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“Oh,” he said, coming closer and plopping down on my lap to snuggle against me. “Am I?”
“You’re damn right you are,” I said, pulling him closer and growling in his ear. “I don’t share well. Will you wear the collar for me?”
“What does it mean exactly? Doesn’t it mean I’m your sub? Because I’m not a sub.”
“I think you might be. Just maybe not the type you normally see around the club. For example, I think you like being told what to do if you see the need for it. You like it when I give you orders or make you submit to my will. Not because I’m using any force on you, but because you told me you need it. It shows you how much I care. Like right now I’m not exerting my authority as your employer over you. Not at all. You’re entirely free to go back to the floor, but you won’t. I think you need to submit to me, and I think you’ll find enjoyment in doing what I say.”
Cruz looked a little panicked, and his eyes darted around the room, but always back to me, as if to see what I was thinking or how I was reacting. His breathing was coming faster and faster. I waited, letting him think it through. “If you truly don’t want this—don’t want to explore this thing between us—then get up and go back to work. I won’t try to stop you, and nothing will change between us.”
“Does this mean you…you’d still want me?”
He looked up at me with those big, beautiful eyes and I melted. Since he told me that horrible story about his mother, I’d tried to be extra sensitive to his needs. He’d been hurt so much as a child, and I never wanted him to suffer again. Certainly not at my hands. But on the other hand, I was more or less a sadist. Hurting people was kind of the point. I really wanted to hurt him sometimes and make him cry and then put him on my lap and love him and pet him until the tears stopped.
“I’ll always want you, baby,” I told him. “More than anything. Unconditional, remember? No matter what.”
He sighed then and nodded. “Put it on me, Sir.”
The words thrilled me more than I thought they would. I pulled the plain, black, soft-leather collar from my pocket and went over to him. “This has a lock on it that only my key will fit. I’ll keep it with me all the time though, and if you need it to come off, just tell me. If it chafes you or is uncomfortable, let me know too.”
“Okay.”
I put it around his neck and fastened the small lock. “How does it feel, baby?”
He put his hand on it and smiled. “Good.”
I leaned in to kiss him and pat his cheek. “I’ve kept you long enough and Tommy and Lawrence will get swamped. Go help them out—and maybe this will keep the wolves at bay.”
He rolled his eyes at me and turned to go back in, but I took his hand in mine. “I’ve seen the way those other Doms look at you—like they want to snatch you up and run to a back room with you. You can’t give yourself away until you can trust a Dom to cherish you. I don’t trust any of them to take care of you like I will. Now from this point on, when we’re at the club in front of others, address me as Sir. Or if we’re doing a scene together. Understand?”
“Oh shit, do I have to do all that?”
I stared at him until he flushed and sighed. Then I spoke in a steady, firm voice.
“No, baby, you don’t have to. But decide now. Do you want this or not? Do you want me? Because this is who I am. I think this is who you are too, but only you know for sure.”
“Yes,” he said, and sighed. “Yes, I want to make you happy. I want you. And if this is what you like, then…I like it too.”
I stared at him. “Be sure.”
“I am sure, Sir.”
“We need a contract.” I pulled open the drawer of my desk and pulled out a yellow pad and pen. “I can make notes on this and then fill out the contract later. You’ll be able to read it all over and decide if you want to sign it. There are two types of relationships I’ve done in the past. Dominant/submissive, in which the sub surrenders control to the Dominant over some or all aspects of his life. In this case the sub can set limits on sexual play and punishment, like we’re doing now. Then there is the Master/slave relationship. That can mean that you give up all rights and decision-making power to your Master. I don’t recommend that for you, and I don’t particularly want it for myself. Not with you. I want you to set limits. But if it’s something you’d really like to explore...”
“No. I like the idea of Dominant/submissive much better.”
“Good. Me too. Okay, let’s start with terms. I’ll be known as Sir. Also Master, though technically we won’t have that Master/slave relationship. And I’ll call you my submissive. The terms boy or pet are also commonly used. I may use other names from time to time, like baby. Or even terms of endearment like honey or sweetheart. If I do, and you don’t like them, you can just tell me.”
“Okay. I don’t mind them. In fact, I love them.”
Interesting—he didn’t mind being called boy or baby. I thought that was telling. He really did want to be taken care of.
“Okay, next?” he asked.
“I expect you not to see anyone else romantically or sexually for the term of the contract and neither will I. Starting now, actually. And no masturbation unless I say it’s all right.”
“Agreed.”
“That leads us to limits.” We discussed the limits for a long time, with him telling me what he did and didn’t want. Braided floggers, whips and canes became hard limits—for now, he said, but I didn’t think he’d ever want them. That left my hand for spankings, and I thought that would do.
