I stepped out of his limo in front of his house, though I guess house wasn't really the word to describe it. More like mansion. I knew he had money, but I didn't think he was this wealthy, though I guess I should have since the house, ok, mansion, was in the Hamptons.
The driver handed me my small suitcase and I started towards the front doors, terrified of what I was about to do. I'd never considered myself to be the kind of girl to do something like this, but I discovered that it really made me feel good, so much better than what I had expected.
I took my phone out of my coat pocket and checked the time: 7 on the dot. The exact time he had told me to be there. That driver was good. My strappy, gold heels clicked on the pavement as I walked. He had told me to dress professionally, so I had, but tried to stay sexy at the same time. I wore a black blouse that I buttoned only slightly past my cleavage and a tight navy skirt that went to my knees and showed off my leg muscles. A gold belt went around my waist that matched my long blonde hair. I stood in front of the door and took a deep breath, my knees starting to shake from nervousness, and knocked.
He opened the door and was just as handsome as I remembered him from our first meeting at Starbucks a few days ago. Tall, dark wavy hair, and blue eyes. "Hello, Aimee. It's nice to see you again," he says in his deep voice. He opens the door all the way, beckoning me in. "Thank you. It's nice to see you again too," I say with a smile, hoping my nerves aren't too obvious.
I step into the massive foyer and he says, "You can leave your bag right there. We'll take it upstairs later if you need it." I set my bags off to the side of the foyer and put my coat on the coatrack. As I'm marveling at the beauty of the place, I don't hear him shut the door. He turns to me and says, "Come with me," offering his arm. I walk over to him and loop my arm through his, letting him lead me into a room to the left of the front door, which has a large fireplace and leather furniture.
He is Kyle Martin, the 26 year old co-owner of a successful stock broking company. We met online in a chat group and had our first date a few days ago, when he invited me to come here. "By the way, I love your choice of clothing," he says with a wink, putting me more at ease now that I know I pleased him in that department. He leads me over to one of the sofas and sits, motioning for me to do the same. In front of us on a coffee table is a small stack of papers and a pen. He picks up the papers and hands them to me. "This is a temporary contract to last us this week. It outlines the basics: what's expected of you, punishments, and limits. If you decide to stay longer than that, I'll have a more permanent contract that we'll go over. Read that over and ask any questions or tell me if you would like to add anything."
I nod and look over the contract. I'm always expected to call him "Sir" and I'm expected to follow whatever commands he gives me. He will punish me in the way he deems fit for the infraction, but it will never be anything that will leave me with permanent marks. Permanent marks? We both had the right to terminate the arrangement if we feel it isn't working. His hard limits included pee, scat, fire play, blood play, and playing under the influence of drugs or alcohol. When I saw the next section I asked, "What's a soft limit?"
"A soft limit is something that might not necessarily like or that you might be hesitant about doing, but you're willing to explore," Kyle responded.
He didn't have anything under that, but then I got an idea. "Could we put anal sex under soft limits?" I asked.
"Of course. I remembered you saying that anal wasn't your favorite type of sex, so I had been planning on asking you, actually," he replied. He took the contract and the pen and wrote "Anal Sex" under the "Soft Limits" header. "If you decide you want to add anything else to your limits this week, we can. This is your week to explore. After the first week, 'No' is not a word I accept from my submissives," Kyle says and hands the contract back to me.
The last section was "Safe Words". If anything ever started hurting, feeling uncomfortable, or was pushing my limits too far, I'm to say "penny". If I were gagged, he would put a penny in my hand and I'm to drop it. I wondered why we would need such a word, but thought that it was a good idea. Below that were the signature lines, one for the dominant, and one for the submissive. I picked up the pen, but before I could sign, Kyle's hand was stopping mine. "I want you to fully realize what you're about to do. Signing this means you're agreeing to be mine for the week. That you're letting me do whatever I want to you for a week. You're sure you still want to do this?"
