“This should get you on the right track,” he said. A quick glance told me that it was a list of fetishes, each with a series of questions next to them: my interest level on a scale of 1-5, whether or not I’d done it before, and whether or not it was a soft or hard limit. The questions repeated twice, both for my interest in experiencing the activity myself or inflicting it on someone else.

Blindfolds…caning…fisting…orgasm control…oooh boy, I needed to rein in my thoughts. Looking at this list while they all sat right in front of me was a recipe for embarrassment.

I folded the paper and slipped it into my bag. “I’ll look it over. I can’t guarantee I’ll be done by tomorrow though.”

“If you can’t finish it in time, then you need to give us a timeframe of when you will,” Vincent said. “It’s all about communication. Give me your phone.”

I handed over my cell. It made me nervous to have Vincent poking around on my phone, especially since Lucas was leaning over and very obviously watching the screen.

“Is there something on here you don’t want me to see, Miss Martin?” Lucas eyed me like he could read my mind. “Should we check out your photo gallery?”

“Or how about your search history?” Jason suggested.

“No!” I said quickly. “That’s a hard limit. No going through my search history.”

“All right.” Vincent held up his hands innocently. “No snooping, I promise.”

The last thing I needed was them realizing the accounts I looked at most often were their own.

“I added you to a group chat with the four of us,” Vincent said as he handed back my phone. “All our numbers are saved, so if one of us contacts you, you’ll know who it is.”

“He fixed my contact name for you,” Jason deadpanned, and my cheeks heated. His name in my phone was still set to “Homework Dispenser,” a remnant of one of my more shameful moments in high school. I could have done without him finding out about that, especially with the way he cracked his knuckles. Something told me my ass would be paying for that later.

“There’s one more thing,” Manson said, leaning back in his seat. “We need to go over the rules.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What rules?”

“If you’re submitting to us, then you follow our rules,” Vincent said. “Don’t worry, they’re not hard.”

“But the consequences for disobeying will be.” Lucas sounded far too excited about the consequences part, and I shifted uncomfortably on the hard wooden chair. Any time they mentioned punishing me, I felt the same odd amalgamation of terror and excitement — like I was about to jump out of an airplane and parachute to the ground. I both wanted it and dreaded it.

“Okay,” I said. “And the rules are?”