She sips her wine at the kitchen counter while attempting to review the contract again. Every few lines, her mind wanders off, envisioning the acts she's agreeing to.
She had eagerly initialed statement after statement after skimming. By the last page, she had been so desperately aroused, she needed an orgasm to refocus herself.
Now, printed contract and wine glass in hand, she composes herself again. She must take this seriously, must consider repercussions. She trusts him completely, but this is not something to just dive into.
But she flips to the signature page and scribbles her name, uninterested in reviewing it again more thoroughly. He's overdone it, over thought it all. She had asked him to keep it simple, had assured him she's up for anything, but he had insisted.
When she logs into her computer, she receives a message almost immediately, "You're supposed to be reviewing the contract."
"Already signed."
"I asked you to take this seriously," he chides.
"I seriously want it all. Anything you want to try."
She goes to bed satisfied after another orgasm.
A hand over her mouth startles her awake. Someone else yanks her bed covers off. When her arms flail, strong hands ensnare her wrists and she hears the click of handcuffs. An unfamiliar but gentle voice hushes her.
"Get up. Don't keep him waiting." She realizes then that this is part of the game and stops struggling. He removes his hand from her mouth.
"Give me five minutes," she tells them, but they both chuckle.
"Come on. You're not supposed to bring anything."
When they had discussed pushing her out of her comfort zone, this was not what she had in mind. She's ready to explore boundaries of pain and submission, but this is an interesting twist. Her kidnap fantasy is a prominent one though, so she's unsurprised.
Her intruders are kind enough to put a hoodie over her braless tank top, like a toasty straightjacket over her cuffed wrists. She still shivers as she steps outside into the nighttime chill in small, thin shorts and flip flops.
"Are your house keys in here?" one of her responsible kidnappers asks, holding the bag that had been hanging by the front door. She can't help but smile, wondering exactly what their instructions had been.
She nods and they load her into the back of a white van. The interior is much cleaner and well-maintained than a van from a typical kidnap fantasy, but she appreciates the effort. It isn't until the van is rolling along that she realizes she doesn't have her cell phone. She bangs on the wall between the cab and the cargo area.
"Quiet back there." They chuckle and refuse to answer about her cell phone, committing to their roles. This is definitely out of her comfort zone. She really has no choice now but to trust him. Exhausted, she starts to doze.
When she envisioned meeting him for the first time, it was not in her pajamas with bedhead and without makeup. It's all part of the mind fuck though. She knows what he's trying to do and won't give him the satisfaction of flustering her.
The van stops and the back doors swing open. The sun has risen during the trip. The two men maintain character, each grabbing an arm and nearly dragging her inside, tripping on her sandals.
Her view of the exterior of the mansion is brief and the inside is shocking. The entry is like a scene from a movie with a magnificent, sweeping staircase up to a balcony. The chandelier above would take up most of her apartment. Sculptures line the walls and red drapes accent multi-story windows.
"Thank you, gentlemen," says a voice from her right. It's him. She recognizes his calm, measured tone immediately. He's smiling. His kind, light eyes take her in. Whenever they chat online, she's used to seeing his stern, stereotypical Dom profile photo. The smile she has only seen in private, and now here in person.
He gently lifts off her sweatshirt and plants a kiss on her forehead. Not caring who watches, she wishes he would lay her on the marble floor and take her right there. When she lifts her head, seeking his lips on hers, he shakes his head.
