The Sub Drop #2
“Did you pack your bag?” I stayed standing, keeping a silent count in my brain. My hands itched to be used, but I restrained from doing more than interlacing my fingers in front of me. Gisele’s dimmed eyes studied the movement and she pursed her lips.
Oh. Ela está brincando comigo.
My face must have conveyed the same message in my brain because Gisele sat a bit straighter. If she thought she would play games with me, I’d gladly disabuse her of that notion. Nothing would bring me more pleasure.
“Master? Yes, Master, I do have the bag packed as you asked me during the negotiation, but I don’t agree with the need to do this right now.”
The arch of my eyebrow did the talking for me.
This wasn’t something I was open to budging on; if she wanted a Master, then things needed to be done a certain way.
I’d stressed this, and we decided to keep it as a game-time decision.
Well, it was penalty time, and I was playing to win.
Just as I opened my mouth to tell her so, a flash of Mai and Pai arguing skittered through my brain.
The tinkling of broken glass was what woke me up. I remembered hopping off my twin bed and Joaquim’s head popping up from his in alarm. My big brother’s instincts kicked in right away.
“Está bem, go back to sleep. I got it,” I whispered softly, and he nodded, conflicted but scared.
Ultimately the fear won because all I could see in the dark was his Spider-Man bedding covering him.
Mai had managed to get some fabric and made it for him on his birthday, hand-painting Peter in his Spider-Man disguise on the comforter.
Joaquim shed some tears when he didn’t think we were paying attention that day.
The hallway felt extra cold, which shouldn’t be in October in South Florida.
After the noise that had woken us up, the only things audible were the harsh whispers I’d grown accustomed to hearing late at night.
Both Joaquim and I were light sleepers due to it, but Jardel was oblivious.
Better to leave it like that. He loved Pai; I didn’t want to ruin his view of our father.
The cold on the tiles transferred to my shaking feet as I got closer to my parents.
Another fight.
Another spanking.
“You agreed that if I came home and dinner wasn’t ready exactly as I expected it to be, you’d submit to me,” Pai said in rough Brazilian.
“I did, I did, but we agreed we’d only do this when the children were in school, not at night when they can hear.
Already…already Jo?o and Joaquim…” The sound of sniffles was cut off by a whoosh of air ending on the thunder of skin against skin.
A loud slap reverberated through the space, making my skin crawl and my belly bottom out in fear. The fucking bastard.
Everything went dark and red as a haze covered my eyes.
I rounded the corner and saw Mai on her knees, her carriage proud even while being humiliated.
Beautiful dark skin covered in droplets of sweat, her hair hidden under a colorful head wrap, nothing else covering her body.
Her high cheekbones were hidden behind her palms, and her eyes were filled with pain and something else…
something that made her seem out of focus, kind of in a dream-like state.
We made eye contact, and the pain I first saw was converted to something else. Urgency. Urgency that she transmitted with a brief tightening of her mouth.
“Go.”
It was clear she wanted me to leave, not to defend her…but fuck that, Pai was hitting her! I shook my head, hoping she got my message.
Mai closed her eyes as one lonely tear escaped down her cheek.
“Sir…Sir. Thank you, I needed that, I just…I wish we could do our scenes in full privacy, that’s all. But thank you for this.”
If I thought I’d felt pain and fear before, it couldn’t compare to the utter confusion that filled me then.
I would never forget the moment I realized my mother wouldn’t fight for herself.
And I still remember thinking this is what they say, how abusers manipulate their prey to the point they like it. To the point they defend their abuser.
That was my mother.
Clearly, I didn’t understand it all then.
But what I did finally understand was that regardless of my parents being in a dynamic or not, that shit was not consensual.
If my mother had asked my father not to do scenes when we were in the house and he completely disregarded her hard limit…
that shit wasn’t consent. And Gisele also hadn’t agreed to come with me, regardless of what I thought was right.
The realization hit me like a splash of cold water.
“Ok???ay. If you think this is best, then so be it,” I said, surprising myself and her.
“I…what?” Gissy frowned, confused.
“Yeah, I…I’m going to head out. I’ll come check on you tomorrow. No rituals necessary tomorrow…you get a break.”
Gisele’s head reared back, but something stopped her.
Mid-scowl, her eyes cleared, and she watched me closely.
Her perusal blanketed me with an unexpected sense of ease.
In her eyes, wonder emerged until her gaze widened.
Her neck lengthened, her shoulders fell, and her muscles softened.
Don’t ask me how I knew; I just understood she’d unclenched everything.
All tension left her body. The morose sadness lifted right before my eyes.
My chest rose and filled with a sense of power and connection that rushed me and left me wanting to fucking ravage her.
My mouth watered at the thought of turning her around, slamming her against the wall, dropping her sweats and driving into her, panties still on and all, just desperate for the heat only she could give me.
The heat of baptizing in her waters would make me a devotee.
I’d worship at her altar as long as she made me her King and Master.
Everything Gisele needed was at her disposal.
She just needed to really truly surrender.
To let me love her the way I knew she deserved: calm vanilla love, the love a woman like her really dreamed of, not this travesty of power exchange we had going on.
All I wanted was to fuck her senseless until she melted in my arms. All to stop her from seeing too fucking much.
Maybe if I broke my own rule, I’d get out of this space where every step of our dynamic reminded me of a toxic past I wasn’t planning to repeat.
My dick clearly agreed with the plan because suddenly and completely out of character, I was bricked up, like it was a teenager that couldn’t control his erections.
Gisele’s gaze softened into a simmering gentle warmth, a warmth that recognized the tension had changed, morphed into unrealized pleasure.
Our breaths synced and she moistened her lips, drawing attention to how fucking plump and tempting they were when completely bare.
Just when I was about to betray my own principles for a taste of those lips, Gisele whirled around, a cloud of fresh linen luring my nose, and she left me there, stumped and fucking hard as she walked toward the hallway down her home.
“I’ll be right back, Master, with my bag.”
The sense of power fucking rushed through me.
“What you say, boa menina?”
Gisele immediately stopped and turned around, gaze slightly lowered.
“That I’m coming with you,” she stated clearly and calmly, standing still with her hands clasped before her, waiting for me to let her walk away again. Fucking good ass girl. I would reward her for that.
“And why are you coming with me?”
“Because you need me to.”
My chest. When you get to a certain age, physically feeling emotions becomes a guessing game. Was that excitement or tachycardia? Was that heartburn, or are those fucking butterflies? Was this a heart attack, or was I just giddy as fuck?
“A’ight then, after you.” Thank God for discipline and a whole lifetime as a Black man in America. I could keep my shit together and show the control she needed me to portray right now.
Her house decor was everything I expected it to be: homey, with pictures of family and church events.
Her religion was present but not overbearing, same as her.
A small crystal cross was on one of her mantels.
In the hallway, there was a two-tone art piece of a Black Jesus wearing Jordans.
She clearly loved cooking because her kitchen had that well-lived look.
Her room must be her main sanctuary. Peace reigned here. Light blue walls, light gray carpet, a large bed with white bedding. Shelves with knickknacks. All seem to be in perfect harmony. No wonder she didn’t want to leave.
In one corner, her Book of Common Prayer sat on a small glass table next to a navy blue recliner. On the other side of the recliner, there was a small whitewashed wooden shelf with…
“Are those erotica books?”
She whirled around and the Cheshire smile she gave me hit right in the chest.
“Yes, Master, those are my books. This is how I knew about the lifestyle before meeting you. All book knowledge, but knowledge still.”
“So you finally moved to living your life versus reading what you wanted to happen?”
“Oh no, Master. I love reading. I don’t read to see a life I couldn’t live on my own; I read because it broadens my perspective. And in the broadening, I discovered things about myself.”
“A’ight, that makes a lot of sense. So you gonna take some of your books?”
“The ones I want to read are in my e-book reader, so I’m set. That’s my closet. The luggage is there.”
What I expected to be one bag was actually her entire three-piece luggage set.
“You moving in?” I asked, and for a second there, I waited for the response. This woman had me acting like a damn fool and I couldn’t even front. I liked it. I was feeling. Finally fucking feeling. I wasn’t ready for some of the feelings, but I embraced the light she brought. The peace.
“Ahhh, no. I just have a lot of stuff, sorry. My closet is still full. I clearly haven’t done the best job of donating to my fellow Christians. That’s gonna be a task when I come back to my house when we are…”
I chuckled and sidestepped the end of her sentence. Not wanting things to get awkward, I grabbed the luggage, easily maneuvering her weekender bag over my shoulder and rolling the other two pieces.
“Ready, boa menina?”
“Yes, Master. Oh, actually, let me grab this. I can’t believe I almost left it!”
Stopping to wait for her, Gisele ran to her nightstand and grabbed a small picture frame.
The profile of a Black man in his fifties wearing a three-piece suit proudly stared toward the side of the frame.
An aura of assuredness was obvious. This must be her father, whom she talked about sometimes.
Weirdly, she mentioned him a lot, but I didn’t have a lot of details on him.
Something about the picture struck me, and I studied the photo as she placed it in her purse.
“Alright, let’s do it. Are you ready, Master?” Gisele extended her hand to me, trying to take a suitcase. I could feel my brow scrunching up. After all of this, she still hadn’t learned.
“I just want to be of service, Master,” Gisele said. “Oh, fine!” She shrugged and walked in front of me while I carried her luggage.
I must be having gas now because what was happening in my stomach couldn’t be anything but that. Certainly no fucking butterflies from hearing Gisele say she wanted to be of service.
Certainly not that.