“Wanna tell me what’s got you so upset today, Demetria?” Dr. Adler asks for the third time.
I know what she’s doing.
She wants me to give my emotions a seat at the table, so they can have their moment and then go on their merry way. Blah, blah, blah. Insert eyeroll here. It just doesn’t feel quite as simple as she makes it out to be. I get that emotions are complex, but when you add family trauma and religious bullshit to the equation, things tend to get a little more complicated.
“No, I really don’t,” I push back. Not like it’ll matter. She’s fucking relentless.
She uncrosses her legs just to cross them the other way and I swear I see the tiniest hint of white underwear on the quick pass between switching legs.
Fuck me, why did I have to pick the hottest therapist in Kansas City. Dr. Adler is a literal smokeshow, with her auburn hair tied into a tight bun in the back, leaving only a few tendrils to hang down on each side. Her emerald eyes flash bright, despite having to do so through those glasses. But it’s those fucking pencil skirts that get me every single time. In my fantasies, she wears them just for me.
“Demetria.” She repeats my name again and my heart skips a beat at the way she says it. I hate my full name. I always have and I don’t let anyone use it. Well… except for CeCe when she’s being a fucking brat. But the way Dr. Adler says it… it’s like she’s making love to each letter as it passes over her tongue and my vagina is happy to allow her each and every one.
Fuck, I need to get laid.
It’s been way too long and now I’m lusting over my therapist. I’m the shittiest of humans. I came here for her help, so I could truly get past the shit my parents put me through and now look at me. I’m a drooling mess and perpetually wet every time I sit on this couch across from her in that damn chair.
“Yes, Dr Adler,” I reply, my tone full of sarcasm.
She cocks her brow in response and I’m suddenly aware of all my parts.
“Demetria, we’ve discussed this. If you want to move past your trauma, you need to start by acknowledging your feelings. Let them have a seat at the table.”
Called that one. She loves to talk about feelings. I get that I’m the one that came to her for help, but it’s harder than I thought it would be and for some reason, I’m feeling uncooperative today.
“What if I don’t want to give them a seat? What if I’d prefer to stuff them as far down into my soul as I can and forget they ever existed?”
She leans forward, resting her elbow on her knee and cradling her chin with her fingers. “I don’t think that’s what you really want, Demetria.”
“You’re right,” I admit, reluctantly. “I do want to get past this. And I know you’re about to tell me how far I’ve come, but it hurts. My parents disowned me because I’m gay. I thought I was fine with it, but I was wrong. My own fuckingparents. How am I supposed to get the rest of the way without it hurting so fucking much? Maybe, I’m just supposed to live with this.”
The tears sting the backs of my eyelids, threatening to break through, but I swallow the accompanying lump that’s formed in my throat and will them to go the fuck away. Crying for my parents feels like I’m letting them win.
“There are a lot of ways to release this last bit of sadness and resentment you’re holding onto that don’t involve speaking the words. Maybe another way would be better suited to your needs.”
“Like what?”
“Well… you could try acupuncture, meditation, martial arts.” She lists them off quickly, then pauses for a moment too long before finishing her thought. “A lot of people also find rather significant emotional release through engaging in BDSM-related activities.”
She says the last part cautiously, like she’s not sure she should be suggesting it, but it’s clear by the slight flush in her cheeks that this is her favorite of the options she’s presented.
Now, I’m curious.
“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 surprisesme 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.”
