My day began before six a.m. Master woke me as he sometimes does. We talked about fun things, nothing important, and a few things he wanted me to do today. I have been busy ever since, and at this late hour, I now have time to write today’s post.
No matter what we do, I always enjoy my time with Master. One of my favorite moments are when Master reminds me who owns me. These Q&A sessions are not just for me. Yes, Master asks me in different ways who I am and who I belong to, and with pride, I answer, “You do, Sir” or “I’m yours, Sir or “I belong to you, Sir.” He also asks me for his own need.
Masters need reassurance as well. Mine needs to hear me tell him I am his. He needs to know I want to be with him. That every part of me belongs to him. My body, mind, my heart.
The assignments Master requires of me means I see a lot of men. I have no idea what it is I do, but the majority, after spending just an hour with them, want me to leave Master and be their sub. I don’t say this out of pride or with a huge ego. I don’t see it.
What Master asked me this morning sums up who I am. “You don’t mind that everyone knows you’re black-owned?”
No, Sir, I don’t,” I replied.
He came back with, “You wouldn’t have it any other way, would you, baby?”
I answered Master. His unspoken question was. You don’t mind telling everyone I am your black Master, do you?
He’s right. I wouldn’t belong to anyone else. And that’s what my answers convey.