Page 19 of João
“No, I’ve only ever been in vanilla relationships.”
“Interesting.” Gisele leaned further back as the server removed our entrées. I hadn’t missed the flash of concern that appeared as we spoke of couples not aligned in their religion. If that was a deal-breaker for her, I wasn’t certain how things would look for us. We didn’t need obstacles to what could be a solid relationship; I needed to be persuasive enough to keep her open-minded. There was no doubt we were suited for each other, regardless of any difference between us.
“Why is it so interesting?”
“Well, I don’t know, I would think… Maybe I’ve read too many romance novels, but wouldn’t it be wonderful to have both a romantic and kinky dynamic with the person you love?”
This woman… It took everything to keep my face in check. Not to show the visceral reaction her words conjured in me. To be with someone that I loved and collared…was a pipe dream at best, a recipe for disaster at worst. Gisele sipped her drink calmly, her gaze a balm and a challenge all in one.
Did she do that on purpose?
Her quiet, resolute aura could be misconstrued as uptight, but I saw through that mask. Many would think her innocent and naive, but there was something more. There were depths to her I couldn’t wait to explore.
“I think you might have. Some of us Doms only take subs for a few months, for a season or two. If we collar a sub…well, that still doesn’t require a romantic nor sexual relationship.”
Gisele’s eyes widened at my statement.
“No…sex?” She almost choked on theX. “I mean, I know not all kink is sex. I do really understand that, but…” Her plush lips stayed open, just enough to tempt me to pry them further open and kiss her until I removed all that curiosity I wasn’t ready to handle.
“No sex. I can engage with a sub in ways that still fulfill all their needs without ever having sex with them. See, it is all in the mind, Gisele.”
I leaned forward, steepling my fingers together, and her body bowed toward the table, erasing the space between us. “Imagine waking up and I tell you what to wear, then you go to the hospital, but every hour, you need to check in with me. When you check in, I tell you what a good girl you are, how it pleases me how you are performing at work and that you’re making time to check in.”
My demon was roaring inside, imagining this exact ritual, with Gisele dressed in one of her demure outfits, on the phone texting me to give me her latest update. Across from me, the real Gisele’s chest rose and fell in double time, her tempting lips still parted as she listened.
“During lunch, you snap a picture of your balanced meal and your water because you know if you skip lunch, you’d be in trouble. Then, when you leave work, you call me and share all your thoughts of the day, dumping any stress you had in my lap so it won’t keep you awake at night while I await you in the club. You go home and change into the clothes I already told you to wear, and when you get to me…”
I leaned closer to her, letting the silence lengthen between us. Tension stretching to its capacity.
“I strap you to a bed, blindfold you, and give you headphones to neutralize all the noise. Your gospel music plays, calming you, until the heat of the wax hits your thigh. Your flesh contracts, your heart races, and you don’t know what comes next.”
Gisele’s chest rose—and didn’t fall. Her lips parted, breath caught mid-air, eyes locked on mine. I dipped my voice just above a whisper, each word a thread pulling her closer.
“A soft feather tickles your shoulder, inching toward your neck, and you want to retract; your giggles are music to my ears, but you can’t move. You have to take it. And so I take you on a sensory journey where every step that comes is different than the past one until you’re panting and sobbing and chuckling, asking me to let you see, to let you hear, to let you think because you’re so fucking keyed up and can’t focus on anything but what’s here. Right now. I take you high and then bring you down gently until it’s all soft breathing and a few hiccups left from the euphoria you just felt. And after sitting in my arms in the quiet for twenty minutes, we say our goodbyes, and you go home. No worries fester in your mind because I erased all that burdenedyou for a few hours. You even text me and ask permission if you can come, and me being kind, I give you permission, and you fall asleep moaning my name and excited for what’s to come tomorrow.”
Damn, I hadn’t felt this fucking pleased, this fucking fulfilled planning a scene in a minute. I stayed close to her; her scent shifted from that fresh linen scent she wore to a deeper, muskier aroma that told me everything I needed to know about Gisele and what she wanted but had never dared to explore. Damn, just when I met a woman that I was deeply interested in, she also managed to reawaken the euphoria that I could feel dominating someone.
“I…get it. That sounds…so lovely,” she breathed out. “I don’t know how you wouldn’t want that with someone you love, there could be ways?—”
“Maybe for other people, but not for me. I have very clear boundaries because of my beliefs.”
“What do you believe?”
“That gender roles are part of what keeps our societies stagnant, that Black men…men like me can truly impact how Black women and Black folks navigate the world. My domination…cannot be tied to romantic feelings, it would?—”
“It would what?” The cautious challenge exhilarated and enticed me. I wasn’t one for bratting but Gisele’s quiet determination tasted like a fun tussle.
“Some Doms believe there needs to be a power imbalance for a D/s dynamic to work. Those are what I call wannabe Doms. They don’t understand the power that subs have and gift us when we go into agreements. It’s a dynamic of equals looking for something specific and agreeing to it. In love, in marriage…there is this perceived understanding of the power balance that I want no part of.”
“But what if there is consent?” Gisele questioned me. Of course, she did, and I loved that shit; I loved that she pushed back even though I dreaded it as well. This wasn’t anything I hadn’t litigated to death with my peers, even my brothers. But what everyone always missed was that consent went both ways. I didn’t consent to being in a relationship steeped in gender traditionalism.
“Consent has to be mutual, doesn’t it?” I met her question head-on.
“Well, yes, but listen, we have been on two dates. Do you really believe you have navigated these dates without leaning into any gender roles?” Gisele grew animated, her face tilting to the side.
“Are you calling me on my shit, Gisele? If you are, say it with your chest.”
“Are you gonna let me pay for the tickets tonight? Or would you like to split the dinner?” She gifted me a sweet smile and she was just hurting to be kissed. I let her enjoy her little win.
