Page 87 of Deviant Obsession

Heat creeps up my neck at her implication, but her easy acceptance of her own supposed sins makes something loosen in my chest. She reaches out to pat my arm, her touch brief but grounding.

"The church will always be there if you need it," she says. "But there was a reason you left in the first place, wasn't there?"

I nod slowly, remembering the suffocation of rules and judgment. The constant pressure to conform, to deny everynatural impulse. To be the perfect daughter, the perfect Christian, the perfecteverything.

"Then trust that reason," she continues. "Trust yourself. The good Lord gave us instincts for a purpose, dear. Sometimes the path He wants for us looks different than what others might expect."

"I just feel so lost sometimes," I confess, surprising myself with my raw honesty to this total stranger. "When I left home, left the church... I thought I knew exactly who I wanted to be."

"And now?"

"Now I'm discovering things about myself that would horrify my parents. That sometimes horrify me." I twist my hands in my sleeves, studying my cuffs intently just to break eye contact for a moment. "I've met people who...who understand parts of me I never thought anyone could accept."

When I look up again, she’s nodding slowly, watching me like she can see everything I’ve done play out like a movie behind my eyes. "You know, when I was young, I fell in love with a divorced man. Back then, that was practically a mortal sin." Her smile turns wistful. "My pastor told me I was headed straight for damnation."

"What did you do?"

"Married him anyway. Best decision I ever made." She pats my arm again. "The thing about morality, dear, is that it's not as black and white as some would have us believe. What matters is being true to yourself while trying not to harm others."

"But what if being true to yourself means wanting things that society says are wrong? Things that feel...shocking to most people?"

"Shocking is relative." She chuckles. "What shocked people in my day wouldn't raise an eyebrow now. And what shocks them now...Well, between consenting adults, who are we to judge?"

She frowns at the looming doors across the street, as if asking the same question of those who often step inside. Those who know a thing or two about judging.

"The trick is finding your own moral compass," she continues. "Not letting others dictate it for you. Ask yourself—are you hurting anyone? Are you being honest with yourself and others? Are you treating people with respect?"

"I try to," I whisper. "But I've made a mess of things lately. Hurt some people I love."

She squeezes my hand. "That's part of growing up, honey. We all make messes. The important thing is learning from them, not running from them. If they love you, they’ll forgive you."

The optimism in her wisdom feels like cool aloe on a burn.

“Or,” she pipes up again. “They won’t. In that case, fuck ‘em. You’ll find someone else to love.”

This time the laughter that bubbles up from my throat is genuine and unashamed. I find myself hoping I can be half as brazen when I’m in my final years of life. “Thank you,” I giggle. “You have no idea how much I needed that.”

“Any time, dear. Now, go get some sleep. You look like shit.”

She throws up a peace sign and heads straight past me, leaving me gaping after her, feet still rooted to the sidewalk.

I don’t know how long I stand there before I finally start the slow walk back home. What I do know is that I don’t glance back at the church once. I think over everything the strange woman said, finally letting myself examine the guilt that's been eating at me for what it is.

It's not about the sex. Not really. It’s not even about the kink, though that's what my parents would focus on if they knew.

No, what's leeching poison into my veins is the betrayal. The lies. I couldn’t be honest with Dean and Ethan after what happened with the professor. What Ichoseto do with him. Because it was my choice, and in that moment, I knew exactlywhat I wanted. But afterwards, I should have told them what I’d done, told them why I did it, and that's what makes me feel dirty. Not the desire, not the submission, but the deception.

I remember the pure joy I felt the first time I let myself fully submit, the freedom in finally embracing my nature instead of burying it. The way Dean and Ethan's dominance made me feel safe instead of trapped. How Professor Shaw's control excited me instead of suffocating me.

I'm proud of that girl who dared to explore her desires. Who refused to let shame dictate her choices. She deserves better than to go running back to a life of repression just because things got complicated.

The only question now is whether or not I’m brave enough to go back and ask them to forgive me. To accept me for all my jagged edges in a way that no one else ever has.

Chapter 31

Professor Shaw

The lecture hallempties with the usual cacophony of shuffling papers and murmured conversations, but my attention remains fixed on the lone figure still gathering her belongings. Rhea's movements are slow, as if each textbook requires careful consideration before being tucked away. It strikes me that she may be hoping for a moment alone with me just as much as I’ve been planning to seek one with her.

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