Chapter 2: Outer Goddess

AKA: Rock, meet Hard Place

Get Comfortable being uncomfortable.

Get confident being uncertain.

Don't give up just because something is hard.

Pushing through challenges is what makes you grow.

The rest of the week went by painfully slowly. I missed my Kitty.

Except she wasn't my nameless Kitty anymore.

She was Anastasia Steele, and she was a mystery.

How ironic it was that upon learning her name, the rest of her had become a stranger to me.

Was she a force to be reckoned with, or a Submissive afraid of her inner freak? A self-confident smart ass, or a young woman unaware of her own desires? A Dominant on the making, or a Submissive in training?

A tiger, or a kitty?

I wanted the second option to be the right one.

I needed her tied up in my own playroom, in Escala. I needed her at arm's reach all weekend. I needed her behaving like a good girl through the week, safe and cautious. I needed her misbehaving every now and then so I could take her over my knee and spank her.

I wanted her shackled to my spanking bench, but I didn't need to punish her with a paddle, or a cane, or a belt. I wasn't looking forward to sharing this with Flynn, as the bastard wouldn't even be surprised at all. I, on the other hand, couldn't fathom where my dreams of punishing Anastasia roughly had gone. Why did I crave so much to redden her ass with my own hand? Why didn't the stronger forms of punishment consume my mind anymore? It wasn't that I couldn't picture myself doing those things with Anastasia and enjoying them. Those images just didn't entice me nor give me the same pleasure they once had. Was it because I had relearned the satisfaction of punishing a pretty woman with my own hand, flesh to flesh? Or was it because I knew Anastasia wouldn't enjoy it? At least not at first, that is. Not while she was still so wary of it.

Because I wasn't a selfish Dom, I wanted my Kitty to enjoy herself when she was with me. I wanted her to return for more. And I wanted to see her come apart in front of me, because of me. I wanted to take her to new highs and show her indescribable pleasure. I wanted to make her come stronger than ever before.

With this realization in mind, I reflected through the week and decided maybe I could make more concessions. Meet Anastasia halfway. Figure out what parts of the contract she wasn't ready for and modify them. A part of me was hoping she'd be willing to give me more control in a month or two.

On Friday evening, Taylor drove us to Portland, to Anastasia's apartment. I walked to the door like the gentleman my mother had raised and rang the bell. It only took her a few seconds to answer the intercom, and in a matter of minutes, she was walking out of the building's door with a warm smile and a dress that could kill. The burgundy dress matched my playroom and hugged her curves. It reached her knees and covered all of her chest, but it was tight enough to make me salivate. How I had missed those breasts!

Anastasia cleared her throat, interrupting my ogling. My eyes went up to her face, and she smirked. I wasn't embarrassed about having been caught. Looking at her body had become a habit during the last month, even if she had been unaware of it—either blindfolded or looking at the floor.

"You look amazing, Kitty," I complimented her, my voice intense and deep with desire. Her cheeks flushed slightly and she changed her weight from one leg to the other. I wanted to push her against a wall and kiss her. I wanted to take her inside and fuck her in her bed, rules be damned.

"You don't look so bad yourself," she answered, breathless yet seductive. She was delightful, trying to one-up me at my game. I smirked.

"Shall we?" I asked, pointing towards my car.

She nodded and followed me.

I opened the back door for her and she frowned slightly in confusion but complied.

"Oh, hello," she greeted my CPO when she noticed him.

She slid to the opposite seat instead of waiting for me to walk around the car and take my own place. How odd.

"This is Taylor."

"Pleased to meet you."

"Ma'am," he nodded in recognition and started the car.

We drove silently for a few minutes as I got lost in my thoughts, concerned about how the night would end. Would she walk out of my life for good, or would she let me take her to the club that night? Would she see my way of things and embrace all facets of being a Sub, or was she still too new and young to be the kind of woman that I needed?

"How was the rest of your week?" she eventually asked, pulling me away from my thoughts.

"Less interesting than Monday, that's for sure." I smiled, remembering the day she had walked back into my life. "How about yours?"

"Same," she answered, playing with the lower trim of her dress. My eyes automatically focused on the pale skin above her knee. How I wanted to place my hand there and trail it up, under her dress. Slowly. When was the last time I had undressed a woman? "Exhausting, actually," she continued, unperturbed by the fact my eyes had gone from her face to her body. "I've got finals coming up next week. This is the first time I've come up for air since Monday."

"Right. You're graduating in a week and a half," I recalled, trying to keep my eyes away from her naked skin.

"Where you'll be handing out the diplomas, or so Kate says."

"Kate's your roommate, right?" I asked her. For what Welch's research had told me—I had asked for that information as soon as she had left on Monday—she lived with Katherine Kavanagh, Mr Kavanagh's daughter and WSU paper's editor.

She nodded instead of answering verbally. I raised an eyebrow in her direction, silently reminding her I expected her to speak up when I asked her a question. Far from complying, she smirked at me with mischief and amusement, blue eyes sparkling and naughty.

I couldn't figure her out. In addition to being both submissive and strong, she was also playful and stubborn. There were probably a million ways to describe Anastasia Steele, and I only knew a very few. For the first time in my life, I was interested in knowing more about the woman whom I was fucking. There was something in this brunette that reminded me of Leila's wildness and Amanda's penchant for misbehaving, but there was also more kindness and boldness in Anastasia.

"You are one curious being, Miss Steele." That didn't even begin to cover it.

"Aren't we all females?" she asked with fake sweetness and innocence, paired up with a wide smile.

"A complete mystery." In some ways, at least. "Well... not always," I added, running a single finger from the naked skin of her wrist to her shoulder. She shuddered and got goosebumps on her arms, as if her body was agreeing with me. I smirked again. She liked to fight me, but her body already belonged with me. It was the rest of her that needed to keep up.

We arrived at The Heathman Hotel before our sparring could continue. Too bad; I was enjoying our battle of wills. She was much more… stimulating than my usual company, even if I had surrounded myself with smart, interesting people.

Both my door and hers were opened, and she fled from the car. I wasn't worried I had scared her off. Rather, it seemed she knew she was losing and needed to get her act together before the next round. For that, she required distance from myself, the man who knew her body better than anyone and could distract her with a single finger. I was flattered.

We walked into the hotel together and then into its restaurant, where we were guided into the private dining room I had requested. If we were going to be discussing the contract and her view of our lifestyle, we'd need isolation.

"Would you like to discuss the contract?" I asked as soon as dinner had been served. I wasn't one to dawdle. I absentmindedly stroked my lower lip with my index finger and Anastasia's darkening eyes focused on it. Interesting. "I want to know what you are completely against, what you can live with and what you like," I clarified.

"Sure," she agreed instantly. She grabbed her purse and took out the copy of the contract I had given her two weeks prior. Meanwhile, I took out the one I had printed for myself and a pen from an inner pocket of my coat.

I could spot yellow and pink highlights all over Anastasia's pages, as well as some notes written in blue. Had she left behind anything from the original contract?

What followed was carnage. Like a good lawyer she wasn't but could be, she questioned every little term and phrasing. She started with Clause 15.2 at the very beginning of the second page and refused one of every two words of that sheet.

"'The Dominant accepts the Submissive as his to own, control, dominate and discipline during the Term.' I can't do that. Not every day during the whole three-months term," she explained and I frowned. Did she, or did she not want to be a Submissive? "So far, I've only done that in the playroom, and I want it that way. I like being dominated in the playroom when we're... you know..." Unexpectedly, she blushed. I didn't know she could make herself redden so without outside help, or that she couldn't talk about sex. After all the things she had let me do to her! "The thing is the rest of the time I like being my own independent self. I don't like being bossed around in my day to day life."

When she phrased it like that it didn't sound so ridiculous. "So you just want to be my Sub while in the playroom." That, I had already grasped. I still thought she didn't know better. She hadn't been my Submissive full time yet, and from what we had spoken, I knew she hadn't had such an intense contract before. I believed she'd change her mind, if only she'd try out what I had to offer.

Being a Sub full time could be liberating. Letting go and not having the weight of the world on one's shoulders. Let another be responsible for you not doing stupid, harmful things to yourself.

In my mind, I could picture Flynn frowning at me. He wouldn't approve of such words. Elena had left a scar I was still learning to get rid of. But that train of thoughts didn't belong to the here and now. Leila and Susana and Caroline and so many others hadn't had my dark past, yet they had still enjoyed our arrangement.

"Exactly," she replied to my conclusion. "Well, I don't care about the exact location. I'd say I only want to be in Sub mode during playtime, and my idea of playtime lasts only a few hours at the most, not days or months."

She chewed on her lower lips nervously, distracting me from my disturbing thoughts. The waiter walked in with the oysters, saving me from having to answer. Once he was gone, Anastasia volunteered to move on to her next point.

It was going to be a long evening, and not as pleasurable as I had hoped.

Well, it was the most stimulating negotiation I had had in months.

"Clause 15.5 mentions flogging and whipping. I don't agree to any of those as acceptable punishments." I nodded and wrote it down. I did already know that, but a man is allowed to hope. Or maybe dream on. "Also, it says something about corporal punishments not only as a means of discipline but also your personal enjoyment, which, for the sake of being open and honest, I must say sounds sick." Maybe I should have rephrased that after Flynn had convinced me I wasn't a sadist. "I agree to be punished if I break rules, but not only because you feel like it." When she phrased it like that, though, I didn't sound like a psychopath but she sounded like one boring Sub. "I also agree to be flogged, spanked and whipped in a non-too-painful way as a means of mutual enjoyment," she finished coldly.

Her voice was somehow detached, like the one of a radio host reading bland news, but her blue eyes had turned to ice. She was neither kitty nor tiger, but a Goddess ready to strike me with lighting if I said the wrong thing. But I was a smart businessman, so I agreed.

"Alright. I'll rewrite the Clause and send you an email with the corrections." I could be reasonable. Hopefully, so could she.

"Okay… Clause 15.13." The very first one under the subtitle 'SUBMISSIVE.' I didn't have time to re-read it before she kept ranting, but the words 'property,' 'be dealt with,' 'Term' and 'Allotted Times' did jump out of the clause when I skimmed it. I was about to get chewed at. "Just no. Any of it. I do not like the term property, and I'm not going to be a Sub during the whole Term, nor during the whole Allotted times."

I'd called it.

The Goddess was growing restless, ready to morph into a bloodthirsty tiger, and I was going to be its meal. She didn't want to belong to me, and while I didn't like it, I could respect it. I didn't want to belong to anyone, either.

I didn't fully understand it, though. She was the one who had chosen to be a Sub. I hadn't forced her into that paper. She reminded me a bit of my younger self, except for the fact six months into the lifestyle I had been content enough to succumb my will to Elena. Of course, I had needed her to pull me away from the alcohol and self-harm, while Anastasia seemed functional and healthy, and clearly didn't need me for anything other than intense orgasms. Still, I had eventually decided it was time for me to stand on my own, but not after a few years. On the other hand, this had happened when I was younger than Anastasia.

So, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, but most definitely not liking it, I limited myself to circling the clause without talking.

"15.19." At least we were reaching the bottom of the page.

I looked up when she didn't continue, and upon noticing her blushing and looking down at her lap, I read the clause with curiosity.

'The Submissive shall not touch or pleasure herself sexually without permission from the Dominant.'

So she liked playing with herself, did she? Not that I could blame her. She was exquisite.

Now, that was a nice image: Anastasia Steele in bed, touching herself for me. I had asked her to do it twice at the club, but it had been a while…

"Well, Miss Steele, what about it?" I teased her with a smirk, holding back laughter. She was adorable, blushing at the thought of self-loving when I had seen her at the peak of pleasure.

"You know what. It's very straightforward. I don't like it at all."

"I want all of your orgasms to be mine." I wanted all of her to be mine. If that wasn't possible, at the very least I wanted to witness her every orgasm.

She blushed even harder.

"Well, they aren't, and they won't be."

I huffed, suspecting she'd still touch herself whether I allowed it or not. She didn't seem that good at following orders, after all. "I'll think about it," I compromised as I circled the clause.

"15.20. 'The Submissive shall submit to any sexual activity demanded by the Dominant," she continued, and just when I had thought she couldn't blush further, her cheeks turned as dark as her dress, "and shall do without hesitation or argument.' If I don't feel comfortable with something..."

"All you must do is say the safe word," I assured her. It was a very important thing for her to know as a Submissive, whether she agreed to be mine or found herself another Master.

"But I won't be punished."

"You'll never be punished because of using your safe words, Anastasia. I shall punish you if you don't use them when needed be," I answered seriously, looking deeply into her eyes. Consent was key.

"I've never neglected my use on them before," she assured me.

"Good." I was comforted to hear that.

"Then there's clause 15.21. You know the only thing I've agreed to from this list is spanking," she frowned, the tiger lurking. The clause listed whipping, flogging, caning and paddling.

"I do," I agreed, and because even smart people are allowed to make foolish comments now and then, and due to the fact I was only a mortal man allowed to have dreams and hopes, I kept talking. "Are you sure you don't want to reconsider?"

It's like watching a car crash in slow motion, isn't it?

"I've already told you a million times I'm not changing my list of hard limits. I'm not into hardcore. If you can't respect it, then I'm out," she all but shouted as her glacial eyes bored into mine. I was drawing a line at that attitude.

"I don't appreciate your tone of voice."

"And I don't appreciate you ignoring my refusal to be punished with anything but your hand, clamps or ice."

"Alright," I huffed and just crossed out the whole clause harshly. She may have had a point, but I didn't have to like it.

"15.22" I glared at her when I had to turn the page and she giggled. The nerve. "You have gorgeous eyes. Forbidding people to look at them should be illegal." She beamed sweetly and I gave her a shy smile in return. I couldn't remember her flattering me on purpose before.

Plus, it was nice to be thrown a bone after that massacre.

When the waiter returned with black cod, asparagus and crushed potatoes with hollandaise sauce, I quickly marked the clause that expressed the Submissive should always keep her eyes cast down. I wouldn't mind it if I could look at those ocean-deep, Adriatic Sea warm blue eyes whenever possible.

I got a respite as she tasted the food, but too soon she was getting ready to attack clause 15.23.

"You're a demanding little thing."

"I know. I may change majors, go to Law School." She believed she was funny. Alright, so maybe I thought so too. "Anyway, I agree to call you whatever you want during playtime. You don't need me to remind you how I feel about the Term and Allotted Times." And she was sarcastic too!

I circled the clause silently. How many times had I done so already? How far was I willing to go to have her in my life? Too far, apparently, if all the marks in those two pages were anything to go by.

"Alright, about the rules," —Those, too? Was she ever going to stop? — "anything that doesn't apply to the time we are together is out. You'll have to trust I can take care of myself without you needing to tell me how much to sleep, what to eat or when to exercise. I'm not a bimbo or a baby. I'll decide what's good for me."

I had carefully designed rules that stated she had to eat and sleep properly, as well as exercise and stay away from alcohol, drugs and cigarettes to stay healthy and safe. That was non-negotiable. 'Taking care of herself' meant doing at minimum what I had written down, and if she was planning on doing it anyway, then there was no reason it shouldn't be on the contract. None of it was an exaggeration, and the exact opposite of painful. Any doctor would have agreed with that!

"I do promise to be always waxed and with pretty nails," she continued, as if that was the important part. "I can live with you asking me to wear specific clothes when we are together, but I refuse to be paid a dime." I opened my mouth to insist I had more than enough money to buy her the clothes I wished to see her wearing, but she kept talking. "I don't drink in excess, or much at all really, nor do I smoke or do drugs. And the second to last sentence of the appendix one needs to go." It read: 'She shall be held accountable for any misdeeds, wrongdoings and misbehaviour committed when not in the presence of the Dominant.'

That last request was consistent with what she had been repeating all night long, and it seemed to sum up the issue. She wanted to do whatever the hell she pleased when we weren't in the playroom. She was fine with how things had been during the last month, and at best she was willing to change locations. And if I didn't give her what she wanted, she'd find another Master to do so. To her, I was as expendable as she was irreplaceable to me.

Angrily, I wrote down notes all over the rules. I took out my anger on the contract, glaring at the paper instead of at the woman sitting in front of me. I didn't want to scare her off.

"Anything else?" I asked when I was done.

"Appendix three asks for all my soft and hard limits, which you already know, so that'd be it."

"Finally!" I exclaimed. My pen had made my contract bleed half-to-death, but enough remained for it to be salvable.

I folded and put away the sheets of paper, and when I looked up Anastasia was sucking on an asparagus, a bit of white sauce dripping from one side. Her seduction was quite blatant, but not less effective because of it. My dick stood on attention, begging to be let inside my Kitty's warm wet mouth.

"What are you doing Anastasia?" I asked her.

"Who? Me? I'm eating," she lied, her acting hilariously poor.

"I'm sure you are."

We ate silently for a few minutes.

She had said her piece, and it was my time to present my proposal.

"Look, we've done things your way for the last month. Now let's try mine. Let me show you how good we can be together if you let me own you completely, Kitty," I spoke softly, trying to smooth-talk her. She only knew in theory what I wanted from her, but not in practice. She just needed to give me a chance.

My sensual voice got to her, as well as the suggestion of what I could give her. It was easy for me to read the desire in her. "I know you want me. I felt the tablecloth move just now: you're rubbing your thighs together. You're also flush and your heavy breathing is a dead giveaway."

"I know I want you, Christian." She rolled her eyes at me and I glared at her. That teenage-like disrespect I'd never accept. "I've experienced first-hand how talented your mouth, fingers and cock are!" She shouted, flushed. I didn't know she had that in her. Who knew her anger could keep surprising me? When was the last time someone had dared to shout at me so? "But I'm not going to agree to signing your contract and involve myself in a toxic relationship just because you give me awesome orgasms. I'm not going to become someone I'm not."

Toxic?

Someone she's not?

That's not what I wanted.

"Cat's got your tongue?" she asked playfully after nearly a minute, and I realized I was gaping at her.

"Looks more like a tiger than a kitty to me right now," I muttered.

Luckily, the waiter got back with our desert. The next few minutes we spent in silence, while I reflected on what I had learnt both on Monday and that night.

"I don't understand you," I finally shared. "When we were in the club you were such a good, obliging submissive. You followed my rules; rarely did I have to punish you. Yet now that we're outside the playroom and I'm getting to know new parts of you, what I want is to ask you to come and work for me in my Company."

She giggled.

"That's my point, Christian. I like… you know… the kinky stuff." She blushed and I snickered. How could such a daring sensual Goddess blush so much? She took a deep breath before continuing. "The things that we do—and normal people don't—turn me on. I like being… tied up, flogged and spanked, but I'm not a submissive kind of person most of the time. I only crave it in the bedroom. I have no interest in being a Sub when we're not playing. You must know where I'm coming from. After all, you're clearly not a submissive person either."

"Definitively not." But I was the Master, not her. "I still find you intriguing, though. But I think I understand." I sighed. "What now, then? I don't know if what you are willing to give me will be enough for me." I didn't know if I could give up so much control for a long period of time. I didn't know if I'd eventually cross the line she was trying to draw, and break promises I didn't yet dare make but wanted to.

"Didn't you enjoy our month together?" she asked. As if she didn't know. As if I hadn't been trying to make that point.

"Of course I did, but I still want more from you." I wanted all of her.

She sighed sadly, but what she said next surprised me. "I guess… maybe I can compromise a bit, but don't ever forget I refuse to become someone I'm not. Maybe, during our weekends together I can follow a bunch of rules even outside the playroom. I could wear what you want me to, eat what you ask me to and sleep as much as you want." That sounded promising, and maybe even acceptable. I'd have to sleep on it. "I'm not going to agree to your every whim and do whatever you ask me to do, though. If you ask me to jump, I won't ask 'how high?'" That sounded… less acceptable, but still rational when it came to Anastasia Steele, the worst sexiest Submissive to have graced Earth.

"I'll think about it." I didn't want to make any promises I couldn't keep. "I'll write a new set of rules for weekends only and email them to you. We can work out the details from there. Maybe meet up again next Friday."

"I don't know," she frowned. What else did she want from me? "I do like the new rules thing," she hurriedly assured me, "but I'll be really busy next week with finals and I can't let myself get distracted with anything. My last exam is on Thursday morning though, so I'll be happy to read your email after that. Maybe we can have dinner on Saturday? I'll be busy on Friday. Kate wants to go out and celebrate our freedom."

"I think I'll be free on Saturday," and it was more practical for me than Friday. "My place?"

"It depends on where our emails lead us."

"Fair enough. Shall we?" I asked, standing up.

There was no chance she'd let me take her to the club that night, and asking would only ruin the peaceful end of our turbulent night. Thus, I drove her home, leaving Taylor behind. I inquired about her bachelor degree and involvement in the paper, and found out she was an English Mayor but not a journalist. She wasn't in the paper but had merely done a favour to Katherine after having infected her. She was hoping to get a job as an editor in Seattle. I couldn't claim to know anyone in the publishing industry as far as I could remember.

I walked her to her apartment's door, making use of the polite dating etiquette my parents had taught me but I never got to put in practice.

"Don't drink too much on Friday night, please," I asked her, needing to hear she'd do her best to be safe.

"Don't worry; I'm not much of a drinker. I mean, look at me, two glasses of wine and I'm already screaming words such as... you know..."

"Cock?" I laughed out loud like I rarely did. It was hilarious and astounding how she couldn't talk about such things when she was much kinkier than a usual person. "I would have sworn you love having it in your mouth and pussy, yet here you are unable to call it by its name."

"Yeah, well..." she fidgeted and I chuckled. Most of the night I had been faced by a powerful Goddess, and suddenly she had become that innocent-looking girl with braids again.

"I guess I'm not getting lucky tonight." I needed to make sure I didn't actually stand a chance.

"You know you're not." My hand would have to make-do that night.

"But there's something I've been meaning to do ever since I saw you in that dress, Kitty,"

I took a step closer to her, grabbed her hips and span her. In a blink of an eye, her back was against a wall and I was holding both of her wrists above her head with one of my hands. It wouldn't do for her to touch my back or chest, unaware of my haphephobia. I pressed my body against hers, my dick straining against my trousers and poking her belly. My free hand grabbed her chin and angled her face towards mine.

Dilated blue eyes focused on mine. The intense ocean in her eyes had been cornered by her enlarged pupils, but it was still present and unbelievingly beautiful. Lust and need were transparent there. I could see the appeal of letting her look at me whenever she pleased now that she knew who I was.

Before I could get lost in those eyes, I kissed her hard. Passionately. Lustfully. I showed her how much I wanted and needed her. How I knew the best ways to please a woman. How talented I was with my tongue. I tried to dominate the kiss and she fought back, showing me how unyielding and obstinate she was. But also how much she desired me back, and how good she was with her tongue.

Too soon for my liking, we ran out of air and I had to pull back. Her pupils were somehow more dilated, her cheeks more flushed, and her breathing had accelerated. Something told me if I invited myself in, she'd let me, but then she'd be mad at me for seducing her right after she had rejected me. Thus, with titanic self-control I hadn't known I possessed, I took a step back, exposing my warmed chest to the cold night.

"Goodnight, Anastasia," I muttered before fleeing the scene.

I spent the drive back to the hotel and the next hour or two reflecting on our talk and going over my annotated copy of the contract. Several points and words she had spoken had stuck with me, and one of them was 'toxic.' After she and I had presented our points, she had claimed signing my contract would mean involving herself in a toxic relationship.

And I knew I wasn't the perfect Dominant, sometimes being too distracted with work, or too demanding with my rules, or too harsh with my punishments, or too unaware of the feelings my Subs were developing for me. After every contract expired, I liked giving and receiving feedback. Women usually complained about those things, as well as me being too emotionally detached—which I didn't consider a problem, as I was their Master and not their boyfriend—but they had never accused me of being toxic. They didn't think I had made their lives worse; quite the opposite, they were upset about having to go.

But I hadn't been upset about leaving behind Elena herself when going to school in Massachusetts. I hadn't missed my time spent with her, but rather the control she had brought to my life. I had been relieved to find a new Mistress. With Elena, I had turned from a person I hated to a person I didn't like; from a self-abused teenager that needed love and guidance to an abused teenager that needed to be saved. I hadn't become someone better, but rather a nasty marionette that kept rejecting his family's love. She would have been my ending. She would have turned me into the perfect Sub for her, not caring about my own needs.

And I had almost done the same thing to Anastasia.

I was nauseated.

I had been ready to force her into my definition of perfect Sub. I had been trying to take from her more control than she was willing to give. I had assumed that, because I was dominating in every aspect of my life, then she had to be compliant all the time too.

I gave a brief thought to those Subs I always evaded in the club: those who I recognized as important people in business, dominating in their daily jobs but needing to let go of their power a few hours a week; those who I didn't talk with, fearful they'd recognise me; those who I didn't want to be with, as they weren't submissive enough for my liking. And my eyes had been caught by one of them.

Anastasia wasn't like any women I had been with before. I couldn't expect her to follow the same set of rules and still keep that spark that made her be herself. Luckily, she was stubborn and refused to change.

I was the Master of my Universe, and she was the Mistress of hers. She may call me her Master, but to her, it was an empty title reserved for when she let go of her thoughts and let sensations take over; for when she let me please her and take her to heights she had only found in the BDSM club.

Thus, my options were two: find myself another Submissive—one better suited for my needs—or compromise with a tiger who wore kitten's clothes. The first option could lead me to satisfying weekends, but the second one would earn me a Goddess in my playroom. There was no question then. I had to have whatever part of Anastasia she was willing to give me.

I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep until I had written at the very least a draft of the new contract, so I sat down to work. I adapted my contract to Anastasia's limits, getting rid of anything she couldn't live with—everything that would turn off her light, or rather make her reject me for good before that could happen—and keeping or adapting what she had agreed to let me have.

I got rid of all the punishments she found unacceptable and the rules to be followed during the whole Term. Indeed, the only time The Term was left behind, it was to state that the contract was valid during its whole three months' duration and that Anastasia was not to sleep with any other man during it.

I didn't get rid of the Allotted Time—that is, the time designated for us to be together—but I did modify what I expected from her: to cook and eat what I asked, sleep when I said so, and wear what I wanted. Thus, those rules would only apply a few days a month with her.

The period in which other clauses would be applicable needed to be shortened too, as not only The Term but also the Allotted Times had been declared to include too many hours by my new Submissive. The changes I was willing to implement for her! So I established a Playtime in which she basically had to do whatever I said unless I gave her motive to safe-word.

I left a few details for the next day. For instance, I added a rule stating my bedroom was out of bounds. I had considered it an unnecessary clarification before, but I was edgy about what Anastasia would consider herself entitled to do when not during Playtime.

On the drive back to Seattle, I reflected on the few points I could live without, but probably Anastasia could live with. The easiest one was the clause involving eye contact. I couldn't get enough of Anastasia's blue eyes. They were incredibly beautiful, as well as a warm soothing balm. Also, they were the window to her soul and an appreciated aid when trying to decipher what was going on inside that wild mind of hers. Thus, I decided to modify that clause by stating she couldn't look directly into my eyes only during Playtime. I needed to retain some sort of control.

The clause about pleasuring herself sexually required more thought. If I left it behind, given the other changes I had implemented, Anastasia would probably sign the contact anyway. Not touching herself wasn't something extreme of me to ask for, even if it would involve The Term, which I was trying to mention as little as possible. On the other hand, who was to say she'd respect the rule? If she had considered it unacceptable enough to bring it up, even with the way it made her blush, then maybe it was a rule she wasn't willing to follow. I wanted all of her orgasms to be mine, but Anastasia had clearly stated they weren't and wouldn't be so.

But maybe I could get her to share.

So I excitedly typed that before pleasuring herself, she needed to call me and check if I was available for phone sex. I knew that wouldn't always be the case, as work kept me busy at all hours. At least it'd give me some control—and satisfy my curiosity about just how often little Miss Steele touched herself. Just in case, I added she couldn't touch herself during Allotted Times either, unless I said so. Anastasia was the kind to find loopholes everywhere.

I e-mailed Anastasia the contract on Sunday. Through the week, I texted her each morning to her burner phone to wish her good luck with her exams. I needed to stay on her good side and on her mind. Plus, I did honestly wish her success.

My e-mail didn't receive an answer until Thursday evening, though, but I had expected as much. Anastasia wrote she was very happy with the new contract. Her only stipulation was that I didn't ask her to talk dirty during phone sex. I hadn't expected she'd be capable of such a feat and had been planning on doing all the talking anyway. She agreed to see me on Saturday and sign the contract then.

Yes!

She has said yes!

I instantly got in contact with my personal shopper. Anastasia had refused to receive a budget for clothes, so I'd have to buy what I wanted her to wear instead. Weeks ago I had checked the size of her clothes in the club, easily done as she always left her clothes by the playroom's door, so I already knew what to buy. I requested everything from sexy lingerie to dresses of barely acceptable length. I decided to favour light colours, as the one time I had seen my Kitty wear a white short dress, I had been blown away by her apparent innocence. A sweet kitten, indeed.

She'd probably look like a Greek Goddess.

Thank you for all of your kind words, favourites and followers! I'm currently traveling so I'm updating for the app, and I haven't yet figured out how to answer your reviews personally fron here :(

I will be updating a new chapter twice a week, so expect the next one around Wednesday. Untill then, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Drop by into my profile and read my other stories!!