"My submissive are power, strength, bravery, and most of all they stand beside me willing in their position. You stand as strong as you kneel. Am I clear?" His words, like vows to ourselves he builds submission, not as a position under him by the po...
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Walking down the busy street, I hug my body in my coat as the snow grips my boots. My focus is solely on making it to the bookstore in time for early morning customers. The bookstore, Fine Print, had been a blessing to have been able to get, but working at the store with Victoria gave me more than money. The ability to read and learn all that I was not able to when I was younger was a gift Victoria didn't know she had opened for me.
I may have simply thought of them as my parents, but to the world, we lived in, they were immigrants before my parents. Our financials only allowed food, the roof over our heads, and clothes, so after preschool, it became a strain to further my schooling. I knew my Mama was broken by it, raising me no different than she was, but Papa would silence her broken aspirations with words not cruel but no less ignorant. "A woman doesn't need knowledge. She needs a husband."
Once he would leave the room she would respectfully dismiss his words, then braid my hair so my curls didn't tangle. Her fingers ran oils through my hair as she told me the tales of the women and warriors. Love she could afford, she gifted it to me in abundance. Then she sang a song of a woman who would bring life back into the earth as its skies turned red and settle the reckless tides with the kiss of life from her lips. When the song was over, she would kiss the top of my head and tell me I held the breath of life on my lips.
Then she would leave her knowledge in the covers she tucked me in and performed to her husband's wishes because she had no more life on her lips, just obedience. Sacrificial obedience that is. There might have been love, but how sad that love was at that cost of knowledge. The memories are a healed scar as I walk into the store just after Victoria seeing that the store still seemed asleep. I am greeted by a warm smile from her as her thick long locks fell from her yellow headwrap that brought out her dark-toned skin. Her natural beauty clearly went unnoticed by her only for those who knew her knew it stemmed and shone from within.
She keeps busy with her routine while she greets me, "Morning Evita, I left your cup of tea on the counter. When you are done can you unpack the new Si-Fi selection we just got?" Always one to speak on what she needs to say in one sentence or go, "Good morning Tori. Thanks for the tea and I will be right on it." I responded as she spoke in a slightly sarcastic tone. Shaking her head and rolling her eyes she goes back to uncovering the shelves and getting the daily routine done.
My thoughts are reckless, having been left in a state of indescribable haziness at the man who said nothing and left me speechless. Well, that is not too true some questions ran through my mind as I stripped my silent secrets before him.
Why did felt all too willing to share the story of my mind through my body with a man I knew nothing about? I could deem it the obscene loneliness he soothed in his open presence or because his eyes told me he was not there to visually fuck me. That he was there to watch a story erotic and vulnerable before his eyes, and I told him mine. Of the lady who kissed a burning sky calm and he knew it. He knew that I was not simply dancing but instead, I had been telling him about myself and the secrets I whispered because no one listened. No one but him.
