Are you ready to submit to a Black man in the name of love, positive mental and physical health, while not being spiritually bankrupt all as an offering to Pan-Africanism. And let me clarify, my brand of BDSM is equal and not equal. You would be the most precious person in my life out in public and behind closed doors, I picture myself sitting in a chair while you’re seated on the floor in between my legs looking up to me waiting for your next set of instructions. That quite naturally is the tip of the iceberg of intimate experiences between you and I.
[Sighs] I closed my phone and walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Perhaps he thinks that I am some damsel waiting in desperation to be beat in submission. I will not become his sex slave. I peered around my bedroom, taking in the colorful notes of my last sensual painting. I picked up my phone and read his message again, wondering if it even warranted a reply. I began to type…
BDSM will always be at the core of my existence.
Then night enveloped my warm embrace.
***
I woke up to the sound of my alarm and checked my calendar for which office location I would be visiting today. My schedule is always busy, often with double and triple bookings of patients. When I arrived at my office, I sent him a message:
We can talk now before I start or later.
Then my phone rang. I answered without hesitation. The sound of his voice was electrifying. I was looking forward to the day that I would rest in his arms, gazing into his piercing eyes.
“So where do you work? Send me your address, I will pick you up after work.”
“I am not telling you where I work. You will find out when we meet.”
“You belong to me,” he asserts.
My kitty jumped. It’s amazing how a few innocent words can change the tone in a relationship. The audacity of him to think that he owns me. A little too dominant too soon. But I wanted to see him to feel his presence. So I offered a better plan. One that assuaged my fears yet pacified his craving. I knew he ultimately wanted to grab me, put his hand around me throat and force his shango into my sweet pulsating garden. But what did he do to deserve it?
“Let’s meet tomorrow when I am done with my appointment,” I conjured.
He obliged.
….to be continued
[Sighs] I closed my phone and walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Perhaps he thinks that I am some damsel waiting in desperation to be beat in submission. I will not become his sex slave. I peered around my bedroom, taking in the colorful notes of my last sensual painting. I picked up my phone and read his message again, wondering if it even warranted a reply. I began to type…
BDSM will always be at the core of my existence.
Then night enveloped my warm embrace.
***
I woke up to the sound of my alarm and checked my calendar for which office location I would be visiting today. My schedule is always busy, often with double and triple bookings of patients. When I arrived at my office, I sent him a message:
We can talk now before I start or later.
Then my phone rang. I answered without hesitation. The sound of his voice was electrifying. I was looking forward to the day that I would rest in his arms, gazing into his piercing eyes.
“So where do you work? Send me your address, I will pick you up after work.”
“I am not telling you where I work. You will find out when we meet.”
“You belong to me,” he asserts.
My kitty jumped. It’s amazing how a few innocent words can change the tone in a relationship. The audacity of him to think that he owns me. A little too dominant too soon. But I wanted to see him to feel his presence. So I offered a better plan. One that assuaged my fears yet pacified his craving. I knew he ultimately wanted to grab me, put his hand around me throat and force his shango into my sweet pulsating garden. But what did he do to deserve it?
“Let’s meet tomorrow when I am done with my appointment,” I conjured.
He obliged.
….to be continued
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