by LK Shaw
“When did you get so wise?” I snuggled in closer to him, trying to gather my inner fortitude.
“Don’t tell anybody. It’ll ruin my reputation.”
We remained embracing while I thought about what Bryce said. My life had been out of control nine years ago. BDSM had helped me regain that control. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten what I needed to do. I’d head to Eden Saturday and get my shit back together.
Chapter 21
It had been two days since Josie’s revelation, and she continued to avoid me. I knew Connor was trying to talk her out of quitting, but she was being stubborn. I was still trying to reconcile the fact that she’d killed someone. Her confession had blown me away. All these years and I’d had no idea. I recalled something she’d said the night she revealed her identity to me. About how she didn’t feel guilt over things she had no reason to feel guilty about. It struck me now that this was what she’d been referring to.
Since then, I’d spent a lot of time talking to Connor, and even Bryce, who’d been surprisingly supportive. Connor referred me to a therapist he knew during one of our talks, and now that my eyes had been opened to the world of BDSM, I wondered if he somehow knew her from the club. And now, nervous energy had my knee bouncing as I sat in the waiting room of Dr. Madeline Parrish, shrink extraordinaire.
I wasn’t looking forward to this, but I needed to do it not just for Josie, but mostly for myself. It was one step I knew I needed to take back control of my life. I didn’t expect it to be easy, but Josie was worth it. She and I needed to talk. Something we’d both been doing a terrible job of lately. There were two other people in the waiting room with me, but I didn’t acknowledge either of them.
The faint sound of footsteps grew louder until the door on the opposing wall to me opened.
A woman stepped through, and her gaze found mine. “Miles?”
I offered a small nod, and she smiled in return. “I’m Dr. Parrish. Come on back.”
I rose from the uncomfortable office chair I’d been in and slowly followed behind Dr. Parrish as she led me down the short hallway to an office at the end. She gestured for me to have a seat as she closed the door behind us. She shared a practice with several other therapists, so once the door was closed, she turned on a small white-noise machine on the floor next to her desk. I guess it limited the chances of someone hearing what was being discussed should they walk by her office door while she was in session.
Dr. Parrish was five feet nothing and weighed no more than a hundred pounds. Her brown hair was pulled back in a loose bun and her tortoise-shell glasses were too big for her pixie-like face. She wore a navy dress suit with a white top with some type of cascading fabric down the front. I was surprised at her appearance. I’d expected to be welcomed by some crotchety old woman, not a tiny woman who would almost fit in my pocket. She reminded me of Connor’s fiancée, Bridget.
Once we were both settled in our respective chairs, she pulled out a legal pad and pen. I studied her discreetly, trying to pick up on some type of vibe from her. However, she seemed entirely professional in every way, and I couldn’t glean a single thing from her. Not that I was interested in her in that way, it was more to satisfy my curiosity.
“So, tell me why you’re here, Miles.”
I slid down in the chair and tilted my head up toward the ceiling. That was certainly the question of the hour. Why was I here?
I dropped my gaze from the ceiling to look at her. “I guess I’m here to get my shit together.”
She studied me. “Specific shit or shit in general?”
A bark of laughter escaped. Yeah, she definitely reminded me of Bridget. I sat back up in my chair. She remained still, comfortable, and waiting on my answer.
“Specific shit. Shit I don’t really want to talk about, but know I need to.”
“I can appreciate that. I’m here to listen. No judgment. Just someone objective that you can spill your guts to and know that it won’t go anywhere. You can talk as little or as much as you want. It’s all about what you want to get out of our sessions. I don’t know your story, so it’s up to you to tell me. I’ll do my best to help you figure out your shit in any way I can.”
I still wasn’t completely comfortable discussing how close I’ve been to losing my mind these last few months. Connor had been right though. Letting the guilt consume me made me weak. And I hated the weakness. I needed to be strong for Josie. I needed to get my shit together so I could focus on her needs. So, I started talking.
“A few months ago I killed a man. It was a case we were working on, and the suspect kidnapped his adopted nephew, threatening to kill him, along with his biological mother, who was also in the house. When he aimed his gun at them, I shot him in the leg. I thought that was the end of it. But when he raised his gun again, this time at Connor, I had no choice. I went for the kill shot.”
I could hear the scratching of her pencil as she took some notes while I talked. My gaze moved to a spot on the wall behind her as I recalled everything about that day.
“Was this the first person you’d ever killed?”
I briefly nodded.
“And how does this make you feel?”
My eyes darted to hers and my eyebrows wrinkled in disbelief at her question. “What do you mean how does it make me feel? I shot another human being to death. How do you think I feel? How would you feel?”
Dr. Parrish shrugged. “This isn’t about me or my feelings. This is about you. We’ve only met today, and, even if we hadn’t, there is no way for me to discern how you feel. You’re the one who has to look inside yourself and figure it out.”
God, this was why I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to talk about my feelings. Feelings made you vulnerable. They made you uncomfortable. They made you remember. And I’d been doing everything I could to forget.
I glanced back at Dr. Parrish who sat there watching me. She hadn’t moved in any way other than to lay her pen down on the pad of paper she’d ceased writing on. Fuck.
“I’m filled with guilt. In fact, regret consumes me. Like, what if there had been another way to stop Malcolm besides killing him? Was that the be-all-end all or could I have done something different? Then I feel guilty because there is a sense of satisfaction in the fact he is dead. That he can’t harm any more people. Then I regret feeling guilty. If I hadn’t shot Malcolm, then Connor, or even Bridget, or Alex might be dead.”
“How has the guilt affected you and your relationships?”
A vision of Josie’s face came to mind. I’d been avoiding her, because I always thought she was too young for me. Now, I realize she was more mature than I ever recognized. She had to be. Her actions when she was just a young woman shaped her into the person she was today. I knew first-hand that causing the death of someone aged you in ways you’d never think. In reality, my insecurities about our age difference were really insignificant in the grand scheme of things. There might be fifteen years difference between us, but in life experience, we were on equal footing. In fact, Josie had aged far more quickly than I had.
“There’s a woman. We’ve been friends for a long time, even though I’ve always known she’s wanted more. To me, she’s been this innocent twenty-one-year-old who looked at me as though I hung the moon. At first it made me uncomfortable. Not because I wasn’t attracted to her, but because I thought she was too young for me. I’m a lot older than she is, so I’ve kept her at arm’s length even though she’s grown up since then. I thought it was the best thing for both of us. I didn’t want her getting attached to an old man like me. Plus, with me slowly losing my mind, I didn’t want to bring her into the darkness with me. I have panic attacks, nightmares, visions of death everywhere I go.”
She continued her note taking. “Has that changed?”
“What?”
“You said you didn’t want her to get attached. Has that changed?”
I thought about everything that had happened in the last few weeks. I guess I always expected Josi
e to be around. Waiting for me, even though I hadn’t given any indications that there was something more than friendship between us. I just assumed she’d always be there. Which was completely unfair to her. She shouldn’t be expected to put her life on hold for me. Now, when she’s decided to move on, I hated it. I thought about the future and what I wanted. I realized at this moment that I saw Josie. I wanted her attached to me. And me to her.
“Yes. Things have happened recently that have made me realize how dumb I’ve been holding myself back from her.”
“Can you expound upon that? Why the sudden change? You say it’s been years. What makes things different now?”
My body heated as I pictured that first night at the club. Her commands that I not touch her. Even now my fingers itched at wanting to touch, and she wasn’t even in the room. It wasn’t that I was ashamed of my desire to submit to Josie; it just made me slightly uncomfortable. I didn’t know how to handle this need I suddenly had, and I wasn’t quite ready to put it all out there.
“I’d rather not discuss it.”
Dr. Parrish studied me, and I forced myself not to fidget. I hoped she didn’t push the issue.
“I’ll let it go for now, but I think it’s important that you talk about it at some point. Especially since this is a pivotal point for you. You’ve gone through a traumatic experience, and based on the symptoms you’ve described such as the panicking, the nightmares, etcetera, I would venture to say that you are suffering from PTSD. It’s a common occurrence after events such as the one you went through. You need to think about why you’ve had this sudden change of heart regarding your relationship with this woman. Is it because you truly care about her, or is it because you’re using her as a coping mechanism for dealing with your guilt?”
I bristled at her comment. “You don’t know anything about my relationship with Josie. Of course I care about her. She has the wickedest sense of humor, and her laughter is contagious. If she smiles at you, you just have to smile back. She’s kind beyond words. She is the first one to offer help when she sees someone in need. She has the patience of a saint. I mean, she’s been putting up with me for six years. She fucking brilliant, and she’s gorgeous, inside and out. And most importantly, she makes me want to be a better me.”
It was as though a light bulb went off inside my head. All this time I’d wasted when the perfect woman had been in front of me all along. I finally realized the desperation she’d felt to go to such extreme lengths for me to finally see her. God, I was such an idiot.
My internal epiphany was interrupted when Dr. Parrish spoke. “She sounds like a remarkable woman.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle at her assessment. “You have no idea. She’s almost too smart for her own good.”
“Our session is almost over, but I’d like to leave you with this. No one can absolve you of your guilt except you. This is only our first session so we’ll continue to discuss your reaction to what you did, but in the meantime we need to discuss coping mechanisms for the panic attacks and nightmares.”
For the next fifteen minutes we talked about various ways for me to deal with my emotions. Dr. Parrish instructed me to start journaling. She expected me to keep a daily log of when the flashbacks happened, what I was doing when they happened, each time an anxiety attack came on, what I did to control it, and how long it lasted. She gave me breathing techniques to try and fend off the panic attacks.
Dr. Parrish also wanted me to write about my relationship with Josie. What I wanted from it and what I planned to do to achieve the things I wanted. She said we’d discuss it at our next session. It seemed like a useless exercise, but I said I would do it. I left her office feeling slightly better than I had when I’d showed up. Mostly because my mind had constantly been drifting to Josie. We needed to talk.
Chapter 22
My nose twitched at the musky smell of sex in the air. Cries of pain and pleasure intermingled and were a sweet harmony to my ears. My eyes scanned the public play room as I absorbed the energy of Eden. This was what I’d been missing. This sense of control that flowed through me as I took in the sights and sounds of flesh pounding flesh, leather smacking skin, the zing and snap of a bullwhip. Here was home. My happy place. I carried my duffel bag across the room as my gaze zeroed in on the suspension area.
Master Paul was there with his sub, April. He’d horizontally suspended her face down, and she mewled in both arousal and discomfort as the weighted nipple clamps pulled her breasts toward the ground. He slowly walked around April, speaking softly in her ear as he tweaked and tugged the clamps. Her moans echoed in my soul. This was what submission was all about. That connection between a sub and Dom. It was beauty incarnate. Miles’ face flashed before my eyes, and the scene in front of me shifted.
In April’s place, hung Miles. He was face up, hanging from the suspension apparatus by ropes attached to a hip harness and chest harness wrapped securely around him. His back was arched as his arms, legs, and head dangled to the floor. His cock stood proudly as the falls of the flogger teased his erection. The soft swooshing sound they made reverberated in my ears even though this was only a dream.
Blinking away the vision, I brought my attention back to Master Paul and April as he jerked the nipple clamps off, causing April to scream in ecstasy. Shudders visibly raced through her body as her climax hit.
“Good evening, Mistress.” I turned my head to spot Ryan, a sub I’d Topped in the past, standing naked at attention next to me, eyes cast to the floor.
“Good evening, Ryan. How have you been doing?”
“Not well. I miss Mistress Katherine. I’ve been having bad thoughts lately.”
Ryan’s former Domme had been killed in an accident six months ago, and he still hadn’t recovered from her death. I’d Topped him regularly after it first happened, but with things going on with Miles, I’d neglected my responsibility toward Ryan, and guilt swept over me. I knew then there was a reason I had come tonight. Ryan and I needed each other: his need to submit and mine to dominate. There had never been anything sexual between us. He needed to release his pain with his submission, and I needed to exert control. We both served a purpose for the other. I wrapped him in my arms and stroked his hair, offering the comfort I knew he needed.
“I know you miss her. And with regards to these unhealthy thoughts, why have you not spoken up sooner? You need to communicate your needs.”
Ryan shrank into himself. “I’m sorry, Mistress.”
“Do we need to scene?”
“If it pleases you, Mistress. I’ve missed the feel of your rope.”
“You honor me with your submission, Ryan, and it would please me beyond measure to scene with you. I believe total suspension is appropriate for this evening. Kneel and wait until I give you leave to get up. Master Paul and April must finish their scene first.”
Ryan patiently waited as the scene in front of us came to completion. Master Paul untied April and soon had her cradled in his arms on a couch off to the side of the suspension area. My heart ached at witnessing the love between the two of them. I pushed aside the pain and turned my attention back to Ryan.
Reaching down for my bag of tricks, I pulled out everything I was going to need for tonight. I had several bundles of jute, carabineers, and safety scissors that I set aside. Then I went to Ryan.
“Come, sub.”
Ryan rose from his knelt position, and I teased him with a length of rope, rubbing it across his skin to sensitize him to the texture and begin getting him, and me, in the right headspace. Then, I began. Around and around his body I wrapped the lengths of rope, my entire focus on tying and securing each intricate knot and ensuring the welfare of my sub, falling deeper into Domme space. My nerve endings tingled as the rope grazed my palms. I constantly checked with Ryan to make sure the rope wasn’t too tight and that he had feeling in his arms and legs.
I was now in my element. The power and control settled deep inside me as I gave my sub what he needed. Finally, I pulled th
e rigging, and soon Ryan was soaring, cradled in the bondage of the rope, a look of euphoria on his face even as tears poured down his cheeks, droplets falling to the floor. His silent agony was heartbreaking. He sleepily nodded that everything was fine as I caressed his face, wiping away his tears. He was deep in subspace as I began lowering him back down to the floor. I painstakingly removed the rope from him and a spotter helped me pick him up and carry him off to a couch that Master Paul and April had recently vacated.
I lowered myself onto the couch and Ryan laid his head in my lap, curling into the fetal position as he cried silent tears. I provided aftercare for him the best I could, forcing him to drink a bottle of water one of the dungeon monitors handed me. Soon, Ryan was able to rouse himself and took a deep, cleansing breath.
He turned to look up at me, a calm sort of peace now settled in his eyes as opposed to the soul crushing agony I’d spotted earlier.
“Thank you, Mistress.”
I dropped a soft kiss on his forehead.
“Anytime, my dear. I’m sorry I’ve been neglectful lately.”
Ryan looked horrified, as though he’d displeased me in some way. “Oh, no, Mistress. It’s not your fault.”
“I think both of us have been struggling lately. I’ll make sure I’m more attentive to your needs from now on. I may not be your permanent Domme, but it’s my duty to make sure you aren’t suffering. Are you feeling better, now?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. I want you to go find a wonderful Domme to play with and please. Can you do that for me?”
He nodded shyly.
“I want words, sub.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Good boy. Now, up you go.”
Ryan slowly rose from the couch, thanked me again, and wandered off to find a play partner. I settled deeper into the couch still basking in the pleasure I felt from tonight’s scene.