"I belong here." The admission tasted like surrender.
"Beautiful. One more: I need structure."
"I need structure." That came easier because it was true. Had been true longer than I wanted to admit.
"Perfect." He moved back to his chair, settling with that controlled grace. "Now we'll combine concepts. Say: I am Bunny and I belong here."
"I am Bunny and I belong here."
"I am Bunny and I need structure."
"I am Bunny and I need structure."
Each repetition wore down resistance like water on stone. The kneeling position, the little girl dress, his voice guiding me through admissions that felt like prayers—it all combined into something hypnotic.
"Good girl." He leaned back, studying me. "Now something harder. Tell me what you thought about during isolation."
"I thought about you." The truth came without thought, weeks of conditioning overriding pride.
"More specific."
"I thought about your voice. Your hands. The way you—" I stopped, heat flooding my face.
"The way I what?"
"The way you make me feel things I don't want to feel."
"Such as?"
"Safe." The word escaped like a sob. "You make me feel safe even when you're hurting me. Especially when you're hurting me. And that's sick, isn't it? That's broken."
"That's human." He leaned forward, elbows on knees. "You associate pain with care because that's how you learned love. Chaos and crisis and cleaning up other people's messes. But here..."
"Here what?"
"Here the pain has purpose. Rules. Limits. It ends when it should end. Begins when you need it to begin." His voice dropped lower. "That's not sick, baby. That's healing."
"Don't." The endearment hit harder after the morning's distance. "Don't call me that if you're going to pretend last night didn't happen."
"I'm not pretending anything. I'm compartmentalizing." He stood again, moving closer. "Now, back to your affirmations. Say: I want to be good."
"I want to be good."
"I want to please Daddy."
My breath caught. We'd used the title before, but this felt different. More real. More like admission than play.
"Say it."
"I want to please Daddy."
"Louder."
"I want to please Daddy." The volume made it feel more true.
"Better." He touched my hair, just barely. "Now the hard one. The one you're going to fight. Ready?"
I nodded, though dread pooled in my stomach.
