Page 11 of UnTrained: Volume Two
The image helps. I picture my thoughts as clouds, some dark and threatening, others lighter. They drift across my consciousness, but I don't have to chase them or push them away. I can simply observe them passing.
Aiden's hands continue their gentle movement, finding points of tension and easing them with careful pressure. My shoulders gradually relax under his touch, dropping away from my ears where I tend to hold stress.
"When you feel panic rising," Aiden continues, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me, "this is what I want you to do. Find your breath first. It's always there, always available to anchor you."
10
Afew days, then a few weeks pass, and Aiden stays by my side.
At first, he gives me small commands, things to help me remember how to be me. And then, little by little, he pushes me to stretch my limits. To face my fears but also to explore the world of submission I was so curious about.
And with every step, I trust him even more.
But despite his talk about pleasure, he hasn’t done more than kiss me.
“Good morning,” he says when I walk into the kitchen. “Kneel beside me and tell me about your feelings.”
This is how we’ve started each day for the past week, and I’m getting more and more comfortable opening up about my thoughts and feelings.
I sink to my knees beside Aiden's chair, finding comfort in the familiar position. The hardwood floor beneath me is cool against my skin, but I don't mind. This ritual has become something Ilook forward to—the way he creates this space for me to speak honestly without judgment.
"I feel..." I pause, searching for the right words. "Stronger today. Like I'm finally starting to recognize myself again." I look up at him, studying the planes of his face, the way his blue eyes soften when they meet mine. "But there's something else too."
Aiden's fingers brush against my cheek, a touch so light it might be my imagination. "Tell me."
Heat rises to my face. "I want more," I whisper, the admission making my heart race. "You've helped me reclaim so many parts of myself, but there's still this piece..." I trail off, unable to articulate the need that's been building inside me.
"What piece, Lana?" His voice is gentle but insistent, drawing the truth from me as only he can.
"The part that craves... physical connection." The words tumble out, awkward and honest, but the connection I’ve built with Aiden makes me brave enough to say them out loud. "You kiss me, you touch me, but you always stop. I know you want more too. I can see it in your eyes."
Aiden's jaw tightens, and I wonder if I've pushed too far. His fingers trail from my cheek to my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze more fully.
"You're right," he says, his voice lower now, rougher around the edges. "I do want more. But your healing comes first, Lana. Always."
I swallow hard, gathering my courage. "What if this is part of my healing? Reclaiming my body. My desires. The parts of me that they tried to twist and corrupt."
His eyes darken at my words, pupils expanding until there's just a thin ring of blue around the black. His thumb traces my lower lip, sending shivers down my spine.
"Are you sure?" he asks, and there's such care in his question that my chest aches with it. "There's no rush, no timeline you have to follow."
"I'm sure," I whisper against his thumb. "I trust you, Aiden. More than I've trusted anyone since before all this happened." My voice grows stronger with each word. "I want to feel like myself again. All of myself."
Aiden's expression shifts, something primal flashing in his eyes before he masters it. He stands, extending his hand to me. "Come with me."
I take his hand, letting him pull me to my feet. His fingers intertwine with mine as he leads me toward the bedroom. Each step feels momentous, like crossing a threshold I can't return from. But I'm not afraid. Not with him.
In the bedroom, sunlight filters through the curtains, casting everything in a gentle glow. Aiden turns to face me, his hands coming to rest on my shoulders.
"We go at your pace," he says, his voice firm. "You say stop, we stop. No questions asked."
I nod, my throat suddenly dry. "I know."
"Tell me your safeword," he commands, needing to hear me say it.
"Red," I respond immediately. The word feels powerful on my tongue, a reminder that I have control even in surrender.
Aiden's hands slide from my shoulders and down my arms, leaving trails of warmth in their wake. "I need you to promise me something else, Lana."
