“You don’t treat me how I deserve to be treated,” she says, rubbing the dog’s ears with the towel. The dog loves it. Cocking his head to one side, he scratches himself with his paw. He doesn’t need to, but the pleasure is too much for him to bear.
“Do you mean as a woman, or as an individual?” I ask.
“Both,” she sniffs.
Blowing into my bottle of beer, the whistling noise causes the dog to look at me bewildered.
“As a woman, I treat you the same as a man. I treat everyone the same. The only time I don’t is when it comes to sex. Gender only comes into it when it comes to what happens beneath the sheets.”
Sticking out her lower lip, she drinks some of her beer before continuing to dry the dog. Doing so has caused her to work up a slight sweat. Observing the beads clinging to her breasts before rolling down to the small folds of her belly, I grab my balls. The beads glisten before the sun shining through the window, and even though so tiny, I observe a thousand miracles in each one.
“As an individual, You’re the person I genuinely like. You’re the only one I allow to spend time with me. The only one I trust myself to be open with. I love you, unlike any other. That said, it doesn’t mean I’m going to treat you like a princess. You get as much sweetness, lust and disdain as you deserve.”
“I’m not asking to be treated like a princess.”
“How do you wish to be treated then?”
Placing the bottle on the desk, I lean forward and give my hand to the dog. His eyes are droopy from having his ears rubbed, but he sniffs me and gives my fingers a lick regardless.
“I respect you as much as you deserve to be respected. Your problem, Meeko, is that you want special measures.”
“Yeah, special measures. You want sex and affection, but when you get it, you claim it’s not because I find you find you attractive, but because I’m just a man. If I don’t feel like fucking you, you get upset and say I don’t desire you, but when I desire you, you say it’s because I’m seedy.”
“It’s not like that at all,” she huffs. Lifting the towel from the dog’s head, she thinks about throwing it at me but stops herself. The dog looks at her then to me, sensing an argument. Licking her leg, he does his best to calm her.
“If I were to cease lusting after you, what would you do? If I made no advances to take photos of you nor fuck you until you were on the verge of wetting yourself, you’d think yourself neglected. If I didn’t kiss you before bed, or if I turned my shoulder on you during the night, you’d cry and whine like a dog.”
At this, the dog looks at me and sticks out his tongue.
“You often do, and yet when I wrap my arms around you, so needful of your embrace, you shake me off complaining I’m too needy.”
I can tell she wants to swear at me, but much to my surprise, she shows a great deal of restraint.
“That’s why it’s special measures. You want everything on your terms. Love, sex. Everything. It’s only fine if it’s fine by you.”
A Journal for Damned Lovers UK
A Journal for Damned Lovers US