Savaged - Page 13

She closes her eyes for a moment.

“Yes, sir.”

I reach out, fingers under her chin, and I tilt her head up to look at me. Her eyes are wide and bright with desire. I can feel my control over her—over her body’s reactions—and my erection is becoming painful in my dress slacks. I want her. I know I want her already, back at my house, in my playroom, on my bed, on her knees in my kitchen. I want to watch her serve me in every possible way.

“I cannot have a sub who doesn’t safeword,” I tell her. “I simply cannot tolerate that.”

She tries to bow her head a little lower, but I hold her chin firmly. There are tears forming at the corners of her eyes, and I want to wipe them away and kiss her gently, but I don’t. It’s too soon. I rely on verbal reassurance instead.

“I’m still interested, Yvette.”

Her shoulders drop as her posture relaxes slightly.

“Would you like to sub for me this weekend?” I ask. “As a trial only. Answer honestly.”

She licks her lips and blinks twice.

“Yes, sir,” she says shyly. “I would like that.”

“Let’s finish going over the contract,” I suggest.

“Yes, sir.”

“Drop the formalities for now, Yvette. I need to know you are speaking your mind for this.”

“Of course, Mr. Bauerman.”

We sit back at my desk and look through both of our lists, but there isn’t much to talk about. As Holly pointed out, we did seem suited for one another. I still feel a little nervous but don’t show it. Everything is happening so quickly.

“Are you sure you want to start this weekend?” I ask as we prepare to sign. “If you need more time to think about it, that would be fine.”

“Mr. Bauerman, may I…make an addendum?”

“An addendum to the contract itself or your limits?”

“The nature of our relationship.”

“What do you wish to amend?”

She paused, and I heard her breath hitch slightly.

“I want to be collared,” she says, “even the first time.”

I’m a little taken aback. I’ve never been one for collars unless they’re being used in a particular scene. For the sake of a weekend sub, it always felt like a forced formality I didn’t need. It is my job as a Dom to set the tone, and I don’t need a collar to do that.

“You want to be collared as soon as you arrive?” I confirm. “Before the trial begins?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That is an unusual request.” I have to stop myself from denying her immediately. She slipped back into her formal method of speech, so I know she’s asking for my approval, my blessing. The fact that she’s suggested it as part of the contract shows me how much it means to her, and I don’t want to jeopardize the whole arrangement for the sake of a piece of jewelry. “Why is it important to you?”

“I want to be yours.”

“If you sign, you will be,” I remind her. “Have your other Doms collared you right away?”

“No, sir,” she said. “I’ve worn collars as part of play, but I’ve never been collared in the sense I mean.”

I reflect on her words for a moment.

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