Chapter Six
“What should I do, sir, if Roelf asks me to pose for him?”
“Depends on the day,” he answered.
We were sitting on his bed propped up by pillows, reading the Sunday edition of the NY Times. I had questions to ask him, rules to understand, but felt reluctant to open my mouth. This was all so new. Submission was new—although as natural as the rising moon. Surrender was new, and it gave me hope that I could finally relinquish a mind too crowded with worries to live peacefully. But how would we proceed from here? What did Jackson expect of me? What of my behavior, my dress, and all the tiny details of my life? How much freedom did I have? What graphic exhibitions of my obedience would he demand of me? I could see myself obsessing about these things for hours.
After an amazing we
