Chapter Six — Alex
I enter the booth, my stomach twisted in knots. I haven’t put my hair up in a ponytail yet. I need to get used to this first, see how I feel.
“Hello, Lola,” the man on the other side says as soon as I sit down.
Yep, that’s definitely a southern drawl, I think to myself.
“Hello,” I say.
“You may address me as Father,” he says.
“Yes, Father,” I say. I have to hold back a laugh. He’s really getting into this.
Although, I do get the sense he’s probably old enough for the part. Judging by his voice, I feel like this man is maybe in his fifties, although it’s hard to say.
“Tell me, sweet child,” he says. “What have you done that’s weighing on your mind?”
“Well,” I say, pausing. “It’s a good question.”
“Don’t think too hard, sweetheart,” he says. “Just say the first thing that comes to mind.”
“I’ve been having dirty thoughts,” I blurt out. “Thinking about fucked-up things.”
He chuckles. “Well, first of all, language. You’ll have to do some additional penance for that. But please, elaborate. What do you mean? What kind of dirty thoughts?”
Now I’m actually kind of speaking freely.
“Well, I want things that are bad.”
“Bad in what way?” he asks.
“Dark. Twisted,” I say.
“Like what?” he presses.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I say.
“Now’s not the time to be shy,” he says. “You can trust me. This is all in confidence. You’ll never see me again.”
That’s true. Why does it feel so hard to say out loud, then? Still, I’m slightly emboldened by the darkness, by the anonymity.
“I want to be used by a man. Totally dominated, humiliated, pushed to my limits.”
“And what are those limits?”
“I don’t know,” I confess. “I’m not even sure if I have any. A few weeks ago, I gave one man a blowjob while the other one went down on me. In front of a different man. That’s fucked up, right?” I feel embarrassed just admitting it out loud.
“I object to your language,” the man says, “but no, I don’t agree. Did anybody get hurt? Was anybody non-consenting?”
“No,” I say.
“Then I don’t see the problem,” he says.
“You’re supposed to be the pastor here,” I say. “Aren’t you supposed to lecture me about sexual immorality or something?”
“Is that what you want?” he asks.
I shrug, although I’m not sure if he notices.
“Be honest,” he says. “What I do want, above all, is for you to be honest with me. That’s the entire point of this.”
“Fine,” I say.
“Fine what?”
“Yeah, I guess that is what I want.”
“You want me to lecture you, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Good girl,” he says. A shiver runs up my spine.
“Did you like that?” he asks.
“Like what?” I ask back.
“When I called you a good girl just now. Be honest with me, Lola,” he says. “Or I’ll have to punish you even harder for being dishonest with me.”
“Yes, Father,” I whisper.
“Good girl,” he says again, and I feel myself blush. I squirm, crossing my legs, and feel a familiar tingling between them.
“Thirty seconds!” I hear Callum’s voice boom.
“All right,” Father says. “Give me thirty seconds now to compose my thoughts. Close your eyes and reflect on your misdeeds, sweetheart.”
I close my eyes, my thoughts racing. What does this man have in mind for me? And what do I want? The thought of going over to this older man and submitting to whatever he wants is terrifying. But my entire body is buzzing at the thought of it.
It feels wrong to want something like this, but I can’t help it. It’s too much to sort through. I guess I’ll just see what he says and then decide.
“Time!” Callum yells.
“Open your eyes,” Father says. I open them.
“Alright,” he says. “So here are my thoughts. I think you’re struggling with shame. Shame at having difficulty accepting yourself, your desires, your impulses.”
“Have you ever heard of the concept of the shadow self?”
“It’s a Jungian concept,” I say.
“Smart girl,” he says.
“I know,” I blurt out, and then feel embarrassed.
“I like your confidence sweetheart,” he says. “At least you’re not struggling with self-esteem like a lot of girls your age.”
“Thanks,” I murmur.
“Anyway, I think you need to learn to accept yourself. And more importantly, accept what you want.”
“Okay…” I say. I don’t really know what he means by that.
“And so, my prescription for your penance young lady,” he says, pausing for half a second, “Will be for lying. Lying to yourself and others about what you really want. Not being fully owning up to your desires.”
He has a point, I think.
“And to pay that penance,” he continues, “I would like you to come over to my booth in a minute. I’m going to ask you about your darkest fantasy.
Without looking away, without closing your eyes, I want you to tell me every sordid little detail of that fantasy.
And while you do, I want you to touch yourself. ”
I pause, waiting for more. “That’s it?” I ask.
“That’s it,” he says.
“What are you going to do?” I ask.
“I’m going to listen and bear witness, young lady.”
“You’re not going to touch me?” I ask, feeling skeptical.
“No,” he says. “The point of your penance is teaching you to be honest with yourself. I want you to admit your dirtiest fantasies out loud. That’s it. So what do you say, sweetheart? Do you accept your punishment?”
I pause. Of all the punishments he could have prescribed, this was not what I was expecting. I think I was expecting him to ask me to go down on him, or maybe I thought he’d spank me or something. But this?
It almost seems like it’s more for me than for him. Which I appreciate, in a weird way.
Still, that doesn’t make accepting the punishment easy… because sharing these things is hard for me. Saying them out loud means admitting it, not only to myself, but to another person. It’s scary.
It’s also exciting, though. My body is buzzing. I can feel the answer in my bones.
I take a deep breath. I’ve got this.
“I accept,” I say.
“Good girl,” he says. “Now come join me.”