To add fuel to the fire, my taste and desires are not of the good book that my father preaches from. He’d once led an hour-long sermon on missionary sex and why anything beyond that is considered unbiblical.
I stare at the phone in my hand. Why doesn’t he want me? I’d seen something in his eyes that night. I was more than a simple piece for him. On the nights I’m at the club, he quietly watches me. Whenever a man approaches me, he stands at the threshold between the main club and the submissive lounge. And I might have only spent one night with Maddox Sobota, but he imprinted himself on my heart.
“Juliana, sweetheart.” My mom’s sweet voice calls through the door, but she doesn’t wait for an answer before she cracks it open. “Sugar, breakfast is ready. Your dad would like to talk to you, too.”
I roll my eyes, but my mom has turned around without saying much more to me. It’s an odd dynamic. My dad rules the house with an iron fist, and my mother follows his lead and never questions him.
And I wonder why submission is my thing? I knew it was for me well over three years ago when my sexual appetite reached a boiling point, and I knew that I wanted something special in life. Maybe seeing the submissive way of women in my church is engrained in me, though I knew missionary sex was not. Doing research one night after I first saw Maddox's picture and the club, I came across an informative documentary. I understood then that I was submissive. Knowing Dungeon Elite was the only club I’d try, I lucked out, realizing they matched Doms and subs. But I was different than the women in my church. I wanted to choose how to live my life and do it with a man I’d fall so in love with, following him would never be an issue.
I found the Dom I wanted. But it had been three months, and his resolve has been steadfast. He didn’t want me, or it’s what he told himself, but his actions gave me mixed signals. My eyes continue to search my face as a tear falls, and my dad yells for me from the kitchen downstairs.
“Juliana Atkins, I’m waiting.” I’m at my door, turning the handle, as my phone rings.
“Hello,” I whisper. I would have never picked the call up, but I recognized it as the club’s phone number.
“Jewel, this is Master Jay from Dungeon Elite. Can you talk?”
I can’t, not really, not when my father’s voice carries even louder.
“I have a minute, Master Jay. I can call you back, though,” I offer, disappointed it’s not Maddox. It’s been two weeks since I snuck in his office and taunted him, unlike the excellent sub I want to be, only for him.
“Okay, here goes. I have a Dom who wants to sit down with you. He’s new but with great references. I understand where your allegiance lies, but I think this new Dom may be a good match. He’d like to meet you at one p.m. today. Are you free?”
Master Jay basically says Maddox is a pipe dream, and I better get him out of my system to move on.
“Yes, Master Jay,” I whisper. “What would he like me to wear?” And Jay is right; Maddox is never going to be an option for me.
All Doms have a vision of how they want to see their girls, especially someone new.
Jay knows my situation and my controlling father. “Can you do sexy but casual at the same time?” he asks.
“Jeans, heels, and a tight top?” I need specifics because it’s what I’ve learned in my three months immersed in the club.
“Perfect, but one word of advice, I’d pull your hair up.” I wince because that’s Maddox’s vice, too. He loves a naked neck. With that, we say our goodbyes, and I hurry downstairs before my father strains his vocal cords.
I’ve only had one pancake. I’m not hungry, not with my father’s reaction to me concerning Johnny’s courting request from last night, which is just an easy way of saying I’m his without any fringe benefits. No handholding, no kissing, no roving, and certainly no sex. We’d basically marry without any sexual appeal on my end.
My father would have a cardiac arrest if he knew I lost my virginity to an older man and one with similar kinks as myself. “You need to eat more, honey,” my mom begins, dropping another pancake and more bacon on my plate. When my father clears his throat, I know this is the beginning of a long chat, one that starts out with how disappointed he is in me.
“Juliana, now that you have declined Johnny’s offer, with his intention of marrying you, what are you planning on doing?”
I’m wrong. We are skipping straight to the consequences of going against his plans for me.
“Well, funny you ask, Dad. It’s just August, and school hasn’t started yet. I thought I’d drive on down to the community college and apply for the fall semester. Maybe try again for the scholarship I was too late in accepting last year.” What I want to say is it’s all your fault. I missed out on the full ride, but I know well enough to tame my tongue.
“Juliana, you know how I feel about that.”
“But, Daddy, I want to work. I want to support myself and then date someone I find as an equal in my life.” I may be a submissive, but I want to be a submissive and someone’s partner, too.
“Well, work is certainly something you are going to do until you get your head in the right gear. Mr. Hallet has an opening at the dairy farm about thirty minutes from here. He’s been graceful enough to take you on until you come to your senses. You start today at three p.m.”
“What?” I stand, pushing back my chair with so much force, it falls down.
“You want to live your own life but still have a roof over your head, then I would do what I say, Juliana.”
My eyebrows knit together, and my stare falls on him. “You’d kick me out if I wanted to better myself by going to school?”
He pushes to his feet, his face moving mighty close to mine. “If that is what it takes to get you to understand. I know what’s best for you.” He crosses the small eat-in kitchen, stopping at our screen door. “And if you know what’s best for you, Juliana, you’ll be at the farm today, or you can come back and move out.”
He rotates his body, crossing the living room and taking the steps two at a time. Then the door to his bedroom slams right above me in the kitchen. I grab the keys to the old beat-up truck he allows me to use. He’d never let me take this if I moved out. I sulk out of the house, my mom crying from the screen door as I peel out of the driveway. I’m beat, and we all know it.
Tori is at the front of her long driveway when I pull up close to her mailbox. She has a bag of clothes I’ve asked her to borrow. Her parents are a part of the church, but they are mild in their approach to parenting when it comes to Tori, compared to the warden who rules my life. Her mother once said it was like giving her more choices, each year, that they could help her with, so one day she’d trust herself in her own decisions. It makes sense, and unlike me, Tori has the support of her parents when she leaves for college next week.
“I heard that the whole courting/marriage proposal thing didn’t go as planned.” I cut my gaze to the front porch, a hundred yards away, and her mother is waving at me. “My parents are so mad. If you need a place to stay, they’ll take you in.”
“Really?” I ask.
“Yeah, they know they’d need to leave the church, and it would be sad. Your dad would never let them stay, but my parents know what they’re doing to you is wrong.”