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I got the alert that I had become Grace’s accepted suitor Wednesday morning, while I was pretty much arms deep in grease as I worked on an old tractor’s carburetor. I glanced over at my phone when it lit up and chimed, and I could just make out the notification bubble.
NMA alert: New status message received.
Having read through the description of the courtship process the New Modesty had sent me, I had a pretty good idea what that meant—I had received the nod as an accepted suitor, as well as an approved one. I had to wait, though, to tap on the notification and read the actual message, thanks to the state of my hands.
I tried to put it out of my mind, so that I could finish fixing the carburetor, but I realized I had familiarized myself with the meaning of accepted too thoroughly. I knew it meant, if in fact the message did tell me that Jake and the New Modesty Authority had granted me that status, that I could fuck Grace tonight if I chose. The idea proved so distracting that I had to stop my work and wipe my fingertips more or less clean on a rag so that I could tap the alert.
Dear Mr. Perkins,
We’re pleased to inform you that your courtship of Miss Grace Franklin has advanced from the approval level to the acceptance level. According to the reports filed by you and by her foster parents, your leadership in the early days of your relationship with Grace has demonstrated both your worthiness as a suitor and her inclination to submit to your authority, notwithstanding the conflict she naturally still feels about her submission thanks to her limited experience thus far of traditional gender roles and sexual discipline. Congratulations!
You can find all the details of your rights and responsibilities with regard to Grace in the New Modesty app, in the ‘Guidelines for Suitors’ section, but to summarize briefly, as an accepted suitor you now have the right—and the responsibility—to discipline and to train her as you see fit, including with sexual intercourse of whatever kind you choose: vaginal, oral, or anal. We recommend that you make your wishes in this area clear as soon as possible, so as to avoid any confusion.
Congratulations again on achieving this important step forward for you, for Grace, and for your community as a whole. We hope it leads to further happiness down the road, as your love grows and matures, and ideally becomes the joyful beginning of a new family.
With best regards,
Mrs. Gerald Brown
Administrator
New Modesty Authority
I closed the app and put the phone down, then absently started to tinker with the carburetor again, though my mind had gone somewhere else. Affection for Grace welled up in my chest, even more strongly than it had been doing on a regular basis since Friday night after I had kissed her goodnight outside the Carpenters’ door and sent her back inside.
I had had a surge of it—what I had already understood as the sort of growing affection that people called falling in love—the moment the door had closed behind Grace’s sweet, petite body. Another had swept over me on the drive home. Then every day since, three or four times during the day and once or twice in bed before falling asleep, so strong that I had had to jerk off to the memory of the adorable, lewd way she had moved on my hand when I had taught her her naughty lesson.
Now, though, as I thought about our date tonight—my plan to surprise her with a trip to Lion’s Mane in Heathville—the prospect of sex, of claiming Grace’s gorgeous body with my hard cock in every possible way, definitely played an important role. A little to my surprise, though, I felt much more. I wanted to help her, to take care of her, to do everything I could to make certain she could feel comfortable with herself, with Grasskiln, and above all with me.
Grace
I kind of suspected why Cal had asked to come pick me up at the early hour of 4:00. All day, after Shelly had told me when to expect my accepted suitor, my mind went between two opposite poles. For a few minutes, as I did my chores—folding the laundry, feeding the chickens, the easy ones I had already gotten very used to—I would feel grateful that he wanted to please me with a trip to the restaurant despite the inconvenience and expense. Then I would have to clean the bathroom, or rake some manure, and my brain would travel in the other direction: resentment at a different possible interpretation the defiant part of me had come up with—that Cal had just decided to go through the motions, maybe even at the urging of the New Modesty Authority. He, or someone else, clearly felt it was only right that a man take the virgin he planned to fuck out for a nice meal before he claimed her as his property.
Worse, yet another different part of me, the part I kept pushing down inside my belly, fluttered wildly at the idea of Cal claiming me that way. I would feel my brow crease, and I would shift my weight from foot to foot, trying to assuage the mortifying need between my thighs and at the same time to deny it existed at all. I felt strange down there, too, which didn’t help matters; the idea that I had bared my most private places to enhance my suitor’s enjoyment of me brought all the conflict back into my heart and my body, twice as strongly.
By the time Cal’s truck pulled into the driveway, though, I had settled on gratitude, and so when he stepped out of the truck I couldn’t help running from the porch to meet him.
“You figured it out, didn’t you?” he asked, looking just the tiniest bit disappointed as he gave me a warm hug. He had even dressed up a little bit: he had on an Oxford shirt rather than a flannel, though I saw a little fraying around the collar and I wondered if it might even be a hand-me-down.
“Figured out what?” I asked, feeling my mouth crook up into an involuntary smile. Then I frowned a little, because I couldn’t figure out why it had been involuntary. But it had; for some reason, though I had thought about the happiness of this moment all day, I suddenly didn’t want to show it.
“Something wrong?” Cal asked, his own brow clouding a little.
It’s because he thinks he can… well, that he can fuck me whenever he wants, now that he’s ‘accepted.’ Such bullshit.
Not that he’d given any sign he thought about it that way.
“No,” I told him flatly, feeling my smile fade.
He looked at me as if he thought I might say something more—something reassuring, maybe. As if, I suddenly thought, he thinks he’s entitled to some kind of info dump on my state of mind, because he’s ‘accepted.’
“Okay,” he said, after a few moments, a smile returning to his own face, though it looked a little bit forced, I had to say. “Well, whether you figured it out or not, we’re headed to the Lion’s Mane in Heathville, so hop in. We’ve got an actual reservation.”
The way he said it almost made me laugh. It wasn’t like I’d gotten to go to a restaurant that took reservations more than once or twice in my life, but Cal had a way of almost, but not quite, making fun of himself that part of me found really endearing.
Another voice in my head, though, kept the laugh down and made me greet the news with a tight little smile that I—the defiant part of me anyway—hoped to look merely tolerant. I understood that something inside me had taken what felt like a very wrong turn, that my reactions to Cal didn’t represent how I actually felt about him, but it seemed impossible to change them or stop them before I’d spoken coldly, or my features had assumed an expression that hid my real pleasure.
“Sounds great,” I said, consciously pretending that I didn’t mean it. I saw confusion flit across Cal’s face, and then I saw something else, something that made my eyes widen and my heart rate speed way up: understanding. I had the uncomfortable feeling that Cal had figured out something about my attitude that I didn’t know myself.
