Page 14 of Bared Betrayal
I shrug, and she takes off her glasses, placing them on the coffee table in front of her.
“Are you satisfied sexually?”
Her questions penetrate my thoughts, and I wonder if I know what satisfied even means. For a long time, I had to detach myself mentally from any form of physical contact. It took me a long time to trust Sebastian in that way. He was so patient with me. Every time we tried to do it, the past would intrude and slide right between my legs in the form of memories that cut off my air and killed any hope of pleasure. Sebastian never asked questions. Never pried. But he knew I had a reason.
Finally, after the first time Sebastian and I had sex, I thought I had won that battle. I had slayed at least one demon. But I was wrong. I didn’t slay the monster. I simply forced him to find another way to torture me.
As if Dr. Trudeaux can feel my anxiety rising, she says, “This is a safe space, Kallie. There are no rights or wrongs here. You can talk freely.”
I clear my throat then take a deep inhale, searching for the right words. “Sometimes, when Sebastian and I have sex—” I swallow hard. “I have this overwhelming urge for him to…” I can’t say it.
“To what?” She urges me to continue.
How do I say this out loud? How does someone like me even think about something like this?
“Kallie?”
“Hurt me,” I blurt before taking a gulp of water. I wipe my palm over my mouth, and without looking at her, I continue, “Sometimes I want Sebastian…to hurt me.”
The silence is deafening, and for a moment, I contemplate escaping through the window of this seven-story building because I just managed to shock my therapist into not saying a fucking word. Can I drown myself in a glass of water?
I slam the glass down on the table. “It’s crazy, right? Me. Wanting a man to hurt me.”
“It’s not crazy.”
“It sure sounds crazy.”
“You crave pain. Some part of you probably needs it.”
“That makes me crazy,” I mutter, plopping down on the couch. “What kind of person needs pain? Craves it? Especially after what I’ve been through.”
“You’ll be surprised. People with past trauma like yours either spend their time running from pain or find themselves searching for it.”
“That. Sounds. Insane.”
“Believe me, it’s more common than you think.” She purses her lips, her eyes slanted inward for a second before she shifts in her seat. “Kallie, what I’m about to suggest is completely off the record. And it most definitely does not come from a medical standpoint whatsoever.”
I cock a brow. “Sounds ominous. How exciting.”
“But I need you to promise me this stays between us.”
“O…kay.”
She leans forward like she’s about to tell me her biggest secret in a room full of people who might be able to hear what she’s about to say. “I have a friend who could help you with this. A therapy of sorts.”
“It’s the ‘of sorts’ part that’s kind of scaring me right now,” I say, grabbing a light yellow scatter cushion and putting it on my lap as I watch her walk to her desk, pulling a card from her top drawer.
She hands it to me. “I think this is worth a shot.”
“What is?” I stare questioningly at the black card with nothing more than a gold and silver logo that looks like a D and S on the front and a phone number on the back.
“It’s a club. An adult club.”
“You mean a sex club?”
She shakes her head. “Not just a sex club. I just…I think you might find what you’re looking for here. And if not, I think it’s a great place to start looking, anyway. Send a text to the number on the back when you’re ready. Make sure you mention my name when you do. And don’t mention this to anyone.” Her eyes turn dark, her expression every shade of serious. “To the outside world, this place doesn’t exist.”
* * *
