Page 113 of A is for Aftercare

“I’d like that.”

I write, “I’ll obey Sir’s commands without hesitation.”

“Wedoneed to agree whether that will only be in the bedroom or outside of it.”

“All the time, Sir.”

He arches an eyebrow. "Ineveryaspect of your life?”

I hitch in a breath. "Not my finances, and you can't tell me not to go to work."

“I wouldn’t presume to tell you when you can and can’t see your family or friends either,” he says.

Even though that hadn't even occurred to me, I sigh with relief. "But you can tell me what to eat, what to wear, and how to behave when we're out together. I'll obey all those things."

“Write it down.”

I do so quickly and then wait.

“Next come my duties.”

I wait with my pen poised over the paper.

“I’ll always take care of you,” Hamish says. “I’ll make sure your needs are met, that you feel well used during our play sessions, and loved, always.”

This time I do use shorthand, simply to keep up.

“Am I allowed to punish your mistakes?”

“Yes, of course.”

“If you misbehave in public, I will correct you in a non-humiliating way,” he promises. “But I reserve the right to punish you properly when we’re at home. If you’re comfortable with that, add it to the contract.”

I do so because I'm more than happy to agree to that.

“You’ll want to write your major limits next.”

I do that, although it isn’t long—“No humiliation, no scat, or urine play.”Then I add the things we spoke about a few minutes ago.“Hamish can’t control my money, he can’t tell me to do anything that would make things difficult for me at work, and he can’t tell me not to see my friends or family.”

“Is that an exhaustive list?" Hamish asks. "As in, if it's not on that list, can I assume I'm free to do it? Or is it an open-ended list that we can add to as things crop up?"

"Open-ended," I say and write it down.

“We’ve already covered what you’ll call me and when.” Hamish stares into my eyes.

"What comes next?" I ask, although I have a pretty good idea.

“Whether there are any rituals or tokens we want to use.”

My breath catches in my throat. “Such as collaring?”

“Aye. And if you did want to wear my collar, we’d need to agree if you’re ever allowed to take it off and what the consequences are if you take it off without my permission.”

“I’d never want to take it off, Sir,” I say, my voice husky.

“Does that mean you want to?” he asks.

“Yes, Sir.”