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Soren
Aslin is sheepish with me after all is said and done. I know she’s not sorry for leaping into the river, for defying us and disobeying us. She’s forgotten about all of that entirely. Jason erased all of it with his cock in a very sensitive part of her anatomy. All she can think about is the shame of that sex. I know that because she creeps up to me blushing at the very thought of what she and he did.
“So. Uhm. Me and Jason…”
“I know,” I say. There’s no point pretending this is some kind of secret.
“So, you’re, what, angry at me for sleeping with Jason?”
She’s defensive. Guilty. She should be, but not about Jason.
“I’m not angry.”
“Good. Because I can fuck who I like.”
“Seems more like anybody who likes to can fuck you.”
Okay, that was a little harsh. Maybe there is a bit of sting there from hearing her give herself to Jason and from wanting to tag in. My conscience wouldn’t let me. It would be so easy for us to use her, for her to forget what her will is and to just surrender to lust. I still think we’re here for something a little higher and more important than sex.
She scowls at me. “Don’t try to shame me. It won’t work. I don’t have a sense of shame.”
“That’s true,” I agree — though I am not sure it is true. I think she is embarrassed by what she did with Jason. I think she’s come to me for some kind of approval, or forgiveness, a little girl hoping Daddy isn’t too mad at her.
I was jealous, at first. But the way she’s looking at me now tells me she cares just as much about me and my opinions as she does Jason. She wants me too. She thinks if I have sex with her as well, she’ll finally be in control. That’s what it was really about, using her body to addle the minds of the men who seemed to be in charge. I think it worked. Jason has had a particularly goofy grin on his face since they were together.
“I’m not sorry,” she adds defiantly.
“Good for you.” I am smiling inwardly. I was so worried she had been taken advantage, or corrupted, or somehow changed by Jason’s treatment. She’s still the very same girl, my manipulative and sorry little Aslin who really wants nothing more than to be told she’s actually a good girl after all.
“Why are you smiling?” She’s scowling now. She’s not getting the response she wants. The power isn’t flowing the way she thought it would. She wanted me jealous. Instead, I’m controlled and self-contained. If I do ever choose to be with her, it will be on my terms, not hers. “You think I’m disgusting, don’t you. You think you’re better than me, because I have anal sex.”
I sit, patiently, listening to her unload her fears on me, all the judgements she’s worried I’ll make about her coming out of her mouth rather than mine. She has no idea what I like sexually. None whatsoever. She’s decided who she thinks I am, and she’s very, very upset that that guy is judging her now.
“Ugh!” She throws up her hands and storms away, off to harangue Jason, no doubt. I’m sure that’s going to go terribly for her.
Aslin
Jason is sitting by the cooking fire with a bowl of rice with charred fish over the top. I bet it is bland as hell, but he’s eating it like it’s the best thing in the world.
“What’s up?” He asks the question between swallows.
“You told him about the sex,” I frown. I’m very upset but trying not to show it. I am not good at not showing it.
“Soren?”
“Yes. Now he thinks I’m disgusting.”
“Uh. No. He doesn’t.” Jason keeps eating, his eyes more on his food than on me, though occasionally he’ll cast a glance my way, just long enough to make eye contact.
“Yes. He does.”
“He said that?”
“Well, no. But…”
“He doesn’t think that.” Jason speaks like he knows what Soren’s thinking.
“How can you know?”
He sighs and moves his bowl slightly further away from his face. This feels like a dangerous thing.
“My god, woman, quit it already. Soren doesn’t think any less of you for sex, anal or otherwise, because he’s the kinkiest guy I know.”
“No, he’s not,” I hear myself gasp. “He’s so… so…”
Jason is looking at me with amusement, waiting for me to finish that sentence.
“So quiet!” I eventually say, though that makes no sense at all.
“It’s the quiet ones you have to watch,” he says, going back to his meal.
I don’t believe him. “I don’t believe you.”
He grunts and shoos me away with his fork. I take the hint. My ass is more than sore enough, inside and out.
I retreat to a dark corner of the gazebo we live in, away from Jason and Soren, away from the flickering light of the fire and toward the shadows of my own thoughts.
