Revenge, Pt 12: The Aftercare
Introduction:
If you havent already, go and read the firsts parts. There will be more coming very soon, I have been convinced to carry on with it for a little while longer folks. There isnt anything particulaly sexy about this part, but its one of the most important pieces you will read if youre interested in the lifestyle.
I blinked a few times, laid out on her body, not entirely sure if Iâd been conscious this whole time. Iâd finally had my release, and it was like waking up from a trance. I slowly shifted back onto my knees and tried to get a grasp of my situation. The emotion had vanished as suddenly as it had come, leaving only cold, tired logic behind.
I was panting, I realised. Almost hyperventilating, in fact. My whole torso was shaking with every breath. I hadnât been this physically exhausted since⊠I couldnât even remember. Vague images of a particularly brutal gym class as a kid sprang to mind, although the details evaded me. I ran my fingers through my hair, realising that I was sweating too. I was drenched with my own sweat and barely able to breath.
It goes without saying that my cock was engulfed in a constant, dull ache, and was hanging limp and utterly lifeless.
I looked at Jessica. She was in a similar state to me, seeming completely exhausted, her hair a complete mess and her body covered in a light sheen of sweat.
âJessica.â I croaked.
I cleared my throat and reached out to her.
âJessica.â I said, louder.
I touched her shoulder and she turned towards me. She stared at me with glazed, unfocused eyes. I knew that look.
I sank forwards, letting myself collapse beside her. She pressed her head against my chest and inhaled shakily through her mouth, not saying a word.
She was in a trance of her own. Using only my cock Iâd made her submit to me, helped her find that state of mind that she craved, driving every worried thought and stress from her head and replacing it with pure physical sensation.
For a while we just lay there, breathing heavily and trying to recover. The air was thick with the smell of sex, and I found it oddly pleasing. The smell of her sweat, of her hair, of her womanhood. It reminded me of her in a very visceral way. I pressed my nose against her head and inhaled deeply. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her tight against me, gently running my fingers into her hair.
I felt myself drifting off when she suddenly let out a sob, and I realised she was coming down from her submissive high. She started to cry, and all I could think to do was hold her. I comforted her, after being the one to hurt her in the first place, the contrast of these actions still confusing me on some level.
âGood girl.â I whispered, kissing her head.
Her breathing slowly settled and I felt her relax completely against my body. I closed my eyes and just held her. Her breathing was laboured and sheâd still sob occasionally, but I knew sheâd be asleep soon. She always got tired after being dominated.
Using the last dregs of my conscious effort, I leaned over and set my alarm for one hour away, flicked off my lamp, and fell into a deep and restful sleep.
==
I blinked, and suddenly the harsh blare of my alarm was waking me an hour later.
I quickly reached over Jessica to shut it off, realising weâd drifted apart in our sleep, and now she had her back to me.
I lay back and closed my eyes, then forced myself to open them again, yawning loudly. My thoughts were slow and wandering, as if I was still dreaming. It was so tempting just to ignore everything and keep sleeping. I sighed and sat up, struggling back to full consciousness. Moving made me realise that my cock still had that strange, tired pain. I hoped I hadnât accidentally broken it, or something.
Jessica had woken up too, and had turned to face me.
âHey.â I said.
âHey.â she said quietly.
She was just watching me.
âAre you⊠alright?â I asked, rubbing my eyes.
She nodded, but her expression was still serious. She had turned towards me, but seemed to shrink away.
âCome here.â I said impulsively.
I reached out to her shoulder and guided her into my arms. Iâd forgotten for a second that Iâd accidentally managed to dominate her, losing control of myself in the process.
âDo you feel ok?â I asked, as she let her body rest against mine. âI was⊠pretty hard on you.â
âPretty hard on me.â she echoed, smiling.
We both laughed quietly at her immature pun.
âIâm fine.â she answered. âI mean, Iâm kind of thirsty⊠and my pussy feels like a train drove through it, but apart from thatâŠâ
I laughed again. Her smile faded into a look of awe.
âIâve never seen you like that.â she said quietly.
âIâve never felt like that.â I admitted. âThatâŠuh, that fourth oneâŠâ
I remembered the wild, animal ferocity Iâd attacked her with, just pinning her and using her body to abate my lust, the mind-numbing level of Dominance Iâd managed to reach.
âJesusâŠâ I swore quietly, amazed at how intense it had felt.
âYeah it was⊠pretty incredibleâŠâ she sighed, a wistful smile on her face.
I couldnât believe she was smiling. Thinking back, I realised how dangerous that had been. Iâd covered her mouth and pinned her down. If sheâd wanted to stop, she had no way of telling me. Would I even have noticed if sheâd tried to struggle? I doubted it. Iâd have to be more careful with that in future. Iâd never expected to come close to losing myself, but now that I knew it was a possibility, Iâd be ready for it.
I had to be able to control myself at all times. Despite how my complicated feelings for Jessica, I would never do something to her against her will. Even the most brutal and violent of our sessions had come with her consent, and they always would. Except for that one time with the beltâŠ
I remembered the first time I truly lost control with her and sighed, feeling the shame wash over me. I really had to get my shit together, this wouldnât work otherwise. I couldnât help but think Iâd gotten incredibly lucky. If sheâd been anyone else, some other woman, she may have wanted to stop but been unable to. She might have ended up a victim.
But not Jessica. Lucky for the both of us.
âIâm sorry for crying.â Jessica said, derailing my train of thought. âItâs stupid, it just feels kind of⊠overwhelming sometimes.â
Jesus. Iâm worried about almost raping her, and sheâs sorry that she cried about it?
âItâs alright.â I said lightly, stroking her hair.
She sighed with frustration.
âItâs not alright, itâs stupid.â she said, âIâm 18 years old and I canât even have sex without blubbering all over myself and⊠clinging to you like a child. Itâs pathetic and-â
âCalm down.â I interrupted sternly.
My sudden gravity startled her. She looked so vulnerable.
âLook, sex can be⊠emotional.â I explained gently, âEspecially sex like that. Afterwards, itâs understandable if you need to⊠release some of that emotion. And itâs⊠ok.â
I wasnât explaining this very well.
âItâs just⊠ok.â I repeated, my voice more firm, âGiven everything I do to you, I donât mind cuddling with you afterwards. Just cry if you need to, in future. Donât worry about it.â
âThanks.â she almost whispered.
She went quiet for a few seconds.
âI still canât believe you licked my pussy.â she said, as if sheâd just remembered it.
I laughed gently. She rested her head against my chest and I started to stroke her hair again. I felt the pull of sleep sapping away my concentration.
âHey⊠can we talk?â she asked.
âAbout what?â I sighed.
âA few things, actually.â she said nervously, âI thought about a lot of things while I was away⊠well, actually I thought about you a lot while I was awayâŠand I sort of⊠realised a few things.â
âLike that I might like to have my balls licked?â I asked, remembering what sheâd said before she tried it out.
She laughed lightly.
âYeah, that was one of the things.â she said, âBut there were a few things that I⊠I mean, itâs kind of hard to⊠to verbalize⊠and I guessâŠâ
âJust talk.â I said sternly. It was getting harder to resist sleep, and I didnât have a problem with listening to her, but I wouldnât sit and endure her dancing around it. âJust say what you want to say.â
âOk⊠well, one thing I realised is that I really like calling you âSirâ.â she said, âI know itâs weird, but it just feels right, you know? Like, thatâs how I think of you now. When Iâm thinking about you, itâs like⊠âI wonder what Sirâs doing right now.â or, âI wonder if Sir would like to see me in this dress.â It just feels rightâŠâ
I didnât respond to this, although it was good to hear.
âAnd I like how you smell.â she said, kissing my chest lightly, âYou smell like⊠well, like sweat, but it reminds me of sex. You smell like fucking. Is that weird?â
That made me smile, because I remembered that Iâd been thinking much the same thing about her right before I fell asleep.
âSânot that weird.â I said, stifling another yawn. âWhat else?â
I was curious about a lot of this stuff, about how our relationship was affecting her. She seemed to mostly happy, but I couldnât really be sure. Not that her happiness had ever been my first priority.
âUh, I think there was a few more things. Let me think.â she said, her tone more serious.
I gave her a second, trying not to fall asleep. I was so relaxed, so comfortable.
âI like it when you call me sweetheart.â she said, tracing circles against my chest with her fingertip, âI mean, Iâm pretty sure youâre being condescending most of the time, but I still like it.â
I just kept stroking her hair with a gentle rhythm. It was so hard to stay awake at this point, and her hair was so soft and warm. I wanted to just drift off again.
But there was something in her voice that I didnât like. This was going somewhere, I felt. One of her little revelations wasnât going to be something Iâd want to hear. Or maybe something she didnât want to say.
I didnât know where the knowledge came from, but I was suddenly sure of it. She was hiding something.
âWhat else?â I said.
âUmâŠI like when youâŠwhen you pet my hair like this.â she said nervously, âBut I also like it when you try to yank it out of my scalp, soâŠâ
I stopped petting her. That sounded like something sheâd just thought of on the spot. She was avoiding something, and I didnât like it.
âWhat else?â I said, looking down at her.
She avoided my eye.
âLook, I gave you a hickey.â she said, smiling.
I looked down at my chest, near my collar bone, and found that she had.
âOh yeah,â I said, rubbing my finger along the mark, âYou bit me there when you came.â
âSorry.â she said, but her wide grin made me doubt that she meant it.
I smiled at her, and for a small moment everything was good.
But then her expression shifted, and she looked away again.
âWhat is it?â I asked automatically, immediately uncertain if I even wanted to know.
âNothing.â she said, forcing a smile.
I sighed. I didnât even know what I wanted any more. Did I want her to share herself with me, or just to shut up and deal with it on her own? I frowned, wishing yet again that we didnât have the history that we had, wishing that things were simpler.
But now that Iâd seen that expression, I couldnât just ignore it.
âWas that a lie?â I asked.
She looked shocked and opened her mouth to protest, but after a few seconds closed it and looked down sadly.
âYes.â she said.
She rested her cheek against my chest, not looking at me. I gave her a few seconds of silence. We both knew that it was coming, whatever it was.
âSay it.â I ordered eventually.
âDo you still hate me?â she asked quickly.
She didnât sound angry when she asked this. She didnât sound accusing either, or offended.
She sounded tired.
And I immediately knew the answer. Despite everything weâd been through in the past few months⊠despite everything⊠I still couldnât let go of all that had happened before. I found my mind wandering to a few key incidences, things Iâd tried hard to forget.
Things sheâd done that had gone beyond mockery and taunting..
And the one time even she knew that sheâd crossed the line, when her senseless cruelty reached its peak.
How can you just let things like that go? Even if it meant losing what we had now, whatever that was, how could I just forget?
So, did I still hate her? Honestly?
âYes.â I said, after a pause but she didnât seem to notice.
She didnât react at first. I think she knew it was coming.
âOk.â she said in a small, broken voice. âI can live with that, I think. I donât need you to care about me.â
I had no response to this. I wasnât expecting it.
âI always tell you that I love you⊠â she said, âAnd I only keep saying it because I keep finding new reasons for it to be true⊠but youâve never said it back. It used to bother me, but when I was away I realised that I donât need you to say it back. I donât need you to love me. As long as Iâm⊠as long as Iâm yours.â
She slid her arms down my sides and lifted herself up. She leaned closer to me, and lowered her voice even more.
âAnd I donât care what other girls you sleep with⊠or if you want to date Becky, or anyone else. I donât care if you want to get a real girlfriend and go on actual dates.â she said, her voice getting heavy with emotion. âBecause you donât belong to me⊠I belong to you. And as long as thatâs still true, then everything else is just⊠inconsequential.â
She bit her lip, then leaned forward to kiss me, but when she got close I gripped her jaw and held her in place.
âDo you really mean that?â I asked.
She tried to nod, but couldnât move her head.
âYes.â she said. âYes Sir.â
I frowned. I didnât 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 Iâd 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.
âI know itâsâŠugh, itâs pathetic, but itâs how I feel.â she said, equal parts sadness and self-loathing. âThis doesnât have to be anything more than⊠whatever it is. I donât blame you for feeling like that. Weâve never talked about it, but we both know I more than deserve it. I canât expect you to forgive me.â
This should have been music to my ears, but I couldnât 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 didnât want the woman I hated to hate herself too.
âItâs not pathetic.â I said.
She laughed disdainfully.
âNo, it kinda is. Iâm just telling a guy that I donât care if he loves me or not, and that I just want to keep having sex with him.â she said, as if explaining it to a child, âIâm a slut.â
The derision in her voice when she said the word âslutâ surprised me.
âThatâs not real though. You only think that because of⊠you know, cultural stuff.â I said.
âWhat?â she asked.
I frowned at my choice of words, and tried to martial my weary thoughts into something more coherent.
âLook⊠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.â I said, âYou, as a woman, are taught that actually wanting sex is wrong, and shameful, yet itâs perfectly fine for me to want it because Iâm a man.â
âWell, yeah.â she said dismissively, âThatâs the double standard.â
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.
âExactly.â I said, âItâs a double standard. The problem is that for some reason you still believe it.â
She cocked her head at me, seeming genuinely curious.
âWhat do you mean?â
âYou donât have to let other people tell you what to feel.â I said, âIf you recognise that the shame youâre 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.â
âItâs not really that simpleâŠâ she said, frowning.
âBut it is.â I said, âWeâre 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.â
âYouâre saying the basic morality of our society is just wrong?â she challenged.
âWhen it comes to women and sex, yes.â I said. âWomen used to be considered basically the property of their husbands. You couldnât even vote until like a hundred years ago for fuckâs sake. Western culture doesnât know shit about what is or isnât good behaviour when it comes to women. Itâs all just patch-work bullshit made up of outdated moralities and sloppy adjustments to rapid cultural changes.â
I shook my head, realising I was getting off topic.
âThe point is, when it comes to sex, you and I basically grew up in two completely different countries.â I said, âAs a man, our culture taught me that sex is something I should look forward to, and have lots of when Iâm an adult, whereas you were taught that itâs something to be feared, something you have to avoid as much as you can or else be seen as a slut.â
âBut I am a slut.â she said, angrily. âI come over here whenever I can knowing that youâre going to fuck me. Iâm a horny, disgusting slut.â
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 Iâd read on the internet. The people Iâd talked to, and the things Iâd 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 womanâs place was at home with the kids while the man has to work. Just old, obviously outdated notions.
Iâd 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 Jessicaâs love for me because I didnât 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 Iâd never considered exactly how it might affect her.
âWhat Iâm trying to say is that when I call you a slut, I donât necessarily mean it in a bad way.â I said. âThereâs nothing wrong with liking sex. You donât have to be ashamed of it.â
âI canât really help it.â she said quietly.
âWell⊠try.â I said uselessly. âYou donât have to let other peopleâs labels matter to you. Sex isnât something to be ashamed of. â
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.
âCultureâŠâ she said thoughtfully. âIâve never heard you talk like this before. About culture, and society. Are you interested in that kind of stuff?â
âUh, I was for a while.â I said, closing my eyes, glad weâd moved away from the heavier topics. âI used to read about it a lot.â
âFor school?â she asked.
âNah, I was just interested in it.â
âNot anymore?â she asked.
âWell sometimes, but itâs not what Iâve been reading recently.â
âWhat have you been reading recently, then?â she asked.
I yawned loudly, and shifted to get more comfortable.
âUmm⊠well last night I was reading about Astrology.â I said, âAnd about how horoscopes and stuff like that are usually just vague general statements that most people can relate to.â
âReally?â she said.
âYeah, theyâre called Barnum statements⊠like, people will read these sentences and claim that theyâre designed for them personally, when theyâre actually just generic descriptions of personality traits and vague events that everyone experiences to some extent. Called the Forer effect, I think.â
I yawned again.
âFrom there I clicked on a link about⊠Cold Reading, which is a technique fake psychics use to-â
I suddenly opened my eyes, realising I was just rambling about random crap Iâd read online. I shook my head slightly, fighting off the fog of sleep.
âWhy are we talking about this?â I said, mostly to myself.
âThatâs really cool.â she said, sounding excited, âSo you just read about all this different stuff?â
âUmâŠpretty much.â I answered.
âCool.â she said again, âYou know, youâre smarter than I thought.â
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.
âI⊠I didnât mean-â she started.
âRelax.â I interrupted. âIâve known you long enough to know when youâre being deliberately insulting.â
âSorry.â she half whispered. âI just meant⊠youâre so quiet⊠itâs good to hear you actually talking about something youâre interested in.â
âHm.â, was all I responded with.
âIs that really how you think about things?â she asked thoughtfully.
âIs what how I think about things?â I asked.
âLike⊠like you donât care what anyone else thinks?â
Did I say that? I couldnât rememberâŠ
âMostly.â I answered, âI just try to focus on what I think about myself, what I know about myself. I donât need validation from anyone else, you know? Or⊠thatâs the idea, at least.â
âHm.â she responded. âYouâre a lot smarter than I thought.â
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 didnât have to share anything with her. Sheâd spent years hating me, who the fuck was she to suddenly start caring about me?
âAlright, itâs time to go.â I said.
âRight now?â she asked.
âRight now.â I said, forcing my voice to be cold and uncaring.
âOk.â 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 didnât try to lean in any further. She just waited.
I thought about kissing her, her lips on mine, exploring each otherâs mouths in that intimate and pleasurable way.
âGo.â 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.
âYou donât kiss me.â I said. Iâd thought this rule was clear already. âIf you want a kiss, you beg for it, understand?â
âYes Sir.â she said quickly, holding her cheek.
Why the fuck was she still smiling?
âWill you please kiss me, Sir?â she asked sweetly.
âNo.â 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.
âThank you, Sir.â she said.
âNo problem.â I said turning away from her, once again unsure about what exactly she was thanking me for.
âGoodnight.â she sang happily.
I didnât answer.
I waited until the door was closed before I let out the breath Iâd been holding.
Something about all this was making me uncomfortable. The way she smiled at me, like she could see something I couldnât. And why was I blushing?
âWow, youâre a lot smarter than I thought!â I mocked aloud, mimicking her voice.
I scoffed gently. I pulled my blanket around my shoulders and tried to fall asleep, willing all that fatigue that Iâd barely been holding back to sweep me away. My last thoughts were of the future. The toys Iâd 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.
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Any fans, well wishers, or if you just have any questions, suggestions or the likeâŠâŠoh and girls wanting to be a sub, kik me @ kendean1