Placing a hand over my eyes, I wince as I lower myself down on the pure white sofa, a throbbing pain pulsing my ass. It hurts like hell. But I still love it. It always reminds me of Lucian, of his dominance. It gives me something to cling to, allows me to momentarily ignore my confused emotions. Yet that lost feeling returns as I sink into the couch.

Which is why I’ve come to see my therapist. Doctor Sandra Andrews.

She’s seated cross-legged across from me, in an oversized tufted leather chair, dressed in a white blouse and blue silk slacks, the outfit complementing the room's pale blue carpet and cream-colored walls, a notepad and pen in her hand. For a therapist, she seems young, but that’s one of the reasons I like her so much. She possesses a wisdom that’s beyond her years, and through the year she’s given me sound advice that I’ve found to always be on point.

Sandra’s gazing at me with concern. Her gentle eyes regard me from behind eyeglasses with thin metal frames. “It’s been quite some time since you’ve checked in, Dahlia,” Sandra remarks softly, her smooth voice soothing my ears and calming my anxiety.

“I know,” I reply in a soft sigh, my voice sounding small. I clear my throat, feeling slightly nervous, pulling my knees into my chest, wincing slightly as pain pulses my ass. My bare feet sit on the sofa, brushing against the chenille fabric. No shoes is a rule Dr. Andrews has. I guess it keeps the area cleaner, but even more than that, it’s supposed to make you more relaxed. I pick at the bit of nail polish on my toenails as a sigh leaves me.

“Are you alright?” she asks, seeing my distress.

I huff a small laugh, resting my chin on my knees and looking up at her. “My Dom punished me with a belt last night.” I’m shocked at how easy the words come out. As if it’s normal. As if I’m normal.

Shifting in her seat, Sandra takes off her glasses. Her brows are pinched as she taps them against her lip. “And how did that make you feel?”

I almost chuckle at how much like a stereotypical therapist she sounds. But I don’t have any humor in me. I push my hair out of my face and consider her question. It made me feel alive. And wanted. But that ended far too quickly. Too good to last.

It takes Sandra a moment to realize what caused my reaction, the faint huff of a laugh at her question, and when she does, she sets her glasses down on the end table and shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Dahlia, you’ve simply caught me a little off guard. Would you mind expanding for me please? I’m not sure what you mean by ‘your Dom.’”

It’s time to just let it all out. Let it flow.

I suck in a deep breath, feeling that oppressive weight on my chest. Slowly, I exhale and begin to tell her everything about Lucian, except I leave out the part about the auction. I know there’s doctor-patient confidentiality, but I don’t feel comfortable telling her. I don’t want to. Sandra listens to me intently while I weave my tale, almost frozen like a statue, her soft eyes compassionate.

“Okay,” I say, letting out a soft sigh. I debate on how much information to give her. Our names are in the paper, but I still feel uncomfortable saying his last name. “As you know, I’ve never been able to get off without fantasizing about being… raped.” I swallow thickly as a surge of shame, guilt and worthlessness threatens to overwhelm me, but I squeeze myself tight, warding it off. “But I finally met someone who I felt could help me. Lucian.”

“And this man is your Dom?” she asks.

I nod my head, and continue as she jots down notes. “All I had to do was be his Sub and let him take control, and the rest would come naturally.” I look over at Sandra, wondering if she knows enough about BDSM to be familiar with what I’m talking about.

Sandra’s very still, but she doesn’t look confused, her eyes assessing me inquisitively. “By 'his Sub,' you mean his Submissive?”

So she does know a little something.

I nod my head.

“I see,” she says softly, doing a little gesture and then scribbling something on her notepad, “Go on.”

I gulp down the lump forming with my throat. “When I became his Sub,” I shake my head, my chest feeling increasingly tight, “I finally felt like I was in control, knowing I could stop my fantasy any time I wanted. I could safe word him and it would all stop. I had that power.” I sniff, tears burning my eyes. “But at the same time, Lucian had no idea how messed up I was, and he was unknowingly giving me what I thought I needed. Until…” The tears threaten to spill down my face and Sandra reaches for a Kleenex on the decorative stand beside her chair, but I gesture for her to stop. I’m trying to be strong.

“Until?”

“Until he forced my secret out of me,” I sigh, my voice a whisper thick with emotion. “I’d been trying to hide it from him from the start, but he knew something wasn’t right with me.” Even he could tell I was broken.

“And what happened next?” Sandra asks.

“He said he could help me.” I breathe the words, closing my eyes and remembering. “I was really shocked.” I look back at Sandra, and she’s nodding. “Up until that point, no one’s really understood. My exes sure as hell didn’t.”

“So, that must’ve been really encouraging for you then,” Sandra remarks. “Knowing that you found someone that not only understood you, but was willing to help you.”

God. This lump is growing so big I’m going to choke on it. “Yes,” I say and nod my head. “But I didn’t really believe it, like, I didn’t believe that it would end up working... but then Lucian made me cum for the first time ever without the need of that fantasy.” I swallow thickly, feeling like I can’t breathe, hoping like hell I can hold it together.

Sandra places the notepad on her lap, her expression brightening, not realizing how I’m about to fall apart. “Why, that’s wonderful news, Dahlia.” She shakes her head. “That must have been really gratifying, and reassuring. Did that finally give you hope for yourself?’

I close my eyes, feeling a sharp pain pierce my chest, and nod. “It did... for a very short time. And even then, I doubted it. I thought it was a fluke. But then…” I suck in a breath that feels like it’s filled with little daggers.

Sandra peers at me intently. “But then?”

I exhale sharply. “Lucian wasn’t able to climax when he was being rough with me, which is how I want him to be with me and it totally,” I gulp, “killed what little confidence I had in our relationship. In that moment, I felt like he was disgusted by me.”

Sandra’s face morphs into a frown. “I’m so sorry, Dahlia.” She puts her glasses back on and scribbles in her notepad as she asks, “Did he say why he wasn’t able?”

I shake my head no as I answer, “We had sex again, right after that… when he could see I was upset.”

“And how did that go?” she asks.

I lean my head back against the sofa and stare at the ceiling. He made love to me, he came and I didn’t. Because I’m fucked up and broken. “Not good. He came, but he wasn’t rough and so I didn’t.” My head falls forward and I wait for the doctor’s judgment. I just want a solution. I want to be normal.

I’m trying my best not to cry, because I know if I do, this session is over. I won’t be able to recover.

“I’m broken,” I say just beneath my breath. I could feel something so strong between us, something I’ve never felt before. But I couldn’t give it back to him. I couldn’t make love to him. It’s so fucked up. It just hurts.

Sandra shakes her head. “No you’re not. The progress you made shows that you can recover from this. You will recover from this.” She gestures at me, her words firm and commanding. “You are a beautiful, talented young woman who’s had horrible things happen to her… but that doesn’t mean you can’t recover, that you can’t go on to live a fulfilling normal life.” Slightly leaning forward, Sandra’s words gain passion as she speaks, so much so that I momentarily forget my pain and focus on her face. After letting her words sink in, she relaxes back into her seat and picks up her notepad. “Now tell me, what’s good about your relationship outside of the Submissive and Dom roles?”

“Oh,” I say, crossing my arms around my torso and clutching myself. I feel so chilly even though it must be seventy-five degrees in this office. “It’s… it’s really good at times, although it’s new and I feel like it’s going so fast. He’s quiet a lot and it takes some time for him to open up.” Sandra nods her head, jotting down notes as I talk.

“He treats me… like… like I mean a lot to him.” I finally look her in the eyes. “I know he wants to make me happy.”

“And does he?” she asks me.

“Yeah,” I say and nod my head. He makes me so happy. “It’s so much more than…” my voice trails off. The pain is back again.

“Is it not a relationship beyond the Dominant and Submissive roles?” Sandra presses gently.

“I don’t know what to think of it all. I’m confused about where we stand in our relationship. This was supposed to be an…” I fumble for words, not wanting to tell her about the auction. “A temporary arrangement, not something that would turn into anything longlasting. And after that last session…” I shake my head as a surge of emotion chokes my speech. “I don’t think we'll ever be able to get past my issues, so all the other aspects don’t even matter.”

“I disagree with you saying those things don’t matter,” Sandra says tenderly. “They do matter. If Lucian treats you as good as you say outside the bedroom, and the only problem you’re having is the hang-up on your past, I think there’s hope here and something you can definitely work with. The question is--is Lucian the man that can do it... and is he willing to commit and stick by you to see you through these issues?”

Numb, I sit there, hugging myself, fighting back those ugly tears. Sandra’s right of course, but I don’t know what to say. I feel like I’m falling for Lucian, but in doing so, have set myself up for a broken heart. Lucian is a very rich man, with very many options. He could easily one day decide I’m not worth the effort and find himself a new Submissive. Or I may only ever be a Submissive to him. I want more. But I want it from him.

“I don’t know.” I whisper the answer.

“What I would suggest,” Sandra says softly, pulling me out of my thoughts, “is having an honest talk with Lucian about what your wants and needs are. If you want him to commit to you, tell him that. And expect him to give you an answer on it. Otherwise, despite the progress you’ve made, this relationship could be harmful and cost you a lot of emotional and mental distress.” She sets the notebook down and says, “This is just my opinion, but it seems as though there’s more than a Dom/sub relationship and that’s what’s driving these changes for you. Make sure that’s the case, and work together to continue your progress.”

I don’t know what to say. I feel so tense and on edge. I’d be asking him for more. I don’t think it’s an option. He’s going to leave me or just fuck me until the contract is over. I cover my heated face with my hands and try to just focus on me. I want this. I’m scared to death to ask him for this, but I want to. I have to. But he’s already given me so much. He’s showed me it’s possible. I’m so conflicted.

“Go talk to him, Dahlia.” Sandra’s words make my eyes snap to hers. “Let him know what you need. I hope he can continue to help you and that you’re able to work on this foundation you’ve built.”

I hope so, too, I think to myself feeling growing resolve as I leave her office and knowing that there’s only one thing left to do.