Authors: Xanthe Walter
Slave's Signature
I have read and fully understand this contract. I
agree to accept the master's claim of ownership
over my body for the duration of the contract. I
understand that I will be used as a slave, subject
to the master's discipline and command. I
promise to fulfill the desires of the master to the
best of my abilities. I understand that I cannot
withdraw from this contract and it only
terminates if the master chooses, or at 8.59am
tomorrow, whichever is soonest.
Signature:
Master's Signature
I have read and fully understand this contract. I
agree to accept this slave as my property. I
understand the responsibility implicit in this
arrangement and agree that no lasting physical,
mental or emotional harm shall be caused to the
slave during his enslavement. I further
understand that I can terminate this contract at
any time.
Signature:
"Do you have any questions?" Rick asked, as
Matt reached the end of the document.
Matt glanced at the part of the contract
governing his own inability to end it. "This here."
He pointed. "Does this mean I don't get to use a
safeword?" He looked up at Rick.
"That's precisely what it means. If you sign it
then you'll be my slave, and I'll do whatever I want
to you. I can assure you that my tastes aren't
particularly unusual - I'm a strict master, and I'll
use you well, but you won't suffer. Well, not too
much." Rick rested his hand on Matt's shoulder and
squeezed, and Matt knew that he still had his
safeword. Rick had been adamant about that the
previous evening and clearly nothing had changed;
he was simply giving Matt a scenario where he
could have the illusion of not being in control.
Matt was impressed by Rick's meticulous
planning of this whole event. He'd never played
like this with a dom before because of his fear of
not being in control, but not being in control was
also precisely what turned him on, and Rick had
hit upon a scenario that hit all his buttons.
Matt picked up the pen. He didn't have to
sign. If he didn't, then he could bring the scene to
an end and explain to Rick that he was a total
coward who couldn't go through with it - but he
liked what Rick had planned too much for that.
This could be his chance to finally let go and
explore his sexuality with someone he trusted, with
no strings, obligations or expectations.
"One thing, " Rick interjected, as he put the
nib of the pen to the paper. Matt glanced up at him.
"If you do sign…" Rick perched on the side of the
desk, one long leg swinging languidly. "Then I can
guarantee that by 9 o'clock tomorrow morning you
won't be a virgin anymore." He gave a dark little
smile. "In fact, you'll be a long way from being a
virgin - I'll see to that." It was a promise and a
threat all rolled up in one, and it made Matt's cock
jerk excitedly in response.
Matt looked down at the contract again. He
liked that Rick had used their real names, allowing
the illusion, if Matt wanted it, that this was for
real.
Matt didn't hesitate; he scrawled his signature
on the page, feeling his cheeks flush as he did so.
Then he sat back and looked at it in disbelief. He'd
really done it. He was now Richard O'Shea's slave
for the night, heaven help him.
"Good boy." Rick picked up the pen and
signed beneath, with the same flourish he used
when signing autographs outside the studio gates.
Then he opened the laptop on his desk, pressed a
button, and turned back. "The money has now been
delivered to your account. All that remains is for
you to fulfill the terms of your contract."
"Okay. So…" Matt stood up, feeling
uncertain. "Uh… what do you want me to do?"
Rick was so fast that Matt barely saw him
move, but the next thing he knew Rick had grasped
the lobe of his ear tightly between his thumb and
forefinger and was pulling him forward. "What do
you want me to do - Master," Rick hissed into his
abused ear.
"Yes. Sorry. Master!" Matt yelped. It felt
weird to be calling Rick, of all people, "Master"
but then Rick wasn't behaving like Rick right now -
he was Richard, and Richard was pretty damn
masterful.
Rick released his ear and soothed it with his
fingers. "That's better. Don't forget again - if you
do, I'll punish you."
Matt thought that sounded promising, but he
wasn't going to risk courting his new master's
wrath so early in his slavery.
"Yes, Master," he whispered, glancing up at
Rick to see if there was any sign of the infuriating
man he'd worked with for the past two years. If
there was, he couldn't see it; Rick was completely
in character.
"Now, you are my slave, so you'll wear my
collar." Rick opened a drawer and got out a black
box, which he placed on the desk. He opened it to
reveal a beautiful scarlet collar resting on the
black velvet interior.
It was the exact same shade as the shirt Matt
was wearing - the one Emily had said didn't suit
him. Rick seemed to think the color suited him so
well that he wanted him to wear it around his neck.
Matt reached out a finger towards the collar,
but Rick smacked his hand away. "This collar, like
your body, belongs to me. You don't touch it unless
I give you permission," Rick said sternly.
"No, Master," Matt said, gazing at the collar
longingly. He'd never worn a collar - either for
work or in his personal life. Until he'd won the
role of Ben Harris, he'd only ever played ingénue
subs who were too young to be collared and so far,
nobody had cast him as a dom.
He'd never played with a collar during sex,
either - the doms he'd been with hadn't been
interested in that kind of submission from him, and
he'd never wanted to give it to them anyway.
Maybe he was a romantic, but something old in his
blood told him that a collar was important. It
meant something. It demanded something from both
the wearer and the giver: it imposed willing
submission on the part of the wearer, but it also
imposed affection and respect on the part of the
giver.
Matt watched as Rick took the collar out of
the box, undid it, and then moved towards him. He
wasn't sure if he should kneel, so he just stood
there, his head slightly bowed.
He felt the soft, lined interior of the collar
settle around his neck and jerked slightly, unused
to the sensation. He wondered what it was like for
Rick to wear a collar every day on set as Alex
Tanner. Had it given him, as a dom, some insight
into what it was like for a sub?
"Stand still," Rick ordered, and Matt
collected himself. He was a slave accepting his
master's collar, and even though they were only
playing at it, it still felt like a very profound
moment.
Rick tugged the leather strap through the
buckle and tightened it around his neck, buckling it
in place. Matt felt immediately constricted, and the
weight of what it truly meant to be collared
suddenly hit home. Subs walked around with these
around their necks every single day of their lives,
and he'd just taken that for granted before, without
realizing how it would actually feel as a physical
presence. The collar's light touch on his skin was
hard to ignore, a constant reminder that he
belonged to someone outside of himself, even if
only for one night.
"You look good in my collar, slave," Rick
murmured, stepping back and giving Matt a
proudly assessing gaze.
Matt wanted to see it for himself, but there
was no mirror in the den. His belly was churning
with excitement as he tried to come to terms with
the idea that he was now wearing Rick's collar and
was Rick's slave for the night.
Rick reached into his pocket and pulled out a
leash made of shiny silver links, with a scarlet
leather handle that matched the collar. He clicked
the leash into the ring on the front of the collar and
gave a little tug. "Follow me, slave."
Matt had never been leashed before, and he
hadn't realized just how owned it would make him
feel. Rick had set the scene so carefully; first by
his clothes, then by that contract, and now with the
collar and leash. It was as if he'd taken a peek into
Matt's most secret fantasies and arranged a
scenario that would satisfy them all completely.
Matt
followed
Rick
up
the
stairs,
concentrating on walking one step behind his
master like he'd seen in the movies, keeping his
head down but always striving to stay in tune with
his master's pace. When Rick stopped, he stopped,
and when Rick moved, he moved, trying to keep an
equal distance between himself and his master, so
that the leash didn't tug on his collar.
They reached the first floor, walked along a
hallway, and stopped outside a door; Rick opened
it and led Matt inside. The room was in darkness,
so Matt couldn't see anything. Rick led him to the
center of the room, placed his hands on Matt's
shoulders, and pushed him down onto his knees.
Matt was surprised to find a padded cushion
waiting for him - a proper sub's cushion that made
kneeling for long periods bearable. Then he felt his
shoes and socks being removed, leaving him
barefoot.
"Stay here, kneeling, until I return," Rick
instructed. "Use the time to fully appreciate the fact
that you're owned now, boy. You're a slave, and
tonight you're going to learn what it means to serve
a master."
"Yes, Master," Matt replied softly.
Rick left the room, closing the door quietly
behind him. When he was gone, Matt lifted his
head and looked around but the room was in
darkness, so he couldn't see much.
He tried to get his head around the fact that he
was kneeling here as someone's slave, with a
collar around his neck. This wasn't the kind of
thing Matt was used to. His sexual encounters had
always been so boring and safe. He'd never done
anything reckless like this… which was precisely
why he was here. The thrill excited him, making
him shiver in anticipation.
Was it his imagination, or was it getting
lighter? Matt could now make out shapes in the
room, looming around him, but he couldn't figure
out what they were.
He tried to relax into his kneeling position,
wondering how long he'd be here and what Rick
had in store for him next. Rick. Rick O'Shea. His
ridiculous, infuriating co-star. This was insane.
How could he possibly be about to play out a
scene with Rick of all people? Could he really
bend his head for Rick and allow him to truly top
him? Could he do that for anyone? He never had
before.
It wasn't his imagination - the room was
slowly getting lighter. Now that looming shape
over there was clearly visible as a sling, made of
sleek black leather, attached securely to the
ceiling. Over there was a St Andrew's Cross, and
there was a spanking bench in the corner, with a
rack of implements beside it that made his stomach
flip nervously. There was a big bed in the corner
and a row of cupboards on the opposite wall. Next
to the cupboards was a door leading into what
must be an en suite bathroom and next to the door
was a dresser.
As the lights slowly began to illuminate the
room, he could see that the walls were painted
cream, accented with scarlet furnishings, and
across the room, directly in front of him, was a
freestanding mirror.
Now that it was light enough for him to see
clearly, he was able to make out his reflection in
the mirror gazing back at him.