BEND ME: A Dark Romance

by Leah Wilde

  “Just to be clear,” Vince said, stepping impossibly closer to Fiona, until their chests almost brushed up against each other. “In there, I’m in control. I’m the boss. But at the office…you are.”

  Fiona grinned, her teeth bared like a feral animal while the twinkle in her eyes danced like a newborn star. “That sounds good to me,” she whispered, sticking out the tip of her tongue between her top and bottom teeth. It took all of Vince’s willpower not to crash into her right then and there, to sweep her up into the most intense kiss of his life, but he held himself back. The playroom. It had to happen in the playroom.

  “One last thing,” he added in a hoarse whisper. “We’ll sign a contract stipulating the terms of the agreement. But we can end this at any time. If you ever get tired of it…” He trailed off, not wanting to finish that statement when their relationship hadn’t even begun yet. But he had to be clear with her. She had the power to walk away from him if she wanted to, and he wouldn’t punish her for it. He didn’t want to be the type of man who hurt his partner. He wanted her to have the freedom she needed to feel powerful, too.

  He waited for Fiona to respond to his statement, but even after a long pause, no verbal answer came. Instead, the grin fell from her face, replaced by a hard, solid expression that was practically undecipherable. Was she having second thoughts? Was she about to back away from this, setting Vince’s dreams on fire for the last time?

  But in the next second, Fiona’s tongue poked out of the edge of her mouth, staying still for a moment before she slowly licked her lips. Shit, Vince thought, feeling his eyes go wide as she reached down and placed her hand on top of Vince’s, right over the doorknob of the playroom.

  This is happening, Vince said to himself, swallowing thickly to clear the lump in his throat. This is really fucking happening.

  He pulled his hand away from Fiona’s, wanting the final decision to be hers and hers alone. He expected her to hesitate, to hold back, to consider her options for one last moment.

  But without any further ado, she turned the knob and pushed the door open, bravely stepping inside without waiting for Vince.

  Fuck, Vince thought, breathing deeply before he followed her inside. No turning back now.

  Chapter Seven

  Fiona’s pulse throbbed throughout her entire body, making her feel like she was a walking, talking heart covered by a thin layer of skin. She was so wrapped up in the sensations of her own body that it took her several seconds inside the playroom before she actually looked around to absorb the reality of her surroundings. The room was all black—the walls, the floors, the ceiling, the desk in the center of the room. She felt like she was enclosed in some dark corner of a church, closed in at all sides, but she didn’t feel claustrophobic. Next, Fiona noticed long ropes hanging down from hooks on the ceiling. They were thick and black and looked rough to the touch, but on the other side of the room, there were thin ropes of silk draped across a soft-looking mat on the floor. On the far side of the room, there were steel bars of all different lengths hanging down from the walls. I wonder what those are for, Fiona thought to herself, feeling the skin at the top of her chest prickle with some mixture of excitement and fear. Finally, her eyes landed on a chest behind the mat on the floor. It almost blended into the blackness of its surroundings, but it was large and heavy, with a huge golden lock on the front. What’s in there? Fiona wondered, feeling a sharp shiver go down on her spine, almost making her physically squirm.

  Fiona almost jumped when she felt two hands drop down onto her shoulders. Vince. Ridiculously, she’d almost forgotten about him as she looked around the room. Fiona stayed still, allowing his fingers to dance over her skin and travel across to her collarbone. “You’re tense,” Vince whispered behind her, his lips mere inches away from her ear. “You need to relax.”

  “Yes,” Fiona agreed, bending her head to one side to give him better access to her neck.

  “Yes, sir,” Vince corrected her, squeezing harder on her shoulders but not enough to cause pain. All the same, Fiona inhaled shakily and felt her muscles become even more tense and wound-up under his touch, until he pulled away a moment later.

  “I’m sorry. We should discuss the contract first before I dominate you at all,” Vince said softly, stepping around Fiona so that they were facing each other. “Here, come to the desk with me.” He offered his hand forward. For a long moment, Fiona just stared down at it, unsure of what she was supposed to do before it finally clicked. She was supposed to grab his hand, of course. She didn’t know why her brain misfired so badly. Fiona guessed she was more overwhelmed by the contents of the room around her than she originally thought. She finally placed her hand into Vince’s, feeling her skin tingle a little bit where his fingers touched hers.

  Vince gently pulled her along to the center of the room, where the small black desk with a matching chair awaited them. There, on the center of the table, was a stack of white papers, clashing against the otherwise overwhelming darkness of the playroom. “That’s for you,” Vince said as he let go of Fiona’s hand, pulling out the chair from the desk and wordlessly gesturing for her to sit. “Read it well before you sign.”

  “Are we going to…?” Fiona trailed off, tearing her eyes away from Vince to stare down at the contract on the table.

  “Fuck? Not tonight,” Vince said. “I need you to be absolutely sure about things first. We’ll do it another night, after we’ve both signed the contract. For now, just read it thoroughly. Really think about what you’re doing here. When you’re finished, either way, a car will be waiting for you outside.”

  Before Fiona had a chance to say anything in response, Vince leaned over her and dropped a soft, gentle kiss on the top of her head before walking away, quickly receding from the playroom and shutting the door behind him.

  Fiona cleared her throat, taking a long look at the various ropes and bars that hung down from the walls and ceiling, before turning to the stack of papers before her. She licked the edge of one of her fingers to flip the top page off the pile and began reading from the proper beginning of the contract. After skimming through a few lines of dense legal jargon, she got to the good stuff. The real terms of their agreement read as follows: “Before any sessions in the playroom, the Sub will decide on a safe word, which the Sub will write in the following blank space at the bottom of this page. It is essential that the safe word be distinctive and unique—it cannot be a normal word regularly used in typical conversation outside of the playroom. It must be special enough that the Dom will immediately know to stop the session and tend to the Sub. It must be something that the Sub will remember.”

  Fiona paused to think about what word she should choose. Her mind absurdly went straight for various food items: banana, broccoli, asparagus, tangerine... “That one is as good as any,” she said out loud to herself as she picked up the pen and wrote “tangerine” neatly and clearly at the designated space at the bottom of the page. She then flipped on to the next page and read on, mouthing the words silently as she went.

  “The Sub will also agree to use the ‘red, yellow, and green’ light system to check in with the Dom during heavier sessions. ‘Red’ has the same effect as the safe word, stopping the session entirely. ‘Yellow’ would pause the session, either for a short break or to discuss what will happen with the Dom. ‘Green’ means that everything is fine and should continue with the Dom in control.” Fiona’s heart, which had calmed down a little since she sat down, began to pick up its pace again, thudding lightly against her ribcage as she continued reading. “Otherwise, the Sub must always do what the Dom says. If the Sub disobeys without using her safe word or the traffic light system, she will be punished.” A chill went down Fiona’s spine, spiraling out into her arms and legs, but she realized with a cold certainty that she wasn’t frightened, not really. She ran her fingers down the print on the page, imagining how long it must have taken Vince to write the contract up. She never imagined he’d have the capacity for something like this, som
ething this complicated and nuanced. He was clearly much, much smarter than he looked and far more capable than anyone in his family realized.

  “The punishment for disobedience may include, but is not limited to, actions like light slapping, whipping, and spanking, as well as spending long periods of time tied up without being touched at all. The Sub can use the safe word or light system at any time to stop the punishment if necessary. Otherwise, the Sub must submit to whatever punishment the Dom decides.”

  Fiona swallowed heavily, pausing in her reading to look around the room at the various ropes hanging down around her. She couldn’t help but picture herself bound up in those ropes, suspended from the wall while Vince watched her tremble in place. “Shit,” Fiona murmured under her breath, feeling herself blush as if somebody could read her thoughts. But it wasn’t just embarrassment. She slowly became conscious of a flush of heat spreading down from her face and neck, over her chest and stomach, and towards her most private area. Her blood had begun pumping harder in her veins, every cell rushing faster to its destination, like her body just couldn’t wait for her life to finally start. Maybe this is what I’ve been missing, Fiona thought as her eyes landed on the locked chest across the room. For so long, she’d been tightly-wound, taking care of everything to make sure that her father was okay, to keep the Romano family’s business together. She’d been working so hard for so long. Honestly, she felt like she hadn’t slept in months, like her body was screaming for release, every muscle ready to pop at the next conflict thrown her way. She was aching for something to lift the burdens from her shoulders, to let her lay down and relax. To let someone else take control for a change. Somehow, even by just picturing Vince “punishing” her, her body landed on a solution. He could be the one, the one person she could trust enough to take her pain away, at least temporarily. He could save her.

  “Stupid,” she muttered to herself as she ducked her head again, refocusing her gaze on the words on the page. This was about sex and only sex. She had to be honest with herself about that or she would risk getting hurt. If Vince really wanted more than fucking, he wouldn’t have set things up so that they only talked about their relationship in the playroom. But it wasn’t like she wanted a relationship anyway, right? She didn’t have time for one. That’s why this was perfect. It would allow her get her rocks off without taking up too much of her time. She could still pretend to be a strong, independent woman during the daytime, while the beast within could come out at night.

  “Whenever the Sub enters the playroom, she must discard her clothes and leave them outside the door. She is to be naked at all times while in the playroom. No exceptions. This is non-negotiable.” Fiona grinned a little at that. It was a little overwhelming, realizing how badly Vince wanted this and had chosen her. Fiona couldn’t help but think that no other man she’d ever met had so much desire in his body. After all, she’d just met the man earlier in the day, and already he was making rules, telling her what to do. I feel like such a dirty little slut, Fiona thought to herself, but she couldn’t keep the smile off her face. She’d never thought that she would be that type of girl, the slutty little whore who gets fucked. She was supposed to be a good girl, nice and quiet and clean. But with the arrangement Vince was offering her, she didn’t have to be one way or the other. During the day, she could remain the same person she always was, but when she entered the playroom, she’d truly be Vince’s plaything. She’d be all flesh and no mind. The thought turned her on a lot more than it should have.

  Fiona skimmed over the next few paragraphs before her eyes landed on a bulleted list describing various activities that she would consent to if she signed the contract, including:

  Restraint with handcuffs, steel bars, and ropes. The Sub should expect visible marks on the skin as a result of the restraint, which must be covered during office hours.

  Receiving oral sex while restrained.

  Receiving attention from the Dom’s fingers and many sex toys of various intensity levels while restrained.

  Giving oral sex while restrained.

  Intercourse while restrained, including with a ball gag that would impede the Sub’s ability to speak.

  Being teased to the point of sobbing.

  That last bullet point made Fiona pause again, exhaling heavily as she pictured herself falling apart under Vince’s touch. Could she do that, let her every guard crumble while he chipped away at every last mask of strength that she’d so carefully constructed over the years? Her immediate, instinctive answer was “no,” she wasn’t brave enough for that. But all the same, the hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention, like her skin was already prepared to be touched and teased and slapped and stung. She kept reading, feeling her blood sing in her veins as if she’d just run a mile.

  Under the bulleted list, Vince had written, “Anal sex with physical restraints is a possibility that should be negotiated between the Dom and the Sub at a later time.” Fuck, Fiona thought, feeling beads of sweat pop up along the base of her neck and under her arms. She’d never done that before, even with her most serious boyfriends. She was somewhat relieved that the contract didn’t stipulate that she had to do it in order to be Vince’s Sub, but for some reason, she didn’t feel like rejecting the possibility out of hand. Maybe, with time, she could get there, letting someone into her body in an entirely new way.

  “The Sub must also agree to aftercare. This involves the Dom looking after any marks or sore areas after the session, including massaging the sore areas or perhaps drawing a bath for the Sub to help the Sub relax. The Dom will make sure that the Sub is comfortable, well-fed, and stress-free after every single session in the playroom. This is non-negotiable. The Sub must agree to aftercare or no session in the playroom can take place.”

  Fiona stopped reading there, which was the last stipulation before the signature section of the contract. For whatever reason, this gave her more pause than anything else she’d read or heard that night. Aftercare? That sounded like weird, mushy bullshit, if she was being honest with herself. Whenever she’d had sex in the past, she always liked to get up right away and hop into a shower to wash away all the sweat and grime and cum from her body so that she could pretend that everything was normal. None of her boyfriends ever had a problem with it, exactly, but she knew it was weird that she didn’t like to cuddle or spoon or do anything else that “normal” couples liked to do. Maybe there was something wrong with her, something irreparably broken that could never be fixed. Maybe this was the way that she would inevitably disappoint Vince, and maybe then she’d feel too awkward to keep her job at the Romano compound, after revealing her true weakness. Fiona couldn’t be soft. She just couldn’t. Everything in her life had to be a task, a conflict, an assignment, a battle to conquer. She honestly didn’t know if she was able to let Vince “take care” of her. The thought made the contents of her stomach swim around like her dinner was considering making a comeback.

  Fiona straightened up in her seat and placed her hands down on the smooth surface of the table, allowing the sensation of the painted wood against her skin to ground her and allow her gather her thoughts. She wanted this. She really, really wanted this. She wanted to feel the sweet release of handing control over to someone else, even if it was just for an hour or two. She wanted to switch her mind off, to turn off every last infuriating thought inside her brain and let her body take over, let it do what it really wanted to do for once in her godforsaken life. But the aftercare… It was such a frightening concept, she was tempted to walk out of the building without signing the contract and just never return to work so she wouldn’t have to explain herself.

  I could do it, she thought to herself as she slowly got to her feet. I could walk out of here right now with my dignity intact. I could leave here without ever testing myself, without ever confirming that I’m incapable of becoming close to somebody.

  But her legs felt rooted to the spot like a centuries-old tree, like she was meant to be in this dark room she’d never se
en before. She considered how it would feel if she never saw it again, and she felt like something was breaking apart in her chest, like a part of her heart was ripping itself away from her body. She tried to argue with herself, letting her reason overcome the base instincts of her silly, stupid body. I can’t do it, she said to herself as calmly as she could, willing her blood to slow down within her veins. I can’t be soft. I can’t be weak. I can’t let go of the reins. I’ll just embarrass myself.

  But from the depths of her soul, an answer came, stronger than any thought she could ever remember feeling before. So what? So what if you fail? Don’t you want to be brave, for once? Don’t you want to be something other than safe?

  Before she could stop herself, her hand reached out and grabbed the pen at the edge of the desk, and she bent over to scrawl her name in the designated spot on the last page of the contract. “There,” she whispered out loud to herself. “Happy now?”

  She’d meant it to be sarcastic, yelling at herself for being so foolish, but the truth was she did feel happy. For the first time in years, at the very least, she felt content. Her muscles felt loose and relaxed, like she’d just spent a week in a spa where strong men kneaded out every bit of tension from her body. No, it was better than that. It was as if her body had never known tension at all, like she was reborn just from the simple act of signing her name on a piece of paper.