I'm a strong woman. I don't take shit from anyone. I especially have no patience for any of the people that work with me down at the factory.
Last week, as I sat in in the break room, I watched Randy Simmons use the microwave oven to reheat his lunch. I purposely waited for him to reach his last bite before I stood up, walked my 6' 1" black ass right over to where he was seated to tower over him and say, "Mmmm, spaghetti! Smells delicious. Is it your wife's?"
He looked up at me and I could see that he wished his blue eyes could shoot out bolts of lightning at me. He flexed his burly forearm, showing off his stupid ass rebel flag tat, swallowed his last bite and said, "Yeah, what's it to ya?"
"Well, listen and listen up good, dumbass," I said poking my finger into his throat and causing him to choke, "I don't know what kind of shit farm you were raised on or care about the filthy pigsty you and your wife live in now but, when you're here, out in public, and in this break room, you're gonna either cover your food when you heat it up or clean up the mess afterwards!"
He looked around the now hushed over room at our other coworkers searching for someone to come help back him up. I threw my wadded up napkin smack dead in his face to bring his attention back to me.
"Now get to cleaning!" I barked.
No one else dared to join in, turning their gaze away to the food in front of them, and he got up and dragged his fat ass towards the counter and cleaned the microwave.
I'm a strong woman and I'll be damned if I'm gonna sit around and take any shit from my family.
I date and see who I want when I want. I control who sleeps in my bed and who gets the pleasure of the company of my pussy.
When my Nana said she wanted me home for Thanksgiving and I told her who I was dating, she told me that I was of her blood and that she wasn't asking. My Nana takes no shit from no one, either, not even me.
All went well on my return, even with the occasional side-eye from some family members. I felt welcomed because that's just how much love my Nana has me. Then my Uncle Tiny decided to make a joke about my girlfriend Selena's accent and broken English after everyone had sat down to watch the game and she tried saying 'Jacksonville Jaguars'. A quick glance, eye contact, and slight nod was all the approval my Nana needed to give me for things to freely go down in her house.
I left my Nana $500 to give to my uncle to help pay for his dental bills.
I miss Selena. Her wet pussy tasted so good on my lips. I still sometimes let my mind drift to thoughts of her shouting out through the thin walls of my 2nd floor apartment, "Ay, papi, you gon' make a me cum!" and having the widow Chen hit the ceiling below with the handle of her broom.
"It's 12:30 in the morning! People trying to sleep!" Mrs. Chen would yell, "Y'all need to be finding yourselves some Jesus! Sounding like 2 cats fighting! Go find a far away alley like normal pussies do!"
I swear, one day, me and that lady gonna have some words! I really want to confront her about her complaining, but hell, she's got me at a disadvantage - I really only hear her bitchin and cryin when I'm fuckin.
Yeah, Selena and I were good together, but we weren't destined to last long. I was young and still trying to find myself - who I was and hoped to be. I hated breaking up with her but, in the end, she really wasn't what I needed.
The person I really miss and have been so in need of replacing their attention is my Daddy. He knew how to take care of me well. He knew what I needed most and he knew how to provide for his little girl.
I met my Daddy while I was in the novelty sex shop buying some joke gifts for a bridal shower. I was looking at some pink furry handcuffs when he came up next to me.
"That's a toy. Toys are for children," he said, "You don't look like a child to me so why play with childish things?"
And that's how we met. That's how I got started on the journey of finding my true self. Daddy showed me what I had been missing. He introduced me to the joys of being tied and bound.
My Daddy was big and stocky. His stature matched mine. Being a former bouncer and weighing in around 285, it was nothing for him to grab my 215 pound frame by the arm and bend me over his knee for a spanking whenever I decided to act up and, believe me, I acted up a lot.
He guided me through the pain of being caned. He taught me how to breathe through the licks and to place my mind in a state where the swollen welts and broken skin on my ass and thighs stopped being painful. He showed me how each swift and hard swing of his arm was a small drop of water that could turn into a pool, then a lake, and finally an ocean that could not be contained by any dam or emotional barrier my brain had set before me. He trained me to go past any roadblocks that kept and held me from reaching my potential. Crashing through those limitations was when that simple drop could become a huge untamed wave that ended with me finding myself swept up high in joyful orgasmic release.
"Fuck off!" I would yell and huff, "You can't make me do shit!"
That's almost always how things would start between us. Mrs. Chen's broom would immediately start a tappin' - she had gotten used to knowing us so well.
"No! Daddy please don't! I can't take any more!" I would scream out, fully aware that at least 3 more licks would be coming for me even uttering 'no'.
But my Daddy got careless. He got greedy and abused me. He forgot that the balance of trust and power is a fine one and walks on a razor thin line.
I wasn't feeling well one day and he knew it. Instead of caring for his precious prize, he decided that he should try and test my limits with his riding crop. Normally, I would have no complaints, I loved being pushed, but that day I used our safe word for the first and only time and he ignored me.
My Daddy forgot that the power he had can only be used properly when freely given by the willing. I knew right then, as with Selena, that he was not what I needed in the long term. If he couldn't protect me when I was ill and sick and told him so, then he really wouldn't be able to connect with me on a mental level when I was feeling well. It was all too clear to me that he could take me no further. So my Daddy had to get the fuck on.
My name is Tanya Watkins. I'm tall, thick bodied, intimidating, and a whole lotta sexy. I'm an apple bottomed, Amazonian, black queen of a woman who isn't gonna take shit from no one! I know, through trial and error, exactly who I am sexually. And I'm in need of finding someone to feed, train, teach and tame this growing submissive side of me.
I knew that after losing Daddy things would be hard. I know what I'm looking for isn't something I can find easily at my local library or in my church. I was fortunate to find Daddy like I did, but I don't expect to be that lucky again. So, here I am sitting in an Italian restaurant waiting to meet the person who replied to the profile I placed on FetLife.
I wasn't in just any Italian restaurant, Andiamo was one of the best restaurants in all Detroit and I had arrived early to take in the scene and feel of the place. Plus, I didn't know what my date looked like and I felt more comfortable waiting to see him before he saw me.
The ad I placed under the screen name BAQ1987 was pretty simple: I had a full body pic of me standing in my little black dress that stopped just below my knees with heels on. I decided to wear the same thing tonight so as I would be easier for my date to recognize me, if that was at all going to be a problem. This outfit turns heads and makes folks gawk. The staff and the people dining at Andiamo certainly did. It's hard to miss the entrance of a fine ass, statuesque woman in a tight dress shaking her voluptuous wares down the middle of any restaurant.
Under the picture of the profile I simply posted: Handler needed.
I kept it purposely vague. My thinking was that it would be attractive to more people and then I could filter them out from there. And so now I was waiting on a man who answered but didn't have a pic of himself on his profile or sent one in his reply. Why? Well...
I did get plenty of replies and almost all bragged about their dicks or wanted to meet in a hotel room. Only one really stood out and it said: I know exactly what you need. I've been waiting for you all my life. Meet me at Andiamo on Friday. I'll have a table reserved under my name and if what I've said isn't true then at least you've gotten a great dinner on me ~ Angus.
I mean, tell me, pic or no pic, how could I turn an invitation like that down?
I sat sipping on some wine and people watching the crowd while also keeping my eyes on the front door. I watched as the hostess seated an older married couple at the table to the left of me and hurried back to the front of the restaurant just as a large, well dressed, smoking hot cup of black man walked in.
"Hello, Sofia, how are you tonight?" he said in a deep booming voice to the hostess.
A smile came across my lips as we made eye contact. This brotha's name fit appropriately. 100% grade 'A' American beef - yes he was! This man was fine and just my type. Tall and stylishly well groomed - everyone in the restaurant took notice of him. He made an entrance that rivaled my own and I overheard someone whisper that they thought he played football for the Lions. I found myself blushing as the hostess escorted him in my direction.
I laid down my glass and tucked my hands under the table unto my lap. He smiled and winked at me and I watched as he and the hostess kept walking past as she led him to an empty booth towards the back.
I turned my whole body to stare open mouthed and confused as he was seated and instantly brought a glass of water, some breadsticks, and handed a menu to look over.
"Is it Black African Queen?" a soft voice asked from over my shoulder.
"Huh?" I replied to the voice without turning around, still watching with mild irritation as Angus opened the menu to cover his face and block out everyone else in the restaurant.
"Black African Queen 1987? It's you. You're an unmistakable woman," the person continued.
I finally turned and there standing before me stood a pot bellied, freckled face, prematurely balding, red headed white guy.
"I'm Angus. Angus Fraser - your date? I'm always on time. You must've gotten here early."
He stood around 5"6' and was smartly dressed with a tailored dark blue suit, white button down shirt, and no tie. The problem was, in addition to being short, he wore a hunter green vest under his blazer. I mean did he not even look at himself in a mirror? He looked like a fucking leprechaun.
He reached out his hand to greet me, but I didn't budge an inch.
"Ok then," he said retracting his nubby fingers and sitting down, "I can see we're off to a great start."
"Is this some kind of joke?" I asked. "Are there hidden cameras here?"
"Hidden cameras? Oh, I get it," he said, "I seem to get that reaction from people because, I know, I look a lot like Michael B. Jordan."
"Cute," I thought to myself. He had a sense of humor. I almost smiled and was going to tell him so except he said it with no comedic intent. There was a quick flash in his eyes that said to dare tell him that he looked otherwise would be a genuine insult to him.
"I'm out of here," I said, "This ain't gonna work for me. You're wasting my time."
"Let's just have a nice dinner together. Get to know one another," he said, "I don't want to have to make you stay."