Page 24 of A Gold Medal in Love

Imani’s hand slips away from her mouth, landing delicately askew on her pillow as she nods.

“There we go. It’s okay. I’m not cutting you off, I’m just saying we need to talk. All right?” I gently intone.

She slaps my hand away from her face, the bluster back as quickly as it left. “Fine. Then get off of me so we can have our talk.”

Chuckling, I rise up and away from her, sitting on the other side of her bed. There’s plenty of room between us, but she curls her legs up into her body as though she can’t get far enough away from me.

“Cupcake, I’m not rejecting you. This is me wanting to start something with you,” I coax her back into openness.

Imani sniffs in derision and looks away from me.

“Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking. Let’s start there, shall we?” I say with a smile.

“You’re treating me like I can’t make up my own mind. Everyone treats me like that. Like you know better than I do about what to do with my own fucking body,” Imani angrily says into her knees.

“Ah. Okay. Well, I’m actually trying to do the opposite of that. What we are about to do is a negotiation, and it’s a reflection of how much I respect you and your bodily autonomy that we have this discussion. Every Dominant should start a dynamic this way. I realize that I made a lot of decisions for you the other day, and that was bullshit behavior on my part,” I say with seriousness.

“Oh?” She perks up.

“Yes. I know you’re inexperienced with kink, but I’d hate to think of you falling into the hands of a fake Dom and being traumatized. So. We are going to have a formal negotiation. You are going to tell me the things you want to do, the things you won’t do, the things you might do. We are going to do none of those things today. You’re going to think about this. When you’re ready, you’ll let me know. If at any point you decide that you don’t want to do this with me, you’re going to tell me. If at any point you decide that you don’t want to do something you once said you wanted, you’re going to tell me. If at any point you need to safe out, you’re going to tell me. That is your power. You always have power. Okay?” I lay out for her.

Imani considers my words and then relaxes a little. “I have power. Even though I’m a bottom?”

“100%,” I confirm.

“Even though I’m a—what did you call me---a natural submissive?” She double-checks.

“Always, Cupcake. And if you feel like you don’t have power except in the ways you have negotiated giving it to me, or you don’t think you like the way I’m using that power, we have another negotiation. We are equal partners in this,” I reaffirm.

Uncurling from her closed-off position, Imani settles into a more neutral criss-cross applesauce, with her hands folded neatly into her lap, and waits for me to continue.

“Let me start by asking—what do you like?” I open the dialogue.

“I like penetration,” she answers confidently.

“That’s a great start, and very useful to know.” I smile at her.

Imani coughs to try and hide the blush that I know is there, even though it’s invisible to my eye.

“Don’t bother, Cupcake. You’re easy for me to read,” I laugh.

“How? No one else can,” she asks with confusion.

“Through the art of paying attention.” I wink. “What else do you like?”

“I like whatever you did with the light choking, I guess.” She rolls her eyes.

“Excellent, and what else?” I wave a hand for her to continue.

“Why don’t you tell me, since you can read me?” she huffs.

“Fine, brat. I think you like being put in your place by someone who cares about you. I think you like being submissive to someone you feel safe with. I think you like being told what the rules are. I think you like being good at following those rules. And I think most importantly, you like being praised when you do that well. How true does that ring?” I cock my head at her expression, which is one of shock.

Imani picks her jaw off the floor and gets up, turning toward the escape of the door.

“You can walk out if you want, but I’d rather you use your words to tell me when I do something you don’t like,” I inform her, lazily leaning a shoulder against the wall.

She turns back toward me, and I watch as she does mental math.