When you awoke, there was no dirk coming in with breakfast. You had no idea what time it was, but it didn't matter. Light shone through the windows, the spots on the ground weirding you out for no easily discernable reason. You went through your regular morning routine, putting on a pair of pants and a comfortable looking top, and trying the door to the room: it was unlocked. You went down the hall again, to the doors at the other end, and tried the one on the left. It opened to a living room; obviously lived in. A pair of televisions, each hooked up to gaming systems that you both recognized and didn't. it looked like all available games were, well, available. Like, damn. You shut that door because figuring that out would have to be a task for another day. You went to the remaining door. It opened on a casual cook's dream kitchen: all the hardware you could need, several cookbooks, all of the ingredients you could think of at the time and then some (turned out they'd appear as you needed them). All while still feeling homey: none of the sterile feel that stainless steel gives with its wood flooring and marble countertops. With a bit of searching, you found that there were still easy comfort food things too: you made mac n cheese for yourself and ate it alone. When you went to clean up after yourself, it had all disappeared (Hell. Yes).
Opening the door to the dining room again, just to look, you found Dirk. He jumped and you distinctly heard a gasp. He pushed his shades back up, muttering to himself, not looking at you, and went back to eating what looked like the remainder of pancakes and bacon. You left him to it.
Back in your room now, you looked in the armoire for the agreement? Contract? All that was in it was a single piece of paper, which read:
Dearest
I know you don't remember. But you insisted on that much. You asked about who I am, and where we would be, and I told you at full disclosure, and I am willing to tell you again. However, when I told you the first time it almost dissuaded you. Only almost, obviously. Yes, there is a full legalese document outlining our whole agreement, but we both felt it better for me to summarize for you later. No, your drink was not drugged. No, this is not any world you've ever seen or been to before. You wanted to be here, and that was the majority of your end of our deal. You will find that you don't need to sleep here, but you may still want to. Time passes… differently here as well, entirely on my whims. The light will wane as I approach, as if the sun was setting, and it will be night when I and my comrade are Home. While here you will remain in peak physical condition, without need to exercise, if you do choose to exercise however, you will get stronger and fit but never less so. If you choose to imbibe alcohol you will get inebriated, but not suffer a hangover. As I have stated before, you retained your soul, as you are a competent negotiator. Everything in the building is at your disposal, all doors but the room immediately left of yours are open to you, that one belongs to Jake, and Dirk would have to allow you in. the same goes for your own room, dirk may not enter without permission from either of us. Everything in this room may change at either your or my behest. You are required by your contract to be here for two of your years, 730 "days". Two of these have passed. These days are as long as I will them, with the understanding that I will be called away at least once during them. These outings may be an hour, or 24, but each time I leave counts as a new day. When I return you are mine to do with as I please. Safe words will be defined as needed.
At the bottom was a signature; done in red pen, to its right on the page was a blank space. You found a pen, and signed it.