"Put that nonsense away." I snapped at him.
I watched as he tensed up and scrambled to stuff his hard dick back into his trousers. It took a few moments for Marc to return to his appearance to neat and tidy. With the noticeable exception of a lump that protruded from the front of his pants. When he reached for his jacket, I pushed his hand away and shrugged.
"May I ask what you are going to me?" Marc said.
"Negative. I ask the questions, and I give the orders." I responded.
"Yes, ma'am. I understand."
"Great, now tell me why me? I want the truth."
"Well, it is. You see, I had always wanted to…"
"Come now boy, spit it out. You stammer as if I have a big dick shoved down your throat. Are you a cock sucker?"
"No! No ma'am, I am not, but I will worship and lick that sweet black treasure for as long as you will allow me if you allow me that is."
I grunted and then rolled my eyes. This guy had no idea how many times I had heard those who sought my attention same nearly the same thing. I was not impressed. I was not even sure that I was going to keep him long.
"You did not answer my question, why me?" I inquired.
"You are beautiful, demanding, and…" Marc's voice trailed off.
"Say it or get the fuck out of my office. I do not and will not waste time with your insecurities."
Marc took a deep breath and then blew it out. He closed his eyes and clasped his hands together in front of him. Just as quickly Marc unclasped them and shoved them in his pockets. Then, he yanked one hand out of his pocket and gingerly touched the collar that I had placed around his neck.
Marc cast his head down and turned his face towards the door. The silence from him had begun to get on my nerves. I did not care what his reasons were. I was annoyed that this puissant had not answered my question.
The next thing that I knew was I watched him as he rubbed his cheek. I looked down at my hand because it stung. My palm had lost its color for a moment, and it came back in an angry rush. Suddenly, I was near him and most assuredly aroused again.
"Yes, I deserve that." He moaned.
"A sense of entitlement huh? You do not deserve anything. You can't even answer a question honestly. You walked in here unprepared with money and nothing to say. I do not think you are a suitable material for this. I have no designs to placate a curious newbie. Get yourself a call girl and get your jollies that way." I snickered.
"I can't, it must be you. A whore cannot give me what I need. Believe me, and I have tried them."
"Oh, you can talk. How amusing. It speaks, but it doesn't answer questions."
I slowly walked over to the door and swung it wide open. I used my long lacquered thumbnail to point to the hall, for him to get out. Marc's eyes bucked wide. His shoulders slumped, but he did not move towards the door.
It had taken that moment for him to summon the courage to speak, I suppose. I had made it clear that the only game in here was mine. I looked down at his slacks. A wet spot had soaked through the expensive material. I wondered if it was because I had slapped him.
"You are beautiful, demanding, and African American. I want a chocolate woman to train me, use me, and make me hers. Please, ma'am. I admit that I do not know how to please you, but I will learn. You are right, and I don't deserve anything. I can shower you in luxury, cater to your whims, and sleep on the floor at you feet. You deserve to be satisfied in every way, every impulse, and every fancy. May I have the opportunity to do that for you?" Marc said.
"If I decide to train you to my specifications, you will be forever altered. Your every thought stained with the memory of me from now on. Your worth forever tied to my approval." I said.
I pushed the door closed for privacy. I did not want anyone to overhear what was about to happen to him or what I might say. I pivoted and walked up to him. He was so much larger than I am physically but still so much smaller in self-confidence.
He had never seen a hungry day in his life from all appearances. I doubted from the second that he had walked through the door that he even knew how social programs worked out for the poor. Marc seemed to be clueless while he stood there, dick hard as he spilled pre-cum on pants that cost more than what I used to make after three days of work at a minimum wage burger joint job.
Nevertheless, he had found his way to me. I did pity him, though. He had acknowledged there was no other sugar on earth that had the unique flavor of the dark brown type. A submissive relied heavily on trust that correction would come from their dominant. The look on his face led me to believe that he wanted something that his money could not buy. He needed to learn restraint, denial, and to have his rawest desires tamed and then directed.
I, on the other hand, had a kid to feed. There used to be little time in my schedule or life to dilly-dally, second-guess, or contemplate what was for lunch. Hell, there were too many days that lunch was just a dream of food and a cup of water. If this man wanted my time and attention, then he should have to do plenty for me.
He needed me. Marc wanted the kind of private therapy that his soul craved. Most likely, he had long seated guilt and been an over privileged ass most of his life. I did not yet know what had triggered his sudden need to let go and submit. The only thing that I was certain of was that I understood from my experiences was that his brain had made a decision to give in.
"Get down on the floor, on your knees, and close your eyes," I whispered.
His knee had barely touched the floor when I grabbed a handful of his hair tightly and pulled. Sweet, chocolate pussy was a scant millimeter from his mouth. He gulped hard. I pulled Marc's head back until the muscles in his beefy neck visibly strained.
"When I call, you will come," I said.
"Yes, ma'am. I am so ready to cum right now, if will let me. I have waited patiently for so long, please." Marc whimpered.
© Inakat 2016