Shades of Sepia

XXI

Onika Tanya Maraj
January 31st
Aspen, Colorado

They say the new year brings new blessings, and I couldn't agree more.

Before I submerged myself into the submissive life completely, I found myself judging these people, telling myself that giving up my God given control was never going to be something I wanted to do. That was for dumb women. Dumb, traditional women.

But here I was, in the thick of it, and I was miles away from dumb.

I sauntered around my community with my chin to the sky, knowing that eyes were on me and appreciating the house rules.

I had fallen in love with this community that Beyoncé surrounded me in and more in love with her because she kept coming back for me. When my sub peers began to request their doms to call Beyoncé and beg her to bring me back, she didn't hesitate. Whatever I asked of her was never out of the realm of possibility. I was well taken care of, loved, and catered to. That made me a sublime submissive.

I enjoyed serving her, loved to see her smile, basked in the feeling of her being proud of me. I was learning more than ever that our relationship was not usual, and she was a lot more sensitive than I was used to when it came down to me. For that reason, I was actively working on my censorship. I never wanted to see her hurt, and I certainly never wanted her to hide her hurt. Everything didn't need to be said. There were things that I thought that didn't have to come out of my mouth.

I took pride in being the only woman that had ever decorated her home aside from her mother, and when the holidays rolled around, I had Ms. Tina on FaceTime to help. She was the one that taught me how to put my own signature spin on decorating so that anyone who stepped into Beyoncé's home would know that I resided there also, and I was never too far away.

When I attended banquets and balls, I was classy, a sort of intellectual arm candy. I behaved so well that Beyoncé could barely keep her hands to herself, and most nights, I left with toys inside me and my underwear in her pocket. Sometimes, when I couldn't control myself, I lead and she let me. Not a lot, but enough that I knew she enjoyed being my bitch for a little bit. She didn't do it for me. She was comfortable enough with me to actually let her walls down and enjoy it.

"Thank you," I said to the bartender and quickly pivoted, completely forgetting that he was not allowed to speak to me. I knew Beyoncé's attention was on me, and I would receive surly discipline. But that was alright. I missed it anyway.

I never knew how much I would actively try to get into trouble.

I was smiling from ear to ear as I walked from the bar to her table. I had tunnel vision, refusing to acknowledge Damien and Diana who sat across from her. I sat her cocktail down in front of her and sat myself on her lap, opening her legs to make more space for me. I held onto her cheeks and planted a soft kiss on her lips.

"You in the middle of something?"

"A conversation but you don't seem to care."

I smiled against her lips, "I don't."

"You need something?"

"Is this important?" I leaned in closer and adjusted where I sat.

Her breathing hiked, "Tell me what you want and I'll make the determination."

"Finish your drink and follow."

"Excuse me?"

I leaned to her ear and whispered, "Rope bunny." Then I got up and strutted across the room. Once I began to walk down the mahogany staircase, I saw her down the cocktail like it was a shot and practically run behind me.