Chapter Ten
1400 Words
Harper's POV
I don’t have the luxury of sitting here all night, agonising over what the right thing is. I’ve done that too often, and it’s never helped. Now, I just need to keep moving.
The message marks as read almost instantly. I watch the screen, wondering, just like last time, who it is on the other end. Which of the three am I speaking to right now? Which one has their attention fixed on me in this moment?
The_Triumvirate: It’s great to see you reply, BruisedLace. The way forward always begins with discussing limits. We would never agree to a date without knowing if we’re aligned. If everything looks good after that, the next step is simply you saying you’d like to meet.
I sit with that for a moment, chewing the inside of my cheek. It feels… formal. Structured. Safe.
But I need to be sure. That structure matters more to me now than it ever has.
BruisedLace: So you don’t meet in person just to discuss things?
I think of the other man, SilverFox, and how quickly he jumped to meeting. The idea unsettled me in ways I’m still unpacking.
BruisedLace: Are limits discussed before a meeting takes place? Always?
Their answer comes just as fast as before.
The_Triumvirate: We never meet that way. That’s not how we do things. We believe in discussing everything beforehand, online. That includes boundaries, photos, videos, preferences. Meeting up just to talk complicates things more than it helps.
I frown slightly, about to ask how it could possibly complicate things, when another message arrives.
The_Triumvirate: Imagine we met tomorrow just to “talk.” If there were certain acts or requests you weren’t comfortable with, would it feel easier to say no in a message or while sitting across from all three of us? Limits should be discussed in a space where there’s no pressure. We never want anyone to agree to something just because they’re trying to please us.
That makes sense. More than I expected it to.
I lean back and take a long breath, my fingers moving again without hesitation.
BruisedLace: You’re the only ones I’ve felt even remotely safe and comfortable talking to. I would like to know more—discuss limits, if that’s possible?
A new notification pops up.
The_Triumvirate has shared a file with you.
The_Triumvirate: Here’s something to read through. At the top, you’ll see instructions and explanations for each column. Just go at your own pace. If there’s something you don’t see listed, but want to include, just ask. This list isn’t a demand. It’s a conversation.
My fingers tighten slightly around the phone.
This is real. I’m really doing this.
Another message follows.
The_Triumvirate: There are a few non-negotiables. If any of them don’t work for you, let us know. We may be able to adjust, depending on what they are. But it’s important to be open about it.
I nod to myself as I type.
BruisedLace: Thank you. I’ll read through it now. Can I ask your names? I keep looking at your photos, but I can’t tell who I’m actually speaking to. Who am I connecting with?
A new image appears.
The_Triumvirate has shared an image with you.
The_Triumvirate: This one’s Mason.
I don’t open it right away. My heart is beating too fast.
Another image.
The_Triumvirate has shared an image with you.
The_Triumvirate: And this is Nathan.
I smile a little, quietly repeating the names in my head. Mason. Nathan.
One final image comes through.
The_Triumvirate has shared an image with you.
The_Triumvirate: And finally, the best one 😉 Me... Theo.
So it’s Theo I’ve been speaking to. Something about that makes the corners of my mouth lift before I even realise I’m smiling.
I tap the download button and watch as the progress bar fills, my heart thudding a little harder than I want to admit. As soon as it completes, I open the file.
The screen brightens, the layout clean and precise, and before I can begin reading, a new message appears at the top of the app.
The_Triumvirate: I notice you had your profile marked as interested in everything, with no listed limits. But everyone has limits. Without you telling us yours, we can’t move forward. So please, read the list carefully, and more importantly, be honest. With yourself and with us.
A breath slips from me, heavy with the weight of the truth I’ve been trying to skirt around. They’re right. I can’t say yes to something if I don’t even know what it is.
I glance at the clock. Mark will be home soon. Once he walks through the door, he’ll want control of this conversation, of everything. If I don’t get through this list before then, he’ll be hovering, insisting I tick things off like items on a grocery run, speaking for me instead of letting me speak for myself.
I go back to the document.
Each act is followed by a row of small boxes, color-coded, with a key at the top that breaks everything down:
Green – Happy to do.
Yellow – A soft limit; okay in the right situation or after a conversation.
Red – Hard limit; never to be mentioned or considered.
Orange – Tried it before, at least once.
Black – Never tried it, not alone, not with a partner, not in any way.
Purple – Must have; something you actively enjoy and want to include.
Blue – Fetish; essential for reaching full pleasure.
I sit back for a second, blinking at the screen.
It’s... detailed. Incredibly detailed.
The kind of detail that makes me pause. The kind of detail that tells me they’ve done this before, not casually, not for fun, but with care, structure, and deliberate intention.
I scroll to the beginning of the list.
The first section is Anal, with subcategories I wasn’t expecting: fingers, toys, penetration, rimming. I stare at the list for a moment, then start slowly.
I’ve done some of this before. Not all. Not everything. But enough to know where I stand. I tick accordingly, green for what I’m comfortable with, black for what I haven’t tried, red where I know the answer is no. I hesitate at rimming, unsure, then move on.
The first few categories are relatively easy. They’re what I’d call standard. Things I’ve done before. Things I understand. Things I can assign a color to without needing to overthink it.
Then I scroll further.
Aftercare is next, highlighted in gold. I flick back to the beginning to remind myself what that color means.
Gold signifies a must-have from their side.
I try to remember if any of the earlier sections were gold, but I don’t think so. Maybe I was too focused to notice. Either way, this one stands out.
Aftercare.
I don’t know much about it. I’ve heard whispers. Girls talking in corners about blankets and soft words and warm hands after rougher things. I’ve never experienced it myself. No one I’ve been with ever cared enough to offer. But the idea of it... it stays with me.
I mark it green.
And I tick black for “not done before.”
Bondage comes next, broken down again. Wrists, ankles, full-body, breast binding, mouth. The specificity surprises me, but I go through them one by one, listening to the quiet voice inside me that knows the difference between curiosity and discomfort.
Then comes Breath Control.
The description reads: Only practiced safely, with awareness of pressure points and no obstruction that could cause damage.
It’s written carefully, not with the usual bravado some men use when listing what they like, but with caution. Responsibility.
I pause longer here, unsure, but the more I read, the more I realize that the list isn’t trying to push me, it’s trying to ask me. To give me a voice in something that’s usually decided for me.
So I keep going.
The scroll bar barely shifts as I move from one category to the next. The list is long, longer than I imagined, but each section draws me deeper in. I read not just with my eyes, but with something quieter, more internal.
And for the first time, I feel like I’m not being asked to play a part.
I’m being asked who I am.
And that might be the scariest, and most exciting, part of all.
- Writer
