Page 29 of A Gold Medal in Love

“I think you’d better. There’s only so far my willpower can take us, hm?” I share with her.

A startled squeak emerges from her throat as she takes in the compliment.

I sit comfortably on the bed and watch all that glorious skin disappear from my view. Of course, I mourn the lack of nudity, but I’m not going to put Imani at a power disadvantage while we talk about whatever she has in mind.

Imani begins to put her hair up, and I hold up a hand to stop her. “Nope, leave that down for me, if you would. It’s nice like this.” I follow my words up by patting the bed next to me in welcome.

Her lips quiver, but she says nothing, only listens to me without argument.

I can’t decide if that’s a welcome change or a disappointment. The eternal argument of a brat tamer, I suppose. And I suppose that’s exactly what I’m about to be doing here.

“Can I touch you? More specifically, can I touch your hair?” I ask. Listen, I’m not an idiot. Imani is not the first Black girl I’ve been involved with—I know the rules.

She nods, so I push her hair behind her ear, then run my knuckles along her diamond-cutting jawline. “Tell me what you want, Imani.”

“I want you, Sir,” Imani responds without a beat.

Internally, I’m gleeful at the reception of that beautiful honorific uttered from her gorgeous mouth. Externally, I let my face betray nothing, and simply lower my voice as I move my hand down to hold her throat. “Remind me, Cupcake, did I or did I not tell you that if you were going to accept me, that you were to simply say ‘Sir?’”

I feel her gulp under my palm. “You… did. But?—”

“Ah, ah, ah.” I cut her off. “I did. And no part of those instructions was to present yourself to me in a submissive position, naked or otherwise, correct?”

“No, no part…” Imani hesitantly agrees.

“And I believe I’ve already made the point that by presenting, you crossed one of my boundaries, because you did not ask for consent. Do you understand that, or do we need to discuss it further?” I ask sternly.

“I’m not an idiot,” she huffs. “I already said I got it.”

“I’m sorry, what’s that?” I ask, allowing her the grace to correct her own behavior.

“No, Sir. We don’t need to discuss it further.” Imani pivots.

“Thank you,” I praise her and release her neck. “Now, please tell me what you mean by your declaration.”

“I would like to do the D/s dynamics, the praise, but I’m not sure about degradation.” She begins to list on her delicate fingers. “I already said I like penetration. I…” She pauses to cough. “I very much like the light choking. I would like to try restraints; forced orgasms sound hot. But, um, can we start with light impact only on my tits, ass, and thighs?” She finishes her count on her fingers and then folds her hands into her lap.

“Thank you for telling me what you’d like. I’m hearing that two hard limits are degradation and face-slapping, so that’s noted. Is that right?” I verify.

I watch Imani’s pulse flutter in her throat. “The first is correct, I think the second thing is a soft limit... But maybe...” Her last sentence is uttered softly and with hesitation.

“Very good. What other limits do you have?” I entreat her to continue.

She raises her fingers for another count-off. “Soft: orgasm denial, CNC. Hard: anal, and all of yours.”

“That’s wonderful work, Imani. Thank you for sharing all of that with me. What do you like for aftercare?” I query.

“Oh. Shit. This feels like a test,” she mutters.

I let a loud laugh escape. “It’s not, I promise. Do you like being comforted by a body, by water? Do you need specific food or drink? Do you like certain senses being paid attention to? Do you like to be praised or be vulnerable? Do you like to be swaddled like a burrito and put to sleep after a glass of water?”

Imani’s face is wide-eyed with confusion. “We have to do all of that just to fuck?”

“It’s pretty standard practice in the kink community. But it can look like anything you want. I personally want to make sure you’re back in your right mind if you left it, make sure you feel positive about yourself and the experience, and make sure you replenish your body with water and food.” I explain.

“Can’t you just guess? You can read everything else about me,” she snarks.

“I could, but mind-reading is toxic behavior. It’s also important that you vocalize your needs. So, let’s fuckin’ go,” I encourage her.