Inside is the leather bustier Tristan found so intriguing at my store, with matching accessories. There’s also a black envelope inside. I turn it over, and its contents fall onto the bed. A shiny new credit card bearing my name falls out, together with a handwritten note from Tristan.
Keisha,
Please accept these gifts with a promise. If you agree to be my submissive, this is only the beginning of what I desire to lavish on you.
The credit card enclosed will be activated on Wednesday after the signing of the contract. It is for you to use to bolster your wardrobe, and whatever else your heart desires, within reason, as long as you are my submissive. I will expect you to attend various functions with me, and need you always to dress tastefully and appropriately as a woman befitting my social stature.
I’m looking forward to seeing you on Wednesday. Please plan to stay with me after the meeting, and I’ll answer any further questions you might have about the lifestyle. Then we’ll move on to more pleasurable things.
Tristan
P.S. – I don’t consider your acceptance a foregone conclusion. I wouldn’t presume to second-guess you, but I think you made your decision Saturday, it just hasn’t dawned on you yet. For what it’s worth, I certainly made up my mind about you then.
What have I gotten myself into? All I wanted to do is write my music, sing my songs, and run a recording studio and record store. I didn’t bargain for all this. I cram everything back in the box and hide it away in my closet, then I think better of it, and put the note and credit card in my purse. I hide the bustier and other lingerie in the bottom of my underwear drawer. I leave the empty box in my closet on a certain angle, so I’ll know if Jada touches it while I’m not home.
My cell phone catches my eye on the nightstand. I have three missed calls from who else, Tristan. Then I discover I have a text from him: Why haven’t you answered my calls? I’m flying to Atlantic City to look at an investment with my brother. Talk to you tomorrow.
Without a second thought about my actions, I touch the screen and dial him. His voice mail picks up, so I leave a message before I chicken out.
“I think I’m going to pass on our arrangement,” I say. “There’s got to be another venture capitalist that will back us that I don’t have to sub for.” I hang up, giggling. That ought to give him something to chew on overnight.
I go to bed and fall into a deep sleep. The insistent ringing of the doorbell wakes me. I throw on my robe to go out and investigate. Jada, already at the door, peers through the peephole.
“What the fuck?” She says in a loud whisper. “There are two white men on our porch. The light’s not on, so I can’t see who. I’m calling 9-1-1.” She makes for the phone, but I know for a fact she can’t see who because she’s not wearing her contacts.
“Wait, let me see,” I say. I recognize Tristan’s shadowy profile, and another that looks like his with longer hair. I’d swear he’s peering back at me through the fisheye. I sigh. “Don’t call the cops, Jada. It’s just Tristan, and his brother, I think.” I turn to her, and all I see is her rear as she runs out of the room.
I take a deep breath and open the door. “You were two seconds away from getting the cops called on your ass,” I say by way of greeting to Tristan. “What the hell are you doing here this time of night?”
He looks at his Rolex. “It’s technically morning.”
“You know what I mean.”
Before he can say anything further, I hear Mrs. Dobbs fiddling with her chain lock next door. I gesture quickly to them both. “Get in here. Now!”
They acquiesce with twin smirks on their faces. I squint out of my sleep-crusted eyes at the White brothers. Both in our living room. They are so big, and tall, they dwarf the furniture in our humble abode.
Tristan practices impeccable manners despite my annoyance with him. “Nathan, this is
Keisha,
Please accept these gifts with a promise. If you agree to be my submissive, this is only the beginning of what I desire to lavish on you.
The credit card enclosed will be activated on Wednesday after the signing of the contract. It is for you to use to bolster your wardrobe, and whatever else your heart desires, within reason, as long as you are my submissive. I will expect you to attend various functions with me, and need you always to dress tastefully and appropriately as a woman befitting my social stature.
I’m looking forward to seeing you on Wednesday. Please plan to stay with me after the meeting, and I’ll answer any further questions you might have about the lifestyle. Then we’ll move on to more pleasurable things.
Tristan
P.S. – I don’t consider your acceptance a foregone conclusion. I wouldn’t presume to second-guess you, but I think you made your decision Saturday, it just hasn’t dawned on you yet. For what it’s worth, I certainly made up my mind about you then.
What have I gotten myself into? All I wanted to do is write my music, sing my songs, and run a recording studio and record store. I didn’t bargain for all this. I cram everything back in the box and hide it away in my closet, then I think better of it, and put the note and credit card in my purse. I hide the bustier and other lingerie in the bottom of my underwear drawer. I leave the empty box in my closet on a certain angle, so I’ll know if Jada touches it while I’m not home.
My cell phone catches my eye on the nightstand. I have three missed calls from who else, Tristan. Then I discover I have a text from him: Why haven’t you answered my calls? I’m flying to Atlantic City to look at an investment with my brother. Talk to you tomorrow.
Without a second thought about my actions, I touch the screen and dial him. His voice mail picks up, so I leave a message before I chicken out.
“I think I’m going to pass on our arrangement,” I say. “There’s got to be another venture capitalist that will back us that I don’t have to sub for.” I hang up, giggling. That ought to give him something to chew on overnight.
I go to bed and fall into a deep sleep. The insistent ringing of the doorbell wakes me. I throw on my robe to go out and investigate. Jada, already at the door, peers through the peephole.
“What the fuck?” She says in a loud whisper. “There are two white men on our porch. The light’s not on, so I can’t see who. I’m calling 9-1-1.” She makes for the phone, but I know for a fact she can’t see who because she’s not wearing her contacts.
“Wait, let me see,” I say. I recognize Tristan’s shadowy profile, and another that looks like his with longer hair. I’d swear he’s peering back at me through the fisheye. I sigh. “Don’t call the cops, Jada. It’s just Tristan, and his brother, I think.” I turn to her, and all I see is her rear as she runs out of the room.
I take a deep breath and open the door. “You were two seconds away from getting the cops called on your ass,” I say by way of greeting to Tristan. “What the hell are you doing here this time of night?”
He looks at his Rolex. “It’s technically morning.”
“You know what I mean.”
Before he can say anything further, I hear Mrs. Dobbs fiddling with her chain lock next door. I gesture quickly to them both. “Get in here. Now!”
They acquiesce with twin smirks on their faces. I squint out of my sleep-crusted eyes at the White brothers. Both in our living room. They are so big, and tall, they dwarf the furniture in our humble abode.
Tristan practices impeccable manners despite my annoyance with him. “Nathan, this is
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