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, I need 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.