Signed

Beware, possible spoilers ahead.

Signed takes place in the same world as the Contracted trilogy. The tags would be m/m, M/s, BDSM, toys, threesome, angst.

Probably whining about daddy issues.

The one thing I like about this is that I get to beat on a character who will not shut up. The bad thing is… I think he enjoys it way too much.

My name is Nathaniel Edwards, I am just over forty years old as I write this introduction. I’ve chosen to write this of my own volition, I was not pressured into it, nor was I commanded by my wife and Mistress, Isabella. Today she may be Mistress, but tomorrow she will be my sub once more. Most likely you are reading this because you read Isabella’s books and were curious about my part of the story.

Or you whined about how you didn’t get all the details in the middle portion of her books and now you’re hoping my absolutely detailed account with her will rectify the situation.

I’m not the least bit sorry to say, you will be disappointed. This is not a detailed account of my time with Isabella Domme. You already know what happened when she was around me. I lost my mind, my lust got the better of me.

No, this account covers before I met Isabella, how I became the man that I was when she met me. Yes, I will cover—however briefly—my time with her during the contract but it will be focused on after she was removed from my home. While my journals from our time together are being collected and edited slightly for inclusion in the national archives, I don’t much feel like sharing that with you.

My story does not begin and end with Isabella. Just as hers did not end with marrying me. Well, her written story did, but she went on to bigger and better things in the real world. My story doesn’t even begin when I met Him.

Master.

Full disclosure, I am a straight man in a polyamourous relationship, married to a woman but sometimes sleeping with a man. With my wife, of course. I am not gay, the idea of being near another man sexually does not turn me on, not just any male would do. I don’t care how attractive he is, there is only one man I will ever willingly have sex with. It’s not about his looks, or how good he is in bed.

It’s just Him, that’s all.

Sleeping with a man’ is probably putting it in an odd fashion. We do end up sleeping beside one another, but it’s not the cuddly sort of thing you might be imagining.

As I know some of you are readers of my wife’s books, I’m betting you’re hoping I’ll start at the beginning, that I’ll tell you how we met as young men and where we met. You’re probably sitting on the edge of your seats with bated breath, waiting for the name to slip from my lips, to know his most intimate secret.

It won’t.

I could claim that I’m too well trained, or that I respect him so greatly that I have never uttered the name in the presence of others before. That would be a lie. And while I could start from the very beginning, well, that would make this an entire series, not a book or two, written so that people will stop giggling and asking me about my past.

If you want to be a fan girl, fine, but let me bend you over my desk and show you what it’s like to be in that position, instead of imagining it over and over. Experience the real thing, of being bound by the wrist, with your panties around your ankles as I work you over.

My story, however, will be told from where I’m comfortable telling it.

By the start of this story, I had signed a contract with my father, Albert Edwards. The contract gave my father nearly absolute control over another person. We signed it for a few reasons. The first and foremost was to remove Michael Norfolk, my cousin, from the grasp of my father. By signing the contract we removed Michael, while keeping him alive and his assets in one piece, and replaced him with Mr. Wrightworth.

Every beating he took, Michael had been taking before we signed the contract. Michael was not just my cousin, he was a good friend of mine. He’s a softer sort of man than myself and Mr. Wrightworth.

The contract also allowed Mr. Wrightworth to be emancipated and raised up, a way out of his slum. For those who do know about him, good for you, for those who don’t:

Mr. Wrightworth was a gay man born in a slum which was very traditional. Man and woman, the gender binaries were strictly enforced and there were only two accepted sexualities. Heterosexual and old maid.

Yes, we’re all very aware of the fact that ‘old maid’ is not an actual sexuality.

For myself, I thought I was being a hero. The contract also gave me eight years grace on getting married. It was an issue that my father was pushing and I in my naivety believed that I had seen the worst of his temper and destruction.

I was a fool.

We had actually served the first year and a half of the contract. I don’t want to talk about the surprised within there or how we handled them. It’s too personal.

With all I’m going to tell you? Yes, it is far too personal to share with you what it was like to care for Mr. Wrightworth the first time he was hurt by my father, or the reaction when an addendum was added to the contract.

So my story begins at the start of the second year of service. At that time, our roles were to be reversed. He had served me for a year as aide, and what a good aide he was, it was then my turn to serve him.

Under rules which my father set forward and could, and would, change at any time for any reason. The point of which, I believe, was to force me to submit, to punish me, and to generally take control of me body and soul, to try and create in me the heir that my father wanted.

He wanted me to be like him, and he wanted Mr. Wrightworth to do the dirty work and break it into me.

Oh, how he failed to realize just what sort of creature Mr. Wrightworth truly was.

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