“Then let’s turn this conversation and see if we can help you with that.” Brandon got up and went over to the bedside table. She had no idea what he was going to get from that collection of toys and tools, but what he brought back surprised her.
It was a pad of paper and a pen.
“It’s time to rough out our contract. Please stand, take off all your clothes, and then rejoin us at the table.”
Chapter Thirteen
Rachel opened her mouth, a protest sizzling on her tongue. And then she closed it. The light in both men’s eyes was definitely sparkling. It was a light she’d come to recognize as a sign they’d done something deliberately provoking. But there was a resolve in those gazes, as well. Trace had said they’d just begun and already they knew what they wanted. She didn’t know if she could give them that forever they were looking for, but she, too, already knew one thing she wanted.
She wanted more.
Understanding them, and herself, Rachel nodded, got up, and began to obey Brandon’s command. She walked over to the large dresser and undressed, folding her clothing neatly. Then she took her seat again, this time grateful the chairs were padded.
“While we could consider this to be a ‘scene,’ it has another purpose. Rachel, as you already know from your research, one of the keys to the success to any D/s relationship is communication. Therefore, when we’re at this table, you can say anything and everything.”
“I’ve always believed communication is key to any successful relationship,” she said. “So I appreciate this concept.”
“Good. The first thing any good contract will contain is the duration of it.”
She didn’t know what expression crossed her face at Brandon’s words, but it must have been bad. He reached out and took her hand. “Breathe, baby. By term of contract, I mean the conditions we’re going to set can be revisited. So, we need to come up with a period of time that whatever we put in this contract will be in effect until we renegotiate.”
“Oh.” She did as he’d suggested and breathed. “I thought you meant…” She didn’t finish that thought, because it embarrassed her to admit that, while she didn’t know about forever, the thought of ending this…whatever this was, hurt her heart.
“We know,” Trace said. He was showing her that sexy grin of his. He could talk me into damn near anything with that grin.
“We do know, and it pleases the hell out of us both that the thought of ending our relationship is not a good thought for you.”
Rachel didn’t want to take that particular conversational detour. She wasn’t ready to have a conversation about how she really felt about it. Instead, she answered Brandon’s original question. “Three months?”
“Three months sounds reasonable,” Brandon said. His expression let her know that he knew she’d put them back on course. He took a moment to write that down.
“Can you tell us the things you learned about, as you researched, that you would consider your hard limits? And by hard limits, we mean those things you saw and immediately thought, oh hell no.”
She appreciated Brandon’s use of humor. He knew how to set her at ease. “Anything involving undue pain or humiliation of any kind. I was turned off by the edgier practices I read about. I guess I have no danger junkie or masochist in me at all.”
“That’s good to know,” Brandon said. “Trace and I each face danger in our jobs, and so have no desire to share that particular element with you.”
“I have a terror—almost a phobia—of being shocked by electricity.”
“Why does that admission make you blush?” Trace asked.
Rachel shrugged. “I guess because I’ve discovered, very recently, that there are two kinds of electricity. The kind you both cause to sizzle through me, short-circuiting my brain and my will, when we’re having sex. And then there’s the kind you might get if you stick a piece of metal in an outlet. Love the first, seriously practically phobic when it comes to the second.”
Trace chuckled while Brandon seemed to think about her words. “You’re right. I never thought of that, either, that there are two kinds of electricity. Well, third if you consider static electricity. Did you ever? Stick anything into an outlet, zapping yourself?”
“Not that I know of. But I am kind of strange, actually, electrically speaking. If I stroke my hand along some appliances, I can feel the current. It’s like a vibration humming through the thing. I also feel that same sensation at some of the old-style department stores, if I lay my hand on one of their glass cases that’s wired with lights.”
“You don’t have to worry about it, sweetheart. We have no problem saying no to the violet wand,” Trace said.
“How do you feel about impact play?”
“I want to know what erotic pain is. I can say that because, when you pinched my nipple, it made me wet. But I don’t think I want to experience real pain. So yes to spanking, either by hand or paddle. I’m open to trying a flogger and a crop. I don’t have any desire to experience a whip.” Rachel looked from Trace to Brandon. “I don’t know if I’d be willing to move on that one or not. I really am not into real pain.”
“We’re both personally delighted to hear that,” Brandon said. “Though you need to understand that if you did discover you were, and that you needed more pain than we were comfortable giving you? We’d do our best to find someone to help us give you what you needed. How about bondage and sensory deprivation?”
Rachel licked her lips and wondered if that wasn’t a clue. When both men reacted with interest to her gesture, she understood it was. “I’m open to that, too. I want to know how they feel, and if experiencing them, they make my arousal sharper. Though what you’ve given me so far is more pleasure than I even knew existed.”
“That
