Role Play (Silhouette Studios)

by Katana Collins

  He was raw, magnificent masculinity and he was sexy as hell.

  He handed me the stack of papers from his desk. “I’d like to have dinner tonight. Get to know you a little better.”

  “Get to know me better? You were three knuckles deep in me a few hours ago.” Oh, my God. What is wrong with me? Heat rushed to my face as soon as I said it. Someone needed to punch me in the vagina to shut me up. Sure, I hadn’t gotten laid in over two years, but God. I could almost hear Andrea’s voice in my head shouting, play it cool, girl!

  “Oh, I remember,” Ash said, his grin spreading. “And I plan on making good on my promise to you. I said you would come tonight… and you will come tonight.”

  “When you said you didn’t do relationships, I guess I just thought that meant we would do this once and that’d be it.”

  He shook his head no. “When I say I don’t do relationships, I mean emotionally. Aftercare is a big part of my lifestyle, but that’s not to be confused with a date or with love.”

  Why was sex so damn confusing? I swallowed the hard lump in my throat. “Okay, then. Where are we going? For dinner, I mean.”

  “My place,” Ash said. “Not LnS—they have too many strict policies. And we can’t go out to dinner until we sign a consent form for the studio and meet with Richard.” Tension climbed in my throat, lodging dead center. We have to meet with Uncle Richard? Oh, fuck no. “So that leaves my house,” he finished.

  “Does that mean we have to sign a consent contract?” I whispered, my face going hot, fingers getting clammy and numb.

  Ash nodded. “It’s the responsible thing to do. Even if I am only entering in a one night scene, those contracts are very important. They’re in the stack of papers I gave you. We don’t have to file it with HR yet, but we should each review and sign it before dinner tonight.”

  Oh, God. Disclosing our relationship… or whatever this was… to Uncle Richard? I might throw up. This would not go over well. “We could also go to my house for dinner,” I said.

  His grin faded. “Your apartment.”

  “Yes.”

  “That you share with a roommate?”

  Oh. Not for the first time since we’d met, I felt our age gap. Of course I had a roommate. I barely made minimum wage here. And of course, Ash, a successful and kinky adult wouldn’t want to have a date with my roommate in the next room. I felt young and immature and stupid for even suggesting it. “Yes.”

  “As I said… that leaves my house.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Lucy

  Two and a half hours. He told me to be at his house in two and a half hours and to have read through the contracts.

  I made it back to my apartment in only twenty-five minutes—which with Los Angeles rush hour traffic? That was nothing short of magical. Once home, I grabbed my robe, the contracts, and shed my clothes, running a bubble bath. What the hell was it about sitting in a tub of hot, soapy water that was so damn satisfying? I didn’t know. And I didn’t care. It was one of life’s pleasures and I was rolling with it.

  I paused in front of the mirror, spinning to examine my ass where he had spanked me earlier. My skin was bare, no redness, no marks and I couldn’t help the moment of disappointment that fell in the pit of my stomach.

  With a sigh, I sank into the bathtub, moaning as the steaming liquid sloshed around my body. I closed my eyes, taking a few moments to relax before going through the song and dance of a stupid beauty routine. First, I washed my face. Then my body. I ran the conditioning mask through my hair and my eyes caught the stack of papers, resting at the corner of the sink, taunting me.

  The conditioner needed ten minutes to do its thing. I sighed, dried my hands on the towel, then leaned forward to grab the papers. “Might as well get this over with.”

  I curled my fingers around the stack of papers and the pen and slid back into the water, pressing my toes against the porcelain edge of the tub.

  Which should I start with? I shuffled through the papers. LnS. I already knew some of their policies from Andrea and something told me it would be less of a shock. I grabbed a sticky note off the front with a neatly scribbled message from Ash: You probably won’t need this. However, if you like what we do, a club like LnS might be worth joining.

  I snorted. From what I heard, you needed to be wealthy as fuck to join a club like LnS. As I flipped through the pages, nothing stood out as being too weird. It was a non-disclosure agreement, blah, blah, blah. Very exclusive. Yeah, yeah. Oh. This was interesting. They dug up dirt on their members and employees and held it over them in exchange for their silence. Did that mean they had dirt on Andrea? My curiosity piqued, but I quickly shook it off. There was no secret Andrea had that I didn’t already know. We’d been best friends since kindergarten. I knew everything about that girl from her secret love of Weekend at Bernie’s to her not-so-secret love of Goddess Cups. Ick. Seriously, how anyone could be that passionate about a silicone menstruation cup was beyond me. Her job security must be motivation enough to keep silent.

  Other than that, nothing about the LnS contract stood out. I scribbled my signature at the bottom, then momentarily froze. Why did I just sign that? Ash had already said I wouldn’t need it… it was just for my education. A little unnerved, I leaned over, setting it back on the sink beside the tub.

  Taking a deep breath, I held the next document—two-pages titled “Ash Livingston’s Dom/sub Contract.” His words from earlier reverberated in my body. He didn’t do relationships. Anymore. My stomach somersaulted as I thought of the ring he kept on his pinky finger. It was feminine and textured—like some sort of hammered gold. And it looked like a wedding ring. I could see why he had that no Google policy. One quick search of his name would reveal everything I needed to know—wedding announcements, birth announcements, obituaries, whatever had happened to him was only a two-minute search away.

  I swallowed, my throat burning for Ash. Most of my history wasn’t searchable. But if it was, and I found out that someone had gone behind my back to see into my past? It was a betrayal. Either I would earn the right to know—earn Ash’s trust enough for him to open up about his past, or… I wouldn’t. And I could live with either result.

  On that note, it was time to read this thing. See what Ash’s personal Dominant rules were. And if any were total deal breakers.

  The very first sentence struck me immediately.

  This contract is not legally binding. Both parties fully acknowledge that this is pliable and the language in this contract is for playtime vs. reality. For the sake of this contract, Ash Livingston will be referred to as Dom/Sir and ______, as sub/sweet girl.

  Well, okay then. There was something comforting in those words—in the acknowledgment right there at the beginning that a ‘contract’ like this was total bullshit. I swallowed, inhaling the lavender scented bubbles surrounding my body before continuing.

  Rights, Duties, and Obligations ~ Dominant

  I promise to care for and cherish sweet girl. I will help her, teach her and guide her, respect her limits and tease the line. I have the right to use her body so long as I do not damage her, inflict lasting injury or harm her mentally. I will use implements and tools on her for my own pleasure, I will bind her and restrain her, hit her, whip her, and I will have her sexually.

  I will not use any drugs at any time when we are together. I will limit alcohol to two glasses per evening. I will help her find pleasure in submission, and I will make sure that she knows when she has pleased me. I will reward and punish her for her efforts and failures.

  I will not make unreasonable demands. I am aware that her needs outweigh my preferences. I will set a routine and rules for sweet girl, and I will let her know what the punishments are for infractions. It is my duty to be reliable, sober and caring. I will respect the list of my subs preferences and limits, and discuss them with her.

  Okay… that seemed straight forward enough. Damn. I should have poured a glass of wine before beginning to read this thing. I could
hop out, wrap a robe around myself and pour one now… but frankly, it just seemed like too much trouble. Instead, I kept reading, moving onto the rights, duties, and obligations of the submissive—it basically said everything that the Dominant one said, only worded to be more subservient. Safewords would be created… yes, of course. Her job—well, my job—was to please Sir. Okay… that’s probably fine, but only because the language in the Dominant’s discussed his job was to give me pleasure, too. It all seemed pretty standard… at least from what little I knew about the lifestyle.

  I am to give myself freely to Sir. In doing so, I am to be open and honest about my wants and needs, to let go of my negative self-destructive thoughts and behaviors, and be secure in the ability of Sir to make me feel safe in expressing these things to Him.

  Yikes. This language didn’t sound like Ash. It didn’t sound like the passionate guy who threw caution to the wind and fucked a ton of different women—at least according to the rumors. No, not rumors. Facts. Ash himself confirmed them. Told me he didn’t do relationships. That he had been with Kelly only a few months ago. But this contract? It felt like a relationship, even if he was afraid to define it as that. Even if that relationship only lasted one night or one weekend… it was still something more than a casual hook up. He said Kelly wasn’t a submissive, but would she have signed one of these? Something in my throat clamped at the thought. That Kelly and I would be sharing a man.

  Rules and Protocols for sweet girl:

  1) Sweet girl is to maintain physical contact with Sir at all times when out in public, from the moment they enter the vehicle at the beginning of their time together until the moment they exit the vehicle at the end of their time. Sweet girl will ask permission to leave Sir’s side. When permission is granted, sweet girl will stay within eye contact.

  Well, that’s impractical. How will I ever pee?

  2) Sweet girl has permission to look others in the eyes for normal conversation. Eye contact will not be maintained for longer than is necessary for conversation.

  Okay, now we’re just leaving too much open to interpretation. What is considered “longer than necessary?” We might have different definitions of this. It’s completely circumstantial.

  3) Sweet girl will sleep naked at all times.

  I smiled. Well, now we’re talking. This, I could live with.

  4) Sweet girl is to eat three rounded meals a day—breakfast, lunch, and dinner—with plenty of vegetables and protein to keep her healthy and strong.

  “Oh, hell no,” I said aloud. He’s dictating what I can eat? A shiver rocked through my body despite the steamy water, which was admittedly cooling by the minute. I could maybe get on board with maintaining physical contact while in public. And the eye contact thing was weird, but I’d be willing to try it. But telling me what I can eat? How often I needed to eat? No. Just… no. I’d been loomed over about my diet and exercise most of my childhood and that was enough.

  “Luce? Are you home?” Andrea called out and I heard the front door slam behind her.

  “Yeah!” I shouted, my voice echoing off the walls in the bathroom.

  From outside the closed door, I heard Andrea’s footsteps padding down the hallway.

  “Marco!” She sang out, playfully.

  “Polo!” I shouted back. “But I’m in the bathtub, so don’t—” The knob turned and Andrea came bursting in. “—come in,” I finished saying with a sigh.

  I should be used to this; Andrea had a completely different definition of personal space than I did and my best friend had been barging in on me in the bathroom since we were kids. Even when we were seven and having sleepovers, Andrea would come in while I was brushing my teeth because she had to pee. “Do you ever just give someone privacy?” I asked, shaking my head.

  Andrea scrunched her nose and sat down on the closed toilet. “Oh, please. Don’t act all shy around me. I’ve held your hair while you puked after drinking too many Pina Coladas.”

  My stomach turned. “Oh, God, don’t remind me. That is the night we shall not speak of.”

  Andrea grinned. “Your personal Voldemort.”

  Never ever again will I drink those cheap, sugary mixers from the gas station.

  “What’s this?” Andrea asked.

  “No, don’t!” I cried. But it was too late. Andrea leaned forward, snapping the papers out of my hands. Her pale, blue eyes widened as they scanned the page and one blonde eyebrow arched.

  “Well, well, well…” she said. “Look at you.”

  “It’s not what you think,” I said quickly.

  “I think it looks like you’re becoming Ash Livingston’s submissive.”

  “Okay… it’s exactly what you think.” I groaned, and slid beneath the water, taking the moment to rinse my hair of the conditioning mask. From below the soapy bath water, I could hear Andrea talking, even if it was a little muffled.

  “Oh, you don’t have enough breath control in the world to get out of talking about this!”

  She was right. And really… who better to talk this out with than Andrea? Not only my best friend, but an employee of LnS who had seen a lot of shit in her time there.

  I came up from under the water, wiping droplets from my eyes. “Okay, fine.”

  “Damn.” Andrea flipped her gold hair over her shoulder and stretched out the word to be several syllables wrong. “You’ve read this?”

  I inwardly groaned. “I didn’t finish it.”

  “Sweet girl understands Sir’s reliance on safewords obligates her to use them and she promises to do so. She will use ‘yellow’ as a warning to slow down, ease up, or change direction while continuing the session and ‘red’ to immediately end a scene. She may switch these out for her own personal safewords.”

  “Oh yeah… this scene thing?” I repeated. “It’s like he’s directing his sex life like a movie.”

  Andrea snickered. “Oh, wait,” she said, holding up her finger. “It gets better. Number six, Sweet girl must be bathed, washed and waxed before any encounter with Sir.” She paused, looking me up and down in the bathtub. “You sure you didn’t read this already?”

  “No,” I snapped. “And even though I’m bathed, I am definitely not waxed.”

  Andrea leaned over, opening the sink cabinet and opened a new set of razors, tossing one in the soapy water. “Here. It’s not as smooth as a wax job, but it’ll be good for tonight.”

  “Um… thanks,” I muttered. I guess.

  “Sweet girl will get at least eight hours of sleep nightly so to be well rested for encounters with Sir.”

  I rolled my eyes. I haven’t gotten a full eight hours of sleep since I was in middle school. Maybe not even then—sleep never came easily.

  “Oh,” Andrea said, her voice lilting higher. “Now it’s getting interesting. Sweet girl will greet Sir at the beginning of each session by offering her lips for a kiss.”

  I shrugged and the now tepid water sloshed with the movement. “So? He wants a kiss hello—”

  “Any time sweet girl excuses herself to the restroom or for some private time, she must then stick her fingers into her pussy, rubbing her juices on her lips, then wash her hands before coming back to Sir and offering her pussy soaked lips to his for a kiss.”

  My face drained of color. But Andrea hardly seemed to notice and continued reading. “Sweet girl’s orgasms belong to Sir and only Sir. In the time they are together, orgasms will be requested and only achieved when Sir allows it. If the relationship continues beyond the one evening, sweet girl is not to masturbate without permission or in the twenty-four hours leading up to an arranged session.”

  I shoved to my feet, lurching for my towel to cover myself. “Okay, that’s enough,” I said, pointing to the door.

  “Whoa, something struck a nerve there,” Andrea said with a giggle. “Admit it… that’s pretty fucking hot.”

  “It is, but I also realized that I don’t think you should be reading his contract. If LnS is private enough to require dirt on its patrons
to grant entry, then I bet a Dom isn’t okay with his contract being passed around to his submissive’s friends.”

  For the first time all evening, Andrea’s face went slack. “He told you that? About LnS’s contract?”

  “Well… yeah. He gave it to me to read. I mean… we probably won’t ever go there. This is supposed to be a temporary thing to get each other out of our systems, whatever that means. But I think he’s trying to cover his tracks. Just in case.” We were silent for a tense second. “What’s the big deal? You basically told me they were super exclusive and stuff anyway?” I said.

  Andrea dropped Ash’s contract back onto the corner of the sink. “I just didn’t realize you were joining the club.” She sounded uncomfortably serious and I didn’t like the way her face lost all sense of joy and humor.

  I studied the tight line of Andrea’s neck and how her jaw ticked nervously. “I’m not. I’m just, I don’t know, exploring. That’s all.” More silence. From Andrea. The one woman who was never silent with an opinion. “Unless you don’t want me to. Andrea, if you have a problem with me joining—”

  “It’s fine. Maybe you’ll like it. I have to get back to those alterations. It’s my night off from LnS, but I’m going to need to pull an all-nighter every night until next Monday to be ready for that meeting.”

  My stomach twisted around itself. Andrea didn’t pull the disappearing act all that much. She was usually the friend to confront issues head on. She loved drama. Loved the confrontations. I was the one who slunk away to my room or buried myself in work to avoid talking. “Do you need any help?” I offered. “I could prep the measuring for you so you can focus on the sewing—”

  “No, Luce. You’ve got plans,” Andrea said, her voice softer, and she brushed her pink manicured fingers overtop Ash’s contract.