by Sky Corgan
“Pretty much.”
“Then I think I should be able to decide in two weeks.” I hoped. My emotions were so loopy when it came to Damien that I couldn't be sure. Still, the quicker I earned this formal collar, the sooner we would officially be committed.
“Alright. Well, how about this. We'll start with two weeks, and when two weeks is up, we'll discuss how you feel about things. If you need more time, we can extend it after that.”
“That sounds good.”
“Before you go, it's time for a pop quiz.” He smirked, and I tried my best not to scowl. I had a bad feeling this was going to be the first of many pop quizzes. Then again, it was really important to him for me to learn this stuff, so I shouldn't be surprised.
“Shoot.”
“Name all the collars and what their purposes are.”
“Do I get a reward if I get them all right?” I grinned lecherously, showing my intent. “I do think there should be some type of reward system in place.”
He let out a short laugh. “You, my dear, are insatiable.”
“Fair is fair.”
“Yes.” He nodded. “Fair is fair. A reward if you get them all right.”
Now that gave me motivation. “Do I get to pick my reward?”
“Don't push it.”
I thought for a moment. “There are five collars. The collar of protection, the collar of consideration, the training collar, the formal collar, and the scene collar. The collar of protection is used to signify that a submissive is under protection by a Dominant. Typically, the submissive has been in a past abusive relationship, and the collar makes it to where other Dominants cannot put her under consideration. The collar of consideration is used to signify that a submissive and Dominant are considering taking things to the next step. The submissive wears it while she's under trial. The training collar is the collar the submissive wears when she is being trained by a Dominant. It signifies a deeper commitment between the two, but is not as deep as the commitment that comes with the formal collar, which bonds the two together long-term. When the submissive receives the formal collar, it means she has given herself to the Dominant fully, body, mind, and soul. The last collar is the scene collar, which is used during specific periods of time when the Dominant and submissive are engaged in a type of pain play. Did I get it all right?” I asked, hoping beyond hope. My body yearned for his reward.
“Close enough,” he replied. “I'm impressed. I honestly didn't expect you to remember.”
“Hey! I was listening.” I crossed my arms over my chest, offended.
“Apparently you were, which is good. I suppose you want your reward now.”
Just the sound of the word made my body awaken with arousal.
“Yes. I believe a reward is in order,” I said, trying not to seem too eager.
Damien sat back on the sofa and patted his knee. Enthusiastically, I set the paperwork down on the coffee table and went to sit on his lap.
“Stop,” he told me as I began to lower myself, and I instantly froze. “Not like that. Take off your skirt and underwear and lay across my lap.”
My heart skipped a beat. What he was asking of me could only mean one of two things. He was either going to spank me or finger me. Maybe he saw all the stars I had drawn around 'spanking' on the list of kinks. It was my biggest fetish, and I had wanted him to know it.
When my skirt and panties were removed, I daintily laid across Damien's lap. His knees were boney and uncomfortable, but I tried to ignore it. Soon, my mind would be consumed with other things, my thoughts of discomfort washed away with bliss.
“Spread your legs,” he instructed, and I obeyed, feeling the cool air caressing my feminine parts. I wasn't wet, but it probably wouldn't take long for it to happen.
Damien laid a hand on my ass, rubbing my smooth skin. He pushed my blouse up a bit to uncover my lower back, and then his hand began to explore. The touch of his fingertips was teasing, moving without rhyme or reason. Goosebumps dotted my flesh, and I tried not to squirm.
For a moment, I began to doubt he was going to do anything other than caress my skin, which felt good in its own right, but then his hand began wandering lower, squeezing and massaging my buttocks before it did the same to my inner thigh. While the stimulation was arousing, it was also relaxing. I found my body becoming loose, hanging limply over Damien's lap. Even when his fingers moved to rub at the crease of my pussy lips, I didn't tense.
The tease was slow and torturous. Every sensual touch pumped blood straight to my sex, inflating my labia. When he pressed a finger between them, my pussy graciously accepted it, though he didn't tunnel all the way into me. Instead, he continued to pet back and forth, driving me insane. If he wasn't going to spank me, then I wanted him to finger me, to plunge his thick fingers into my wet passageway and fuck me until I was writhing.
My heart pounded fiercely in my chest, my body waiting in anticipation for his end game. There had to be a method to his madness. Surely, he was going to reward me instead of punishing me. The stimulation was good, but my body was so wanton that it was almost painful.
“You're getting awfully wet back here,” he whispered softly, rubbing a trail of my own juices across my taint.
My muscles instantly tightened at the feel of his finger getting so close to my asshole. The moment it touched my pucker though, his entire hand withdrew. I sighed in relief, but it was cut short by the sharp sound of skin hitting skin.
My own breath choked me as the first slap against my ass caught me by surprise. Warmth surged through my backside, converging on my clit to make it pulse with pleasure. I thought to groan, but before my mouth could utter contentment, it was crying out from the next slap. Each slap was accompanied by a circular rub over my buttocks, as if Damien was soothing the pain before he added more.
When I turned to see how rosy my butt cheeks had gotten he said, “Don't turn around. If you do, then I'll stop.”
I kept my eyes forward, staring stupidly at the cream-colored couch cushions of the sectional sofa while Damien spanked me repeatedly, alternating between ass cheeks. His strokes were firm enough to cause a delicious crack, but not so much that it took me beyond my boundaries of pain. The heat that consumed me seemed to pulse straight to my core, causing my pussy to go on wetness overdrive. I felt absolutely slick with want, almost to the point that I feared my juices might run out onto his leg. Would Damien Reed get upset if I dirtied him right after his shower? Would he punish me then instead of pleasuring me?
I didn't have much time to ponder on it. The feel of two of his fingers forcing their way through my folds and hammering inside of me made me cry out in shock. The O never left my mouth as Damien pounded them mercilessly into me, causing the fire from my ass to melt completely with the stretching heat of my nether regions. My cheeks flushed as his fingers made a squelching sound while they plowed through my wetness.
I moaned as he twisted his hand inside of me so that he could get at my clit as well, stroking across it with a third finger. Pleasure surged through me, and my body quickly began climbing back up the hill of euphoria with every forceful thrust.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Don't stop.”
Damien didn't stop. In fact, he picked up the pace, speeding my ascension to sexual bliss.
“I'm going to come,” I announced a moment too late. My body tensed on his lap, my mind going blank as the contractions began.
Damien scissored his fingers inside of me, fighting against my inner muscles to no avail. The finger that had been teasing my clit helped to milk out my final orgasms. Then I laid limply across his lap, panting for breath and waiting for condescending words. For some reason, it didn't matter so much in that moment. My orgasm had been so good that I didn't care if I displeased him.
“You're so lustful,” he said, pulling his fingers out of my pussy and bringing them up to his mouth to lick my wetness from them. As I turned to watch, my clit pulsed a final time, probably from the sight of his sexy mouth taking in my juic
es. Damn he was hot. Maybe now I could ride his cock.
“I want you inside of me,” I told him shamelessly.
“You failed again.”
There was the condescension I had expected, but it meant nothing to me. We both knew I had failed. Was there any point in saying it?
“From now on, tell me when you first feel your orgasm coming on,” he said.
“Alright. I understand. I still want to fuck you.”
“You've got to earn it, love.”
I scowled. “Aren't you just punishing yourself too?”
“You're not going anywhere. I have plenty of time to fuck you.”
The way he said it was almost arrogant, like he knew he had me, which he did. I hated how he was so sure of himself. Then again, that was a large part of his appeal. Damien Reed was in control. He knew what he wanted and how to get it. If he wanted to ensure that I'd obey him next time, threatening to deny me sex was a good way to do it.
“You're absolutely wicked,” I told him as I crawled off of his lap to pull my panties and skirt back on. When I turned to look at my butt, it was nice and red, a reminder of my reward.
After my meeting with Damien Reed, I called up my best friend Tanya to go out to dinner. All of that hot kinky action had helped me to work up an appetite, and I nearly dove into the bowl of chips and salsa that we were presented with as an appetizer at the Mexican restaurant.
Tanya looked chipper as normal. She had practically been aglow twenty-four-seven ever since she began officially dating Vinny. I didn't really see what she saw in the guy, but if he made her happy, that was all that mattered, I supposed.
“How are things with Mister Italy?” I asked between chews.
“Mister Italy?” She grinned at me. “Vinny would laugh if he heard you call him that. He's very proud of his Italian blood, though he was born in New Jersey.”
Of course, he was. All guys who looked like that were born in New Jersey. He was tall and lanky, though Tanya assured me that he had a rocking body beneath his clothing. His skin was tanned, and all of his features were dark. Brown eyes, brown hair. And that horrible horrible blowout hairstyle. Nope, I definitely did not see what she saw in him.
“He's my little Italian stud muffin,” she squealed.
“I'm glad you're happy.”
“And what about you? Are you happy dating Professor Reed?”
“You know he hates being called that.” I shifted uncomfortably in my chair.
Since I wasn't taking Damien's Art Appreciation class anymore, it was easy to forget he was a professor at the college I attended. It was strange to think of him in such a way, made him seem even older. I never really thought about the age difference between us, considering how young he looked.
“I think it's kind of sexy you're dating a professor. There's a forbidden danger to it,” Tanya said.
“There is,” I admitted. Damien would be fired if anyone ever found out that we were together. It was against the rules for a professor to date a student, even though we were both adults.
“We should go out on a double date sometime,” she suggested.
“No,” I said the word almost in a panic.
“Why not?”
“Aside from the risk involved of being seen and Damien losing his job, our relationship really isn't like that.”
“What's it like then?” She quirked her head to the side curiously.
I sighed, not really feeling like explaining. Tanya was my best friend though, and if there was anyone that I could talk to about anything, it was her. Maybe discussing it would make me feel better.
“He wants me to be . . . his submissive,” I hesitated on the last word.
“His submissive? Boy, he really is a kinky freak.”
“Yeah. He says he doesn't do traditional relationships. If I want to be with him, I have to be his submissive.”
“And how do you feel about that?”
I thought about it for a moment. “Excited. Afraid. Nervous.”
“It sounds like fun. Vanilla sex is good, but too many men are boring in the bedroom.”
“I suppose.”
She didn't really understand. It wasn't just about sex, and it wasn't going to be only in the bedroom. Damien would demand my subservience to him all the time. I would be his to control at a whim.
“There's more to it than that,” I said, but by that time our food had arrived, and we were both more interested in eating than talking about our relationships.
When we were finished eating, we parted ways. Feeling no less confused, I went home and sat in front of my desk with the contract in hand. The papers felt thick between my fingers, a tedious read. Frustration welled up inside of me, the same emotion I felt when I had looked upon the questionnaire for the first time. Except for this time, I didn't have to spend hours writing down answers. I just had to read. Read and sign. Sign my freedom away. Give myself over to him.
CHAPTER THREE
It was a tedious read of necessity. The terms of my submission. There was no doubt in my mind Damien Reed had painstakingly written every line. That was the kind of meticulous man he was, precise and perfect. And now it was my job to painstakingly read every line he had written, comprehend them, and commit them to memory.
If I could have put the task off, I would have. But I felt like Damien and I were at a point in our relationship where I could not procrastinate much more without the threat of losing him. I had already dragged my feet, and my apprehension to engage in this BDSM relationship was more than apparent. He had gently nudged me along, but for how long would he continue to do so. It wasn't worth finding out.
Page after page of impossibly controlling clauses made my scowl deepen as I read on. According to this particular contract, Damien would be allowed to control pretty much every aspect of my life, from the clothing I wore, to the time I went to bed. The idea of signing the contract filled me with dread.
Thankfully, this was just a mock-up, and I wouldn't have to sign the actual contract until we were together the following evening. Before I signed it, I would have a chance to discuss what I had read with Damien. I wondered how pissed off he would be if I told him the entire thing needed to be rewritten. Surely, no man was this demanding.
Having read all six pages, I set the contact aside and curled up in bed, trying to distract my mind long enough to go to sleep. The only other thing I could think of though was what had happened during the evening, about the sensual shower Damien and I had shared and the delicious spanking that came afterward. My nether region pulsed in response to my thoughts, but I was too tired to pleasure myself.
The next afternoon, I found myself in front of Damien Reed's house. Though I wasn't sure if it was necessary or not, I brought the mock contract with me. I leafed through it to give myself a refresher of the key points I wanted to bring up. Then I stepped out of my car and approached his doorstep.
Damien opened the door with the same serious expression he always wore, greeting me before he ushered me inside and to the living room. I seated myself on the sectional sofa and graciously accepted a bottle of water. As it had been the previous day, there was new paperwork waiting for me. Hopefully, it was the revised contract, and not something he expected me to read or fill out.
“Did you have time to read the contract last night?” he asked, sitting next to me.
“I did.”
“And?”
“There are definitely some things I'd like to discuss with you.”
“Perhaps you should look over the new contract before we get into that.”
I nodded and leaned forward to pick up the new contract, which was much thinner than the one I had brought with me. When I flipped it over and looked at the typing, it appeared to be a gutted out version of the original contract. At the top, it was titled Contract of Consideration, and there were far fewer rules and clauses than there were in the mock contract. Diligently, I read through it, taking note of how most of the harshly controlling stuff had been removed. Almo
st involuntarily, I felt my body relaxing, the tension of having to discuss my discontent quickly fading away.
“It's different than the one you gave me last night,” I said when I had finished reading it and flipped back to the first page.
“To suit the situation,” he told me. “Right now, I want you to get used to the idea of being a submissive.”
“What about this other contract? It had a lot more stuff in it,” I asked, glancing at the much thicker contract I had laid on the coffee table.
“You won't have to sign that one until it's time for your formal collar. And even then, it won't be the same contract. Clauses will be revised according to how our relationship evolves up to that point. And everything I put in there is open for discussion. I want you to feel completely comfortable before you put your signature down.”
That did make me feel a lot better.
I thumbed through the papers a final time, just in case there was something I had missed. It all seemed innocent enough, with a basic principal that I was willing to obey and learn, and in return, Damien would teach, guide, and discipline me.
Toward the bottom of the contract were my assigned safety words. 'Yellow' would be used for when I was about to reach my pain threshold. 'Red' was to be said if I needed all activity between us to cease. If my mouth was gagged, and I couldn't say either word, I was to hold up two fingers for yellow and three fingers for red. The contract assured me that I would never be bound to the point where I wouldn't be able to either say or signal my safety words.
At the bottom of the contract, before the signature lines, was a list of all of my hard limits. I read through it to make sure nothing was missing. Then I took a deep breath and looked up at Damien.
“I'm ready,” I said and then waited for him to hand me a pen, so I could sign my name in the field for the submissive's signature. This was it, our relationship would likely never be the same again. It was the first step to giving myself over to him completely.
As I scribbled my name across the line, I felt a tightness in my chest. The doubt is natural, this is new and unfamiliar to you. There's not reason to be afraid. I tried to comfort myself.
