

  "Mistress Innes," he replied. "Good to see you again."

  "You know the procedures. Your submissive will have to sign." She handed me a sheet of paper and a pen. "You can read it over there and sign. I'll get one of the Attendants to witness."

  Drake led me to an ornate side table with a chair that had a tapestry seat. I sat and read over the document, which was as Drake had described it. "Master," I whispered. "Is this legally binding?"

  He nodded. "This is. It's a non-disclosure agreement. The Attendant is a notary public and can legally witness. You break the agreement's terms, you can be sued."

  I signed and dated the document.

  The Attendant was collared and dressed in leathers, his torso bare except for straps that crossed his chest. He wore a black leather hat and huge leather boots. Tattoos marked his chest and arms.

  After he introduced himself, he turned to me. "You understand that you are now legally obliged to keep secret what you see here and the names and identities of those who you meet?"

  I nodded. The Attendant signed in the appropriate spot and pointed to a room off the left. "You can leave your coats and overshoes in the coat check. Fetish wear is required. If you have none, you will be able to choose from what is in stock or else you'll have to leave."