“Lucien, my name is Dr. Lawrence, but you can call me Ted. I’m a psychologist here in town, and I’m in a bit of a pickle.” Oh, this should be interesting. “I have a patient who needs to be here in the club, but I most certainly can’t be the one to work with her. After talking to your brother and learning that you were a school counselor, I was wondering if you might be the one to take her on.”
I most certainly wasn’t expecting this. But boy, do I have a lot of questions. “What’s the situation? If you’re a psychologist, there’s a story here, and I think I deserve to hear it.”
He gives me a strong nod. “You most certainly do. If you decide you don’t want to take this on, I won’t hold that against you. It’ll be a great deal of responsibility, and you’re new in town plus starting a new job. That’s a lot for anybody. But she needs somebody who’s an experienced Dominant, somebody who has some experience in counseling, and somebody who’s not already attached and who’s not entrenched in the politics of the club.”
“That would describe me.”
“Exactly. She’s what most people would call damaged goods.”
“Aren’t we all?” I fire back. Hearing somebody assign that title to somebody else frosts me. We all bring our big old lumpy bag of garbage along with us everywhere we go. “Why would you call her that?”
“She’s been in a long-term relationship that was extremely abusive. She’s been trained to call it consensual slavery, but I call it straight up domestic abuse.”
Uh-oh. Now I’m starting to get nervous. “Go on, please.”
“He’d take her room to room and chain her there to complete whatever task he gave her. Beat her if she didn’t get it done in the timeframe he’d given. And he’d make it impossible, like telling her to bake a cake in ten minutes or fix a roast in twenty minutes. Things that simply can’t be accomplished, and I think he did it just so he could justify beating her. And beat her he did―over and over. He also denied her basic privileges, like the ability to go to the bathroom or get a drink of water. Total domination, total control. When he beat her badly enough that she had to have emergency surgery for her ruptured spleen, the hospital staff found she didn’t have the ability to make the smallest of decisions, like if she needed to go to the restroom, wash her hands, or brush her hair.”
“Wow.”
“Wow indeed. And there’s a child involved, an eight-year-old girl. She’s been removed from the home and placed in foster care with one of her relatives, but my patient desperately wants her back. The problem is, she can’t get her child back unless she’s independent of that home, and she can’t be independent of that home until she learns to function on her own.”
I find all this very confusing. “I don’t understand. If she needs to learn to be independent, why does she need a Dominant?”
“Because a good Dominant will help to build her self-esteem and self-confidence, and she’s lacking in both. Brian told me that in working for him, you’ll be working from home and on your own for the most part, and if you needed to leave her behind, she could stay with Cirilla. Cirilla is a lovely woman, but she’s also fiercely independent, and I think my patient would benefit from seeing that modeled by another submissive. She needs to understand that being submissive doesn’t mean being subservient or codependent, and that a Dominant’s place isn’t to beat her when he doesn’t like something she’s done, but to help her understand if it’s wrong and fix it. She also needs to learn how to discern if something she’s done isn’t to his liking but if that’s only because of a difference in opinion, and that it’s okay to have an opinion of her own and to act on it when appropriate. And the pressure’s on, Lucien. If we fail at this … She’s determined to go back to him. He’ll eventually kill her.”
The level of pity I feel for this woman is incredible, but I also know that if I take this on, it will only deter my progress in finding a permanent submissive and making a relationship. I’ll have to wait until I’ve finished my work with her to do that. Then I think about the fact that for now I’m living in an apartment and trying to get my feet under me here, and how this would be a terrible time for me to try to start something I wanted to make permanent. Maybe a temporary thing like this would be the best until I’m more established. “So when would this start?”
“As soon as possible. Every day we wait is a day her child isn’t with her.”
“Would it be possible for me to meet her first?”
“I don’t see why not. She’s living at a women’s shelter right now, but I could make arrangements for you to visit with her at her next appointment with me. I think that’s day after tomorrow. Do you want to proceed? I know this is a lot to dump on you out of the blue, but I only thought of it yesterday and wasn’t sure what direction to take until I thought about talking to Brian. Your brother has a lot of faith in you, Lucien, and he’s very eager to get to know you better.”
Why do I feel like I’m being sold a bill of goods? Everything inside me is telling me to run from this, but something else is niggling at me. This woman has a child from whom she’s separated. I think about Brian and all the years he was here in the states and Mom was with me, and how unfair that was to him. That’s what I keep thinking about, that little girl, out there somewhere without her mommy. If I can help her get back to her mother … I can’t stop my mouth when it blurts out, “I’ll do it.”
“Very good! I think you’ll like her, but I have to warn you―she’s very, very wary of men, and for good reason. Very untrusting. You’ll have your work cut out for you.”
Great. Just great. Master Lucien the miracle worker. Never in a million years did I think that would be my next title.
* * *
Dr. Lawrence, er, Ted, says I’m supposed to be there at nine o’clock. I’m almost ready to walk out the door when the phone rings and for reasons I don’t quite understand, I pick it up and don’t bother to look at the screen. “Hello?”
“Hey, Lucien. I’m glad I caught you.”
Well, I’m not. “Esme. What’s up?”
“I got the box you sent me. Thanks, although that really wasn’t necessary. If it had been that long since I’d seen that stuff, I obviously wasn’t missing it. But thanks anyway.”
“You’re welcome. I didn’t want to keep it, and it wasn’t mine to throw away.”
“I know. You’ve always been so sweet about things like that. Doing okay up there?”
“I’m fine. I trust you’re doing well.”
“I am. Hillman is too. The wedding is set for September eighth. I hope you can come.”
I want to say, No, I’m busy that day, but that may or may not be true. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to take time off work to come. I’ll have to wait and see.”
“Okay. Well, I’ll send you an invitation anyway. And Lucien?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad we can get along and be friends. It means a lot to me. So thanks.”
“Yeah, um, I’ve got somewhere I need to be, so I’ve got to get going. Talk to you later,” I say, desperate to get off the phone.
“Okay. Talk to you soon. Bye.” I hope not! my brain is screaming, but I just hold the phone until she ends the call and then toss it on the bed like it’s on fire. I don’t want to go to her damn wedding. Our relationship was over the day I found the receipt from the abortion clinic. That was the end. Why she insists on trying to hang on, I don’t know. She has Hillman. He’s successful, and good looking, and talented.
And white.
I shouldn’t think that way, but I do. I can’t help it. She claimed it was because she was in no situation to raise a baby, but that was bullshit. We’d been living together for two years. I was right there. She didn’t even consult me, just did it and hoped I wouldn’t find out. Her family never approved of me. I’m sure Hillman was a sigh of relief for the whole damn bunch of them.
Thinking about all of that gets me nowhere fast, so I finish getting ready and head out. My first inclination was to wear a coa
t and tie, but then I decided maybe that was a little too formal for someone who’s been through something traumatic. Maybe my polo and flat-front slacks will put her at ease. That’s what I’m hoping anyway.
The building is low-slung and nondescript, and there are only three cars in the parking lot, not including my own. When I open the front door, the first thing I see is a receptionist’s desk, and the lady there takes my name and asks me to take a seat. I don’t want to stare, but I can’t help looking around, and I have to assume that’s her.
The woman across the room looks like she’s seen better days. There’s some ethnicity there that I can’t quite put a finger on. She’s wearing an ill-fitting cardigan over a printed blouse, a pair of jeans, and a pair of scuffed-up flats. Her hair is a little on the ragged side and kind of dull, a plain, medium brown, not a hint of shine, with bangs that are too long and thick. All of her nails are bitten down to the quick, and she’s fidgeting as she sits there. It’s almost like she’s trying to hide in plain sight, because she certainly wouldn’t stand out in a crowd. And I’m guessing that would be just fine with her.
The door opens and a lady steps out of Ted’s office with him right on her heels. “See you in two weeks,” he says, then steps back into his office and closes the door. When it opens again three or four minutes later, he says, “Rayanna, come on in.” I see him look around as soon as she clears the doorway, and he holds up a finger to me in one of those just-a-minute gestures.
So I sit. It’s probably ten minutes before the door opens and he looks to me, then tosses his head toward the office without saying a word. When I enter, she’s across the room in a chair, and he motions for me to take a seat in an adjacent chair. The scent of soap and some kind of floral shampoo wafts from her seat to mine, and I’m struck by the simplicity of her. “Master Lucien, this is Rayanna Hardesty. Rayanna, I’d like you to meet Master Lucien.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rayanna,” I say and extend my hand.
“Pleasure to meet you too, master,” she whispers, then shocks me with a question. “Should I kneel?”
“No, no. That won’t be necessary,” Ted tells her. “I invited Master Lucien here today because I think you might benefit from working with a real Dominant, not someone who calls himself that to excuse their abuse of you. Master Lucien’s brother, Master Brian, owns a club here in town. I haven’t known Brian that long, but I knew his friend and predecessor, Dave, and if Dave says Brian’s okay, then he’s okay. And if Brian says Lucien’s okay, then he’s okay. I think he might be able to help you if you’ll let him. Would you consider that?” She nods slightly. “Rayanna, you need to use your words. Would you consider working with Master Lucien.”
“Yes, sir,” she whispers.
“Master Lucien, is there anything you’d like to ask Rayanna?”
Oh, shit. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Um, what kind of things do you like to do?”
“What would you like me to do, sir?”
Uh-oh. I see what Ted means now. “Nothing in particular. I just wondered if there’s something you enjoy.”
She’s quiet for a few seconds before she says, “I like to bake. And one of the ladies at the shelter bought me an adult coloring book, and I like to color in it. I’m pretty good at it.”
“Do you have another appointment here soon?” I ask.
“Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.”
“So before you come back, could you bake me something and color me a picture?” I ask, thinking maybe that would be easy for her.
“What should I bake, sir?”
“Whatever you like.”
“What do you like, sir?”
“You know, anything with chocolate is great.”
“Yes, sir. I can do that. And I can color a picture. I’d be glad to, sir.”
“That’s good. I can’t think of anything else.”
“Rayanna, would it be okay if Master Lucien sits in on the rest of your session?”
“Yes, sir. Please. That would be good. Thank you for coming, sir,” she says and finally lifts her head enough to look at me.
Those eyes―they’re lost. Totally and completely lost. It’s like she just jumped off a twenty-story building and somebody pulled away the street below so she has nowhere to land. Somebody needs to help her, but I can’t believe that somebody might be me. I’m not sure I can do this. What will happen if I take this on, spend months with her, and she can’t be helped? And that’s when it hits me.
Nothing. Nothing will happen. I’ll go on my merry way and she’ll just … be. I’ll find another, albeit most likely temporary, submissive and try to forge a relationship. And she’ll just languish. Maybe she’ll be institutionalized. Maybe she’ll complete suicide. Who knows? But there’s one thing I do know.
I’m not sure I can live with myself if I don’t at least try, so I decide that when I leave here, I’m going to text Ted and tell him I’m committing to six weeks. That should be long enough for me to figure out if I have anything to offer her. Then she snaps me out of my reverie with a simple question. “Are you kind?”
That takes me by surprise, and I wonder if I’ve misunderstood her. “What?”
“Are you kind, sir? Are you kind or mean? Not that it matters, but I’d―”
“I’d like to think I’m kind,” I answer with a tiny smile. “No one’s ever told me that I’m mean, so I’d like to think I’m friendly and nice. What do you think?” I ask, trying hard to be gentle and compassionate.
“I think you have kind eyes. They’re very pretty.”
That response causes me to really, really look at hers. They’re an odd blue that has flecks of green in it, almost turquoise. “Thank you. Yours are too. I’ve never seen eyes the color of yours. They’re beautiful, actually.”
As I watch, they well with tears and she looks away. “Thank you so much, sir. That’s very kind of you.”
Something twists in my chest, a feeling so visceral that I almost gasp. Everything inside me wants to grab her and squeeze her to me, to hold her and never let go. That can only mean one thing.
I’m in deep shit.
* * *
See you Friday then. That’s Ted’s text response to me as I get out of the car at Brian’s. Oh, the murderous thoughts going through my mind. No way could I put them all in words.
I throw open the front door and Cirilla jumps. “Lucien! Hey! You okay?”
“No. No, I’m not. Where’s Brian?”
“Back there in …” I don’t even hear the rest of her answer. I know where he is.
“Hi! Ready for … What the hell’s wrong with you?” I start pacing back and forth in front of his desk, so furious that I can’t speak. “Lucien? You okay?”
“NO! No, I’m not okay!” I feel like I’m coming apart from the inside out, and I just drop into the chair in front of his desk, splay out my legs, and bury my face in my hands.
“What the fuck? What’s wrong?”
“What have you done to me?” I bark as I drop my hands and look up at him. “What have you done, Brian? Do you know what’s going on here?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I went for the first time to one of Rayanna’s therapy sessions,” I blurt out, and his jaw drops. “Oh, you’ve really screwed me over now, brother. Really, really screwed me over. I’m in so much trouble it isn’t even funny.”
“How bad can it possibly be?”
“It’s bad, Brian. It’s really, really bad. There’s something very wrong with that woman. I don’t know what, but it’s very bad. And now I’m right in the middle of it.”
“Just say no.”
“I can’t just say no! You didn’t see her, Brian. She’s, she’s …” I can’t bring myself to say it.
“Damaged?”
Rage flashes in my chest. “EVERYBODY SHOULD STOP SAYING THAT! Oh, god, what have I gotten into?” I moan and drop my face into my hands again. “You and Ted, you set me up on this one. You’re gonna ow
e me big time.”
“We didn’t set you up, Lucien. We just thought you’d be a good candidate to help her, that’s all. If you don’t want to―”
“I don’t have a choice now. You didn’t see her. You don’t know.”
He chuckles. “Hooked you right in, did she?”
Now he gets a grand mal glare from me. “Oh, so you think this is funny?”
“No! I don’t! But let’s establish that you’re just a big old softie and get that out of the way, shall we?”
“Stop it! This isn’t funny, Brian. Not funny at all.”
“I’m sorry. I’m trying to be funny and I can see you’re genuinely upset. That’s not very nice of me, so I apologize. Tell me what happened.”
“I went to her therapy session. And I’ve messaged Ted and committed to six weeks.”
“That’s good, right? It gives you an out.”
“You don’t understand, Brian. There is no out. I could feel that. She needs somebody.”
“And that somebody is you.”
A big sigh shoots from my lips as I drop my head. “Looks that way.”
“I think you’ll be fine. You want a long-term relationship with a submissive. This woman needs somebody to help her rebuild her life. You’re in the process of rebuilding yours.”
“Building,” I correct.
“Rebuilding. After Esme.”
“Okay, fine. Rebuilding.” Why is it that he goes for things that will hit me right in the gut? That must be his superpower, because he’s super good at it.
“What character traits do you want in a woman, Lucien? Sweetness? Kindness? Submission?”
“I want intelligence too, and independence. Integrity. Strength. Wisdom.”
“She wants to be all those things, but she needs a way to get there. And some of those? I think she already has them or she wouldn’t have made it this far.” About that time, his phone rings. “Hang on. Hello? Yeah. Yeah, he is. Uh-huh. Okay, I’ll tell him, but I think that’s a good idea. Okay, see you then. Bye.” I watch as he ends the call and then he turns to me. “That was Ted. You made a good impression on him this morning. He wants to come to the club tonight to talk to you, and he’s got something to show you.”
Eternally Yours: Bliss Series, Book Six Page 2