Chapter 2

Erik sat in his rocking chair on the porch again the next day, surveying his kingdom. The clearing in front of his house was filled with gravel to keep the worst of the weed out. Apart from a dirt road that led out of the clearing, five feet high grass surrounded the open area, while crooked trees grew behind the house, close to the swamp. It was a hot day again; 102 degrees in the shade, and the humidity was brutal. Several clouds lazily drifted by, but offered little relief from the sun.

A half-collapsed barn to the left served as a workshop. Erik had enjoyed tinkering with broken machinery as a child. These days, he charged people money for repairing their broken down equipment, but business had been slow the last couple of years.

I can’t even remember the last time anybody bothered coming all the way out here to get something repaired. These days people either throw it away and buy something new, or simply don’t bother fixing it at all.

There was a pile of junk to the left of the barn. It consisted out of old machines of which some had broken down over twenty years ago while more recent examples were only two years old.

I really should get back into fixing all that junk. It’s worth a good deal of money if I can get all of it to work again. At the very least, I could take apart what I can’t fix and sell what I can for spare parts and the rest as scrap.

His rusty, dented pickup truck stood in front of his house. Whenever Erik fired the engine up, it panted and wheezed as if it were Atlas, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Ugh, that car is another thing I should really look at. There’s just too much crap I have to do.

His grandfather clock chimed five times. It’s already five, where the hell is that girl? She was supposed to be home an hour ago. I thought I had made myself clear yesterday; while she’s under my roof, she’ll abide by my rules. It looks like I’ll have to step things up. No matter, she’ll be in for a surprise when she reads the contract I wrote. Damned typewriter, it wasn’t easy to work with that ancient piece of crap, but at least it was easier than working with a computer. The only thing I understand from those infernal abominations is that they have an on and an off switch, much like women depending on your choice of words.

Finally, at five-thirty, one-and-a-half hour later than agreed, Erik heard Jessica coming home. The man had just finished his fifth beer, and he was about to open a sixth, but decided against it and put it down again.

I’ll save this golden boy for when we’re done.

Erik got out of his rocking chair, and walked on unsteady feet to Jessica.

“Come here, girl, we’ve got some talkin’ to do,” Erik said, trying hard to keep the slur out of his voice.

“No way, you’re drunk.”

“Nah, it’s not that bad. I only had a couple of beers to kill the time while I waited for your sorry ass to get home.”

“Only a couple? You smell awful, Dad,” Jessica said, as she wrinkled her nose.

“Look, Missy, my beer isn’t the issue here. You being late again is, but don’t worry, I’m not mad.”

“You’re not? But I’m over an hour late! You went insane yesterday when I was just thirty minutes late.”

“Yup, you’re right, but I’ve done some thinking. You were right yesterday.”

“I was? Wait, what about?”

“About treating you like a kid. You’re no longer a child,” Erik said, as he pointed with an unsteady finger at her, “You’ve got tits now, which mean that you’re a young lady, almost an adult. I think it’s about time I started treating you as one too.”

“Geez, that’s a real poetic way to put it, Dad. Wait, what—, I mean, you will? What the hell is going on here?!”

“You see, I wrote a contract with several rules that you must obey and I’m giving you two options. One; you can read the rules, sign the contract, get treated as an adult, and I’ll throw in an extra fifty bucks each week as well, or two; things stay the same, I keep my money, and I’ll keep treating you like a kid.”

“Fifty bucks? Every week? Holy crap!” Jessica gasped, her eyes grew so large that they nearly popped out of her head.

Her father had never given her such an amount of money for no good reason before. Not only that, he had never even given her an allowance unlike all of the other kids at school received. Most of Jessica’s clothes consisted out of second-hand clothes from Goodwill and stuff that she got from friends. It was rare for her to buy anything new, but receiving fifty dollars every week would change all of that.

The teenager crossed her arms and glared at him. “What’s the catch?”

“You don’t get those fifty dollars anymore if you go back on our deal and cancel the contract. You don’t have to pay back any money that you already received, though. Not getting an allowance anymore is the only catch.”

“Really? And you’re not mad?”

“Nope, not one bit.”

“What do you want me to do then?”

The contract lies on the table inside. Go on and have a look, I’ll be waiting here until you’re done.” Erik turned around and went back to his chair, settling in the creaking wooden rocker with a sigh.

Jessica seemed doubtful, of all the possible reactions he could have had, this was probably the last thing she had expected. She went inside any way. Erik heard her pull up a chair and pick up the contract.

Writing that contract was a real trip down memory lane. I was twenty-one when I met Kimberley, who was twenty at the time, in one of the BDSM clubs in downtown Phoenix. She had been looking for a good Dom for several months already, but without much luck. I bought her a drink, we talked, and things hit off big time from there. We had a trial session at that club the same night. My god, what a woman, I fell in love with her that evening. She didn’t want to commit to a single Dom at the time, though, and unfortunately, she also hung out with the wrong crowd.

Erik sat back in his chair and sighed. It wasn’t until I came to her rescue several weeks later and beat one of those abusive shits to pulp that she realized she’d be better off with just me. That was also when I wrote a contract to become her Master. She turned out to be a true sub who had longed for a man to take charge in her life and gave her rules to follow. In the end, I got myself the perfect sub and one hell of a wife. Damn, I really miss that woman. Jessica certainly inherited several of her mother’s traits and she’ll end up in the gutter if she doesn’t get her act together. Having such a contract worked well with Kimberley, let’s hope that it’ll also work for Jessica.

After about five minutes, Erik yelled, “Everything okay in there, Jess?”

The girl had been quiet the whole time, nervously shifting her chair around.

“Well, eh-, I have some more questions first before I sign anything,” Jessica responded.

“Alright, come here and let me hear it.”

Jessica came out again, holding the contract in her hand.

“What do you want to know?” Erik asked, when she stood next to him.

“Do you really want me to be your submissive, Dad? What does being your submissive mean anyway?” Jessica asked, as she wrinkled her nose. “It sounds gross and degrading. Why can’t I be your servant or lackey?”

“If you’re my submissive, then it means that you allow me to control you. Calling you my servant or lackey wouldn’t really do all the rules justice, would it? You’re also not my slave. After all, slaves aren’t paid to behave, they just get punished when they misbehave. Being my submissive, or sub for short, means that you agree to obey me and follow my orders. The term matches best with these rules while also letting you know that I’m serious about them. Is that clear?”

“I guess so. Do these rules mean I can’t go out on dates anymore?”

“To be honest, I hadn’t even considered that,” Erik said, lost in thought for a moment until a smile appeared on his face. “You know what, I can’t really control what you do or don’t do anyway when you’re not here. However, one of those rules covers you not missing your curfew, which you shouldn’t do anyway.”

“I suppose so,” Jessica said, sounding doubtful.

“Keep in mind that you can now make fifty bucks a week for mostly doing what you should be doing anyway.”

“Alright, I made up my mind. Be right back,” Jessica grumbled, as she went back inside their home.

Erik heard her sign the paper and the pen drop on the table. She either wrote a big ‘Fuck you’ under it or her name. Shit, was it even a smart idea to suggest this? Maybe I should have put more thought into it first. I mean, what if I read her wrong yesterday. There’s no turning back now, though. Either she accepted my terms or she’ll tell me to go to hell.

“Bring me the contract when you’re done.”

It took Jessica a moment to respond, but then she pushed her chair back, picked up the paper and appeared in front of Erik again, who read the contract over one last time.

Hereby, I, Jessica Dumont, in full sanity of mind, declare that I will become my Father’s submissive until the day that either He releases me from my duties, I cancel this contract, or until I move out of His house.

I will obey the following rules:
- I will be polite to Him and pay Him proper respect.
- I will follow every order He gives quickly and without hesitation, no matter how outrageous it may appear to me.
- I will confirm every order He gives with ‘Yes, Sir’.
- I will not call Him names.
- I will not swear, even when He is not present.
- I will do the chores He assigns me without protest.
- I will not miss curfew.
- I will do my homework.
- I will do my best at school.
- I will not drink alcohol until the age of 21.
- I will not smoke cigarettes or marijuana.
- I will not use any other drugs either.
- I understand that He will punish me as He sees fit if I fail to follow any of these rules or obey his orders.

In return for obeying His rules, He will give me fifty dollars every week.

Signed,

Jessica Dumont

Her signature was on the dotted line at the bottom of the contract, just as Erik had hoped it would be.

“Atta girl. Now go do your homework and then cook us a meal.”

“Okay,” Jessica sighed, rolling her eyes.

Erik gave the girl a stern look and pointed at the third rule in the contract.

Jessica gulped. “Sorry, I mean, yes, Sir.”