Her Savior/Her Doms

The Contract

The Contract...

The Submissive:

1. Must address Masters, Sir, Daddy when appropriate

A. Daddy is only to be used at home when dealing with issues or when the submissive is feeling in that area

2. Sub must not harm herself in any way

A. MUST tell Masters if the feeling is there

3. The submissive must listen to and obey Masters at ALL times

4. The submissive will live with the Masters

5. The submissive must never lie to or hide issues from the Masters

6. The submissive will get plenty of rest and exercise

A. Exercise at least 3 times a week in the gym at the house

7. The submissive must ask for permission to do or change certain things about herself

A. No extreme haircuts or piercings out of spite or feeling out of control, etc.

8. The submissive must always inform the Master if she is leaving the house and where the submissive is going

The Doms reserve the right to delete or add to these rules as they see fit.

The Dom/Daddy

1. Must ALWAYS put submissive first

2. Must listen to submissive and be understanding

3. Must make sure the submissive is happy, healthy, and growing to be the best she can be.

4. Must give aftercare to submissive when disciplined

5. Must stay consistent with rules

6. Must encourage submissive to make and continue to make progress

7. Must provide everything for the submissive, as she will not work unless the Dom and Daddy feel it is right.

This includes: Clothes, food, jewelry, purses, Misc money to walk around with

8. Must remember that a submissive is a choice, so never abuse the submissive. Always treat her with love, respect, and discipline

Punishments

1. Spankings (must try all methods at least once before veto)

2. Cut-in Allowance

3. Loss of contact with friends for a week

4 Orgasm denial

5. Forced multiple orgasms

6. No Sex

7. Kneel on rice for 5 minutes (Extreme Punishment only)

Doms have the right to add or subtract at any time and to inform the submissive in writing.

This agreement between Master Leo and Master Jake on this date.

Sign_____________________________ Date________________________________

Sign______________________________ Date________________________________

This agreement for Submissive acknowledges that she is willing to step into her new role.

Sign_______________________________ Date_________________________

This agreement is legal and binding for a term of no less than one year unless Dom’s scar or severely causes bodily harm or if any person on this contract cheats.

The sub must now choose safe word _________________________________________________________________

Once this is signed, dropped off at the lawyers, and filed to protect the submissive, it goes into effect the next morning.

Leo slid the contract across the low table toward me, and I picked it up the way you pick up something you are not entirely sure you are ready to hold. It was thorough — more thorough than I had expected, which I realized I should have expected, because everything about the two of them was thorough. It covered the structure of the dynamic, the expectations on all three sides, the rules and consequences, the check-ins, the safe words, and the boundaries—written out clearly and without ambiguity, the way Leo had promised on the rooftop. I read every word. I am not the kind of person who signs things without reading them, even when part of me wants to just close my eyes, say yes, and let the details sort themselves out later. I read it twice, actually, and on the second pass I felt something settle in me — the particular settling of someone who has been handed exactly what they asked for and is now faced with the reality of having to accept it.

When I looked up, they were both watching me with the patient, unhurried attention I had come to recognize as their default — not anxious, not performing calm, just genuinely at ease with whatever I needed. I almost laughed. "Well," I said, setting the contract down on my knee and looking between them, "no wonder you wanted to get this signed first thing this morning." Leo's mouth curved. Jake looked quietly pleased with himself in the way he often did when something was going the way he had hoped.

"Do you have any questions?" Leo asked.

I looked down at the contract again, then back up at them. The honest answer was that I did not have questions about the words on the page — they had been clear and thorough and fair, and I understood every line of it. What I had was something harder to articulate. Something that lived not in the contract but underneath it. I set it on the table, folded my hands in my lap, and took a breath. "I only have one," I said. "And it is not about the contract."

They both waited.

"Are you sure?" I said. "Both of you — are you genuinely sure you want to take this on?" I held their eyes because I needed to see the answer as well as hear it. "I am not an easy person to be around right now. I have days where I do not speak to anyone — not because I am angry, but because the words just will not come, and I cannot explain why. I have days where I cry for reasons I cannot name, where something small and ordinary will set me off and I will not be able to stop it." I paused, and then said the hardest part. "And I have days where I am just — difficult. Temperamental. Where the grief comes out sideways, and I take it out on the nearest person and then hate myself for it afterward." I looked down at my hands for a moment. "I know what the contract says. I know what the structure is supposed to do. But the structure only works if you actually want to be in the room with me on the hard days, not just the good ones." I looked back up. "So I need to know — not what you think you should say, not the reassuring answer — I need to know if you have actually thought about what it will look like when I am at my worst. Because I have been at my worst for a long time, and most people do not stay for it."

The room was very quiet. Jake leaned forward slowly, his elbows coming to rest on his knees, and he looked at me with an expression that I had not seen on him before — not the warm ease of the morning, not the careful deliberateness of the office, but something rawer than both. Something that looked like recognition. "I have thought about it," he said. "Not as a hypothetical. I have sat with the specific reality of it — the hard days, the silence, the grief coming out sideways — and I have not changed my mind." He paused. "You are not too broken for us, Destiny. You are exactly broken enough that we know how to help." Leo reached over and picked up the contract from the table and held it out to me again, steady and unhurried. "The question is not whether we are sure," he said quietly. "We are sure. The question is whether you are ready to let us be."

I looked at the contract in his hand for a long moment. I thought about all the reasons I had not let anyone in for years — the good reasons, the earned reasons, the reasons that had kept me safe and also kept me alone. I thought about Elijah. I thought about my mother. I thought about the version of myself that had walked out of that marriage quieter and more careful, and how carefully I had tended that caution ever since, and how exhausted I was from it. And then I reached out, took the contract from Leo's hand, picked up the pen from the table, and signed my name.