I pull into my subdivision, thankful more than ever to be almost home. The tears are already brimming at my lower lashes but I confuse to hold it together. The crisp white paper on the passenger seat horribly reflects the sunlight, making it impossible to forget it’s there.

It was a fucking speed trap! I could see the 45 speed limit sign when I saw the blue flashing lights in my rear view mirror. The cop, with his smug smirk informed me I was going 46 in a 35 and he needed my license and registration. I had never been pulled over before. My hands were absolutely shaking as I dug through the glove box while he watched me.

He stepped away and I tried to take some deep breaths. It was *only* 11 miles over…and I’ve never been pulled over before. Surely I’ll be let off with a warning and I can go about my day.

After an eternity of sitting on the side of the road, the cop is back at my window, again with his smug little smile under his pencil thin mustache. He hands me my paperwork back along with the ticket and tells me to “slow it down for me”. before walking off. I look down at the paper…$208 for a little speeding violation.

I feel my stomach turn over as I pull back out onto the road, much more slowly this time, and continue on the route home.

Now here I am, sitting in the garage trying to avoid the inevitable. His truck was in the driveway and I know he’s inside waiting for me. After gathering my belongings, inside I go opening the door and entering in through the kitchen.

I head his footsteps on the hardwood floors as he strolls in to meet me.

“There’s my girl,” he smiles in that way that sends chills through my body, then kisses my forehead. That’s all it takes forever the floodgates to open. The tears that were balancing on my lower lashes finally fall and more stream down my face behind them.

I thrust the paper at him as he takes it with a concerned look. After squinting at it for a few moments he simply nods and pulls me into a tight hug. He kisses my temple and gently shushes me.

I begin to settle down and he pulls away to look at me.

“Why don’t you go take a few minutes to calm down in the office chair? I’ll be in in a few minutes.”

For some reason this already starts to calm me. I swallow a sob and make my way to the study. The chair he is referring to is a large comfy plush chair in the corner by the window. When I’m sent to The Chair, usually it’s because I need to calm down before a discussion of some sort. Im not allowed to have my phone. But there is a window with a lovely view of the property and a box of tissues. Setting my phone down on the entry way table on my way there, I settle into the chair with my water bottle (aka my emotional support water bottle) and look out the window.

Lucas and I found each other in a very interesting way. Neither of us were looking to settle down but it didn’t take long to discover we were matched perfectly. We both played soccer and were still fans, we worked in the same industry, had the same political views, oh and we both desired a dominant/submissive relationship.

I’ve been into spankings as long as I am aware. And I realized after several failed relationships that I do not want to be with someone unless this was a part of it. Lucas not only felt the same way. He understood it. He understood me in a way nobody ever has before. In the words of my favorite author Emily Brontë, ‘

“He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

It didn’t take us long to realize we were all each other ever wanted. I had a ring on my finger pretty quickly and our elopement was set for only a couple months away when he informed me one day we had an appointment with an attorney. I naturally assumed it was a prenup. Which would’ve been fine. I wasn’t after Lucas’ money. My family has money and I actually consider myself pretty privileged. If this gives him some peace of mind, I’m ok with it.

The attorney, lanky and nervous looking, takes us into a meeting room where we all sit down at a table way too grand for the 3 of us. Lucas pulls the chair out for me and sits down very close to me, taking a strong hold of my hand.

“This is the draft, both of you go over it, make any changes, then we will finalize it and have you both sign off.” He stammers as he pushes the packet closer.

As it comes into focus, I’m able to read the header “Discipline Contract”.