BDSM Relationship Contract and Submission to a Dominant Master

“You fix dinner while I put the finishing touches on our agreement,” Andre said, once we returned upstairs after he’d fucked me in a swing in his basement. “I should have it ready by the time we eat.”

“Clothing?” I said.

“There are some aprons in the pantry,” he replied, “and chicken marinating in the fridge.”

I walked to the kitchen and Andre retreated to his study, yet another of his home’s rooms I’d not been in. In the pantry, I selected a burgundy apron with a length that extended to about mid thigh.

The chicken – which was infused with a lemon marinade – went on the deck’s propane grill, and I made dirty rice and a salad to go with it.

There was something both extremely unclean and highly erotic about preparing a meal wearing nothing but an apron while Andre’s spunk dried in my pussy and along the insides of my thighs.

I knocked at the study’s door and announced to Andre that dinner was ready, then returned to the kitchen to remove the apron and carry our meal to the table outside. Andre emerged through the French doors with some papers in his hand, and he slid them in front of me after sitting down.

My eyes couldn’t pour through the contract’s words quickly enough, and as I read, it felt a bit like I was opening a present.

The document included sections about me caring for my body, my responsibilities in the home, and, of course, the level of control I agreed to yield to Andre.

With only a few exceptions – such as when I was menstruating – I would be required to remain nude when in the home and, weather permitting, in the back yard, even when guests were over. Likewise, the collar and cuffs were required whenever Master was home, unless he wished them off.

I was forbidden from using birth control, either with Andre or with anyone he directed me to fuck.

The document clearly stated that there would be times I would wear my collar and cuffs in public, and it gave Andre the right to have me tattooed or pierced as he saw fit, and even more mundane things such as selecting the clothing and shoes I’d wear.

The contract also prescribed how Andre would care for me, and laid out the few limits his ownership would have.

And, of course, I would be required to not work outside the home, so that serving Andre would be my soul focus.

After I completed my review of the dozen or so pages, I took a deep breath, and then said, “I’ll sign it.”

Andre – who’d gotten dressed while I was preparing our meal – produced a pen from his shirt’s pocket and handed it to me, and I scrawled my name on the contract’s last page. Master then took the pen and document and signed it, too.

“Are you happy, pet?” Andre asked.

“Yes, Master, very,” I said.

“As am I,” he replied.

Submitting to Andre was invigorating, exciting. Until this weekend, the thought of having such a relationship with anyone had never crossed my mind aside from fleetingly wondering what it would be like.
With Andre this felt right, and I wished life itself had a fast forward button, to quickly emerge me in my submission to him, and the experiences it would afford me.

Once our dining was complete, I cleared the table and washed the dishes, leaving Master outside to enjoy a few quiet moments on the deck, basking in his conquer of me.

After cleaning and putting away the dishes, I returned to Andre, sitting across the table from him as I had when we dined.

“How does your pussy feel?” Andre asked, with a matter-of-fact tone.

“It hurts pretty badly, to be honest, Master,” I said.

“I’m not surprised,” he said. “It’s taken quite a bit of abuse this weekend.”

What passed through my lips next, might have been the most submissive and obedient thing I’d ever said, and it left Andre’s face with no less than a gleeful expression.

“And my pussy will endure even more abuse, if it’s what Master wishes,” I muttered.

“Good girl,” Andre said, and then he motioned for me to come to him, pulling me sideways onto his lap and kissing me deeply, lovingly.

Master place his palm against my cheek as he broke the kiss, then began to speak in a gentle tone.

“My brothers are coming to visit Wednesday afternoon, and I’m taking off Thursday and Friday. For the four days they’re here, I think we’ll do nothing but fuck you repeatedly.”

He added, “Once they’ve dipped their cocks in you, they might never leave.”

I gently suckled Master’s earlobe, then whispered, “If they’re hung like you, I might beg then to stay.”

As the evening progressed, the air grew brisk, making me all the more appreciative of Andre’s warmth. We chatted and kissed as time passed, and I couldn’t fathom being anywhere but in his arms.

Without warning, Andre stood with me in his arms and walked into his home, taking me to bed.

He pulled the sheets over us and rolled atop me, and guided his prick back inside me. My legs wrapped around him and I began to moan with his thrusts.

Andre grabbed my wrist cuffs and pinned me to the mattress as his cock pierced me.

“Tell me you want to spend four solid days with me and my brothers fucking you, my dirty white whore,” he growled.

I tingled all over. God he knew how to push my buttons like no other man.

“Please let them violate me, Master,” I pleaded. “I beg you to let me have all three of your cocks.”

Andre slapped my face lightly, still growling as he said, “Black cock slut.”

“Thank you, Master,” I gasped, my legs tightening their grip on him as he plowed me even harder.

Master’s virility and stamina were incredible, and he spent nearly two hours using me before unleashing another torrent of jizz into my crotch, all the while holding my wrists to the bed.

Following his release, he rolled off me, kissed me goodnight and we fell asleep face to face, with our bodies intertwined.