Page 30 of João
Preferred Name: Gissy
The cursor blinked, awaiting my answer. With snacks in hand, I’d camped out on my comfortable sofa, already in my pajamas in the late afternoon, to answer this whole vetting document João sent me last night.
João hadn’t been playing when he told me he wanted to do this process right. The intense need to regulate this procedure after he claimed to have lost control after Aisha’s class was clear. He’d wanted me to go through more sessions before we moved forward with anything, and after the high of that night, I agreed. Now I was ten classes in, five weeks later, and finally, João had agreed to start the vetting.
We hadn’t gone on a date since our last one. We texted every day, check-ins from him about my well-being and what I was up to, me trying to gauge how this new normal between us wouldbe. No matter what, João never alluded to what we had been building in the past.
So, after a fulfilling volunteer day at the Gifted Athletes Center, I came home eager to start answering his questions. I hadn’t expected the process to be this hard.
Age:36
Pronouns:She/Her
Birthday (Month & Day): July 2
Each question requires an answer. Please do not utilize outside resources. The vetting process will commence once you send your responses. I will be in contact to discuss this further.
Are you on Social Media? If so, which platforms? Include your username(s) in your response.
IG: @BlessednBlack
Twitter: @BlessednBlack
I hesitated to share my hidden Twitter account. I had no activity on it; I really just used it to search any adult-style accounts when looking for stimulating information. Not wanting to keep anything from him, I answered.
Twitter:@wannabeasub
How often do you use Social Media?Once a day.
Do you have a KynkLyfe? If so, what is your username?
What in the world was KynkLyfe? My fingers itched to open the search browser, curiosity tickling the back of my head, butthe instructions said not to do that. In the end, I just answered that I had no idea what the platform was and proceeded to the next question.
The questions ranged from my understanding of what a submissive and a Dominant were to questions of why I wanted to be a submissive and what roles I identified with. It was clear he had personalized this, keeping in mind it was my first experience, but he still held me accountable for entering this dynamic with knowledge. Excited vibrations coursed through me as I typed my responses. Never had I been so close to fulfilling my fantasies. My bag of popcorn lay forgotten next to me, accusing me of having no appetite, but honestly, how could I when there was so much to take in?
Question 13 asked what it meant to be submissive and my fingers hovered over the laptop keyboard, the flow of thoughts running into a dead end.
When I imagined my submission and truly let myself fully embrace my desires, I saw myself in a total power exchange dynamic. A Dom looking for a sub that would make his life easier and better and, in turn, guide me to do the same. I imagined myself hosting dinners for him, doing his laundry—preferably in panties and a tank top—and cleaning the house in whatever skimpy clothes he wanted me to wear until he couldn’t take it anymore and he came and made me come untilIcouldn’t take it anymore. The most realistic image of us out and about materialized, this no-name Dom giving me one look and a sign, and I knew exactly what to do.
If the Dom in my imagination looked like João’s doppelganger, it was a complete coincidence…and now I was lying to myself. God wouldn’t be pleased.
Submission meant total and full surrender because, in that surrender, I would allow my Dom to draw from my power, and together, we would elevate each other. I didn’t need someoneto tell me what to do. Being a rule follower and doing the right thing had been my North Star. I wanted someone who saw that, celebrated me, enhanced my submission, and made me feel cherished. To me, being a submissive meant entrusting someone so fully that I could be the rawest, most vulnerable version of me without fear.
My fingers flew across the keyboard as my heart took charge of the rest.
Questions such as identifying what punishments I would consent to and what kinks I had and wanted to explore were expected, but I was surprised by inquiries about my health, employment, pet peeves, and more. All the things I’d been afraid to explore due to my religion finally came out and breathed free. After question 13, the rest of the questionnaire went by more easily as I set aside any trepidation and just trusted. I just submitted to the process.
JOÃO
The black binder rested on my oakwood desk, waiting to be addressed. I’d found it there when I arrived for the day, probably dropped off early, right before Gisele’s commute. Her text at six this morning was perfunctory, but I could sense her excitement.
Gisele: I left something for you in your office. Have a good day, João.
Gisele had taken the liberty of printing out our Dominant/submissive agreement so that we would both have physically identical copies. Her eagerness to serve was a drug I could no longer resist, not that I was doing a good job before. She’d burrowed herself under my skin until I’d found myself acting just the way I despised. Self-centered and with little control.
That combination could be catastrophic if a Dominant didn’t have self-awareness. I did. I understood how heady it could be to be in a total power exchange dynamic where a submissive was so eager to please that they didn’t enforce their limits. I’d been afraid—still was—that Gisele would be like that, but she’d meticulously listed her hard and soft limits and the punishments she consented to with no problem.
The list of limits was extensive, but the punishment list, not so much. Limited impact play with specific instruments, orgasm denial, repetitive menial tasks, and removal of physical touch. I chuckled at her note in asterisks right below:
