The Dynamic #2
The way his voice made me react needed to be studied.
I’d had relationships and been extremely attracted to men, but what was the pull that this man had on me?
Years from now, there’d be a show on Netflix about this phenomenon.
Why does this twenty-first century woman clench her thighs and get wet at the sound of this particular voice?
Stay tuned for our in-depth documentary.
“I think I can handle more…” I answered with a little more dip on my chip than I intended. “…Master.”
Oops.
This was the hard part. No matter what, being in a 24/7 meant certain niceties were always observed.
That had been the biggest sticking point in the conversation when vetting and negotiating.
Jo?o didn’t want 24/7. He wanted sessions when we could hang out together and enjoy our dynamic, but he hadn’t been keen on something so encompassing.
I, in turn, had no desire to experience just scenes.
I respected those who operated that way, but after years of living on the outskirts of kink, reading and lurking and thinking it wasn’t the life for me, a pious church woman, I had no desire to half-ass anything.
We butted heads for days, neither willing to cede. It should have been a sign, but on the third day—and yes, I realized the coincidence—he called and said he’d agree to 24/7 if we put a time limit on it. And I agreed.
“Mhm, quiet but strong-headed. I noticed it the very first day I met you, and then you showed me again at the grocery store. So you want to fight me about this, Gissy? Do you think you’re gonna win with me? Are you looking for punishment so early in the game?”
His quiet, delicious menace made me shift in my executive chair. Thank the Lord I had locked my office already.
There was no moment I was at risk of saying His Name in vain with Master on my neck about what he expected of me; every single time I said the name of the Lord, it was in plea and supplication.
“Master, I’m just…can I just be transparent?”
“I thought that was what you were doing already?”
“I was clear in my document of what I wanted for this dynamic. Part of our agreement is that you’d trust me to know when I was ready for more but that you’d reserve final decision-making of when to move on to certain things.
This is just me reminding you to respect that I know my mind.
” There, that sounded alright, didn’t it?
Ugh. I wanted all of this formality; it was exhilarating but also very hard to navigate.
How to strike the right tone? Were banter, jokes, and laughter allowed if Master wasn’t in that mood?
Now I understood why there has to be a process and timing to settle in. This was a lot to take in a day.
“Boa menina, be easy, it’s all good. We can chat about this more when I see you at the club tonight,” Master said with that same quiet menace that made my panties wet, but I heard the thread of laughter behind the words too.
“Okay,” I answered and heard his chuckle. “Master.”
“Okay?, I see how it’s gonna be. See you at six. Don’t be late.”
And damn if that didn’t sound like the sexiest threat I’d ever heard.
My smarts got me far in life, so I was in Master Q’s Space at 5:45 p.m., bright and bushy-tailed, waiting for my Master, holding a fragrant hot container full of rice and shrimp in coconut sauce.
My Master—sometimes I wanted to just see him as Jo?o, the man I was dating and falling…
well, really vibing with. It was in many ways a different man but the same one.
I’d asked for this, for this clear change in the direction of our relationship, because I saw the writing on the wall, but now that we were here…
I missed a little of the banter and texts we exchanged when it was just Jo?o and me.
There was a formality threaded into our day today that was delightful, but at the same time…
“Why are you frowning?” Master asked when he found me standing in the large courtyard with a few members milling around.
Today was a private members only day, and attendance was light as it was the beginning of the week.
The beautiful open courtyard had impressed me the first day I saw it with its earthy tones and deeply felt Afro design in the space.
The way I’d pictured his club and dungeon had not been what I actually experienced that first day.
It was another way Jo?o…Master walked his own path and made his own rules.
My head swam in the pleasure of the day, of serving Master and being a good girl even when I was pushing a little.
My heart…it was full and conflicted, and I didn’t know what to do with myself.
“Here, I made you dinner.”
What was I thinking? This man had already been clear with me; our communication was top-tier and expectations were set. Why was I pushing for something he didn’t want?
“So what’s in the container?” Jo?o asked, not able to fully mask his curiosity.
“Well, you said you liked eating white rice with shrimp in coconut sauce…”
“Did you make me Camar?o no Leite de Coco?”
“I found a recipe online.” I shrugged. To have surprised him with this, a brief comment he mentioned on our first date…
There was sensuality in submission, the part most inexperienced people leaned on, but this side?
The quiet but incendiary blaze in the pit of my stomach at seeing Jo?o getting slightly emotional? I craved more of that.
“Mhm, boa menina, you’re not following my instructions, but…thank you. I wasn’t expecting this.” His soft, intent gaze stoked the heat inside, and already I was plotting ways of getting that soft vulnerability again.
“You’re welcome.”
Jo?o guided us to his kitchen counter, where he quickly whipped up a green salad, produced two plates, and served dinner for us. My hands itched to do this for him, for us, but one look at his determined face and I figured I wouldn’t win this battle.
“Here you go.” He placed a tall glass of cold water next to my plate.
“Thank you.” I smiled at him, and we both settled in to enjoy our food.
“Mmmh, Gissy, this is… Yeah, I won’t betray my Mai, but this is a very close second,” Jo?o said between bites of his meal. The richness of the coconut sauce coated my tongue, distracting me from how much I missed our earlier banter before moving to this formal arrangement.
“Thank you. I’d never expect to cook it better than your Mai; the memories that come with, I can’t compete.”
“What’s wrong?”
My heart jumped up and tried to move to my throat, but a quick sip of cold water helped me rally.
“Nothing is…”
“Before you finish that sentence, think of the foundation of our dynamic.”
Drat. The man had me there. I mean, I could still keep quiet and prepare for whatever punishment he had planned for me because I knew it was a matter of time.
Flashes of what he could do to me made me a little giddy.
But I planned to move authentically in our dynamic, so it was my turn to show vulnerability when I wasn’t fully ready for it.
“I miss how we were… I mean, I love this, don’t get me wrong, but I miss the…”
“The getting to know each other, the flirting…the possibilities? Me too. There ain’t nothing that says we can’t continue doing that. I just thought you wanted to keep the dynamic as formal as possible.”
He stared at me, not letting me wiggle out of this conversation gracefully, the big bully.
I wanted to ignore the tingle deep in my chest at his composure and challenging eyes, but I wouldn’t.
Taking a detour from my usual compartmentalization, I stayed present, here with him.
I pushed away my plate; the food was still steaming, but it had lost my attention. The man next to me had it all.
“I did, and I know I said that, but I said it because… Because not being extra formal makes me think we would get too cozy, forget what we are here for.”
“What are we here for, Gisele?”
Jo?o let my name roll off his tongue, Gisele. Slow, filthy, reverent. The way he said it made my thighs press together on instinct.
“We’re here to explore a twenty-four seven power dynamic and enjoy many of our common kinks together.”
“That’s what you’re here for,” he said quietly.
“Jo?o…”
“Nah, let’s keep it a hundred, and I ain’t about to change paths. You know what my intentions are. And I’ll continue to move accordingly unless you safe word out of things.”
“Funny,” I said, remembering him saying exactly this the first day we started discussing our negotiations.
“I said this to you in our talks; I don’t want to lie to you or myself. Now eat your food, boa menina.” He gestured toward my plate and scooped a big forkful of rice.
The urge to do exactly as he said versus rebelling waged inside of me, but my obedience won. I pulled my plate back close to me and kept eating.
“So, what did you have going on today, now that we know you were in your feelings? You gotta use your words, boa menina.”
“I texted you,” I scoffed, eating the remaining leaves of my salad.
“For check-ins only. That is not the only communication we need to have.”
“Fine, it was good. I was distracted, though; last night’s episode of The Sopranos was stressful.”
“How did your ass survive all this time without watching The Sopranos ?” He finished his last bite and relaxed back on the kitchen stool, satisfied.
The same rebellious urge kicked in again, and before he could move, I snatched up his plate and mine, circling the island to the sink where I turned on the faucet.
The heat coalescing behind me told me Jo?o had thoughts about what I’d just done, all to ignore his question and the first answer that came to mind.
My father. I hadn’t watched The Sopranos back when it was out because, at first, I was young enough that the intricate personal study of Tony Soprano went right over my head, and once I was older, it made me wonder about my father. But I wasn’t ready to share that with Jo?o. Not yet.