Page 6 of Sweet Torture (Torture Games #1)

FOUR

NAZ

A fter that night at the gallery, when I lost control, it was hard to accept that I might never see the man in the mask again. Then, I was surprised by an anxious voice note from my best friend, Rosalind, or Rose as I call her, informing me that the mystery man was fervently searching for me.

I did not expect that. Yes, he was more than willing to follow me to the back, but my general needs are more eclectic. Most men find it hard to obey.

Unfortunately, my curious nature got the best of me, and I agreed to dinner with the man at a place I was sure was known as a hub for criminal activity.

It wasn’t safe for him to be with me. I know I should also stay away from men like him, but I felt compelled to see him again.

I saw the red flags and stomped all over them with my stiletto heels.

While feeling him up under the table, I wanted to gloat to every woman staring at him that only I could make him this hard. But that would be a lie.

I hardly know this man, and although he would struggle to give me what I crave, I still find myself on my way to his office. Only this time, the plan is to put him at ease.

I am wearing a plain black pencil skirt and sensible heels. My white shirt could be mistaken for decent, and my makeup is toned down. I even left the red lipstick at home. My hair is twisted in a boring bun, and I want to release the constraining pins with all my might, but I persevere.

This meeting will take ten minutes at most, and then I will be out of here, and I can go on with my life. This meeting is just to confirm what I already know. There is no way he will want to play my game.

I come early and receive curious glances on the elevator when the occupants see which floor I am getting off at. Walking with my back straight and my head held high, I am surprised by Griffin’s eager assistant anxiously awaiting me.

I am escorted in by a trembling young man who simply abandons me soon after announcing my presence.

Keeping a neutral face, I gaze at the pure opulence of the antique furniture and the precious art adorning the walls.

A set of uncomfortable couches forms a somewhat informal meeting space to the left of the room, leaving a path open to the expansive view from the tall windows on the right.

It feels like we are levitating above the city, and my stomach readies for the plummeting feeling that always follows a fall.

He is standing with his back to me, staring out at the vastness of New York.

Although I know he is aware of my presence, he refuses to acknowledge me first.

“You could use some of my paintings to brighten up the room a bit,” I state matter-of-factly. Two can play this game, and what he doesn’t know is that I am always the winner.

He turns around slowly, strolling leisurely to his chair, looking relaxed with his arms swinging by his side.

“So glad you could make it. Please sit down.” He gestures to the chair in front of the immaculate desk. His face is devoid of any emotion, which only means he is a fantastic liar.

Guess that is what blue balls will do to a person.

“Thank you for having me. Your messages were quite curt, and I wasn’t sure if you truly wanted this meeting,” I say, still standing.

I put my number in his breast pocket and went home, uneasily waiting for any response from him. It took him 46 minutes to ask me to have a meeting with him today at his imposing office on Seventh Street.

He wanted to send a car, but that is not how I roll. Never will I ever be dependent on a man again.

Griffin rakes his hand through his unruly hair, and not for the first time, by the looks of it. I fight the instinct to scold him.

“Yes, I wasn’t sure if this was the best course of action. You mentioned something about a contract, and my curiosity got the best of me.” He sighs as if reluctant to admit the truth.

You and me both. I can’t wait to see what you look like…

“Did you bring the contract along for review?”

I have been clutching the back of the chair in front of the wide wooden desk. Everything in this room is chosen to create an intimidating effect and show power. I only wish it worked as effectively on me as it probably has on others. The effort is wasted on me.

I take the contract from the purple briefcase I bought, especially for occasions like these, walk around to stop next to him, and place it on the desk before him.

“I am sure you will find it covers most topics, but if there is something you need added, there is space for amendments at the back.”

I take out my fancy black pen from the bag still clutched in my hand, and gesture with it to him. He snorts at my audacity, and with an overly dramatic sigh, I walk away to sit in the chair opposite him.

“You can’t blame me for trying. You probably had a pen ready for me the other night.” I pout.

“Yes, but that was because I knew exactly what I was getting into. I didn’t get this far by playing dumb,” he contests.

I lean back and get comfortable, crossing my legs. Oh, but what a magnificent figure he strikes in his ignorance.

“Granted. In that case, shall we get down to business?” My demeanor changes completely, reflecting the seriousness of the situation.

He nods and starts paging through the document.

I give him a few minutes to peruse before I interject, “My experience has been that parties often enter this agreement without fully understanding the responsibilities. Therefore, I have made a glossary for you and provided some examples. You will find it attached at the back as an addendum as well.”

I have already signed the contract for extra motivation. Or maybe as a mind fuck. Who knows.

I thought this might be the best way to address the elephant in the room.

Griffin finds the pages, and I see the frown on his face spread the further he reads.

“These are all limits presented by a sub,” he says with a gasp.

“Yes. You can use the vocabulary to complete the sections needed.” I pick at my nails, but remain acutely aware of his reaction.

“The sections filled in by the sub?”

“Yes, as in, you will give me the boundaries that you set as my sub.” I look him in the eye to seem more approachable.

“So, I will need to submit to you?” His words are still hesitant.

“Only if you choose to do so.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You will be punished according to the guidelines you set out in the contract. I hardly see what the problem is here. You do know how to complete a contract, correct?”

I knew that would rile him up. If we have any chance of doing this right, he will need to be a lot more vocal than he is right now. This relationship depends on communication, and even though I crave to make him mine with every fiber of my being, he must consent first.

“So, you want to beat the crap out of me when I disobey a direct order?” he roars.

I fold my hands on my lap. This is going to be harder than I thought.

“No, you want me to spank you playfully; otherwise, you would have obeyed the order.”

His eyebrows knit together, and fists form on the table. I get up with a huff. If he were mine, he would already be literally kneeling and eating his words by now. I walk around the desk to stand very close to him when I turn to the first page.

“Look, it is an easy decision to make. As in business, you weigh all the pros and cons and decide if it is beneficial to you. Let’s look at this together.”

I wonder if he realizes he is leaning closer and smelling me.

“Here, as dominant, I filled in my name. Where it states submissive, you fill yours. Full name, please. I don’t want to refuse the agreement on a technicality. Then, where it states participants…Would you like to share me with anyone else?”

I act as if he has an option. I am a one-man woman; if that is what he needs, I will take my contract and walk right out of here. He responds with a growl and jumps out of his seat to start pacing.

“How did this happen? My contract is simpler. Just sign my damn thing.”

He slams his hands on the table; I already expected this behavior.

“Your contract does not give me what I need,” I calmly state.

Confusion crosses his face, and he storms back to the table and grabs papers out of his drawer to put the contracts side by side.

“They outline similar sexual preferences. What more could you want?” he growls.

The answer is simple.

“You.”

He looks at me as if he has never heard the word before, and it takes all my willpower not to react to the moment.

I stalk closer as if approaching a wild animal and place my hand gently on his shoulder when he looks down.

“Look, nobody is forcing you into this. You have all the power here; you must give it up willingly for this to work. Let’s look at the other topics covered.”

He storms toward the bar cart and pours a hefty drink. I stroll over and take it from his hands to place the glass back on the cart.

“You need a clear head for this.”

“Oh please, what stops you from tying me up and beating the crap out of me when I am at your mercy?” he huffs.

I place my hand on his heart and feel a shudder move through his body at my answer.

“Respect and devotion.”

I walk back to the desk, pick up the pages, and read aloud.

“The Dominant agrees to respect the submissive and act in a way that promotes their health, safety, and wellbeing, mental or otherwise. It is all right here. With this signature, I have pledged this promise to you. Not to mention, this contract is binding, unlike yours.”

He still hesitates.

“The most important pieces of information you need to give are your hard limits, punishments you would accept, and the scenes you would like to reenact. Those are the ones I would think about. The rest is straightforward.”

“Scenes?”

“Yes, Griffin. This is a game, after all, and all games have rules. For example, I would never condone any scene where consent is ignored. That is why I will always check in with you before and after.”

“After? I thought we just fuck and leave.” His face reveals genuine confusion.

“Not with me, you don’t. I want to take care of you and provide for your needs.”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he mutters to himself, and then louder, “You are not my fucking mother!”

“But I could be if that was something you wanted.”

He starts pacing again, and I know I’ve gone too far.

“Look. I apologize for that; it was in poor taste. I just wanted to illustrate that you are free to ask for anything you desire, and we can decide on it together. You will see that I have already completed my parts and have laid out all my hard limits for you to peruse. You are not making this decision blindly. You have all the information at your disposal, and we can also terminate this contract whenever we choose.”

“I can’t.” He stops pacing, his voice barely a whisper.

“And that is okay. But at least consider my offer. There is no pressure, and you know where to find me when you are ready. Just know that whatever you decide, I will accept it. And if you need to discuss any points or have any questions, feel free to arrange another meeting with me. I really did like that risotto the other night.”

That brings a small smile to his face, barely detectable.

“You are making this very hard for me.”

I move closer, placing my hand next to his hard erection, clearly visible through his pants. He might not know it yet, but he is perfect.

“It seems like you don’t need my help in that department.”

With a sweet lingering kiss, I turn, pick up my briefcase, and leave him to wrestle through his own turmoil.