Contract Renewed (Contracted Book 3)

by Aya DeAniege

  “No,” I said. “There exists the very rare switch. One can be trained to be a switch, or come by it naturally.”

  “Natural switches can only bow to specific Doms,” Nathaniel said. “While Darling here will submit to me, she will not submit to any other man, barring one. And she only submits to him because of her faith in me.”

  “So you did lend her out.”

  “God no," I proclaimed. "This mother fucker ever tries to lend me out, and I'll take his damned balls and mail them to you because no one is allowed to gift me away. Only I get to say who gets to touch me and it is a very short list. Him, him, her, and maybe the Domme on the stage who hasn't introduced herself yet."

  “She won't.” Nathaniel and Mr. Wrightworth said at the same time.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It would take three months for Madonna to give me her name, or anything to call her besides 'Lady.' It was a control method of hers, and I don't blame her in the least for withholding the name. I did, of course, gain permission to introduce her before she gave her actual name. a to describe someone who wouldn't even give me their name. The first draft had 'Lady' as her name. It started sounding like I was calling a purebred dog.

  It sounded stupid, is what it sounded like.

  The next morning Madonna greeted me at the door and took me to a playroom that Nathaniel had assigned to her while she spent time on his estate. This was the room that she and I dabbled in whenever she visited me. The room had to be separate than any other play room to protect the sanctity of my rooms.

  Michie attended. He is the nearest to a male masochist as I've ever seen. He was also a slave, not a sub. Once you know the differences they're easier to spot. Michie needed someone to tell him what to do, all the time, he simply wasn't happy if a decision was left up to him. He could decide what to wear, when to get up, but get him in line for a coffee and he'd be there for hours unless someone shouted at him.

  In public the man is quiet, demure, there's no fire left in him. He's a good man, though, would never hurt a soul. There was just a need to be beaten deep at his core.

  He was well behaved that day, as he always was.

  I didn't like it.

  But I participated because I would be allowed to do nothing else unless I did.

  The beginning was simple enough, with them going through a list of limits. Michie didn't even hesitate. Everything was a yes until pegging. Not because he was afraid to say no, but because Michie just had an all around love for all things kinky and frightening.

  Thankfully Madonna never used half the list she went through with Michie, at least not while I was present. I was aware that they planned to come together when I wasn't around, that was a part of the agreement. Michie might submit to nearly everything, but there was still a give and take.

  After showing me how to handle an obedient male with Michie, the sub was dismissed. She called Nathaniel in his place. The man came into the room and all but sneered at her.

  “Stop,” she said. “We're going to talk like I'm Isabella, understand?”

  “I allow you only for teaching purposes,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “I'm not going to directly strike you at all, only make suggestions,” she said. “So, the two of you need to talk about limits. Yes and no and maybe and if she can stomp on your balls with high heels.”

  “No.”

  “Don't want to,” I said.

  “Doesn't interest you,” she corrected.

  “She's right,” Nathaniel said to me. “You don't want to tell your sub that you don't want to do something. You want to say that you aren't interested. It conveys a different message.”

  “Children say don't want to. Adults say they aren't interested."

  “Some adults say don't want to,” I grumbled, more to myself than anyone else.

  “Some do, many do even," the Domme said. "Uninterested has more force than don't want to. Don't be petulant. I can still beat you."

  “What are your limits?” I asked Nathaniel, determined to change the topic of the conversation.

  “With, or without her present?” Nathaniel asked, pointing towards the other Domme.

  “Let's just do the, with someone else present bit,” she said. “You two can hash out the particulars of your private lives without a public witness, okay?”

  “I'd rather that,” Nathaniel said.

  “What are your public witness—no, your limits with her present?” I asked.

  Nathaniel hesitated, his eyes narrowing as he considered me. I wondered what he was thinking, was he wondering if I'd push a third into our relationship? He hadn't brought up finding a woman to play with in a while, but then we hadn't done much since the day we returned from the slum.

  “No pegging, preferably no sex at all, in any form. I am willing to err on the side of chastity training, and that might be fun. For us, I'd enjoy orgasm training, but I don't want it crossed with her in the room."

  “If you come while she's around, I'll discipline you,” I said.

  “You wouldn't be able to,” he said.

  I motioned to the older Domme, watching Nathaniel stiffen and go an odd greyish colour. At least there, I knew I had made the right step.

  The motion was meant as a reminder. I might not know how to bring a man to his knees in pain—besides the usual self-defense methods—but Madonna did know. The purpose of her being there was to teach me how to handle Nathaniel, and I was certain she would help me if he crossed a line.

  “I accept gags, chokers, collars, leads, bondage of most kinds and am willing to play in the new suspension if she has training on it. Impact play, yes, but no blood play and no attempt to break the skin.”

  “I have a shocker,” Madonna said with a little smile.

  “I have yet to acquire one,” Nathaniel said.

  “I might suggest a position to start with,” Madonna said, turning her attention to me. “For the pair of you, yes it makes sense. But many Doms prefer to have their sub enter and take on a position.”

  “Kneel,” I said to Nathaniel.

  He knelt, didn't even offer up a protest. The dress suit that he wore was not meant to move the way he moved; it was meant for a man to stand in and look impressive while standing. Even sitting, Nathaniel would have looked impressive.

  He kind of looked rumbled.

  And I liked it that way.

  Madonna moved to in front of Nathaniel but made certain to keep two feet of distance between the two of them. She looked over her shoulder at me, then motioned me forward.

  “I have more leg than you,” she said, motioning downward. “You would need quite high heels for this to work. But one of the reasons a sub kneels is to be available. Nathaniel is just of a height to be the right distance to please me.”

  “Please you?” I asked.

  I looked down, at Nathaniel's face, then made a direct line from there, to Madonna. That line would go from about Nathaniel's chin, to her crotch. Frowning, I looked up and met her eyes.

  When it finally dawned on me, I made a small sound at the back of my throat, like a squeak. Madonna stepped out of the way, pulling me with her so that I was the one standing directly in front of Nathaniel. He sunk lower, until his backside on was the floor. There, he was almost of a height. Almost, but not quite. Nathaniel was quite a bit taller than I was, and I was barefoot.

  I was more embarrassed by the fact that we had played in just such a way a month before and it still hadn't occurred to me what Madonna meant. Not at first, anyhow. It was like that play session kept slipping from my mind, coming back to me here and there as a delightful fantasy and not something that had happened.

  I stepped away.

  “I see,” I said.

  “May I?” Madonna asked Nathaniel.

  The man made a sound at the back of his throat, not quite agreeing, but not saying no either. Madonna stepped up to him and tangled a hand in his hair.

  “Take control of the hair. Michie didn't have any. Draw his head back and le
t him sup of what he desires. That way you exert control. Otherwise, he's just doing a little task. Once you have a hand on his head, pull until—" Nathaniel let out a little breath. "Oh, I wish I could play with you if that's the sound you make. Isabella, try this."

  She released him, stepping to the side. I stepped up and tangled my hand in Nathaniel's hair. It wasn't long enough to be anything, but it was just long enough to get a good grasp. I pulled back with a yank.

  “No,” Nathaniel said. “That wasn't what she did.”

  Not, 'no, that's not good' but telling me that it felt differently.

  Madonna stepped up, guiding us back to the start and then showing me how to apply the pressure until Nathaniel almost let out the sound.

  “Man like this isn't going to gasp and moan every time you touch him like Michie does," she said, stepping away. "This is a gentle pull and pressure. The yank, which you did to start, is perfectly acceptable for him, under different circumstances. That's why he said no, but didn't say stop. There are different kinds of consent. He might consent to a rape today, but that doesn't mean he'll like it tomorrow. Nate, would you like Isabella to rape you?"

  I had him by the hair. Even if Nathaniel had said any differently, I knew his honest answer by the shudder that rolled through him, by the small breath that almost moaned out of his mouth.

  “Consensual non-consent, of course. You tie him. You make ridiculous demands, smack him a few times, and he claims that he doesn't want it as you have your way with him.

  “Nate, do you have a safe word?”

  “I do, Lady,” he said.

  “Good. Do you have a yellow word?”

  “I do, Lady,” he said, eyes on her as she paced around us.

  “Good. Are they red and yellow?”

  “No, Lady.”

  “That means you'll need to learn them, Isabella.”

  “I was assigned a word,” I said.

  “And that word is?” Madonna asked.

  “... Banana," I said, gritting my teeth in an attempt not to laugh at how ridiculous it still sounded.

  The word had saved my life once already. Even before that, it had seemed odd that Nathaniel had chosen that word for me to use as my safe word.

  Madonna arched an eyebrow at me but made no comment on the choice.

  “A new sub might need . I assigned to them. You might assign him a new word, as obviously, his old Master accepted the word that he wants to give to you. He might link the two. You don't want that. It may require training, which may require causing actual pain. It can be very much worth it if he consents to such a thing.

  “Now, hand in his hair, put the other on his throat.”

  “You didn't do that to Michie,” I said.

  “I didn't, but Michie and Nate are two different subs. Hand on his throat,” she waited as I complied. “Good, is there any doubt in your mind that you could strangle the life out of him?”

  “... yes, yes there is,” I said.

  “Nate?”

  “None,” he said as I adjusted my grip on his throat.

  “He might fight as you put pressure on his throat, but you are in control. Once you have control of the breath, you have control over consent. He can't speak the word if you are choking him.”

  “But that means I don't.”

  “You do,” Nathaniel said quietly, his words causing a vibration in my hand.

  “It's trust," Madonna said. "He trusts you not to go over that line. You trust that he will signal you in other ways if you do cross the line. If you don't know the extent of your sub's limits, if you dabble with someone else, you do not choke them unless you provide them with another means of withdrawing consent, and then explicitly tell them what that withdrawal is. That doesn't mean that you have to stop every inch of the way. As you learn, not only about your sub but as yourself as a Domme, you will cease to ask questions and simply take action. Squeeze a bit from time to time, get comfortable with being in control of how easily he breathes. Or just keep the hand there, at the ready, if it becomes necessary."

  I didn't squeeze then, I simply held steady. It was my choice, I realized. I could do whatever I pleased.

  I looked up and met Madonna's eyes, realizing that, even then, I had control.

  “I will fetch the crop, you tell him to strip,” she said, then walked off.

  I stood and looked down at Nathaniel, I frowned at him and tried to be stern as I said, “Strip.”

  “Try saying that lazily,” he said.

  “Is he allowed to talk to me like that?” I asked.

  “Right now he can,” she responded. “I'd encourage it. This is communication. He's right, being demanding can work on some, but others require different handling.”

  “How do I tell?” I asked, looking Nathaniel over.

  “You learn,” Madonna said, returning with the crop.

  She held it out to me.

  I took the crop and weighed it in my hands. Looking over the crop, to Nathaniel, I sighed out through my nose. I wasn't certain that I could speak the way he wanted me to speak.

  “Strip,” I said.

  Nathaniel flowed to his feet, fingers moving lazily to the buttons of his jacket. When I looked to Madonna for help, the woman's eyes were locked on Nathaniel.

  “Again, it varies,” she said. “Most subs prefer crop to flesh contact, which is why we're having him strip. If you don't know, ask after striking him. Or her.”

  “It was one time,” I exclaimed.

  “She was playing with them,” Nathaniel purred out.

  Madonna stiffened. She frowned and looked at me.

  “I've never heard a man with that tone before, not while talking about his lover playing with herself. I've also been told that he's quite good at picking up on that. You might consider playing once you know your way around being a Domme.”

  “It was one time,” I repeated.

  Nathaniel knelt again, bereft of the shirt, vest, or suit jacket. The pants, belt, and shoes remained.

  “Starting with a crop is suggested because nearly anyone can learn to handle the crop. Sub or Dom can play with it, for the weight and the like. It's also found in the homes of most rich people, who typically have horses and then the crop as a show that they have horses. You know what it feels like, now walk around him to strike.

  “Never stand in front of them. Standing behind them makes them wonder when it will fall. You stand in front only to use the sight of you dropping the crop as part of punishment or whatever else. For the most part, you stand behind. Make them guess when the next strike will come. It will drive them wild. Go on."

  I moved behind Nathaniel, watching his back as he stared passively at some point near Madonna's feet.

  “If there's more than one of you, he'll look as he is now. If you're in front of him, the same should be seen. Looking near your feet is a sign of respect.”

  I made a sound in response, bringing down the crop as Madonna stopped speaking. The strike came down across Nathaniel's shoulder. With the tip and then the rod hitting across his shoulder blades. As I saw it, I knew that wasn't right. Whenever Nathaniel struck me, it was only the tip of the crop that hit me. If he wanted to smack me lengthwise, he would reach for a cane, not used the crop.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  “Flick the wrist, not the whole arm,” Madonna said.

  Nathaniel said nothing. I wasn't sure if that was good or bad, but I tried again. The next strike was the tip of the crop and nothing more. Nathaniel barely moved under the flick of the leather. I raised the crop again and hesitated as his muscles shifted.

  He anticipated that I would strike.

  I hesitated the bare moment longer, then brought the crop down, watching the way his back moved. As Nathaniel tried not to jump, I saw the way the muscles shifted and moved. I'd learn more about those muscles over time, but what I saw that day, at least, I almost recognized.

  I saw that Nathaniel liked the strike, though that wasn't entirely surprising. Of course, he lik
ed being struck. He had been a sub before, after all. What surprised me most was that he enjoyed me striking him.

  “Once you bring it down you don't want to work in a pattern unless you think he'll enjoy it. If he does like a specific pattern, you break it up over time. Subs, especially new subs or sometimes even well-trained subs, will fall into that space. You need to keep him active.”

  When Nathaniel had first played with me, he had pressed me with questions. It had bothered me at the time, to have the wonderful bliss interrupted. It wasn't until that moment that I realized that he hadn't done that idly, nor to irritate me. He had done it to protect me.

  “Because we sink so low into it,” I said.

  “If you let him sink too low, he might do something stupid. Like, react to a command that he should be saying no to."

  Nathaniel was a good sub. He would respond to the commands of another rather eagerly. Just because he was a good sub, didn't mean that he wasn't able to fall below that point.

  That was what had happened at Mayfair's estate. That was why what had happened, happened. She had pushed him when he had come to her. She hadn't stopped, just thrown him over that edge into that state of mind.

  With nothing of himself left, Nathaniel had blindly obeyed during the play session. If he had been a blind follower, though, what had stopped him?

  My safe word, of course, but I didn't understand then how that had stopped him. What about the safe word was so great that it stopped someone who was so far gone?

  “The crop, with him specifically, won't do much. He's trained to take a beating from a full grown man. You may be able to find a way to tease him with the crop. Teasing can be just as nerve-wracking as a complete beating. It just depends on how you go about it.

  “The men I see to don't like their backsides struck. It does seem to be something that women prefer. Though I have heard the opposite from a few girls I work with. When you strike the back, however, you need to be careful."

  “He's told me where can and cannot be struck,” I said.

  “Good, that's good. A sub should always be told where the areas are that might cause more pain or damage than other areas. As a Domme, you need to avoid the kidneys and soft flesh areas. You don't want to damage an internal organ. Damage a liver, and it might repair itself over time. Do the same to a kidney, and you sentence him to an early death.