Page 4 of Tame Me

“To teach different ways of healing,” I answer.

“How?”

“BDSM,” I answer.

“Be more specific, Ayla.”

“Fuck, I don’t know!” I snap.

“Then ask me,” he says gently.

“Fine. Can you explain it?” I sigh heavily and look up at him when he doesn’t answer.

“Meridian teaches coping mechanisms while helping the participant through trauma and mental illness. For you, the objective will be to help replace your tendency to self-harm when stressed or triggered, but also help you learn how to trust again. You struggle with those in authority positions or those who you see as having power over you. By teaching you how to safely submit and trust the person leading, it will give you all the space you need to heal without the stressors of making decisions.”

“Maybe I am a dom,” I say with a frown. “Aren’t you supposed to test me on that?”

“Usually, yes. The test is different for everyone because every participant functions differently,” he says. “But a dom? Come on, Ayla.”

“What?” I ask. “You’d make a good submissive. Are you a good boy, Reid?”

“You tell me, Ayla. Do you want me to be a good boy?” Reid asks smoothly.

“Uhm…” I say. I picture him on his knees in front of me, and I blush hard. I drop my head and continue to violently doodle.

“Or would you rather be the good girl who gets all the praise?” Reid asks, taking the pen and notebook from me. “Look at me, Ayla.”

“No!” I laugh nervously and move back to stand. Reid sets everything down and stands with me. It doesn’t scare me, but it is intimidating. I back up, but he doesn’t step closer to me. I expect him to, but I don’t know why he didn’t.

“What are you thinking?” Reid asks.

“You stood like you were going to… I think I’m projecting,” I say.

“You thought what?” he asks.

“I thought you’d come after me… But you didn’t,” I say. “I stepped back and you just… left me alone.”

“Because without consent to pursue, that is cornering you when you are uncomfortable,” he says. “Do you want me to corner you, Ayla?”

“I… don’t know,” I say. “I just expected it.”

Reid takes a careful step toward me, and I nearly trip over myself to back up again. He continues to step toward me until I am against the mirror. I don’t say anything or move, and he gets within arm’s reach, but doesn’t touch me.

“So, Ayla. You asked if I was a good boy. Am I?”

“Uhm,” I laugh. “Yeah… You didn’t touch me.”

“You don’t want to be touched?” he asks.

“You’re so confusing,” I sigh.

“How?”

“You’re giving me whiplash,” I say hatefully.

“How?”

“What the fuck do you mean, how?” I say, raising my voice. He moves slightly, and it’s innocent—God, he’s so innocent—but it triggers something in my memories. I snap and shove him away, but he promptly grabs my wrists and spins me around to face the mirror. I nearly crumple to the floor when a sob cracks from my throat, but he has his hands on my waist to keep me upright. I hate how fucking well he knows me.