Page 45 of João
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.
The door swung open before I could even grab the knob. Air whooshed as staccato breaths caressed my ears. The enticing aroma of a home-cooked meal wafted around me until an even more alluring scent greeted me. Her natural fragrance reminded me of afternoons laying on the grass, only a thin freshly laundered sheet protecting me from the green stains. Those afternoons when my mind wandered and I worried about my mother and my father and my siblings and I just needed a second to myself…those afternoons.
When my soul needed quieting and my skin needed fresh air, and my palms warm earth under them. And then, when my soul finally quieted, I would plant, and the soil in my hands would remind me of how simple things could be because even as a teenager, I already knew what life was for men like me. But that smell of peace and comfort, of home and hope, that was Gisele. Fuck, this woman’s scent had me weak, and still, she was just… My brain tripped up on all the adjectives that flew around, too many and definitely too simple to describe her.
All of her.
“Good evening, Master.” Gisele’s gaze did not quite meet mine. High protocol, then. I was tired of fighting this, her, life. Fuck, I was tired of fighting myself.
“Good evening, my boa menina. How was your day?” However those words came out of my mouth, they translated something to her; Gisele’s arms erupted in goosebumps and a sigh escaped her.
“It was good, Master. I did all the reading you gave me about high protocol. Cooked too, and cleaned a little.” Her shoulders were relaxed as I had instructed her this morning; her chest up, posture proud but deferential only to me. In one hand, a glass of whiskey awaited me, her other hand behind her—the perfect welcome pose.
My skin prickled and my heart tripped in its cage as I accepted the glass from her hand, Gisele’s warm fingers luring me to linger. I had to caress her, to show her with my touch how grateful I was for this homecoming.
Her little smile and hitched breath told me she got it. I took my time, our fingers tangled until I separated them. I hadn’t wanted Gisele doing too many service tasks in my home; I still didn’t. I hadn’t found a way to contend with all the emotions that arose from having someone at my beck and call, allowing me to guide them, being the head of someone’s household.
As I feared, it was like straight up ecstasy, filling my veins with fire and want. Greedy for more, I sat in one of my leather chairs, and Gisele quietly followed. The woman was wearing some old-timey satin lingerie with a small apron on top, the kind that propped her titties up under lace and satin, showing me just a little of her delicious brown areolas. Her nipples stood to attention under the chocolate fabric, begging to be touched. On top of all my Dom dreams coalescing in my chest ready to burst, my dick also decided it needed to explode too.
Fuck me.
Still, I prided myself on my control, so I sat and awaited her next move. Ball was in her court, even though she was following what she had read today like a champ. So far, there was no correction needed; every step she took, every pose she made showcased how good of a submissive she was. How ready she was to serve.
“Master, may I take your shoes off?” Gisele stood next to me, hands behind her back, waiting like the fucking good girl she was. Everything in me wanted to pounce, to scene with her, to show her how it could all be, but restraint kept me in check. This woman deserved gentleness, love, and a firm hand.
“Yes, boa menina, you may.” I took a sip of my whiskey while Gisele’s knees touched the ground, her legs moving with graceand a lightness that made shit get heavy between my legs. Her scent of sunshine and whatever oil she put on today to make her skin supple surrounded me once more, and I closed my eyes as her agile hands made quick work of my 5s.
My nervous system shot a last warning as her hands moved to massage the soles of my feet, then my body flooded with adrenaline.This is what I need,my brain screamed as my muscles turned to molasses under her care. Somehow the pressure points Gisele touched connected directly with every other part of my body. The stress of the day became a faint memory, washed away by her gentle ministrations. Gisele’s little excited breaths as she knelt in front of me, her beautiful brown skin glowing under the warm lights, the satin caressing her body and making a whooshing noise as she moved…she had never looked so beautiful.
With my left foot in her hand, head bowed in submission, she started humming. Whatever it was sounded churchy as fuck. Whatever we were doing together, it was a ritual. We were building a ceremony together, and I couldn’t help the thrill that ran through every cell, imagining doing this with Gisele for the rest of my life.
“Sing, boa menina,” I commanded her, my hand landing softly on her cheek. Gisele kept her eyes facing down, but I craved the eye contact. I needed it.
“Look at me, Gisele.” The rasp in my voice couldn’t be helped. The rawness was real as fuck. This woman kept stripping me of the certainties that I thought made me the man I was. She made me question and reevaluate it all. She was dangerous, and still I could not help myself. Gisele invited me to open up in a way I couldn’t even with my siblings.
“Você é uma garota tão linda e boazinha. Você sabia disso?” I said the words in Portuguese because I wasn’t ready to say it all yet. Not yet.
Regardless of her lack of Portuguese, that little smirk told me she understood and she nodded, the humming deepening in her chest almost a rumble of pure satisfaction.
“Cante para mim, minha paz.”Sing for me please, my Peace. After the day I had, help me reach center again.The words banged and clanged in my brain, more a plea than a command.
The melodious humming turned into words. She might not understand the words, but she understood me.
Fuck.
Her words spoke of a wrathful God and a servant happy to serve, a quiet joy in following the path that Jesus Christ had set for His flock. The parallels in the song versus our dynamic were unmistakable. I waited for the repulsion I felt for anything religious to surface, but nothing but the same lightheadedness remained.
This did not feel religious. Her words did not feel traditional. They felt comforting; to hear the words that she loved serving a wrathful God was a balm to my worries. I wasn’t ready to examine it all but for now, I accepted it as a gift. Her way of showing me the joy she felt in submitting. That she had chosen a gospel song to sing… Well, the woman knew how to brat in style. I wasn’t even gonna chastise her for it; this space was for her to serve me, but it was for her to serve in happiness. So I would allow God to share this moment, no matter how jealous of a Master I could be.
Gisele finished singing and stood up, watching me under her eyelashes.
“I’m ready; we’ll dine at the table. You can tell me about your day while we eat,” I instructed her.
“Yes, Master,” Gisele said and sauntered toward the kitchen and dining area, leaving me to my thoughts.
Leaving me to the realization that what I thought were healthy boundaries in my kink were crutches to protect myselffrom truly being the Dominant I dreamt of being, and where I thought there was healing, there were still open wounds that needed tending.
