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Blindfolds…caning…fisting…orgasm control…oooh boy, I needed to rein in my thoughts. Looking at this list while they all sat right in front of me was a recipe for embarrassment.
I folded the paper and slipped it into my bag. “I’ll look it over. I can’t guarantee I’ll be done by tomorrow though.”
“If you can’t finish it in time, then you need to give us a timeframe of when you will,” Vincent said. “It’s all about communication. Give me your phone.”
I handed over my cell. It made me nervous to have Vincentpoking around on my phone, especially since Lucas was leaning over and very obviously watching the screen.
“Is there something on here you don’t want me to see, Miss Martin?” Lucas eyed me like he could read my mind. “Should we check out your photo gallery?”
“Or how about your search history?” Jason suggested.
“No!” I said quickly. “That’s a hard limit. No going through my search history.”
“All right.” Vincent held up his hands innocently. “No snooping, I promise.”
The last thing I needed was them realizing the accounts I looked at most often were their own.
“I added you to a group chat with the four of us,” Vincent said as he handed back my phone. “All our numbers are saved, so if one of us contacts you, you’ll know who it is.”
“He fixed my contact name for you,” Jason deadpanned, and my cheeks heated. His name in my phone was still set to “Homework Dispenser,” a remnant of one of my more shameful moments in high school. I could have done without him finding out about that, especially with the way he cracked his knuckles. Something told me my ass would be paying for that later.
“There’s one more thing,” Manson said, leaning back in his seat. “We need to go over the rules.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What rules?”
“If you’re submitting to us, then you follow our rules,” Vincent said. “Don’t worry, they’re not hard.”
“But the consequences for disobeying will be.” Lucas sounded far too excited about the consequences part, and I shifted uncomfortably on the hard wooden chair. Any time they mentioned punishing me, I felt the same odd amalgamation of terror and excitement — like I was about to jump out of an airplane and parachute to the ground. I both wanted it and dreaded it.
“Okay,” I said. “And the rules are?”
“If you want to get off, you need our permission,” Manson said, smiling as if he knew how frustrating that would be for me. “No touching yourself, no using toys, and no allowing anyone else to get you off either, unless one of us explicitly says you can.”
I grit my teeth. There was no way they could enforce that. They couldn’t watch me twenty-four hours a day. ButIwould know if I disobeyed, and the thought of blatantly defying them wasn’t very appealing even if they would never know I did.
“Jessica.” Manson’s firm tone snapped me out of my thoughts. “Do you understand the rule?”
I took a deep breath. “Yes, I understand.”
“That leads us to rule number two,” he said. “And that’s how you address us. In this house, when you answer, you sayyes, sirandno, sir. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” I said, then caught myself and quickly added, “Yes, sir.”
Goddamn it, my pride was taking a beating. I was struggling against it, trying to keep my head high and humble myself at the same time. Maybe this was going to be harder than I thought. I’d never done well with rules — pretending to follow them was far easier than actually doing it.
But I couldn’t pretend here. I couldn’t fake obedience to them.
“And the final rule…” Manson’s fingers tapped on the back of his chair. “You will always communicate with us openly, honestly, and respectfully. Regardless of what it is. If we tell you to do something and you don’t think you can, tell us. If something frightens you or hurts you, say something. If you don’t want to continue…”
“Say something,” I repeated. “No ghosting.” They all nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”
I had no idea if I actually could. How could I be completely honest if I wasn’t sure of my own truth?
Lucas was looking at me strangely, and I wondered if theuncertainty was obvious on my face. I tried to keep my expression neutral.
“All right then. Get the questionnaire filled out,” Manson said. “Then we’ll be in touch.”
He made it sound like this was a shady deal we’d agreed to in a dark alley, instead of in broad daylight sitting in their kitchen. My hands were shaking as I shoved my phone into my pocket.
