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"Dawn, what can I tell you? Drake Morgan was there…"
Fifteen minutes later, she was at my door.
She sat on the couch and I told her about everything that happened between us – without the mention of Drake's kinks or the idea that we'd enter into any kind of D/s agreement.
"I don’t know, Kate. I said he was trouble… How did he get invited to the concert?"
"He's friends with my dad. Dad invited Drake when they were at the health club they both belong to. He's really quite sweet, Dawn. He's just an alpha male, that's all."
She shook her head. "Out of the frying pan, into the fire is what I see. Just take it slow with him, OK? "
"Look, he really likes my father. He wouldn’t do anything to harm his relationship with him." She shrugged. In the background, my kettle whistled. "I'll make us some tea."
I left her in the living room and went to my kitchen, finding my tea ball and loose tea. While I poured the water over the tea, I remembered the previous night and how Drake had forced me to make the first move, to admit how I felt, to tell him point blank that I wanted him to fuck me. Even now, it sent a thrill through me, remembering the feel of his body on mine when he finally pushed me back on the couch and took over.
I fixed a tray with cups and my cream and sugar bowl from Ireland called Belleek porcelain my mother used to use. It was one of her many possessions I claimed after she died, and when I used it, I felt closer to her.
When I returned to the living room, Dawn was standing at my desk, some papers in her hand. It was then I realized what she was reading – the agreement.
I almost dropped the tray in my rush to get to her and take it out of her hands.
"Give that to me," I said, after I p
ut the tray down and went to her side.
She let go of it with reluctance, her eyes wide. "Holy fuck, Kate. What the hell are you thinking?"
I made a face. "You weren't supposed to read that."
"Slavery? Vaginal fisting? What is he? A neurosurgeon or a failed obstetrician?"
"I've read about it," I said, my face hot. "It's supposed to be about trust and gives a woman a really powerful orgasm."
"Trust? Sounds more like it's about torture. Can you even get Big inside of you? Can you imagine his fist?"
"You don’t understand." I plopped down on my couch, frowning, not really wanting to explain what I’d read. "I can veto anything I don’t like."
"Oh, yeah?" she said, standing in front of me, her hands on her hips, her face red. "How do you know he won’t do it anyway? What would you do if he did?"
"I'd use the safe word. It's Red. I say that and everything stops immediately."
"Yeah, sure…" She shook her head, her face pale. She sat beside me on the couch. "How do you know he'd stop? God, Kate. What's wrong with you? Why would you even consider this? This says slavery. Ownership. This says you'd be his possession, his slave."
"It's not enforceable. It's just psychological to have an agreement."
"Those books were fantasy land, not real life."
"Some people do this for real. He does. He's not a sadist."
"Anyone who wants to shove their fist inside of you is a sadist, Kate. Don't fool yourself. Have you ever had anal sex? It hurts like hell…"
"Maybe whoever did it to you didn’t know how. Drake said—"
"Listen, you can't trust anything he says. He's not disinterested. He obviously wants you to be his submissive – his 'slave'. He'll tell you anything to get you alone, so he can fist you and fuck you in the ass."
"He had me alone, Dawn. He had me entirely naked. He was naked. He stopped after I, you know, finished and was upset. He didn't even get off."
"Probably because he couldn't get off without hurting you or something kinky." She moved closer beside me and took my hand. "Kate, you have to listen to me – this is scary. I know what abuse is. I watched my sister get beat up by her boyfriend when I was a kid."
