“Stockholm Syndrome,” Leslie and I said in unison.
Meredith nodded. “I’d just been with him so long, I’d gotten used to the way he treated me. As strange as it sounds, I’d forgotten what anything else was like.”
I cringed. I also didn’t feel the least bit guilty for hoping Rich was now cellmates with some big, burly guy who’d long since made that fucker his cock-sucking bitch. Some big, burly guy with a lot of friends in the same cellblock. I wasn’t usually one to wish things like that on anyone, but as far as I was concerned, Rich needed to take a massive, unlubricated dose of karma right up the ass. Repeatedly.
“I know this is difficult for you, Meredith,” Leslie said, drawing me back to the present, “but let’s talk about some of the things he did to you throughout your captivity.”
Meredith flinched at the last word. I squeezed her hand, and we exchanged glances. Watching our joined hands, she said, “One of his favorite things in the world was to go down on me. He knew it was easy to make me come that way, so he’d tell me I wasn’t allowed to come, then he’d…” She made a frustrated gesture and sniffed. “When I came, he’d punish me.”
I was going to be sick. I knew it. Swallowing hard, I forced myself not to. Not in front of Meredith; she’d hold back from me if she knew this affected me so deeply.
“How did he punish you, Meredith?” Leslie asked, her voice gentle. “In general, not just for that.”
“It depended more on his mood than what I did.” Meredith watched her thumb run back and forth along the side of my hand. “Sometimes he’d put me in my room, which was in his basement, and leave me there. Sometimes he bound me, sometimes he didn’t, but he’d leave me for… a long time. There were no windows or clocks, so I couldn’t really tell.” She focused hard on our hands for a long, silent moment. “The first few times, I’d scream that I was sorry, that I wouldn’t do it again, that kind of thing. Then I started just sitting quietly and waiting for him to come back. When I’d break down crying and apologize and promise not to do it again, he’d tell me I was a good girl and let me out. So that’s what I would do. I’d just sit quietly. After a while, all he had to do was walk through the door, and I’d fall apart, even when I hadn’t done anything wrong.”
I put my elbow on the armrest and made a casual gesture of resting my chin on my thumb and my finger across my lips. It was all I could do not to sink my teeth into my second knuckle. Don’t get sick. Don’t fucking get sick.
“What else did he do?” Leslie asked. Part of me wanted to scream at her to stop asking questions, but she needed to know and Meredith needed to get it out of her system, regardless of what it did to my gut or my heart.
Meredith looked at me. I offered what I hoped was another reassuring smile. It must have done well enough, because she turned to Leslie and went on.
“He could turn almost anything into a punishment. Sex, oral sex, flogging, fingering, you name it, he could make it a punishment.” She put her free hand to her mouth for a moment, then drew a ragged breath and continued, her voice shaking as she whispered, “The worst part was what he’d say while he was punishing me.”
Oh Jesus. I held her hand tighter, bracing myself for what I didn’t want to hear.
She glanced at me, and the tears in her eyes nearly brought tears to mine. “He’d say things like, ‘this is why you’re with me, because no one else would want to bother with this shit.’ Or ‘this hurts me more than it hurts you, why do you hurt me like this?’ The whole time he was punishing me, he’d say things like that. He’d tell me he loved me, and that I should treasure that because no one else in their right mind would love me.”
Even Leslie couldn’t hide the disgusted grimace. Our eyes met briefly, and I wondered if she was having as difficult a time as I was not reaching for the empty wastebasket a few feet away.
Meredith wasn’t finished, though. “He liked to turn other Doms loose on me. He liked to watch.” She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. “So he’d bring them over, or we’d go out to a club, and he’d let them do what they wanted to. Sometimes he’d participate, sometimes he just watched. Sometimes it would just be one other guy, sometimes two or three. And the worst part…” She put her hand to her mouth again, not quite masking the way her chin trembled.
“You okay, babe?” I whispered through clenched teeth.
She nodded. “He’d tell me this was what I existed for. This was all I was good for.” Her voice cracked as she added, barely whispering, “He’d tell me how much of a whore I was.”
I closed my eyes and exhaled through my nose. The other Doms probably thought it was just part of the scene, part of her role as a slave. It wasn’t unusual for us to call our subs dirty whores, filthy sluts, things like that, but only when they’d made it clear they were not only okay with it, they were aroused by it. Humiliation and degradation were part of some Doms’ bags of tricks because some subs and slaves loved it. An emotionally intact Meredith would have. She would have loved listening to a Dom growl in her ear that she was a filthy whore while he fucked her or flogged her, but Rich had taken that away from her. He’d broken her down, beaten her into nothing, and used something that could be such a turn-on as a way to shatter her.
Leslie cleared her throat and shifted in her chair. “I must say, I’m very sorry to hear this. He had no right to do this to you, and you’ve got a long road of recovery ahead of you.”
“I know,” Meredith said. “That’s why I’m here.”
Leslie smiled. “You’ve come to the right place.” She shuffled some notes around. “Now, in spite of all of this, you still have an interest in kink?”
“Yes.” Meredith took a deep breath. “The thing is, he also did things I was already curious about and wanted to try, but he made them traumatic. I wanted to try a threesome. I wanted to try bondage, flogging, anal. But not like that. And I want to separate what he did from those things.”
“So, you still want to try all of those things, but on your terms and in a safe environment?” Leslie gestured at me. “With Scott?”
“Yes,” Meredith whispered.
I gulped. No pressure, Scott.
Leslie gestured at the two of us. “Have the two of you been intimate at this point?”
“Once.” Meredith glanced at me. “The other night, when I got back in touch with him.” She paused. “We dated several years ago, though, so this is… nothing new.”
“Oh, I see. Was kink part of your sex life back then?”
“No,” I said.
“Scott was into it then,” Meredith said. “But I wasn’t sure about it. I wasn’t ready, I guess.”
“Was your ex-husband your first Dom?”
Meredith nodded.
The subtle twist of Leslie’s lips told me she had the same reaction I’d had the other night. A monster like Rich introducing someone to kink was like a rapist introducing a virgin to making love.
“How did you and your ex get involved with kink?” she asked through her teeth. I imagined she usually kept her distaste hidden behind a mask of professionalism, but evidently even she had her limits.
Meredith swallowed. “We started dating, and I guess he saw the sub in me. We’d slept together right from the start, and everything was fine. But then one night he told me things were going to be different.” She ran a shaking hand through her hair. “He took me into his basement. The dungeon, he called it.”
I flinched. I had such a place in my own house. Something told me we used them for very, very different purposes.
“He locked me in it, told me this was my home now.” Meredith shuddered. “It was just handcuffs and a flogger at first, and it scared the hell out of me. I didn’t know him well enough for something like this, and I certainly didn’t consent to it.”
“Did you use your safe word?” Leslie glanced at me, probably as certain as I was what the answer would be.
“There wasn’t a safe word,” Meredith whispered.
Rich, so help me God…
She sighed. “After a while, I stopped protesting. The less I protested, the less he punished me, and I convinced myself he was right. That I really did want it, that I really liked it.” She shivered. “And on some level, I did. I mean, I didn’t like what… it wasn’t…” She released a sharp breath. “Once in a while, something felt good. Or it might have turned me on if I wasn’t so damned scared, or in pain, or anything like that. But, I feel like I’m saying I enjoyed what he did, and I didn’t. It’s just that sometimes—”
“I understand,” Leslie said. “Some women have been known to have orgasms even while being forcibly raped. That doesn’t mean they enjoyed it.”
“Exactly.”
“And there’s nothing wrong with taking something he did to you and making it your own,” Leslie said. “With sufficient time and healing, along with understanding, patient partners, rape survivors can still enjoy healthy sex lives. And that’s exactly what you are, Meredith. You’re a rape survivor. I can see, from talking to you now and our previous conversation on the telephone, that you’re a strong woman, you’ve come to terms with a great deal of what you’ve been through, and you can, with time, move past this.”
A slight smile tugged at Meredith’s lips, and thank God, it made it to her eyes. “Thank you.”
Leslie looked at her notes, pursing her lips and furrowing her brow. Then she looked at us. “Normally, I’d be wary of endorsing what you’ve asked Scott to do after everything that’s happened, at least until we’ve spent more time discussing your past.” She took her glasses off and set them on top of the notes. “That said, I believe you’ve come a long way in terms of healing from what your ex-husband did to you. You’re in good hands with Scott, and with all of that in mind, I agree that you’re ready to start reclaiming your sexuality on your terms.”
Meredith exhaled hard. She said nothing for a long moment, then finally looked at Leslie. “Thank you. You just don’t realize how long I’ve been wanting to hear that. My last few therapists, they…”
“They didn’t agree?”
Meredith shook her head. “Like I told Scott, they all wanted me to focus on getting over my ‘marriage’ and explore ‘normal’ sexual relationships.”
Leslie released a sharp breath. “Yes, unfortunately the prevailing view of some in my profession is that kink is a pathology, not a positive, healthy thing.” She sighed. “There are still those who would view kink as the root of what your ex-husband did to you, not the weapon he used. As far as I’m concerned, that would be like telling you not to speak after you’ve been verbally abused. I see no reason to tell you that you can’t or shouldn’t have a healthy, fulfilling sex life involving kink just because someone chose to abuse you with it.”
The sigh of relief this time was mine. If ever I’d known someone who should’ve been put up for sainthood, it was Dr. Leslie Reid.
“My recommendation,” she went on, “would be for Scott to continue attending sessions with you. Not every session, but perhaps every other. Would you be comfortable with that?”
“Of course.”
Leslie looked at me. “And you?”
I nodded. “Yeah, sure. Whatever I can do to help.”
“I would suggest that the two of you move very, very slowly,” she said. “We can discuss your progress during your sessions, but I strongly recommend the two of you discuss it often on your own.” She paused. “I also need to know if I have your permission to discuss this arrangement with Scott. Not what you and I talk about in our private sessions, but for the sake of his emotional wellbeing through this, I do think it would be necessary for me to be able to speak candidly about it with him if he needs to come see me on his own.”
Cool water rushed through my veins. Something about her acknowledgment that I had an emotional stake in this, that I wasn’t just an unfeeling bystander, unnerved me. As if I’d somehow believed I could make it through this unscathed.
Right. And that explains why I’ve been eyeballing that wastebasket for the last half hour.
“Do you have any objections to me speaking to Scott about this?” Leslie asked.
“No, none at all.”
“Good. I’ll have a form for you to sign when we’re through today, just to make sure we’re all on the same page.” To me, she said, “This is going to have an emotional impact on you, Scott. I urge you to call me or come in and see me if you need to. Clear?”
“Yeah,” I said in spite of my dry mouth.
“Excellent. Now, for the time being, I’d like the two of you to focus on simply getting reacquainted with each other and getting Meredith reacquainted with physical intimacy. Leave the kink out of it for now. Even basic dominance and submission. If something comes naturally, and you’re both comfortable with it, let it, but don’t push it yet. There needs to be a firm foundation of trust and intimacy before the two of you start taking this to the next level.”
“We do trust each other,” Meredith said.
“I know. But you’re going to be asking a lot of each other in the coming weeks and months. I want you to spend some time strengthening that trust and deepening that intimacy.”
We both nodded.
“Let me ask you this, Meredith,” Leslie said. “You mentioned earlier that your ex-husband made oral sex a traumatic experience, am I correct?”
Meredith nodded.
“Is it something you enjoyed before him?”
“Yes,” Meredith whispered. “Very much so.”
Did she ever. Few women gave blowjobs with the enthusiasm she did, and there was a time when she’d have been more than content to let me go down on her until my tongue went numb. I barely kept myself from shivering.
Leslie looked at her notes, then at Meredith. “Is oral sex something you’d be comfortable re-exploring with Scott this early on?”
Meredith hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, I think I could handle it.” She glanced at me. “If we, you know, take it slowly.”
“Of course.” I squeezed her hand gently. She returned it, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
“That will give you a starting point, then,” Leslie said. “And I’d recommend using it as an opportunity to introduce Meredith to the practice of safe words.”
“I can do that,” I said.
Leslie glanced at the clock on the wall. “I think that’s enough for one session.”
Another relieved sigh escaped my lips. I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take today, and thank God, it was over.
Before we left, we made appointments for future visits. One with Meredith alone, one with both of us. She signed a form allowing Leslie and me to discuss limited details of the situation. Then we headed out of her office and back to the waiting room full of outdated magazines and semi-comfortable chairs.
On the way, Meredith stopped. “I’m going to use the restroom before we go.”
“Okay,” I said, “I’ll meet you in the waiting room.”
As Meredith walked toward the restroom, Leslie put her hand on my arm. Speaking in a hushed voice, she said, “Be very careful with her, Scott.”
I nodded. “I know, I will.”
“And I’m completely serious about seeing me one-on-one if you need to. You’re strong, and you’re stubborn, but this will take its toll on you.”
I tried not to shudder. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good.” Her eyes darted down the hall where Meredith had gone. Then she looked at me again. “I know you’ve dealt with some damaged subs before, but she’s going to need a lot of time and patience. Expect plenty of speedbumps and setbacks, and try not to get discouraged.”
Gulping, I glanced down the empty hall. “Do you think I can do this?”
“More than any other Dom I know, yes.” She looked at me over her glasses. “I have the utmost faith in you, but it’s going to be a long, long road.”
I nodded again.
“And with any luck,” she added, her voice almost a growl, “prison gives that son of a bitch g
ets what he deserves in this life, and he rots in the deepest, darkest part of hell in the next.”
I laughed humorlessly. “My sentiments exactly, Les.”
Chapter 5
With Meredith against me between my sheets, lost in a deep kiss without a stitch of clothing to separate us, I could almost forget all the reasons she’d come back into my life. Except for a few fleeting moments here and there, we were the lovers we’d been back then. She molded her body to mine. We held each other close, held each other tight, and I ached to be inside her just as I always had years ago.
But all it took to bring reality screaming back to the surface was the occasional tense catch of her breath. Or when she’d draw away from my touch, if only for a second. Or the simple act of running a hand down her back, letting my fingertips drift over the scars that scored her skin. I kept my frustration beneath the surface, but it was there. My God, was it ever there. The artist who’d tattooed my back and sides hadn’t marked me as indelibly as Rich had marked Meredith.
She broke the kiss and looked at me, searching my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Hmm?”
“You tensed up.”
So much for keeping it under the surface. I smiled and brushed the pad of my thumb across her cheekbone. “I’m fine.” I kissed her again, and she must have taken my word for it because she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me with her as she rolled on to her back.
Her kiss held most of my attention, but the deliberate, if uncertain, path of warm fingertips drifting down my back didn’t escape my notice. Her hand paused on my lower back, its light contact tentative, then more assertive, then barely-there, barely-sure again. Her fingers broke and released contact in an uneven dance, a Morse code of I want to, but I’m not sure, but I want to.
When her palm lifted all the way off my skin, my heart sank, certain she’d second-guessed herself, but she didn’t draw it back up to the safety of arms and shoulders. Instead, her fingertips trailed across my lower back, then along my side.
Without thinking, only doing, I lifted my hips so her hand could slide between us. We both exhaled as she wrapped her fingers around my cock. Just as it had done on my back, her hand silently betrayed all the uncertainty she tried to mask with her kiss. She couldn’t decide between a loose grasp or a tight one, a fast pace or a slow one, and if the sharpness of her breath was any indication, it wasn’t a game. She wasn’t trying to wind me up, she was trying to work up the nerve to continue what she’d already begun.
Reconstructing Meredith (Light Switch Book 2) Page 5