She was my secret.  Because I liked her that way.  Even though she had told me I could tell whoever I wanted about her.  I wanted her to myself.  For now.

I have a high-pressure career that consumed my life.  And so, I got home smelling like office sweat covered with rush hour traffic sweat, both of those nearly overpowered by the ‘I haven’t showered in a few days because I have been too stressed and anxious and burned out from this work project’-- just ripe musk of neglected pussy  and under boob sweat from also being behind on laundry.

It was not a pretty situation.  I was agitated.  And I was agitated.  I got in my room, kicked off my shoes as I closed the door - pressed my back into it, and just let myself feel the agitation and need slink out of me in a whining sound of ‘I need to be fucked ’. I closed my eyes and  I could … smell myself.  The primal heat of myself.  I ran my hand over my shirt; my nipple was so … eager that, when my hand ran over it, a gasp ejaculated out of my mouth and drooled a moan into the room like a burst of squirt that got Kegel-strangled to silence as I bit my lips and my body just vibrated against the door. 

“Starting without me, I see?”  

My eyes shot open. 

“Hey, gorgeous.  I would ask if you missed me but, uh, I think that is pretty evident,” she said as her eyes licked up and down my body like a caress I can practically fucking feel.  And she smiled wide, as she popped her gum one more time then took the wrapper out of her cleavage and spat the gum into it, and then threw it for a 3-point shot across the room into the wastebasket.

“Aerykah, girl, you look a hot mess.”

I watched her approach me -- wearing yellow like she spun sunlight into a fabric that hugged her every curve and angle perfectly.  She was so symmetrical; I was speechless.  I knew it was bad if I was using math words to describe her.  Not too bad, I am a mathematician, and I can’t always turn it off.  It’s how I see the world.  But I … didn’t want to think about anything right now but the sensations I wanted her to give me. 

She stopped short of being within touching range.  “What do you have to say for yourself, hm?”

“I’m sorry.”  I didn't have enough of a voice to carry the words out of my throat - it was just a whisper.  I was so engulfed by her energy - so placid and serene, it was like she was the ocean in bipedal goddess form. 

“You’re sorry, what?”   She leaned in, tipped her glasses down, and whispered back, her dark eyes narrowing at me, chidingly over the tipped glasses.  It made me weak when she did that.  Especially when she held ‘that’ weight in her voice at the same time.  That potent combination always made my knees tremble like I wanted to crumble before her and kiss her feet begging her to forgive me … or punish me.  I could never tell what I wanted in that mind space - it got wobbly and weird and mixed up and well… just flat-out kinky.

“I’m sorry, Lady Sapphica.” 

“But are you?”

“Y-yes?”

“Try that again.”

“Yes, I am really sorry.”

“And what exactly are you sorry for, Aerykah?”

I felt my lashes flutter.  Damn it, why did she have to make me think when I just wanted to taste her?!  It’s like this was the punishment.  Was it? The look in her eyes made me feel small and vulnerable or just like my heart was smaller than hers like I was small in just the right way to fit inside her heart.  She’d molded me, shaped me to please her.  To be what she needed and in turn, I got what I needed and became a better and more secure, and stable person.   It was a total power exchange.  It worked for me and how I loved and I was so grateful to have her in my life.

“I … I do not know why I am sorry, Lady Sapphica.”

“Really?  The LEED Gold Certified Architect and Accomplished Mathematician, Aerykah Pacheco, come in here smelling like last week’s laundry bag, and she doesn't know why she is sorry.  What have I told you? What did you agree to try to do?”

My lashes fluttered again.  I stammered the words out thru the sensual slide of shame I felt from the seductive sting of her scolding and the spiking arousal of my sex, as I felt her genuine affection for me, “To take care of myself, Lady Sapphica.”

“That’s right.  And have you done that?”

“N-No.  Not as well as I could have, Lady Sapphica.”

“Mmhmm, that’s right.  And did you call for me? When you knew you were overwhelmed and struggling, did you call for your Lady to help you?”

“No, Lady Sapphica.”

“And ...  why not?”  she asked, leaning closer to me, I felt her breath breeze against my ear and bit back the whimpering moan of my desire to have her lips suck and nibble on my ears.  It drove me wild.  It was like a kind of ASMR.  But I could feel it in a more intimate way, not just feeling the sound waves but I felt her tongue, the scrape of her teeth, and smell the gum flavor of her breath.  She always smelled like bubble gum.  Sometimes fruity, sometimes minty.  Just sticky, sweet and dissipating, and disposable.  It fit her aesthetic.  AfroFuturistic Doll Dominatrix.  Bright colors, minimal but bold makeup, and her hair, bound in braided Bantu knots all over her head. 

“I wanted to handle it myself.”

“But you didn’t.  You haven’t been handling anything.”

“No, Lady Sapphica.  I’m sorry.”

She backed away from me then.  The chuckle low in her throat she looked me up and down. 

“Strip,” she commanded. 

I blinked; I was unsure I had heard her correctly as I stammered at her.  “W-what?”

“I, unlike you, did not stammer or stutter.  Strip.  Get your thick ass out of those sweaty clothes.  Now.”

Feeling my pussy clench, I nodded and took off my clothes, till I stood there naked and exposed.  My scent was so perfumed in this room, that she took a deeper whiff, and I expected her to make a face of disgust but she moaned.  “You’re like a neglected flower, girl.  Mm, march your sexy ass to the bathroom.  Hop two, now, march!”

I attempted to march but I felt like an idiot and ended up doing my normal shuffling walk.    She followed me to the very lavish bathroom I had and disgrace-ing-ly did not use the way I needed to.  I watched her take off her big round glasses.  And slowly unzip the sleek, latex outfit and peel it down from her long body.   “Run the water.”

I didn’t hesitate that time, turning on the water obediently and silently.  I heard her going through my cabinets before she found the bath oils, candles, and towels.  “Get it nice and hot, I am going to bathe every bit of that stagnation out of your every fucking pore, do you hear me?”

“Y-Yes Lady Sapphica.”

Once the bath water was run, we both got in the water, and wordlessly, Sapphica bathed and washed me, like it was worship, even though she was the dominant one, she was bathing me first, then I bathed her and we got out of the tub, dried off in fluffy towels, and applied oils to our skin, making the brown of our melanin really shine.  As she was finishing putting the oil on my back, I turned toward her.  She looked at me, her face neutral.  I felt my eyes drop to her lips.  “May I?”

She nodded.  “Yes,” she whispered, her voice vulnerable, and soft.  It was at that moment that I realized she was hurt that I didn’t ask her for help when I was struggling.  She was worried and hurt and wanted me to ask her.  It was a vulnerability I seldom caught sight of from her.  And that as much as I missed her, she probably missed me too, if not more, though I doubt it was more.  I leaned in and kissed her.  She moaned and a hand rose to caress my cheek. 

We sat there on my bed, both of us smelling like jojoba and coconut oil.  Both of our skin was shiny and clean, but I could still smell that faint under-smell of musk.  Fresh musk - not stale neglected musk, but fresh musk that rose toward her like petals opening for the sun - hungry and sticky teasing with pollen and nectar - just reaching and begging in a high-pitched pheromone voice, Eat me, eat me, eat me! 

I pulled up from the kiss with a gasp and felt her tremble.

“Stay the night, please?” I asked before I lost my nerve.  I felt her trembling hand still caressing the side of my face before I registered the soft whisper of her voice saying 'Yes'.

Moving to lay back on the bed, I felt her follow and straddle me, pinning my legs closed as she kissed down my neck and chest til she found my nipples.  They were so sensitive that I gasped sharply.  The steady way she sucked on my nipple echoed in sensation like her mouth was sucking on my starving clit.

“Oh!” I groaned, feeling the connection between nipple and clit get stronger, stronger.  And with one more swirl of her tongue, I was suddenly, spasming, suddenly cumming from her mouth on my breast.  It caught me completely off guard.  And I felt so drunk from the sea of happy chemicals flooding my mind, and my body.  I felt good, and then I felt sad, and then I felt e v e r y t h i n g. 

She rose up and moved to cradle me to her body.  And I just shook and wept all the emotions that were pent up for so long inside me.  It was a cleansing cry.  I don’t even remember falling asleep.  But when I woke up, Lady Sapphica was still there.  And there was a covered plate on my nightstand for breakfast.  She was sitting on the bed scrolling idly on her phone.  Her Bantu knots were taken down so that her long braids fell down her body.  The sheet was covering her lap. 

She felt me stir and turned to look at me.  “Hey, made your favorite, should still be warm," she greeted.  Then caressed her hand over my hair.  “How are you feeling?” She asked in that Domme voice of hers, wanting a proper check-in. 

I smiled.  “Better,” I said in my still groggy-with-sleep voice.  I looked up at her, smiling.  “Thank you, Lady Sapphica,” I purred in submissive gratitude.

“You’re welcome.  Now eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

I rolled over and took the cover from the plate on the nightstand.  And there it was, the best breakfast: almond pancakes, drizzled in chocolate syrup with sliced melon and yogurt.   My stomach growled so loudly that Sapphica chuckled.

“See your stomach agrees with me.”

Without another word, I took a slice of melon and dipped it in the yogurt, and practically inhaled the full slice of it.  Then, finding the fork and knife, I began to dig into my pancakes.   As I felt the pancakes melt in my mouth - drenched in the perfect amount of chocolate syrup - I wondered if I could overlook that fear of losing my independence and ask Lady Sapphica to move in with me.  Taking another bite of melon, I glanced over at her as she sipped her mug of coffee with one hand and scrolled with the other just using her thumb. 

It would be nice to have her around more.  But I told myself I’d give myself until lunch to think about it.  That way I know it isn’t just my love of her pancakes inspiring this decision.  It was because I really cared for her.  Maybe ... even loved her.  I couldn’t say yet.  But I can say that these pancakes are the embodiment of complete and total bliss.