by T. Anthony
We were frozen in a moment that would shape our lives forever, but it gave me no knowledge of whether the shape we would take at the end of this would be superior or inferior to what we were now.
Seeing as he was almost immobile, I took it upon my self to cement my convictions of what I had agreed to; I placed the contract on the table and signed my name. Gently placing the pen down, I turned the contract to face him and moved it forward.
“Are you sure you have thoroughly thought about this? You are prepared to adhere to everything within the contract and accept direction from me as I see fit?” Alexander looked concerned that I was diving into this with my heart and not my head.
And I probably was, but I had dealt with much more complex agreements; this was nothing I couldn’t handle—or so I hoped.
“It is you who doubts your abilities with regard to the contents of the contract; I eagerly signed on the dotted line. Your signature is the one that’s missing, Mr. Mason. If I have misunderstood the purpose of this contract or the instructions detailed within, please do tell.” For some strange reason, my agreeing to be taken control of gave me the feeling of utter control. I felt safe and in a place where I longed to be, a place where I should be: in Alexander’s life.
“I have no doubts, Evangeline, not in you nor in me.”
And with that, he held the contract above the table, examining my signature in a sort of disbelief that I had signed, accepting and willing to be his submissive but, more importantly, to love and be loved unconditionally without fear. It wouldn’t be easy, but nothing worthwhile is easy to gain, or so someone once told me.
And with a swift movement, Alexander tore the contract in two halves.
“What are you doing?” I asked in complete confusion.
Alexander paused and smiled. His cheeks held a sweet and victorious flush of color, and his eyes were pleased. “You being here is the signature that I needed. I can tell you the contents of that contract by heart. Your presence is the confirmation that you are willing to try. This paper is a symbol of what we both want. My discarding this paper is an acknowledgment of the fact that we’ve both taken the first step and that no document will hold us to what we are fated to do or be.”
Alexander’s gesture was indescribably fulfilling and comforting. At first I had trouble understanding the point or purpose of the contract, but now I knew: Alexander couldn’t care less if I signed the contract; my showing up after reading the contract was enough to solidify my feelings for him.
“Agreed,” I said as I stood and walked over to the intercom on the wall while Alexander watched me, baffled.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
I shushed him, picking up the intercom phone. “Brant, it’s Eva. Would you please gather my belongings from the front desk? The doorman is holding them for me. You can bring them to Alexander’s room; I’ll unpack them later. Thank you.”
Brant’s voice was that of utter happiness. He must have known that Alexander loved me and that my being here would fill the last empty part of the puzzle.
When I turned back toward Alexander, I didn’t have to look far; he was standing beside me, with eyes of a lion ready to claim what was his. “You’re moving in?” he asked.
“Did you or did you not read this contract? Maybe you should reread it. I did—at least a dozen times. It states that I will reside with my master, and I will fall into slumber and awake to the dawn in your arms every day and every night from here on in. Did I get it wrong?” But there was no need to question him, because immediately after I completed my last sentence, he had me pinned against the wall and kissed me like he had for the very first time: passionately, desirously, and overwhelmingly.
He swept me off the floor and into his Trojan arms as I shouted, “Alexander, wait! What about dinner?”
But he could not be stopped. “Fuck dinner. I have all I can eat in my arms, and don’t worry,” he said as he threw me flailing over his shoulder, “I’ll make sure you get enough to eat as well.”
And in a hungry and fast pace, he hurried me up the stairs, biting and squeezing my ass with every step he took as I giggled foolishly.
“Wait, Alexander. Brant will be bringing my things to your room. Where are you going? Alexander?” I yelled excitedly.
But he just continued down the hall. When we reached his bedroom door, he turned left and climbed one last flight of stairs.
“Where are we going?” I asked once again, but I still received no response.
Instead, a sharp mouthful came at my ass, sinking teeth into me, basically telling me to shut up.
I carried feelings of anticipation, a rush of adrenaline, and an embodiment of a feral woman of godly proportions.
We reached a single large door at the top of the stairs. But there were no doorknobs and no lock on the door except for a numbered keypad on the wall. He placed me down slowly, sliding me down his chest until my feet were gently planted on the floor.
“Remember this code, zero-six-one-three.” He punched it into the keypad, causing a click on the inside of the door, which I assumed was the lock coming undone.
And just then I realized, “Hey, zero-six-thirteen. That’s the month and day of my birthday, what a coincidence.” I giggled, smoothing my hand over his heaving chest.
“You are too cute,” he said. “I know it’s your birth date; it is also the day we met. And it is now the code to our very own playroom. A code that holds a significance neither of us could ever forget and gives entry to a place where our love can be unleashed for each other.”
I took his hand in mine and kissed him softly, and he led me inside.
The truth was, I feared what I was about to walk into; visions of Michael’s torture chamber flashed in my mind. But, to my surprise, when I tried to envision the contents inside as Alexander said “playroom,” my imagination had nothing on what this room really was.
“Alexander, what is all this?” I felt a surge of energy and pure euphoria but, When had he set all this up?
“When I left your house this morning, I turned this into…well…this: our playroom. It used to be a storage room, but I had Brant empty it, and I went out and set all this up. When you throw money at people things get done as quickly as you need them to. You don’t like it?” he asked disappointedly.
I relaxed; this room hadn’t existed before today. In a second’s time, I had imagined him bringing dozens of women in here, and now it was my turn. But he hadn’t. It was ours, and I got a freebee in him divulging all of that before I started World War III by telling my wild thoughts of all the women he had brought up here before this moment.
I couldn’t be sure of what I thought. It was beautiful. The room was decorated in hues of lavish purples; satin curtains hung over the oversized windows, and the furniture was fit for a queen. The four-poster bed was extravagant, luxurious pillows covered the top half of the bed, and the plush comforter hung over and onto the floor. The room was fully furnished with a rolling wet bar, a double chaise, standing great mirrors all around the room, and then there was…the supplementary furniture that one wouldn’t normally find in a typical bedroom.
The most eye-catching of the decor was the sex swing hanging in the center of the room! On the side by one of the large mirrors lay a large cushion on the ground that formed in the shape of two hills attached in the center, higher on one side and lower on the other. In between two of the mirrors resting on the wall stood a table covered in red rose petals. And on top of the rose petals were our toys.
The flogger, the clamps, the beads, the paddle—all of what we had enjoyed on our impromptu trip to Bora-Bora, and some of what we hadn’t had the time to enjoy—yet.
Then there were some new additions: straps, wrist and ankle cuffs, and some slings.
“I have to ask you: when and how you became such an expert?” Three months ago he was inexperienced, and now he was the sultan of erotic pleasure?
“Trust me, I’m no expert but I…I want to learn with you…in
you. I want to teach you that the only emotions you should feel from toys and props and sex is love—erotic, sensual, and orgasmic.”
He always knew how to respond and how to jolt my interest.
“So, what do you say?”
“The only question that exists in my head”—I reached for his belt buckle—“is why are you still dressed?”
Alexander’s excitement shown through the tightening of his chest and heavy breathing. “Are you ready to submit, my love?”
I barely paused to comprehend the question he had asked, but I responded in the shortest of breaths, “Yes, sir, I am freely and willingly going to try to submit and surrender all of myself and my heart to you.”
And with that, Alexander readied me. “Go beyond those doors. I’ve laid out an outfit for you, and I want you to return quickly. I expect you in heels as well.”
Filling my part, or perhaps going a little overboard, I bowed and nodded my head and turned for the door near the entrance.
The doors that Alexander had me go through led to a room that was part closet and part bathroom. It too was beautiful, keeping up with the rest of the beauty of the house. But in this closet, you wouldn’t find work attire or sweats. Alexander had stocked the closet with costume outfits, outfits for role play: leathers, silks, garters, lace. It embodied eroticism and sensuality in all of its materials.
The outfit Alexander had chosen for me was white lace all throughout. I was a bit surprised with the innocence in his choice of color, but it was beautiful. The lace bodice had cutouts around the breasts and belly, leading down to the inner thighs, open to where my lips would be parted right down the center, exposing me and my urge for him. The outfit was paired with black fishnet thigh highs and leather garters. Not so innocent, I thought.
And last, but not least, black five-inch heels completely covered in crystals. I dropped the outfit on the bench and walked forward to admire the shoes, only to find…Manolos!
I couldn’t take my eyes off of them. I had only mentioned once to him that Manolo Blahniks were my favorite, but to think that he actually remembered; I was overjoyed and truly moved. For a moment I thought, Had he given me the Manolos first, he could have done anything to me even without a contract.
I dressed quickly, taking a breath as I fastened the last clasp of the garters to the leather straps. I walked back out to the room, and I tried to do so quickly as he had instructed.
Positioned in the center of the extravagant room, he stood prepared and regal. He was the master of this castle and of the vessel that kept my soul from bursting.
Surrounded by candles and burning incense, he gazed at every inch of my almost bare body. My nipples hardened, and my sex became wet just from the essence of the room and his presence; he was dressed only in white silk pajama pants that hung low on his hips exposing the V of muscles—who’s point ended at my ultimate desire.
His body glowed, golden and smooth, as the candles flickered, showing only moments of his gaze upon me. I stood quiet, waiting for him to instruct me, and I felt a jolt shoot through me as he finally spoke.
“You are stunning, Evangeline. Come to me,” he initiated in a most sultry voice.
I tiptoed toward him, and his eyes moved down toward my shoes as the candlelight caught the crystals, making them sparkle all around us.
“Do you like them?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Don’t nod; I love to hear you speak. I will tell you when I want you to be silent. Remember, your lovely voice is one of things I fell in love with.” And he spoke truth; he had always loved to hear me—especially in our battles and in my moans.
“I do love them. I’m moved that you remembered…” And when I paused, Alexander tilted his head, knowing I wanted to say more. Normally I would have fought such a lavish gift, but now, having just agreed to take such gifts without argument, I planned to do just that. “They are amazing, thank you.”
Appeased and surprised, Alexander brought me closer to him. “This is new, so let’s make up the rules as we go along. You’ll keep your hair down, always. And you remember our safe word, right?”
“Knight,” I acknowledged, having selected the word so long ago when we didn’t even have a reason to use one. But now—with all these gadgets—I was glad we had gotten the safe word thing out of the way.
“Good. In case you are curious, I picked the white because you’ve come in here pure of heart, pure of intentions, and with the purest of love. So, I wanted our first time christening this room to be in the purest of adornments—minus some dirty deeds.”
Alexander spoke with the sincerest and most heartfelt words anyone had ever spoken to me, giving me strength and hope for something more.
“Oh, I almost forgot. I want you to wear this.” And out of the pocket of his silk bottoms, he brought forward a white gold necklace with a magnificent and quite large red pendant.
“Alexander, that is a beautiful ruby, I…” I said, admiring the bobble that hung from his hands.
But Alexander corrected me, “Oh no, my love, this is no ruby. This here is one of the rarest of diamonds—just like you, the rarest of loves—it is a red diamond. There are only twenty percent of certified red diamonds in the world, and now you have one of them. And I have the only one of you. Though you need to be cut into your true form, you are brilliant when you allow yourself to glow in the light.”
I lifted my hair and turned my back to him. Lifting the necklace above my head, he clasped it tightly around my neck. The diamond was bloodred and cut at so many angles; it reminded me of our relationship: a complex love affair that would last forever.
His fingers traced the necklace around my neck, following the drop down to my cleavage where the diamond rested. I immediately became wet, and my skin prickled from his touch, his breath on my shoulders, and as his hard erection rubbing against my back through the silk of his pants. Alexander touched me in a way that made me want to crawl into him. He moved so lightly for such a big man and caressed me so tenderly that I could have died in his arms.
He walked around me, sliding his hands down my torso and over my hips, maneuvering over my body, examining the ways he could ravage me. I closed my eyes and took in his aura. I couldn’t see him, but I could feel him through every one of my senses.
“Evangeline, lay on here.” He pointed to the cushion shaped as two hills. “That’s an Esse chair; it’s designed to help with sexual positioning.” He spoke seductively, but I couldn’t help myself from smirking at his knowledgeable explanation; and he caught on quickly as always. “Don’t smirk at me. I read instructions—I do my homework. Now do as I say.” But he scoffed at me, unable to keep it from escaping his lips. I felt like the student was leading the teacher! “Pay attention. I want you to kneel here in the center and bend all the way over the larger side.”
I complied with his directions.
“Good,” Alexander continued as his voice became hoarser and watched me bend over the cushions, tightening and pushing my ass higher in the air for him. “Now extend your arms and ankles to the side; I’m going to restrain you.”
And I tensed a little, breathing as I digested his words, restrain you. I immediately thought of Michael. But I was not with Michael, I was with Alexander, and he was heaven—not hell.
Now after my incident with Michael, my response would have naturally been, The hell you will, but I wanted it. I wanted to be tied up, restrained, gagged, and fucked in every way, shape, and form as long as Alexander was the one doing it.
Leather straps hung on the four corners of the body cushion, and with a zip, Alexander zipped my wrists and ankles into the tight leather restraints, and I was going nowhere but full throttle into ecstasy.
“You will not resist me or try to stop me. I will never hurt you. I will give into your desires, but I will push you as far as I can. I want you to let me hear your moans unless I tell you otherwise, and I want you to tell me what you’re honestly feeling when I ask that of you. Lastly, I need your tr
ust. All of this can cease right now if you don’t trust me.”
Alexander kneeled before me, and having just allowed him to restrain me, I couldn’t believe he still questioned my trust in him. But I had to reassure him. Having broken his heart once, I had scared him to the point of needing all the reassurance he could get from me.
“I trust you fully, Alexander. I submit to you.” Staring into his eyes, I spoke from my core, from the innermost sanctum of my love and desire for him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Alexander stood and slowly walked behind me to where I no longer saw his movements. He kneeled on the cushion with me, placing his now bare legs on the outside of mine. His firm, muscular thighs held me in place as warm droplets of liquid fell on my spine.
“It’s just oil. Is it too hot?” he asked.
I shook my head no as he ran his hands into the oil and spread it over my skin, massaging my shoulders and back. He rocked forward and back as he leaned into me, pressing his hips and his erection against my ass and putting his weight into my body with every rub. Slowly he moved back down toward my hips and, grasping each side of me, he pushed himself up against me, tugging me into him, working my skin and loosening my muscles.
My mind wandered, but my thoughts were nowhere as he stroked me, easing me and unwinding me wholly. Alexander moved back on the cushion, continuing the rubdown, now over my backside and onto my ass cheeks. He spread my cheeks, squeezing and kneading my tightening ass.
“I need you to relax, sweetness,” he moaned desperately.
But I was relaxed, or so I thought until a cold, round object came in contact with my anus. My eyes flew open with the realization of what he was doing, and my entire body immediately tensed, but I couldn’t speak. My affirmations of complete trust in him would have gone up in flames if I were to stop him now, only minutes after just having started.
