Trust Me: A BDSM Romance

by Cate Bellerose

  “I… I don’t really know, to be honest.” I know what I want to say, but it sounds so much like what I shouldn’t. But still I want to, so badly. I’m never going to come to a decision on my own, so I draw a deep breath and just say it. “I… I think maybe it would be best if you decide.”

  For a moment, just a moment, but I know I’m not imagining it, his facade cracks. His eyes close and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows deeply and draws a deep breath through his nose. Then the man recedes and the therapist returns.

  I should want him to be professional.

  Right?

  Keegan’s smile comes off soft and friendly, and when he speaks, his voice is even and sympathetic, but there’s an intensity that never leaves his eyes. They hone in me like emerald lasers, so hot they’re smoldering. His words sound innocent enough, but they also feel like a prelude to something deeper. At least in my hopeful mind.

  “Then that’s what I’ll do. I just want to be sure you feel you’re being heard, and that you’re comfortable with how we’re proceeding.”

  Am I comfortable? The way he’s looking at me makes me wonder if he can keep his professional distance, and definitely whether I actually want him to. All I know is that my heart’s beating like it’s trying to break out of my chest and my palms are getting damp. Clutching the hem of my skirt while leaning forward, I try to dry them off discreetly while I consider my answer.

  In some ways it seems obvious. I keep torturing myself by going to the club and immersing myself in this lifestyle, but I never take that final step. I never dare. On my own, I never will. I realize that.

  No one judges you as deeply as yourself.

  Amber’s question about where I want to be in twenty years comes flashing back, and suddenly I know. I don’t want to live my life looking back and wondering what might’ve been or what could’ve been. One way or another, Keegan is here to help me face my own judgment.

  For the first time since I met him, I meet his gaze confidently. “Just tell me what to do”

  He nods, his mouth crooked into self-confident smile. Did he know what my answer would be before I did?

  “Have you ever heard of exposure therapy?”

  Maybe? I shake my head.

  “It’s sort of like a vaccine. The idea is to introduce you to the things that you’re bothered by in ways that are non-threatening. Small steps, making them seem harmless, until you’re used to them.”

  “Okay?”

  “Imagine you’re afraid of spiders.”

  I cringe and he chuckles. I’ve never been a fan, even if I know they do a good job of taking care of other insects around the house.

  “Exactly, so say you’re completely terrified, but we find ways to expose you to them. We might start with education, about all the good things they do, exactly how they work, how harmless most of them really are, and so on. Perhaps show you how to identify the ones that are actually dangerous.”

  I nod when he gives me a questioning look to make sure I’m keeping up.

  “Right, so after a while, we might expose you to live spiders, but in a safe way, like they’re in an aquarium they obviously can’t get out of, at a distance, and so on. Neutralizing your fears a little bit at a time. It’s always ramping up, but just at the edge of the subject’s comfort zone, slowly expanding it. I’ve seen a subject go from not being willing to be in the same room as a spider to being comfortable with letting a tarantula hang out on her arm.”

  I blanch at the thought. Ew.

  He laughs at my expression. “It’s all right. One thing at a time. I won’t be introducing any spiders.”

  “You better not.”

  “Hey, you did say whatever I wanted to do, right?” His teasing grin makes it obvious he’s joking. “No spiders. I promise. But I think it might be a good approach for you.” A brief pause. “That is, if you want to become more comfortable with BDSM. This is why we need to communicate. If you’d rather I help you move away from your fascination with the lifestyle, we could do that too, but I don’t think that’s what you want.”

  Time stands still. He’s offering to help. He can make me forget all about it, so I can go on and live normally. Or he can teach me to accept it.

  For a moment, I think of what it would be like to be free of the guilt and the shame. I wouldn’t spend my evenings pining at the club. I wouldn’t feel like I was betraying Mom by wanting what I do. She might not know that I feel that way, but I sure do. But it’d mean giving up something that feels so much like a part of me.

  “Would it be difficult?” I’m not even sure which choice I’m asking about.

  He shrugs. “Either way will have its challenges, but I want you choosing what we do based on what you want, not on how difficult it is. In the end, staying true to yourself is what will help you find happiness.”

  I nod, considering. Staying true to myself. What’s true? What do I want?

  “You can think about it. Nothing says we have to start right now. Or that any decision is irreversible. We’ll probably have to change things as we go along. It’s always a process.”

  I know what I’m supposed to want, but as much as I try to deny it to myself, I also know that what I really want is not the same thing. Given the choice of trying to forget what I really want or learning to live with it, maybe embrace it even, what I need to do suddenly seems so obvious.

  A resolve fills me. “No, I’ve waited long enough. I don’t want to wait any longer.” I can’t give up something that is such a part of me. If Keegan can help me come to terms with it and accept it, then that’s what I want. What I really want.

  What I need.

  “Help me be myself.”

  6

  Keegan

  “Okay, you’ve got this. Ready to start?” I give Miranda a smile that I hope is encouraging.

  She nods, but there’s nervousness written all over her face. Her eyes dart back and forth, taking in the room like a skittish animal. She stands straight in the middle of my office waiting for the first command. We’re going to start simple and then take it from there.

  “You’re going to be fine. Nothing weird is going to happen today, I promise”

  She grimaces. “Easy for you to say.”

  I take a moment to watch her. She’s pure temptation. Fuck, I’m in trouble and we haven’t even started. I’m supposed to be professional and hands off? Dr. Hastings, my Ph.D. advisor, would be chewing me out if he knew the kinds of thoughts that are going through my head right now.

  “We’ll do this just like in a proper BDSM session.”

  “I don’t see any gags or ropes.” A hint of her playful nature breaks through, a cautious smile, though her eyes are wide. If she can get rid of her challenges, she’ll make a delightful sub.

  Not mine, obviously, but some lucky bastard’s. Being kink positive is already a step too far for some of my more conservative colleagues. I know how it would look to an ethics board if I’m caught first helping a client to be subservient, only to take her on as mine after the treatment is officially ended. Grooming they’d call it, and I’d lose my license immediately.

  I shake my head. “No need for those. Not today, anyway.” If at all possible, her eyes widen just a little further at that. Shit. Baby steps.

  I move on before she can dwell too much on things that may or may not happen. “For now we’ll run with standard safewords. If it becomes too much and you can’t continue, call out red, and if something’s not right, but not critical, call out yellow and we’ll figure out how to change things so that you’re okay. Sound good?”

  Her expression fixed in concentration, she nods.

  “Repeat it to me.”

  “Red means stop. Yellow means pause and change.”

  “Good. Arms out.”

  “What?” She frowns.

  “We’ve started. Arms out.”

  She blinks. Then slowly lifts her arms until they’re stretched out at her sides, hands flat and palms down. “Like this?”

>   “Good. How are you doing?”

  She faintly shrugs. “I’m okay. All you did was ask me to put my arms out.”

  “But I didn’t ask. I ordered you to. How does that make you feel?”

  Pausing like she’s tasting something new, she shrugs again. “I don’t know. Not much. It doesn’t really feel like much. It’s more like doing you a favor, I guess?”

  “Okay, good. Stand on one leg.”

  A faint smile forms on her lips. “Getting a little silly, isn’t it?”

  “Stand on one leg.” This time my voice is harder, deeper. More like the voice I’d use in a scene.

  Her leg snaps up, and even she looks a little surprised at how quickly it does, before she gathers herself. “I feel a little like Karate Kid here.”

  “Watch it, or I’ll make you do a crane kick next,” I tease. She giggles briefly at that, then starts to wobble. “Keep steady,” I command and she responds, finding her balance again. Good. At least she’s not freaking out. This is starting better than I thought it would.

  It should probably bother me how much I’m enjoying this, even these stupid little commands. Just watching her move at my whim gets me thinking about other ways I’d like to have her moving, and none of them are appropriate.

  But the thoughts are inevitable.

  “Put your leg down.”

  She does.

  “Crouch.”

  She does that too, but a bit reluctantly. It’s definitely a more vulnerable pose. I have to be careful. I want to challenge her, but not push her too hard.

  “Kneel.”

  It takes a moment, but then she shifts forward until her knees are on the floor and her round ass is resting on her heels. My mind whirs, imagining her in that position without clothes on. Fuck. My dick is getting hard, and how the hell do I keep her from noticing?

  “Eyes on the floor.”

  This time she swallows, but she bends her neck so she’s looking down and not at me. It solves my immediate problem, but seeing her in such a submissive pose doesn’t exactly make anything soften.

  “Are you all right?” Just because she’s turning me on, doesn’t mean I can push her too far.

  “Yeah.” Her voice is a whisper, barely audible.

  “There’s no shame in using a safeword. Just let me know.”

  She nods, faintly, but doesn’t say anything more. Just waits for my commands.

  “Hands on your ankles.”

  This time there’s no hesitation. I approach slowly, not wanting to spook her, until I’m standing right in front of her. The power imbalance is thick in the air, but even so, she’s still.

  So am I. I wait, letting the unevenness of our positions sink in. Let her think about it for a bit. Let her feel that right now, she’s in my power. I can see all of her, but all she sees is the top of my shoes. In this position, I can watch her, how she’s waiting for my next words. Her back rises and falls in time with her breathing. It’s not labored, but definitely coming a little fast. She’s not as calm as she’d like to have me think.

  It puts me in a difficult situation. The principle idea is to not expose her to more than she can handle, to ease her into accepting and taking control of the feelings that are keeping her from doing the things she so desperately wants to do. Meanwhile, every nerve in my body is urging me to coax her further, to push her right up to her limits. I want to give her the excitement of going further than she thinks possible and luxuriate in seeing her squirm and fight against me until her inevitable surrender.

  Needless to say, what I want and the proper procedures of the therapy are strictly at odds right now, and neither my big head nor my little head are particularly happy about the situation.

  If she weren’t looking down, I might even get a glimpse of cleavage, but given the state of my cock right now, I’m pretty sure having her look up isn’t much of an idea. Fuck, she looks delicious like this, submissive and needy of what I have to give her. But I won’t. She’s not ready, and if she could hear my thoughts right now, then forget about safewords. She’d be out that door like a rocket and there’d be a lawsuit coming my way faster than you could say “red”.

  I take a step back before I’m too tempted.

  “Spread your knees.”

  She hesitates. Just a moment, but she does, before settling into a perfect position of submission. The only thing missing is her wrists and ankles cuffed, making her completely helpless. I’d love that, as a matter of fact, but I’m not going to act on it. Jesus, why is this so hard? I’ve never had such a hard time staying in control of myself. I’m a damn professional, and I can act like it, even if my client is a gorgeous submissive.

  Maybe I should back off, stop the session. I could do with some time to cool off. I glance at the time. Still twenty minutes of play left, where I try to not act like an animal. There’s just something about her that makes it impossible to stop.

  Shit.

  “Down onto all fours.”

  This time, I can see the wheels spinning in her head. Where does the line between BDSM therapy end and true submission begin? That last command might just have crossed Miranda’s line.

  She confirms it when instead of moving, she says in a timid voice, “Yellow.”

  Well, at least it wasn’t red. “Are you alright? What aren’t you comfortable with?” Like I don’t have a pretty good idea.

  “I’m fine. I just… I’m not sure I can manage too much more of… well, this.”

  “Talk to me. What do you mean by this? The position? Is the floor too hard? Something more specific?”

  With a resigned expression, she looks up. I immediately crouch down to be at her level, both so we’re talking face to face, and so that my crotch isn’t the only thing she sees.

  She frowns. “It’s… I don’t know. I need to stop, but I don’t want to. It’s like having a devil and an angel on my shoulders. The angel keeps yelling at me, “What are you doing? Get up! Don’t let him boss you around like that,” while the devil tells me that this is what I wanted all along. That I need this.” She lets go of her ankles to throw her hands out in a gesture of exasperation. “But even if I do, I can’t let go of the feeling that this is dirty. Unnatural. Wrong.” She sighs. “God, I’m such a mess. How the hell am I supposed to ever get to somewhere normal, when I’m torn like this?”

  The first sniffle catches me unaware, but then a tear pops out of the corner of her eye and I react instinctively. Wrapping my arms around her, I pull her close and let her cry into my chest. Fuck, she fits right into my arms as if she were born to be there.

  “Hey, it’s okay, Miranda. Sometimes there are a lot of bottled up emotions that come out during these sessions. Take it easy. We’re done for today, okay? No more commands this time.” I pat her back. “You’re going to be fine, and I’m here to watch over you.”

  In response, she snuggles closer against me while I do my best to provide a haven that feels safe. Working with Miranda is obviously going to bring up a lot of emotions, and she needs to learn that I might push her boundaries sometimes, but I’ll never ask for more than she’s willing to give.

  She mumbles something, but her voice is muffled against my shirt, and I can’t make it out.

  “What was that?”

  “I’m sorry.” She turns her head so her mouth isn’t covered. “I didn’t mean to blubber all over you like this. I’m stronger than that.”

  Unable to help myself, I run a hand through her hair, stroking to comfort her. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind. Working with emotions isn’t easy. It’s like a good BDSM session. Sometimes it’s painful, and difficult, but afterwards we feel better for it.”

  “Stop sounding so sensible,” she mumbles. The crying seems to have passed, but she’s still pressed firmly against me. I don’t really want to let her go, and I don’t think she wants me to either. So we sit there comfortably wrapped in each other’s arms.

  “I’m not sure sensible has ever been a good way to describe me, but I try
.” I chuckle dryly. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better, I think.”

  “Good. Ready to stand?”

  “I don’t know. Am I allowed to?” she asks with a wry note in her voice. It’s good to hear.

  “The session ended with your safeword. You’re free to do whatever you please.”

  “Okay.”

  Sometimes I’m slow, but it doesn’t exactly pass me by that she’s not standing, but still leaning into me. I laugh. “Maybe not whatever. As much as I’d love to stay like this, I do have another appointment coming up.” I don’t want her to leave. Fuck, I can’t get attached like this. “Okay, up we go.” Hooking my hands under her upper arms, I pull her up with me.

  “Thank you.” She smiles softly up at me.

  “Any time.”

  “No, I mean for the whole session. It scared me a little, and it made me feel some uncomfortable things, but I think it might’ve helped. At least a little.”

  “Well, I’m glad, though I’d be careful about rushing things. Your wants and your conscience are in a bit of tension right now. It can snap back, in either direction. Spend a little time thinking, and do some relaxing things this weekend, and then we’ll see how it goes next session.”

  She stands up straighter, her burgeoning confidence showing in spite of my warning. “Yeah, okay. That sounds good. When can we do that?”

  “After the weekend, but you’ll have to talk to Kent for a specific date.”

  “Got it.” She opens the door before looking back at me over her shoulder. There’s more than just goodbye in that look, but I can’t quite decipher it. She smiles. “So, until next week then.”

  “Yep. I’ll see you then. Unless we meet at the club, I suppose.”

  Her cheeks flush pink. “Right. Yeah. Well, I’ll see you later.”

  I smile and nod. “I look forward to it.”

  For a moment longer we stand there, looking at each other before we both laugh.

  “Get out of here,” I say with a grin.