Page 22 of Teach Me
‘You would rather stay in Ladeworth to watch pornography than?—’
‘Happy Christmas. I’ll speak to you soon,’ I said and hung up.
For a long while, I sat on my bed and stared at my phone, wishing I had Dr Braithwaite’s number. I wanted to hear his voice so badly. With him, there was no judgement. I needed that in my life.
It was also abundantly clear that my parents would disapprove of the lifestyle he was introducing me to. They wouldn’t approve of him either. They would accuse him of corrupting their innocent daughter.
Was he?
I opened my laptop. When the video resumed playing, I wondered if he liked this. Did he want me to watch them so I knew what he planned to do to me? He was obviously conditioning me, but I didn’t know how I felt about sex this rough. Uncomfortable, yes. But still turned on. I kept it muted, preferring not to hear the woman’s fake moans while the men continued fucking her.
And they would be fake. I’d made that argument too many times with my ex-boyfriend. Pornography was fake. Real women didn’t look like this. They didn’t sound like this. But maybe I was wrong. Dr Braithwaite had also criticised me for being too quiet.
My heart sat in my throat as I moved on to the next video, which showed a woman tied to a cross while a man flogged her bound breasts. I winced at every strike. Pain didn’t appeal to me, but the woman appeared to be enjoying herself. Did DrBraithwaite want to tie me up? The thought of being trussed up and used by someone appalled me, but byhim?
I slammed the lid shut and fell back on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Perhaps my mother was right; it would be better if I went home for a while. If I did, I wouldn’t have to continue logging my arousal, fantasies, dreams, and masturbation. I had initially complied with his order. Not in detail, but enough for him to know I wasn’t holding everything back.
On the evening before our next meeting, my fingertips hovered over the keyboard for a long time. Most of my fantasies involved him. When I first started having them, they were innocent dreams of Dr Braithwaite taking me against the wall in his office or going down on me in the lab. Now I wanted him to pin me against his desk and spank me, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Or how to tell him.
I typed a few words, then stopped. Deleted them and started again. This happened three times before I scolded myself. He wanted me to be honest, so I shared my fantasy of being bent over his desk while he hit me with a ruler.
After I submitted the entry, I wondered how he’d had this much effect on me already. I hated admitting it to myself, but my heart rate quickened at the thought of what else he would do. But why?
I blamed hormones and neurotransmitters.
Chemicals.
In the end, that was all lust – and love – boiled down to.
Friday evening, I climbed the steps to his office. The door opened before I could knock. Dr Braithwaite wore dark suit trousers and a blue shirt, with the top buttons undone, asalways. He smelled heavenly, like he’d recently showered. I shuddered in delight, imagining him jerking off to the memory of us in his office.
He gave me a knowing smile. ‘Good evening, Ophelia.’
‘Evening,’ I whispered, inching past him. The curtains were shut. His office was warm, lit only by the desk lamp, and a curious song played on a wireless speaker propped on the desk.
‘The Lumineers’Ophelia,’ he explained. ‘I thought it was fitting.’
I studied his small smile. Was there a hidden meaning in the lyrics, or had he chosen the song because of the name?
He gestured for me to sit. ‘Did you have a nice Christmas?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve never spent it watching porn before. How was your Christmas?’
‘Uneventful,’ he said with a surprising resignation.
I eyed him as I sat in the armchair and pulled out a printout of all the videos I’d watched. ‘This is a dirty attempt at conditioning, you know.’
He quickly scanned the paper. ‘You didn’t watch the last ten?’
‘I fell asleep.’
‘Did it bore you?’ He rested against his desk. ‘Your diary entries suggest otherwise.’
I crossed my legs and smoothed my black skirt over my knees. ‘I don’t like pornography.’
‘Perhaps you skipped those videos because they depicted a rougher kind of sex than what you’re used to?’ The glint in his eyes suggested he had read my fantasy about being spanked.
‘I’m not interested in double penetration, bondage, and pain. It looked…’ I blew out a breath. ‘They made me uncomfortable.’
