Petal

For my first Patron - Bach

Chapter One - The Contract

"We need to talk."

"What?"

My husband James sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. "I said we have to talk."

"What's wrong?"

He sighed again and collapsed onto his recliner, face in his hands. "I'm in trouble, to put it bluntly."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"You know how I go to my poker game every week?"

"What about it?"

I sat up straighter on the couch, putting my book aside. He wouldn't even look up at me. "James, what about it?"

"I lost a lot of money."

"How much can you possibly have lost from a weekly game with your coworkers?"

"It's not just poker."

"Pardon me?"

He gripped his hair with his fingers. Still not moving or looking up. My heart sped up and my hands started shaking. "We got into some online gambling. Not just poker. Football, baseball, all of it. Sometimes even golf."

"How much?"

"I didn't mean for it to go this far. I just borrowed some money from Pete at work but then I had to borrow from Ralph and it just spiralled."

"How much?"

"About... Oh fuck..."

I stood up and crossed the room, staring down at his head. "How much? Just tell me."

"About a hundred thousand."

"Are you fucking kidding me? Look at me!"

He just shook his head. I grabbed his chin and yanked his face up. "What do you mean you owe a hundred thousand dollars? Who do you even know who has that much money? That's more than you make in a year! That's... That's..."

"I know, okay, I know! I fucked up!"

He stood up and dropped his hands. He walked to the window and looked out of it, one arm up on the glass. He looked like something from an old movie, like a gangster looking out at the rain. On a sunny afternoon.

"I had to... Get creative I guess. I found a guy online who helped me out. Then I kept losing more money and had to meet him in person. He said he wanted to just make a plan with me, that it would be all cleared up in a year."

"Did you meet him?"

"Yes. Drove out today to see him. I took a personal day from work."

"Drove out? Where does he live?"

"Not that far, a couple of hours, that's not important."

"Well? What did he say? How much does he want a month? There's no way we can afford that and get it done in a year. Jesus Christ!"

He closed his eyes and I cleared the distance between us. I put my hand on his shoulder, trying to hold back the rage and fear. We'd lose the house. We'd have to move. Back to a crummy apartment somewhere. Or worse.

Fuck.

"He offered me a deal. I mean, us a deal."

"What kind of deal? Does he want a lien on the house or something?"

"Nothing like that. He said the house would be fine, and we'd be able to keep everything."

"What is it then?"

"He... God..."

"Just say it!"

"He wants to keep you. For a year."

"Excuse me?"

"He drew up a contract... You'd live with him and..."

"Some kind of servant? Are you insane?"

He looked at me and I noticed how pale he really was. "Not exactly. You'd be his. For a year."

"Define 'his' before I lose my shit completely."

"His. To do with as he wants. Just... His. For a year."

I just stood there. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. He handed it to me and looked back outside. "I don't know what else to do. If we don't do this, he'll take us to court and ruin everything. Take all the money, take the house... Everything."

I walked away, the paper in my fist. I went into my bedroom and locked the door. He couldn't mean what I thought he meant. He just couldn't.

I sat on the bed and took deep breaths. My hands were still shaking. I stared at the paper. I couldn't even bring myself to open it. Not yet. Maybe never.

*

Two hours later, James knocked on the door. "Let me in."

"No."

"Please?"

"No. Leave me alone."

"Why? I didn't agree to it. We need to talk."

"I said leave me alone!"

"You realize I have a key, right? We need to talk. Open the door."

I got up, thumbed the latch, and yanked it open. "What? You actually want me to to do this? To go be some strangers... Sex toy?"

"Listen to me," he said, walking into the room. His hair was still twisted and curled and I could tell he'd been drinking. "I met him. He's not a bad guy. Just lives in a regular house and seems like anyone you'd meet in the grocery store."

"Then you go live with him and be his little sex kitten."

"I would if he'd let me! Jesus, just stop and listen to me. I don't know what else to do!"

"Did you even read what he wrote?" I said, shoving the open paper in his face. "The very first line says that the SLAVE will do whatever the MASTER wants!"

"Yes, I read it. It says that he has to take care of you and treat you well. And it's only for a year and I think I can even get him to help pay off the house at the same time."

"Oh so that's it, then? You already have it all figured out! You're an asshole and I want a divorce!"

"Just come meet him. We can go tomorrow morning."

"I don't want to meet him! I don't want anything to do with this! You fucked up, you fix

It!"

"I can't fix it! Do you understand that? He's not the first guy I talked to, and those other guys are ruthless! They're going to come for me by the end of the week if I don't have the money! They're going to hurt me, maybe even kill me!"

"And that's my fault?"

"Of course it's not your fault! But I need your help! Please?"

"James..."

"Please. Just come with me tomorrow. Please. Then we can talk again."

"You can't be serious about this. You just can't."

"Maybe he'll change his mind. Maybe he'll see you and..."

His voice trailed off. I could have strangled him. "Maybe he'll meet me and think I'm hideous?"

"Of course not! But maybe he won't like you... Maybe he just likes blondes or something... I don't know... Just... Please can we meet with him tomorrow?"

"I hate you right now. So much."

"I love you. I do."

He pulled me into his arms and held me close. I wanted to push away but didn't quite bring myself to do it. I didn't hold him back. I just stood there like a stick. Just a piece of wood. And I hated him more every second.

*

The drive was nice enough. I sat on my side of the car, chin on my fist while I stared out the window. Normally I brought books or something to do while we were on long drives. I just brought my phone and didn't bother with anything else. I'd barely slept, even though I'd heard James snoring all night long. I was ready to vomit or scream.

Maybe both. Maybe just jump out of the car at the next stoplight and run away. That would teach him. Maybe. Or would it just leave me homeless with a husband in some kind of jail or in a grave from loan sharks?

We'd met young and married early. But we'd always gotten along and had a good life. I couldn't believe he was even considering letting me do this, asking me to be someone else's "slave" or any other term. We weren't prudes by any means but the idea of being treated like an object...

Humiliating. Dehumanizing.

So why did part of it make me a little turned on?

Maybe for a night. Hell, maybe a weekend or even a week. But a year? That was just too long. And it was insane. Who would give that much money just for the ability to "own" me? That was insane. He was clearly insane. And my husband was insane for even thinking of it.

And who had a slavery contract drawn up at the ready?

Part of me expected James to start laughing at some point and bring me to a restaurant where all of our friends and family could poke fun at me for my gullibleness. But I didn't think even he had that much of a mixture of funny bone and neurosis.

We drove and didn't talk. He just left the radio on his old metal. I didn't mind. If nothing else, it was consistent and familiar. I was still ready to run away screaming. But he said we were close to the guy's house. The guy who wanted to "own" me for a year.

I never said a word. Soon enough, James was rambling on about the trees and open spaces between the properties. I didn't pay attention. Or at least tried to not care. He was still talking when he put on his blinker and pulled into a long driveway.

"See, I told you it's not a big house. It's not even that far. Not even two hours. It's not a big house. I don't think he's even messy. He just really wants someone to take care of his house. Maybe cook. I don't know. It will be fine, if you like him. Otherwise I don't know what happens. You'd be fine. But I'd be out in prison somewhere I think."

I ignored him. I had no desire to talk to him at all. Even if I just left, all alone, in the car, I didn't care. Alone wasn't a bad thing. Preferable, I could only imagine, to pretending to let some guy "own" me.

"We're here, honey. Are you ready?"

"Fuck you," I said. I didn't even know I would say that, but that didn't make it any less true. Fuck him. And this whole situation.

He didn't answer. He drove down the driveway, parked, and turned off the car. He got out and came around to my side. He held out his hand and opened the door. I took his hand but didn't bother to look around. We walked together to the front of a rather "typical" looking ranch house.

"He's okay, I promise."

"Shut up, okay, James? Just shut up."

We stood in front of the door and he pushed the bell with his free hand. I jumped a little when the ring sounded. A few seconds later, I heard footsteps from the other side. I tensed up and took half a step backwards. James squeezed my hand and I couldn't shake the feeling he was holding me in place.

The door opened and I saw the man who had offered my husband a way out of all of his money troubles. Free money and no more worries. All just at the cost of his wife. At the cost of me.

He was average height, so I could look at him without having to tilt my head back very far. He wore glasses and had short gray hair. His beard was the same color and was a little longer and bushier than most men that I knew. He certainly didn't look like something from a horror movie. James was right. He looked pretty normal.

"Hello again," he said, smiling at us. He put his right hand out and I shook it, manners and habit taking over automatically. His palm was a little rough, like someone who spent a lot of time working with his hands. Not like James, whose skin was even softer than mine thanks to his desk job.

He let go and gestured to the open door. "Come on in. We have a lot to talk about, I'm sure."

James went first and I followed behind, my hand still clamped in his. We walked through a living room into a kitchen. The house was neat and simple. There were no freaky pictures or bondage gear lying around. It looked very, well, normal. Maybe it was all just an elaborate prank. Something to tell his buddies about at the next poker game. "Can you believe it? She fell for it! She really thought it was real!"

I could almost hear their laughter in my head.

We sat at a round table. The kitchen was clean. All of the cabinets were closed and there was even a small bowl of apples on the counter. James sat close to me and I could see sweat pooling at the base of his neck, just under his hair. I was shaking again.

"How was the drive? I hope traffic wasn't too bad."

"No, it was fine," James said. He kept glancing at me then back at the table and his hand.

"I take it you two have talked about my offer."

I looked around the room, not willing to look at his face. I stared at the apples. Those at least were something real and neutral. Something I could look at without wanting to scream or vomit.

"Yes, we did," James said. His voice was flat. The heat of his gaze was on my cheek and I wouldn't look at him. The hatred and rage was back in full force. I tried to pull my hand away but once again he held me still.

"And?"

"Well, we're here," he said. "That must say something."

"It does. But in the end, it isn't up to you, is it?"

James squeezed my hand and I finally looked at him. "What?" I said, aware of the venom in my own voice.

"Look at me, my dear."

I turned to look at my husband's would-be savior. His eyes were intense, but they were also kind. I didn't speak. I just looked at him.

"This is your decision. Not mine and not your husband's. Yours. Ultimately, you make the choice."

I didn't speak. I knew if I did, I would lose the battle with my tears. My throat and eyes were burning with them. And I wasn't about to embarrass myself in front of this stranger.

"Isn't there some other way?" James asked. "Something else we can do?"

The man didn't break our gaze. "You've seen my terms. Either your wife stays with me willingly, is mine for a year, or I call my lawyer and start the court proceedings."

James leaned closer to me and I could feel his breath on my neck. "Please, honey... Please. I'll figure something out and I'll get you out of here. Please?"

I nodded, my whole body shaking. The man leaned forward and put his finger under my chin. His skin was warm.

"No nodding, my dear. I need an agreement."

"Fine," I whispered.

"That's not an answer."

I took a deep breath. "Yes. I will stay here with you."

"And be my slave? In all ways?"

I closed my eyes. James' breath was on my neck and he was squeezing my hand so hard I was half expecting my fingers to break off. The man's finger under my chin was strong and steady.

I opened my eyes and looked at him. "I will."

He smiled and dropped his hand. James sighed and rested his forehead on my shoulder. I shook him off and he sat up straight. The man reached over to the counter and picked up a piece of paper and a pen. He slid it across the table.

"Read it again. One more time. Then sign it."

James picked it up and the man snatched it back. "This doesn't concern you anymore. This is for her."

I read it, ignoring James' shocked expression. I pulled my hand away and used it to track each bullet point of the agreement as I read it. It was exactly the same as before.

Consensual Slave Contract

1.0 - The slave will never willfully refuse anything the Master wants without risk of punishment outside of the agreed stipulations in 1.A. Once the contract is signed, the Master has complete authority over the slave (body, possessions, money, and material goods) as the Master sees fit. The slave will serve the Master to the very best of her ability.

1.A there will be no burning, bloodshed, breath play to loss of consciousness, permanent damage to health, job, or family. Nothing illegal or psychologically harmful, all of these the slave has veto over.

2.0 - The Master accepts to love, cherish, train, and punish, plus use the slave as he sees fit. He will also treat the slave properly.

3.0 - Any permanent damage to the slave will result in immediate cancellation of the contract and the slave is entitled to leave.

4.0 - Punishment is entirely as the Master sees fit, not including sub section 1.A.

5.0 - The slave cannot have sexual contact with anyone other than the Master unless he allows it. The slave can be loaned out to other Masters after being informed of the rules in the contract regarding injury to said slave. The Master will bear in mind any psychological damage to the slave and will not allow that.

6.0 - The Master will keep secret all details of the slave to protect her and family from mental or physical damage. Failure to do so will result in immediate contract termination.

7.0 - The contract can be altered with both parties' agreement.

8.0 - The Master can terminate the contract at any time. The slave can terminate only if the contract is breached.

9.0 - All money will be called due immediately if the contract is breached by the slave.

10.0 - The Master and slave must both sign the contract.

He slid the pen over and I picked it up. I signed it quickly, before I could lose my nerve. My heart was pounding and my hand was shaking so badly I could hardly hold it steady.

I pushed it back across the table and looked at the apples again. James leaned close again and whispered, "Thank you. Thank you."

"Leave me alone," I said.

The man smiled at us and wrote on the paper. He stood up and handed it to me. "You have five minutes to say your goodbyes. I'll give you some privacy."

"Wait, what, now?" James said, standing up.

"She signed it. I signed it. She is mine. Five minutes."

He walked out of the kitchen and I didn't move. James knelt next to me, looking up at me and putting his hand on my knee. "I'll be back soon, I promise."

"Just go."

"I love you."

"Go."

He stood up and kissed the top of my head. I didn't move.

He left the room and I just sat there. I heard the front door open and their hushed voices. I looked down at the paper. His signature was there, just above mine.

Master Bach