Page 42 of João
“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 João 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.
