The Act of Service
“ I need the whole entire video tour of Master Q’s house right the fuck now! Girl!” Vincent’s loud voice boomed in Master’s kitchen.
“I need you to calm down, please!” I giggled as I navigated this new space for cooking.
Jo?o and I had been cohabiting for a day now.
I decided to call off from work, taking advantage of my unused PTO to get settled into my temporary home.
Jo?o coming to my house yesterday demanding I move in had triggered something in me at first. I wasn’t one to brat when I didn’t get my way, but the idea of moving into Jo?o’s, knowing it would be for our dynamic and our dynamic only, felt like getting vegan cheese in my mac n cheese. Not quite what I was looking for.
Fantasizing about a relationship that I had already determined was doomed to fail was not the best of looks, but clearly I didn’t care because I kept building these damn castles in my head—a castle where Jo?o was my Master and my man.
No matter how long I’d known him, moving in would have been a delight under those circumstances.
So I bratted, but then I realized the moment he thought his demand was outside the scope of our agreement.
It wasn’t, but something clouded his face, and then he retreated.
That retreat had snapped me out of my inner child tantrum. My Master needed me close, so I needed to be close to my Master. It was that simple. Once I came to that realization, the rest had all been easy.
“Nah, how do you mean calm down? You’re living with one of the most coveted Doms in our community.
Girl, this is a dream come true. And it happens to you?
Damn it, where is my Dom coming to rescue me, a prince in distress?
” Vincent said, drama oozing out of every word.
My eyes rolled before I even had a thought, my smile wide as he kept on going about how lucky I was.
“I know, I know, this is nice but also nerve-racking. I’m not trying to fall in love with Master; this is just what our dynamic needs at the moment.”
Jo?o’s pantry was well-stocked. Every seasoning I could possibly need, all the dry goods to whip up a quick meal. Right next to the pantry, there were two baskets full of onions, bell peppers, ginger, garlic, cilantro, parsley, plantains, banana, and mangoes… The man clearly loved cooking.
“What you need is some dick. That will calm your nerves.”
“Language!” I exclaimed, laughing at his antics but not disagreeing. I pulled the produce I needed for the baked chicken marinade and settled on the main kitchen island to prepare my mise en place.
“You didn’t say I’m wrong, though!” Vincent cackled his booming laughter, soothing the sting of the reality of Jo?o’s and my dynamic. No sex. At least not with each other.
“Nah, see, we’re not having sex. Well, not together. That is not part of our dynamic.”
The urge to take a screenshot of Vincent’s face was a lot, but my Christian nature won; it was a very close call, though.
“What do you mean? I’m gooped!”
“Stop,” I gently chided while my knife danced through the cilantro and parsley for my marinade.
“You stop! What is going on? What do you mean, you can’t have sex with him?”
“That is one of Master’s hard limits; he doesn’t fuck his subs.”
“Are you sure? ‘Cause I know I’ve seen that man go into playrooms after public scenes that clearly had a part two in private…”
“Yeah, those were just play scenes. If he has a formal sub, he doesn’t have sex with them. His rules are different for play partners.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. Here I was ecstatic for you, but now I get it. I would be a nervous horny wreck too. By sex, what exactly do you mean, though?”
There was nothing to do but sigh. As I mixed the marinade, I explained to a perplexed Vincent how our dynamic was based on more service and mental kink.
There was punishment and toys and all, but Jo?o wasn’t planning on touching any of my fun parts with his bare hands.
And whatever was in those slacks of his, that heavy, promising print was the only glimpse I’d get of him that way.
Unless I wanted to be in a relationship with him—a long-term one.
“Girl, y’all are doing a little too much, no? Do you think this makes sense for you now?” Vincent asked as I placed the chicken in the oven. I’d checked with Master, who told me he’d be home by six from the club. I planned to have his dinner served and ready.
“No, we both understand what is possible and our boundaries. And it is limited, so we both walk away with a wonderful experience, and that’s it.”
“Mhm, that’s it my behind.” Vincent’s sudden disapproval stung. He’d been so excited about my dynamic; he was the one person in my corner who understood all of me, so to know he didn’t fully approve…
“Oh, fix your face! I still think this is great for you, but…promise me you’re gonna keep your wits about you?
Kink is a wonderful thing, you know. I love my lifestyle, but feelings are feelings and they can easily get blurred.
Yes, negotiations, consent, all of that helps, but we are still human and prone to fuck up.
So even though I love me some Master Q, don’t make me have to come and beat that man up because he hurt your heart, okay? ”
My best friend’s concerned words echoed through my brain for the rest of the time I prepared the meal, to the point I almost forgot to pull the chicken when my phone alarm went off.
Vincent wasn’t saying anything I didn’t already know, but I had managed to compartmentalize in an effort to step out of my comfort zone.
Human relations…they were flawed at their core because we are all sinners and imperfect.
But the beauty of how we can adapt, change, and love…
that was how we were divine. And right now, I chose to focus on the divinity of this experience versus all the ways things could go wrong. I had to trust myself.
Rushing to my bedroom, I pulled out the apron I’d purchased right after my breakup with my ex, an impulsive buy that hadn’t made full sense to me at the time.
The apron was white with bright pink and purple flowers, one of those old-fashioned ones with the frills.
I debated removing the rest of my clothes, but Master did not instruct me to do so.
But he hadn’t said I had to wear everything from our morning session either.
A rush of pure adrenaline filled my veins as I removed the casual pantsuit I’d put on earlier and kept my longline lace bra and lace underwear. The brown satin hugged my body while the lace gave a peek of my areolas. Nothing too revealing, but I would definitely send a message with this.
The fabric ties slid over my hands as I expertly tied the apron around my waist, the apron hugging my curves and the large flowers covering the brown lace, giving the illusion that nothing remained underneath.
With my heart attempting to pound out of my chest, I slipped into a trance as I wandered toward the kitchen to finish the white rice and green salad I’d left on the kitchen island.
The soles of my feet tingled as I took the steps to set the table, and the hair on my arms stood as I served his plate, then mine.
I put them both in the oven to warm, setting the tone for the evening.
By the time the front door beeped open, I stood ready, awaiting my Master.
JO?O
My business affairs were always in order.
Keeping my assets well-protected had been instinctual since I branched out of working under my father—everything I’d built, I had built on my own merit, so this situation with LaSalle wasn’t something that inspired fear.
There were always methods to bringing him down; he had enough legit business and I owned enough of his secrets.
Exposing him would damage him, but the members who provided said secrets would be in jeopardy, no matter what my fellow Doms said.
After another tense meeting with my partners in the business, I left the club feeling raw.
They all disagreed with not making a move, but it was my say and my say only, regardless of how much I respected their opinions.
Getting in my car to drive around the block felt like an unnecessary step, but I’d had other errands to run earlier, so instead of going home through my private passageway, I navigated the short drive to the cul-de-sac. The detour was welcomed.
The reality was that my vehicle’s steering wheel had gone lax for about a year.
I lacked purpose, and maybe going back to treating patients in the lifestyle who needed help would be the way to go.
Going back to my first love therapy felt like an odd move, but I wasn’t a man who could stay home without working, regardless of my financial standing.
The rush from owning the club had transformed into a feeling I could not name.
I thrived when I taught, when I was in communion with other Doms, and when we created a space for people in the lifestyle to get comfortable in their own identities, but I could do that without the club.
Without the business side of things, the permits, the threats and the worries.
The Club had been a big fuck you to my father, to show him how I could be my own man.
But now…it all felt hollow. I desperately had wanted to find another purpose for it, but it might be time to admit defeat.
My fingers danced over the keypad, my code beeping to signal the door opening.
There were ways to keep the stress at bay, but none that appealed to me in the moment. I could shoot a text to my plug, get the finest strain, and sit in communion with my plants till the rawness dissipated, but it would be there waiting for me the next day.
Always waiting.