Page 42 of Body and Soul

Pride bloomed in my chest. I wanted to please him. That desire fueled my determination.

As I took my seat again, Shepherd grazed my cheek with his fingers. I shivered at the contact, my eyes fluttering closed before I remembered myself and opened them again, keeping my gaze lowered.

“There are a few more things,” he said, sitting next to me. I missed his touch. “You will eat only what I provide or permit. Maintain a clean-shaven appearance unless instructed otherwise. Complete a daily journal entry detailing your thoughts and experiences. Your bedroom is your safe space; I won’t enter it unless there’s an emergency. You’re free to decorate as you wish. Finally, this agreement is only between you and me; my other alters are not party to it, but I expect you to uphold your part even when I’m not present.”

I nodded, my mind racing ahead to what meals Shepherd might prepare. The control he asked for, the micromanagement of my life, should have felt stifling. Instead, it felt like a weightlifted—like I could finally stop worrying and just... submit. Obey. Serve.

“I understand, Sir,” I said softly.

Shepherd leaned back, surveying me with intensity. “Good. Remember, every aspect of this dynamic is built on trust—trust in me and in yourself. If you feel uncomfortable, you need to communicate that. Your voice is crucial.”

I nodded. “I will, Sir. I promise.”

“Now,” he continued, “there’s one final element to our protocol.”

I sat up straighter. “What is it?”

His gaze softened, a hint of warmth breaking through. “You’re permitted to ask for aftercare whenever you need it. Just ask, and I will provide it. You deserve to feel safe and cared for, even in submission. Submission should be liberating, not confining.”

I felt a swell of warmth at his words. “I can do that, Sir. I want to.”

“Good.” He paused, his eyes locking onto mine, a deeper seriousness settling over him. “But be warned: I will push you. I will test your limits, both physically and emotionally. It’s part of the journey, and it’s how you’ll grow.”

“I understand.” I squared my shoulders, determination flooding through me. “I’m ready for it.”

“Then let’s get started.” He picked up a stylus and scrawled his signature on the appropriate line before passing it to me. “All you have to do is sign.”

I gazed at the stylus poised in my hand, its weight suddenly imbued with significance. Each curve and line of my name would carve my place into this new reality—a commitment that tethered me to Shepherd in ways I’d never experienced before. This was it. The moment of truth. Once I signed my name, there would be no going back. I would belong to Shepherd in a way I'd never belonged to anyone before.

My hand trembled slightly as I brought the stylus to the screen, the blank line waiting for my signature like an invitation to a new life. A life of structure and purpose, of service and submission. A life where I wouldn't have to think or worry or wonder what my place in the world was. Shepherd would give me that place, that sense of belonging I'd craved for so long.

I took a deep breath, the scent of leather and old books filling my lungs, grounding me in the moment. Then, with a steady hand, I signed my name. Elias Baker. The letters flowed from the stylus like a promise, sealing my fate with a flourish of digital ink.

I handed the tablet back to Shepherd, my heart pounding in my chest as he took it from me. Our fingers brushed in the exchange, a brief spark of contact that sent shivers racing down my spine.

Shepherd studied the screen for a moment, his dark eyes intense as they scanned over my name. Then, with a decisive nod, he set the tablet aside and took my hand. “Thank you, Eli, for trusting me.”

In the days thatfollowed, Eli changed remarkably. When we first met, he was as guarded and skittish as a stray cat. Slowly, though, I watched him relax, settling into the routines I established for him. He no longer flinched when I laid a hand on his shoulder, kept his eyes lowered when addressing me, and dropped to his knees without hesitation upon my arrival.

Pride swelled in my chest as I recalled how readily Eli had taken to the protocols. All my submissives underwent the same training, a system I had developed with Gavin’s help. But none before had embraced it as quickly as Elias. It was as if he had been craving the structure, the consistency, the unwavering expectations only a skilled dominant could provide.

While it would take time to break through his walls and unravel the trauma of his past, I could already see green shoots of progress sprouting in his psyche. Eli attended to his daily duties with newfound purpose, tackling each task with quiet confidence.

Yesterday, I entered my study to find my desk perfectly arranged, the day's schedule and correspondence laid out with meticulous care. Eli had taken it upon himself to prepare my workspace, anticipating my needs before I even voiced them. This small gesture spoke volumes about his growth.

In the evenings, when I read, Eli would kneel at my feet, his head bowed in silent reverence. He found solace in the stillness, the steady rhythm of his breath. Sometimes, I would rest my hand on his head, my fingers carding through his platinum hair. The simple touch grounded him, anchoring him to the present.

During our training sessions, Eli’s focus sharpened. He absorbed every lesson and command with a hunger that bordered on desperation, as if starving for the guidance. I tested him with increasingly complex tasks, and each time, he rose to the challenge.

Of course, his progress had its stumbles. Once, during a training session, he spoke out of turn, interrupting me mid-sentence. His eyes widened as he realized his mistake, and an apology formed on his lips, but I held up a hand to silence him.

“Eli,” I said, calm but firm. “What is the protocol for speaking during a lesson?”

He swallowed hard. “I am to remain silent unless asked a direct question or given permission to speak, Sir.”

“And did I ask you a question or give you permission to speak just now?”

“No, Sir.” His voice was barely a whisper, eyes downcast.

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