31. Olivia

Chapter thirty-one

Olivia

M y mouth is suddenly dry and my heart isn’t just beating fast, it’s also beating erratically. Not that I don’t want to have this conversation. I do. We walk back into his office. He motions for me to sit across from him again and takes his place behind his desk again. Victor opens a drawer and brings out a folder that he opens. He places one piece of paper in front of him and hands me the other.

“This is a contract of sorts. We’ll go through this list together and tell each other our limits. I have already taken the liberty of labeling my hard limits. However, before we begin, I want to talk about the dynamics of a Dominant/submissive relationship and the different types. We need to talk through that first because this list doesn’t just include items that happen in the bedroom. I don’t think we should enter a total power exchange, which is us entering a twenty-four-hour seven days a week commitment. Usually couples enter that if they’re living together and have been in a relationship for a while.”

Listening closely, I take in all of his words so I don’t miss anything. Shifting to the edge of my chair to glance over the contract he gave me, I don’t really take in what I’m looking at. I kind of figured this would be the first step to entering this kind of relationship, but now that it’s happening, I’m a little unsure.

“Olivia, what are you thinking?” His voice is firm, letting me know I must answer.

“I’ve done research and I’m intrigued about this becoming a total power exchange. I like when you help me make decisions.” Clearing my throat, I have to force myself to not shake my leg. “The thing is…” I pause and take a deep breath. What if this is a deal breaker for him? “I don’t think I’m ready to have sex. I like kissing you and sometimes I want more, but what if I never want that?” Finally, looking at him I’m surprised he’s not frustrated or angry.

“We’ll take this as slow as you need to. There is a theory that BDSM can help heal those who have been through a trauma like yours. That’s something we can explore when I believe you’re ready.” He waits for me to respond and looks at me expectantly.

“So, you’re going to decide when I’m ready?” My anxiety evaporates.

“Yes. I believe if I leave it up to you, you won’t take the leap. As your Dom, it’s my responsibility to push you beyond your comfort zone. However, we will decide on your safe word and you will be able to use it. But you have to agree not to use it to get out of something that you just don’t want to do. You use it when you have reached your limit. I would prefer to do the red, yellow, green system to gauge how you feel about what we’re doing.”

I nod and swallow. “Okay,” I whisper.

“Okay?”

“The idea of you deciding when I’m ready makes me feel more at ease.” I slump slightly in my chair and force myself to open up to him completely. “I hate deciding what to wear each day. It’s such a simple task, but some days it’s hard. I have to pick something that covers the scar on my collarbone just enough or fix my hair so it covers it. The thought of wearing a dress makes me anxious because I don’t want anyone to see the scars on my thighs.”

He leans forward on his desk. “I understand you having those anxieties, but what is the likelihood of someone actually seeing the scars on your thighs if you wear a dress?”

I shrug. “I read somewhere that ninety-eight percent of our anxious thoughts don’t actually come true. Knowing that doesn’t help the thoughts, though. They come and I don’t know how to stop them.”

He watches me for several seconds. “Olivia, it’s okay to have anxious thoughts. Everyone does, even if they don’t admit it. What you’ll need to learn is thoughts are like birds that are flying around your head. If a bird was flying around your head, what would you do?”

“Swat at it, I guess. Or try to get away from the bird so it would leave me alone.”

He smiles and nods. “Exactly. The thoughts will come, but don’t let them make a nest in your hair or head. If you’re struggling, that’s where I come in. You call me and I’ll help you through it. No matter what it is. Even if it feels petty or silly. Call or come to me so I can help you through it. Okay?”

“That explanation actually makes a lot of sense. Do you know I’ve been going to my therapist for around two years and she’s never explained it like that?” I giggle and he chuckles.

“Some things you learn with age.”

I scrunch my nose. “I forgot you’re practically a grandpa,” I tease him.

He scowls at me, but his grin breaks through. “Feel better about that?” I nod. He points to the contract. “Now let’s go through this. We’ll focus on everyday things, but I do want us to go over everything. I like to be over prepared just in case.”

I nod again and lift the contract to read it this time.

The fundamental purpose of this contract is to allow the submissive (Olivia) to explore their sensuality and their limits safely, with due respect and regard for their needs, their limits, and their wellbeing.

This is a real contract. It has a place to sign at the bottom and everything. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth. Will this contract have an expiration date? I continue to read through.

The Dominant shall make the submissive’s health and safety a priority at all times. I read down to the submissive section. The submissive accepts the Dominant as their master, with the understanding that they are now the property of the Dominant, to be dealt with as the Dominant pleases during the term.

I pause at the word term . This does have an expiration date. He said he wanted all my tomorrows, and I said okay. Did he not mean that? There are three appendices. The first one goes over the rules. My head snaps up to look at him when I reach the clothing section.

“Did you put that in there because you already knew how I felt about my clothes?” I point to it on his contract and he smiles.

“Actually, that’s a common rule in the BDSM lifestyle, but I knew you’d like that,” he answers. I glance at the sleep portion and chew on the inside of my cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“The sleep portion. I...” I read through it again. “The thing is, I don’t know if I can promise to sleep eight hours every night.” I’ve never told anyone about my night terrors, but I need to trust him. “I have night terrors sometimes. They feel so real sometimes and it takes me a while to go back to sleep. Even if I do, I’m usually restless the rest of the night.”

He grabs a pen and makes some notes on his contract. When he’s done, he looks back at me. “Okay, when that happens I want you to call me.”

I stare at him with my mouth open. “In the middle of the night?”

“Yes, I don’t care what time it is. I want you to call me and you can have the choice of telling me what it was about or I can talk to you until you fall back to sleep. I could also come over to your house and be with you if that will help.”

“In the middle of the night?” I ask again.

He arches an eyebrow at me. “Read the position of the Dominant again,” he tells me. I reread it before looking at him again. “Your health, safety, and wellbeing are my number one priority. If you’re unable to sleep and I can help you, I will.”

Unable to come up with a response, I lean back in my chair. I can’t explain how full my heart feels. He’s going to take care of me the way I crave. My eyes begin to burn unexpectedly. Is this what love feels like? I breathe deeply and for the first time ever, there isn’t a restriction that stops my lungs from expanding.

He must understand how I’m feeling because he takes over the conversation. We go through the second appendix of the hard limits he already listed. No fire play. No needles, knives, cutting, piercing, or blood. I glance up at him, wondering if that has anything to do with me.

“It doesn’t. I’ve never wanted to do that, but especially after what happened with Josie. Some people enjoy pain and I do, to a certain extent, but not like that,” he explains.

We get to the soft limits and go through each one to decide what is acceptable to me. My eyes widen at fisting and I shake my head; so he makes notes on his contract. I pause at anal intercourse.

“I don’t know about that.” It’s all I say. I don’t want to explain why and he doesn’t ask. Victor makes some notes and we continue. When we get to the bondage section, I swallow convulsively. I need to tell him about this.

“Bondage makes me nervous. I’ve told you that.” He nods. “I never knew when Donovan was going to strike. It was always unexpected, and it always involved being tied up. Sometimes I’d have a blindfold on and sometimes he’d gag me. This is why I have night terrors, because he always did it in the middle of the night. I’d wake up tied to my bed. So, the idea of being tied up or being woken up in that way…” I shake my head.

“Okay.” Victor’s voice is soothing. “I’ll never make you do something you don’t want to do. I do think at some point we will do this together.” My eyes widen and I grip the arm of the chair so tightly my hand aches.

“But it will be something we talk about beforehand. That’s the beautiful thing about BDSM. When you have a scene, it’s something that’s talked about prior to enacting it. Each person will know exactly what’s going on. There will be a beginning, a middle, and an end. You won’t be left guessing what’s going to happen next. You’ll know. Not only that, I will check with you throughout the entire scene to see where you’re at. This is why I like to use red, yellow, and green. At any point if you are reaching your limit you can say red, the scene will stop, and your aftercare will begin.”

Throughout his explanation, I slowly unclench my hand around the arm of the chair and relax. “You’re so good at explaining everything and making me feel safe.”

“That’s my job. Please always be open and honest with me and give me the opportunity to explain things to you. Okay?”

I nod in agreement. “Okay.” Excitement stirs in my stomach as we finish going through everything else on the contract. Once we’re done and Victor has finished making his notes, he smiles at me.

“I’ll get these changes made and we’ll sign the agreement tomorrow night.”