His mother patted Jeanie’s hand on the bench next to him. “It’s not the end of the world if you attend church alone.”
“You’re right, it’s not, but it’s always good to have someone keeping tabs on you, helping you to stay motivated. I think it’s wonderful you do that for your son. It shows how much you care.” Jeanie swallowed and her eyes glistened. “My parents never cared about anything but themselves, so it wasn’t until I found Pono’s family that I understood families didn’t have to be that way. It’s obvious you love your son very much, and he loves you. I think it’s one of the most touching things I’ve ever seen or heard about, and I only just met you.” Jeanie nodded. “By the way, I always wished I could pull off a hat as well. You do it with style, Mrs. Pierce.”
His mother gaped, plucked her hat off her head and put it on Jeanie’s.
Mark’s legs about gave out on him. He had to sit his ass down so he could take this all in. His mother—the one that disapproved of pretty much everything—was smiling and sharing something of hers with Jeanie.
“You have plenty of style, and with fabulous cheekbones like yours—you make this hat look much better than I ever could. I insist you wear it throughout the service. It’ll help you get used to the feel of it and gain confidence as a hat-wearing woman.” His mother nodded in approval, her smile still affixed in place.
“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to deny you the privilege of—”
“The service is about to start,” his mother cut her off. “Mark”—she leaned forward so she could see him, and he did the same—"hold this little girl’s hand to keep her in place, and to keep her from turning coward. She won’t be removing this stunning hat off her beautiful head.” His mother gripped Jeanie’s other hand.
Jeanie beamed at his mom and squeezed her hand, then Mark’s in turn.
There his girl sat—tucked between them, bound by the hand, hat on head and in the second row for all to see.
“My girl,” he whispered in her ear.
Jeanie simply hummed and wore a content smile as she sighed into her seat.
Family.
She was already a part of his, just like his mother.
He’d do anything for both of these women to keep them happy.
Anything at all, as long as it meant he could keep being himself.
And right now, they both seemed happy with who he was.
This. Was. Heaven.
* * *
Mark woke up sweating. Jeanie was on top of him, and somehow he knew—she’d been that way all night long while they slept.
His mother wore her out.
Jeanie did get an expensive, dark blue suede fedora out of it. Odd how the navy applique flowers around the base of the hat matched the flowers on Jeanie’s dress. It was like it was meant to be.
But that wasn’t enough to keep her from almost tanking on him once they were home.
He knew the feeling. Being on his best behavior around his mother for hours was exhausting.
So, Jeanie was a little clingy after. No complaint here, other than he was thirsty as hell because of it.
He rolled her off him very gently, and as he exited the room to go get a drink, he decided to move her heels out of his way. They had been dropped off her feet in the doorway when he crushed her to the door and fucked her before she could remove the hat.
He picked up the shoes, smiling at the memory and set them next to her jeans in the closet on the floor. For some reason, she hadn’t thrown those pants in the laundry. He picked up the pants to hang them up and a note fell out of her pocket.
He picked it up, unfolded it and read all sorts of demeaning words she’d written about herself. It made his heart clench, and pangs of sadness ripped through him.
He read it twice and growled. Why had she written this?
He crumpled up the note and leaned against the door frame, running one hand over his face.
Shit. She beat herself up so much, it was heartbreaking.
Surely, she didn’t feel this way anymore after her triumphant slaying of his dragon-mom?
When had she gone off like this, and why?
Yesterday?
After he’d told Pono’s parents they were a couple a few days ago?
He approached her, sleeping on the bed and took a seat at the bottom right edge of the mattress.
She was so peaceful and beautiful, lying there in his bed naked.
He took his hand that now was misted with the sweat of his brow and ran it down her leg closest to him.
She stirred.
In the next moment, an idea hit him.
“Up, up, up,” he said, jostling her leg.
“Whaaaa . . . ?” She rolled over and looked at him through a half-lidded eye.
“We’re going to the beach for breakfast,” he said.
“Why?” Her eyes squinted into suspicious slits before she rubbed them.
“Why not? I like the idea of watching the sun rise behind my girl while we eat.”
“Are you trying to say the sun rises and sets with my naked ass?” She coughed out a laugh.
“No, it’s my ass.”
“You know, when we were at church yesterday, I was thinking about how a Dom/sub relationship isn’t too different from what God asks of us in his commandments. He tells us to worship him and no one else. And he says repeatedly in the Bible he’s a jealous God.” She paused and then her face lit up. “In return, he keeps protecting us, guiding us and giving us all that we need to survive. A Dom asks and does the same. All I have to do is worship you.”
“You’re very insightful at the ass-crack of dawn.”
She covered her head. “And not all of God’s children play by his rules.” She groaned. “I’m sleeping in.” She pulled the blankets up over her face.
“No, you’re not. You’re coming with me, my little worshiper.” He yanked the covers off her head.
She glared but chuckled when he tickled the bottom of her right foot and did as he said.
Her feet went to the floor and she stood. He followed, then jammed the note into his fist and said, “You have fifteen minutes. I’m gonna get our breakfast ready to go, and then we’re leaving.”
He went back into the closet and got dressed, then shoved the note in his pocket.
When he came back out, she stretched and was going about getting ready.
Within no time at all, he’d secured their breakfast for the trip.
When he went to get her, she was already standing by the front door, ready to go.
“Breathtaking,” he said.
“I know you’re not talking about me.” She chuckled like he was out of his mind.
“Absolutely, it’s you.” He opened the door and guided her out.
He took care of everything and allowed her to get her bearings.
He was already aware she didn’t normally keep these kinds of early morning hours until she started staying with him, but he did. This was his regular time to be up, getting things done, and he wanted her to see what she was missing—along with the sunshine she enjoyed streaming in through the church windows yesterday.
Once they got to the beach, he helped her out, had her pick a spot for their meal and before he let her sit down on the blanket he brought along, he pulled the note out.
“I found this,” he said.
She frowned. “Oh no . . .”
He gave her a penetrating gaze. “You wanna talk about it?”
“No, not really, Sir.”
“Most women find talking about these kind of self-deprecating feelings helps them.”
“And most women are not dealing with grief over a spouse passing away when they are only twenty-seven,” she threw right back.
“You realize I’ll have to punish you for talking back like that, and for hiding these feelings from me? I’m not bothered you’re struggling with them. I’m bothered you didn’t tell me and seek me out for my help. Now . . . Tell me why you’re being punished.” He waited, staring into her g
orgeous, luminous eyes.
“If you want to punish me, okay, I’ll take it, but you’re not spanking me on the beach,” she said, sucking in a tight, guarded breath.
“No. You’ve already had one of those, and I don’t wanna share your sweet ass with anyone else’s eyes.”
She glanced at the paper. “Right—’cause the sun rises on your ass, not mine.”
“Is there a reason you’re upset about this?”
“I didn’t mean for you to see that. Sometimes when I feel lost, like I did the other day, it helps to get all that shit out of my head. It helps me stop fixating on all the things I do wrong. At least for a little while. So, I wrote that before I met your mother at church the other day. I wanted it to stop circulating in my head so I could concentrate better.”
“I understand it’s helpful to write it down, but these kinds of emotions I need to know about. I expect you to share them. So, I repeat—why are you being punished?”
She groaned. “I kept it to myself and didn’t ask for help when I was feeling depressed.” She stared down the beach, past him.
“I’ll give you to the count of ten, and then your eyes better be on me, or I’ll show you how creative I can be with punishments,” he said.
She paled a little, crossing her arms over her chest. “I uh . . . God, Mark.” She bit her lip and dropped her head. “I didn’t want to share all that garbage with you I had in my head. No one wants to hear sad sack shit like that.” She ground out a sigh, her shoulders rolled forward and she bent her head to the left.
“I do. I want to know everything. From now on, you share this ‘sad sack shit’ as you’ve put it, because I’m looking out for you.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, you remember that when you’re dealing with the discomfort, which is nothing compared to how I felt when I read this horrendous note.” He crumpled the paper back up like he’d done after originally reading the damned thing. He pulled her toward him by her jean’s belt loop and then spoke softly. “You’re gonna wear this shame since you seem to enjoy letting it scrape up your insides, rather than give it to me to deal with. You talked about the parallel between a Dom and God’s requirement for worship? Well, Christ asks us to give him his burdens. Matthew 11:28 says ‘Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.’ He expects us to give our cares and burdens over to him. I want the same from you, Jeanie, otherwise I don’t know what you need help with, and this”—he put the note right in her face, then dropped his hand—“is a big deal. Let’s match how you feel on the inside with the outside and see if it frees you, shall we?”
In the next instant, he had the paper shoved down her jeans, nestled between her pussy and her underwear. “Ahhh!” she squealed at the sensation of it once his hand was out of the way.
“Let’s take a walk.” He took her hand.
“But what about breakfast?” she squeaked.
“It’ll be here when we get back. You need to talk about this, and I’m ready to listen.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and propelled her forward with a slight push.
“Why did you think I wouldn’t want to know this?” he began, his steps slow to give her time to adjust to the feel of the scratchy paper on her most delicate tissues.
“Why would you? Like I said, it’s a bunch of depressing feminine crap.” She squinted in the sunlight for a moment.
He smacked her pubis with his free hand, the paper making a fantastic rippling sound. “I think you’re forgetting who’s in charge here.” He walked with a quicker pace so she could really feel the movement of it. “There’s such a thing as sub drop. Ever heard of it?”
“No.”
“It’s not fun. It’s where after intense play sessions, a sub later experiences out of control emotions, varying from depression, a feeling of loneliness, or unworthiness. Some of them cry a lot at the slightest provocation, and others become lethargic and have a hard time focusing or functioning even. The only way I can help you avoid going through that is for you to be open and honest with me. It’s not a sign of weakness—before you start going down that path—it’s a sign of trust and understanding for you to share these things with me.” He tugged on her arm to get her to move a little faster. The paper rustled in her panties with each step. “So, tell me—why am I punishing you like this right now? I wanna hear it again.”
“Because you care, Sir. And because you want me to realize I was pissing all over what you care about most—me.”
“Exactly. For the rest of the day, you are to refer to yourself in third person. You may use, ‘this girl,’ or ‘your girl,’ but I don’t want you to use ‘me’ or ‘I.’ It’ll help reinforce you are my responsibility—my girl. You’re under my charge and authority, and I don’t take that lightly.” He stopped walking, turned to her and smiled, then kissed her with a soft, open mouth so she would know he loved her no matter what, and that he thought her note was completely wrong in regard to her.
“You are everything I want, and you do belong with me. There’s nothing stupid about you,” he said, referring to her message. He pulled the note out of her pants, flattened it out, licked it and stuck it to his forehead so the words were facing out. “Read it to me, and I want you to listen to how ridiculous these lies are you told yourself.”
Her voice shook, but she read it aloud—“You are stupid, Jeanie.” She sighed. “So fucking thick. No matter how many times your friends and Mark—people that clearly care about you!—tell you you’re holding yourself back to your own detriment, you don’t listen.” She inched closer to him, her voice softening and filling with emotions. “Why? What the hell is your problem? His mother isn’t going to like you. You don’t belong. You’re not good enough. Are you afraid you might be so damn happy, you’ll die from it? And so what if you did? Maybe you deserve it after what you did to Kapono. Mark deserves a real submissive woman, not someone pretending. Mark deserves a real woman. Period.” She said the last few lines in a rush.
He nodded. “There are two more lines, aren’t there?”
She closed her eyes and said it without looking, “Tell him this. Stop pretending to be a good person, and tell him!”
“Now you know. You told yourself I needed to know. That was the only part of that note that was right.”
When she opened her eyes, they sparkled with life. “This girl’s sorry, Sir. What can she do to make it up to you?”
He pulled the note off his forehead. “Where do you think this note belongs?”
“In the ocean?” She pleaded with him in her eyes like she was hopeful she got this part correct.
“I think that’s a good idea. Let it wash away from you. Think of it as a type of baptism—a renewal of sorts, because now you’re a different girl, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Sir. Th-this girl . . .” she swallowed “. . . knows she’s yours. She won’t mess up like this again.” She fumbled with her words a little, but her voice was growing in confidence.
“That’s right. Good girl.” He nodded. “You’ll write something else so this doesn’t happen again—a journal. Daily, you’ll write in it. I don’t care how much you write, but you will tell me exactly how you feel. We’ll read it every Sunday before we attend church with my mother.” He pointed at the ocean. “Now . . . I’ll let you do it.” He handed her the note, and then he went with her down to the shoreline.
She rolled up her pant legs, then stepped out into the waves, and instead of just dropping it in like he’d expected, she dunked it in the water, then wrung it out, turned it into a tight ball, and then flung it out as far as she could get it.
Admittedly, it wasn’t very far, but his heart was bouncing around in his chest.
Everything she did was spectacular when she was being honest with herself.
“I love you. Tell me you feel better from doing that than you did writing that note to yourself.” He walked up to her and looped his hands around her lower back.
“This girl feels a ton better. Than
k you, Sir.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiled—wide and free. “Now, tell me what I really want to hear so we can eat and then get home. I’ve gotta get to work.”
“This girl loves you, and you’re the best Dom ever.”
His heart pounded and shoved all the blood in his body into his groin.
Making love on the beach . . . Maybe there was time for that after breakfast?
Chapter 16
Jeanie was so high off Mark it was hard to walk straight.
And today he was being extra sweet.
He surprised her when she woke up with a bouquet of flowers from the Finaus’ garden.
How on earth could she breathe when she was this choked up?
She looked at him, and her eyes teared up when he wore that soft, adoring expression on his face.
“Okay, so you’ll pack us up today, and we’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning,” he said, keeping his eyes on her.
She nodded. “Yes, Sir. I’ll be happy to pack us both up.”
Oh, God, she was glad her punishment from a week ago was over. He had her do it for a few days since he liked it so much. She kept thinking about how difficult it was to refer to herself in the third person, and how it strangely turned her on beyond belief.
It would be too much today to deal with it. Her nerves were already fried.
“Are you ready to meet my parents?”
“You met my mother. It’s only fair.” He flashed her a grin.
“Yes, but your mom loves Jesus and thinks God’s good. My parents would probably burn the America flag at the pearly gates while smoking weed if they could. And that would only be after they said, ‘Jeanie who? We don’t know anyone by that name.’”
He cupped her cheeks. “It’s going to be fine. Breathe deep. I’ll text and call you a ton today to make sure you’re doing okay, and then I’ll distract you tonight. So take a nap. I want you alert when I’m fucking your brain into sedation.”
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