"Sometimes trust blinds us so much that we can't see the truth"
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After being dragged to some boring dinner meeting, Scarlet meets Jackson Vanderbilt. From leaving dinner early to being kicked out her apartment, Jackson was by Scarlet's side. What...
(If you need to refer to the contract, it's in chapter 9)
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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. __________________________
