chapter 12: limitless

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(If you need to refer to the contract, it's in chapter 9)

After getting home, Jackson asked me to meet him in his office with my contract

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After getting home, Jackson asked me to meet him in his office with my contract.

I walked in to see him already sitting there. I sat across from Jackson. Placing my contract in front of me, I fiddled around with my fingers.

"You seem nervous," he says, rather than ask.

"I guess I am," I admit, sheepishly.

"Don't be. There's nothing scary about this," he reassures. I smile.

"So do you have any questions or concerns about the contract?" Jackson asks.

"Uh— I have a few questions about the limits section," I say, opening the contract and looking down.

"Anything you're not comfortable with can be a hard-limit," he says, "do you need help with defining any term?"

"Yeah, what's figging and rha-phan-i-do-sis?" I ask, struggling at pronouncing the word.

"Rhaphanidosis and figging?" He asks.

I nod.

"It's when a ginger or radish is put up your—" He starts.

I interject, "Hard-limit."

He smirks, "But I didn't finish."

"I don't want anything up my anything," I say, not know how weirdly my words came out.

"Are you sure? Because if I recall correctly a few days ago you had something up your something," He says, his smirk widening.

My face heats up. He's messing with me. It's kinda hot—

I clear my throat, "Fisting is a hard-limit as well."

"Alright," Jackson says, his smirk still present, "anything else?"

"That's all," I say turning back a page, "uh now about my rules."

"Go on."

"Rule number one seems fine. Rule number two, I can't call you Jackson?" I question.

"No, not in a bedroom setting, but when we're in front of other people Jackson is fine," He explains.

"Okay, rule number three is just fúcking stupid," I blurt out, letting an unintentional f-bomb drop, "see what I mean?"

"Foul words are a part of a poor-witted man's language," He responds, "say a word like that and I'll punish you."

I feel my cheeks turn crimson. My confidence is shriveling away. Soon my mind floods with visions of what a 'punishment' might be like.

Jackson pulls me out of my thoughts, "Are there any long term medication you've taken it are taking that I should know about?"

Hesitation fills me as I recall my past. "No," I finally breath out.

Jackson looks at me for a bit and tries to examine my hesitation. I put up a confidant face, which reassures him.

"Rule number nine: what is a 'certain limit' for alcohol drinks?" I question.

"One drink," he states.

Only one? I sigh, it's for the best.

"Alright, the rest of the rules are fine," I say, glancing over them.

I flip through the contract one last time. When I reach the second-to-last page, I see there's an empty line. 'Safeword'

"That's for your safeword," he says, "once you say that word my actions will immediately stop."

I look around for a bit. What am I supposed to use as a safe word?

Hmm...

I soon find myself staring at Jackson's eyes. As I began to get lost in the mesmerizing emerald color of his eyes, it came to me... emerald.

"Emerald," I say.

"Emerald?" He echos, "Why?"

There's a confused look on his face. For someone so smart, I'm surprised he didn't get that I was referring to his eyes.

"It's a color I'm beginning to like," I say, giving him a hinting smile.

Soon he gets the hint and smiles. Man, he has a nice smile.

Looking down at the paper, I write 'Emerald.' I turn to the last page, which is where all I had to do was sign. I look back up at Jackson.

"Sign please," He hands me a black pen.

Am I sure this is what I want? Am I making a mistake? I should have thought about this. Holy shit! I find myself signing the contract. Did I really just sign the contract? Oh my God!

Jackson takes the contract from me and puts it away in a file cabinet, "Do you have any other questions?"

"Uh, kinda," I dwell upon his tattoos, "Do you tattoos have any meaning?"

"They do," he says, lifting his hand and looking down at them, "when the right time comes, I'll tell you."

I look down wondering when the right time will come.

"Follow me. There's something I have to show you," Jackson says, holding his hand out.

I take his hand and follow him out of his office. He walks me to the door that had a lock on it. Jackson enters a code on the lock, and the door opens. As I walk inside, I'm flabbergasted.

"Holy shit..." I mumble under my breath.

The room is something out of a BDSM movie. Whips, chains, handcuffs, blindfolds, floggers, and many other things I didn't recognize were all over the room. There was an Alaskan king sized bed in the corner.

Goosebumps ran over my body as I looked around.

"What do you think?" Jackson asks. I look at him.

"I- don't know," I say.

"You'll feel comfortable soon," he reassures.

Jackson walk over to the bed and sits at the corner.

"Come here," he commands.

We're starting? Oh my God!

I walk to him. Before I know it, I'm pulled over his knees. I gasp at his quick action.

"Did you think I didn't hear you mumble under your breath, Ms. Thompson?" Jackson asks, referring to when I mumbled 'Holy shit.' That was an accident!

"N-no..." I say, slightly stuttering.

He grabs me by the hair and pulls my head back, "No what?"

"No sir," I spit out.

He lets go of my hair causing my head to plop down on the bed.

"I want you to count," he commands, blandly.
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To be continued...

this chapter is dedicated to authorjustk

happy birthday bitch! (i know i'm a day late) you're like 5 months younger than me 🤪 hehe

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