Chapter 12 Demi #2
“Will you tell me more about the last one?” I already have a vague idea, but my pulse is already racing with the anticipation of hearing her talk about it more.
Her throat clears as she uncrosses her legs then presses those delicious thighs together while readjusting in her seat. “There are many ways to engage in BDSM activities, Demetria. No one way is the correct way, as long as it’s safe, sane and consensual.”
“But how can I use it to help with my emotional damage?”
“Exchanging power with another person is often very vulnerable and raw. If you’re truly giving yourself to another person, there are various acts that can be cathartic in nature. Usually, it’s the submissive that finds the most obvious release, but I’ve seen the Dominant achieve the same result.”
“What kind of acts?” Am I intentionally pushing her to tell me specifics because I have an aching desire to see how her body responds when she does? Yes, I absolutely am.
She surprises me by standing. She’s not extraordinarily tall, but my breath still stutters as my gaze wanders upward to meet her eyes as she towers over me.
She maneuvers her way behind her desk and positions herself carefully in her chair before proceeding to remove her glasses to set them on her desk.
I swallow hard at the sight of her behind that desk and imagine how stunning she’d be if she let her hair down. There’s no mistaking her presence… her command of a room. Specifically, this room and it’s not helping to stop the bad thoughts I’ve been having about her.
“For example, Demetria.” Her voice is calm, unwavering.
“Imagine two people, one Dominant… the other, submissive. The Dominant leads the submissive into a room where they engage in mutually satisfying acts, like bondage and discipline… sadism and masochism. The submissive maybe likes to be on her knees for the Dominant. So she can be free of all the usual burdens of daily life. So she can receive what the Dominant feels she needs. Things to help her let go. Things like pleasure or pain. Many submissives find significant release from either. Pain, especially. I’ve been told by some masochists that being on the receiving end of painful stimuli allows the submissive to release pent up emotions without the burden of the commonly associated guilt. Many feel lighter after.”
Well, fuck. I pushed her and she called my fucking bluff. If I haven’t left a wet spot on her couch, it’ll be a small miracle.
“Thoughts, Demetria. Let’s hear them,” she orders with a slight nod in my direction. “Does this answer your question?”
I can’t form words right now, let alone thoughts. In fact, I’m pretty sure every drop of blood I have in my body, is now in my fucking vagina.
“I, uh–” I stammer, trying and failing to find the right words.
“Words, Darling Girl.”
“I… y–yes…” Jesus, I’m so fucking lame. I have to get out of here before I say or do something I can’t take back.
Her only response is a soft chuckle. “Well, our time is up for the day, but for homework, I want you to think about what we’ve discussed today. Pick one thing you’d like to try as a way to find the emotional release you so desperately need. You don’t have to succeed, you just have to try.”
I stare blankly back at her, no hint of movement.
“Do you understand, Demetria?” she asks, with a slight hint of sternness to her voice that I don’t hate.
“Yes, Ma’am… I mean, Dr. Adler. I understand.”
I spent the better half of the next three days researching all things BDS and M.
There was even a quiz online that’s supposedly pretty accurate.
Based on my reaction to Dr Adler’s scenario, where the girl was at her Dominant’s feet, I’d say the results are merely confirmation that I’m submissive.
I’ve imagined myself at her feet every night since.
That was a fun little revelation. I mean, lusting after your therapist is one thing. Wanting her to be your Dominant and to do unspeakable things to you is another level of insanity I’m not sure I’m quite prepared for.
That didn’t stop me from showing up at the local bar she frequents, so I can propose she do just that. Purely for therapeutic purposes… of course.
It was wrong of me to stalk her online, but–filthy thoughts aside–the thought of anyone else helping me with this, is just… wrong.
Tilting my head toward the starry, night sky and pray to whatever Gods may be watching that this works and she doesn’t nix me as a patient. Even if she says no, I don’t want it to change anything. She’s helped me so much already and I can’t–no, I won’t–lose her.
Once I’m in the door, my eyes find her instantly. Holy shit. Her hair is loose, resting easily over her shoulder as she laughs with another woman, also a redhead, but her hair is darker and considerably shorter.
“You can fucking do this, Demi,” I mutter under my breath, just before I suck in a deep gulp of air and hold it as I strut right up to her.
When I reach her, I suddenly can’t find the words I practiced so hard in front of my bedroom mirror.
“Raegan, there’s a mousy little brunette having a stroke behind you,” the other woman says as she points my way with her beer bottle.
“What the fuck are you talking about, Sutton?” Her barstool turns to see what her friend is staring at–me–and she’s on her feet instantly. “Demetria? What are you doing here?”
Now’s your chance, Demi. Ask her. Just fucking spit it out.
Once again this woman, who smells like the heavenliest lavender and honey, has me tongue-tied and the words don’t come and my vision begins to blur.
She places her hand gently on my shoulder and leans down until her gaze is level with mine and asks, “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
“Dr. Adler… I… I, uhhh.” Fuck my life, I’m an idiot. This would be so much easier if my tongue wasn’t numb.
“Demetria, we’re not in the office. You can call me Raegan.”
She’s really not helping. “Can I speak to you in private, for a moment, please?”
She nods and stands from her barstool, then proceeds to guide me to the other side of the bar. “What is it?” Her voice is softer than I’m used to. It speaks to the part of my brain that’s in desperate need of comfort and reassurance.
I can do this.
Inhaling the deepest of breaths, I tell her exactly why I’m here. “I’ve spent the last few days researching what you asked me to and I know what I want to try. I want to try the BDSM option and I’d really like for you to be the one to help me with it.”
Her eyes widen and she stands a little straighter, but she doesn’t respond. I can’t stop myself from wringing my hands together. The anticipation is killing me. If she rejects me, I’m going to have no choice but to find a new therapist.
“I need more information,” she finally answers, breaking the thick silence between us. “In what capacity are you requesting my assistance?”
“I would like to see if I’m able to find the emotional release I need as a submissive.” I swallow down a thick gulp of air before I tell her the next part. I think my right ankle is sweating. Is that even a thing? “I’d like for you to be the Dominant.”
“Demetria,” she scoffs. “I couldn’t. Aside from it being extremely unethical, I think you have the wrong idea of me and what I’m capable of.”
My eyes roll quickly at her response. “Oh, please. I’m not an idiot.
You can’t convince me you don’t know how to be a Dominant after how you talked about it in our last session.
I know arousal when I see it and you were definitely turned on at the thought of a woman on her knees.
Now imagine that woman is me. We can keep it transactional.
I can be that for you and you can help me find the release I need so badly.
” I pause to let my words sink in, then continue.
“You’re the only one I trust enough to be this vulnerable with. ”
Her green eyes are darker than usual as she glares into me like she’s searching my soul for any hint that I’m playing some fucked up game with her. I’m most definitely not. I want this and I need it to be with her.
“If you don’t want to do it, I’ll understand,” I mutter quietly. I want her to say yes, but I don’t want her to feel like she can’t say no. “There’s got to be someone out there that can help me. I’m sure I can find someone.”
Okay, maybe I don’t play fair, after all.
Her pupils widen at my words and I could swear I heard a hint of a growl escape her lips. “If I do this–”
“Anything,” I interrupt hastily.
The huff of air she releases is measured and heavy as both brows furrow. “Demetria.”
“Pleaaase,” I beg.
“If I do this, I cannot see you in the office. You understand that, right?”
I’m pretty sure I just glitched. Is she about to say yes?
“I–I, um… I understand that!” My hands cup my face, in a poor attempt at hiding my excitement. My heart is pounding a thousand miles a minute. If I thought I could get away with screaming in such a public place, I would.
She straightens once again and crosses her arms over her chest, her face now flat as she assesses me. Stoic and stern Dr. Adler has returned and my lady parts are officially a puddle of goo.
“If we’re going to do this, you should know I’ll have high expectations. Do you think you can handle that, Demetria?” She raises a brow, waiting for my reply.
“Yeah, of course!”
“The correct response would be, ‘Yes, Ma’am’.” Oh, fuck. “And I’d think twice before you roll your eyes at me again.”