Yours Ch. 04

"Yes." she said. "Yes Sir."

I frowned. I didn't even know what to think about this. This should have made me happy, but it sounded like she was giving up. Giving up on the idea that I would ever make her my girlfriend, that I'd ever treat her as an equal. She was submitting to me once again, but it sounded like it was breaking her heart.

She pulled away, and lay down against me again.

"I know it's...ugh, it's pathetic, but it's how I feel." she said, equal parts sadness and self-loathing. "This doesn't have to be anything more than... whatever it is. I don't blame you for feeling like that. We've never talked about it, but we both know I more than deserve it. I can't expect you to forgive me."

This should have been music to my ears, but I couldn't handle any more of this, of her shame and self-hatred. I had no power to change how I felt about her, but I still wanted to help. For some stupid, nonsensical reason, I didn't want the woman I hated to hate herself too.

"It's not pathetic." I said.

She laughed disdainfully.

"No, it kinda is. I'm just telling a guy that I don't care if he loves me or not, and that I just want to keep having sex with him." she said, as if explaining it to a child, "I'm a slut."

The derision in her voice when she said the word "slut" surprised me.

"That's not real though. You only think that because of... you know, cultural stuff." I said.

"What?" she asked.

I frowned at my choice of words, and tried to martial my weary thoughts into something more coherent.

"Look... we live in a culture that tells women that love is the most important thing in the world. The idea is that men put up with romance in exchange for sex, and that women do the opposite." I said, "You, as a woman, are taught that actually wanting sex is wrong, and shameful, yet it's perfectly fine for me to want it because I'm a man."

"Well, yeah." she said dismissively, "That's the double standard."

I sighed and sat up, trying to delay my need for sleep. She moved with me until she was sitting across my lap. I pulled the blanket around us and settled in.

"Exactly." I said, "It's a double standard. The problem is that for some reason you still believe it."

She cocked her head at me, seeming genuinely curious.

"What do you mean?"

"You don't have to let other people tell you what to feel." I said, "If you recognise that the shame you're feeling is nothing more than the result of an illogical, bullshit rule, then you should be able to understand that the shame itself is illogical... and bullshit."

"It's not really that simple..." she said, frowning.

"But it is." I said, "We're all taught that what our society says is right or wrong is so God damned important, but the thing is that our society is almost always wrong about things like this."

"You're saying the basic morality of our society is just wrong?" she challenged.

"When it comes to women and sex, yes." I said. "Women used to be considered basically the property of their husbands. You couldn't even vote until like a hundred years ago for fuck's sake. Western culture doesn't know shit about what is or isn't good behaviour when it comes to women. It's all just patch-work bullshit made up of outdated moralities and sloppy adjustments to rapid cultural changes."

I shook my head, realising I was getting off topic.

"The point is, when it comes to sex, you and I basically grew up in two completely different countries." I said, "As a man, our culture taught me that sex is something I should look forward to, and have lots of when I'm an adult, whereas you where taught that it's something to be feared, something you have to avoid as much as you can or else be seen as a slut."

"But I am a slut." she said, angrily. "I come over here whenever I can knowing that you're going to fuck me. I'm a horny, disgusting slut."

Her words surprised me, and confused me. My views on sex, just like with most things I knew at that point, were based on what I'd read on the internet. The people I'd talked to, and the things I'd read there had really influenced my personal morality.

To me, the idea that sex between two consenting adults could be considered shameful in any way was as archaic as the idea that we should be waiting until marriage, or that a woman's place was at home with the kids while the man has to work. Just old, obviously outdated notions.

I'd never felt a single trace of guilt towards my activities Jessica. I mean, guilt about whether or not I was dominating her properly, or hurting her too much, yes. Guilt about keeping it from my sister, yes. Guilt about having to ignore Jessica's love for me because I didn't feel the same way... yeah.

But never about the actual sex.

Jessica seemed to have guilt over even having sex at all, or enjoying it.

It suddenly dawned on me that Jessica and I had incredibly different views about what we were doing. She was so repressed when it came to sex. This is something I already knew in a sense, but for some reason I'd never considered exactly how it might affect her.

"What I'm trying to say is that when I call you a slut, I don't necessarily mean it in a bad way." I said. "There's nothing wrong with liking sex. You don't have to be ashamed of it."

"I can't really help it." she said quietly.

"Well... try." I said uselessly. "You don't have to let other people's labels matter to you. Sex isn't something to be ashamed of. "

There was a thoughtful silence. I lay down again, carrying her with me. I found myself noticing how much I loved the feeling of her body against mine, her soft heat enveloping me.

"Culture..." she said thoughtfully. "I've never heard you talk like this before. About culture, and society. Are you interested in that kind of stuff?"

"Uh, I was for a while." I said, closing my eyes, glad we'd moved away from the heavier topics. "I used to read about it a lot."

"For school?" she asked.

"Nah, I was just interested in it."

"Not any more?" she asked.

"Well sometimes, but it's not what I've been reading recently."

"What have you been reading recently, then?" she asked.

I yawned loudly, and shifted to get more comfortable.

"Umm... well last night I was reading about Astrology." I said, "And about how horoscopes and stuff like that are usually just vague general statements that most people can relate to."

"Really?" she said.

"Yeah, they're called Barnum statements... like, people will read these sentences and claim that they're designed for them personally, when they're actually just generic descriptions of personality traits and vague events that everyone experiences to some extent. Called the Forer effect, I think."

I yawned again.

"From there I clicked on a link about... Cold Reading, which is a technique fake psychics use to-"

I suddenly opened my eyes, realising I was just rambling about random crap I'd read online. I shook my head slightly, fighting off the fog of sleep.

"Why are we talking about this?" I said, mostly to myself.

"That's really cool." she said, sounding excited, "So you just read about all this different stuff?"

"Um...pretty much." I answered.

"Cool." she said again, "You know, you're smarter than I thought."

The was a slight pause as we both thought about her last comment.

I suddenly felt her stiffen in fear, and she let out an odd squeak.

"I... I didn't mean-" she started.

"Relax." I interrupted. "I've known you long enough to know when you're being deliberately insulting."

"Sorry." she half whispered. "I just meant... you're so quiet... it's good to hear you actually talking about something you're interested in."

"Hm.", was all I responded with.

"Is that really how you think about things?" she asked thoughtfully.

"Is what how I think about things?" I asked.

"Like... like you don't care what anyone else thinks?"

Did I say that? I couldn't remember...

"Mostly." I answered, "I just try to focus on what I think about myself, what I know about myself. I don't need validation from anyone else, you know? Or... that's the idea, at least."

"Hm." she responded. "You're a lot smarter than I thought."

She said this with a such a thoughtful tone. For some reason I started to panic.

What was I doing? Telling her about my interests, my opinions, my fucking feelings? Jessica was not my girlfriend. Why was she even still here?

I was suddenly angry at myself for talking to her at all. I didn't have to share anything with her. She'd spent years hating me, who the fuck was she to suddenly start caring about me?

"Alright, it's time to go." I said.

"Right now?" she asked.

"Right now." I said, forcing my voice to be cold and uncaring.

"Ok." she sighed, although there was humour in her voice.

She sat up and paused for a few seconds before she leaned in for a kiss. I gripped her face hard, stopping her. She smiled. Why was she smiling? I lead her closer to me, bringing her lips so close to mine. She kept her eyes open, and didn't try to lean in any further. She just waited.

I thought about kissing her, her lips on mine, exploring each other's mouths in that intimate and pleasurable way.

"Go." I said, releasing her.

She smirked and leaned in to kiss me again, slowly, hesitantly.

I allowed her lips to softly brush mine, and then I slapped her face. She squeaked with surprise and pain.

"You don't kiss me." I said. I'd thought this rule was clear already. "If you want a kiss, you beg for it, understand?"

"Yes Sir." she said quickly, holding her cheek.

Why the fuck was she still smiling?

"Will you please kiss me, Sir?" she asked sweetly.

"No." I said sternly.

She nodded once, still with that stupid knowing smirk on her face, and then slid out my bed

She picked up her lingerie, and then paused. She turned with her mouth open, as if to say something. She seemed to reconsider, closing her mouth and shaking her head.

And then reconsidered again.

"Thank you, Sir." she said.

"No problem." I said turning away from her, once again unsure about what exactly she was thanking me for.

"Goodnight." she sang happily.

I didn't answer.

I waited until the door was closed before I let out the breath I'd been holding.

Something about all this was making me uncomfortable. The way she smiled at me, like she could see something I couldn't. And why was I blushing?

"Wow, you're a lot smarter than I thought!" I mocked aloud, mimicking her voice.

I scoffed angrily. I pulled my blanket around my shoulders and tried to fall asleep, willing all that fatigue that I'd barely been holding back to sweep me away. My last thoughts were of the future. The toys I'd bought, and how exactly I would use them.

My fantasies drifted into my dreams, and my head was filled with nothing but Jessica, all her different faces, all the ways I knew her.

Jessica the Valedictorian, the future Law Student.

Jessica the Good Daughter.

Jessica the Best Friend.

Jessica the Bitch.

Jessica the Slut.

My Jessica.

Mine.