The contract was not a contract. For one, there is no legal framework for one to give up their sexual rights. No court would enforce it; in fact, the law would likely take the view that she needed to be 'rescued'. Women are people now, not property. But she did not want to be a person.
Second, by accepting its terms, she accepted that she would enter into a situation where the law would not, could not, mediate.
Third, she had traded herself away for... nothing. He might acknowledge her, he might fuck her, or he might lock her away in a dark corner until she died of thirst. No promises.
But she was desperate. She needed him. She would give anything, do anything, just for the chance to be near him. So she did.
No job, no family, no friends. No other passions or pleasures. She would not be missed, and would miss nothing.
Before, he had captured her, in more ways than one. But whatever romantic spark that had existed in his heart had gone out. But it was not over, not completely.
He was good enough to break her heart in person, to tell her that he did not value or respect her. But he was twisted enough to make her an offer in writing: they could remain together, in a sense, his will and her body. Nothing more and nothing less.
* * *
The door was unlocked, as specified. She stepped into the anteroom and turned the deadbolt behind her.
Thlud
.
Flats, sundress, nothing else adorned her body. No makeup. She carried only a small handbag with her phone, wallet, keys, a paper with her passwords on it. She would need none of it going forward.
She turned toward the small chest on her right, left open just for her. Did she really want to do this? Soon, there would be no going back. But no. There was nothing to return to. Or she would not have come this far.
Heart pounding, She lowered the bag into the chest. Stepped out of the flats and placed them next to the bag. Pulled the hem of her dress over her hips, bust, head, quickly because she was running out of time and did not want to go to that place in her mind again. The dress hung from her outstretched hand.
Gulp
.
The dress fell. She closed the chest.
Click
.
Locked. There really was no going back.
Now, the table on her left. First, the stylish black choker. She knew it well.
Following that, the chain and leather leash: shorter than her wingspan, longer than her arm. Short enough to afford him the pleasure of keeping her on a short leash; long enough that it was feasible to tie her up to some emplaced object.
The blindfold. Her world went dark.
The last item was new. She had not recognized it. Handcuffs, of brilliant silver steel. Small, but strong. Not a toy - intended for the enemies of society.
