Chapter 012

Dr. Lisa Voss sat quietly across from her, legs crossed, pen in hand but unmoving. The room felt warmer today, though Elena knew it was just her skin, flushed from embarrassment—or anticipation. Maybe both.

"Last session," Lisa said softly, "you spoke about the lows—the experiences where sex with Daniel felt more like submission than love. But today, I want you to go further. You mentioned you still think about those moments. Sometimes not with fear… but with arousal. That's where the real healing begins."

Elena hesitated.

Her fingers danced around the edge of her coffee cup. Her gaze wandered from the window to the rug to Lisa's eyes. She felt like she was about to confess to something ugly, something broken.

And yet… she needed to say it.

"I still dream about him," Elena finally said. "And not the fights. Not the yelling. Just the way he touched me. The way he took me."

Lisa nodded. "Tell me."

Elena inhaled deeply. "Sometimes when I'm in bed beside Nathan, I close my eyes and I'm not there anymore. I'm back in that damn apartment with Daniel. I can hear his belt unbuckling. The sound alone makes my thighs clench. I can feel his breath on my neck before he even touches me."

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "In my dreams, he doesn't ask. He doesn't even look at me like a person. He just… flips me over. Pulls my hair. Spits on me sometimes. I'm soaking wet before he even slides in."

Lisa blinked, still silent.

Elena continued.

"I remember the night he tied my wrists to the headboard with his tie. It was navy blue. Silky. He gagged me with my own underwear. Told me, 'This is how I shut you up when you're too proud to beg.' And I loved it. I hated that I loved it."

She exhaled sharply. "He used to say things that made my stomach drop. Called me his 'little whore,' or his 'pretty cum-dump.' And I'd come so hard, I'd forget who I was. Forget the bruises. Forget the silence after."

Lisa finally spoke. "And when those thoughts come now… how do they make you feel?"

Elena looked away. "Ashamed. But turned on. I touch myself to them sometimes. And then I cry after. Like I've betrayed the woman I'm supposed to be now."

The air hung heavy between them.

Lisa leaned in. "What you're experiencing is more common than you think, Elena. Trauma, when sexualized, creates pleasure-pain fantasies that live in your body. You're not dirty for still responding to them. You're human."

Elena nodded slowly, her throat tightening.

"There was a time," she said, "when I couldn't come unless Daniel was rough with me. Unless he slapped my ass hard enough to leave a mark. Or called me a slut while pulling my hair."

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn't stop.

"He once bent me over the kitchen sink. I'd just come home from work, tired, heels still on. He didn't even let me change. Just lifted my skirt, pulled my thong aside, and slid into me. No words. Just panting. Gripping my hips so tight I bruised."

She shivered. "And it turned me on more than anything else ever had. I felt like property. Like nothing. And somehow that made me feel… seen."

Lisa watched her gently. "That wasn't about you being broken. That was about your body trying to feel something in the middle of emotional chaos."

Elena nodded, eyes wet. "But now, I fantasize about it in moments I shouldn't. Like when Nathan kisses my neck too gently. Or when I'm alone in the shower. I imagine Daniel behind me, pinning me to the wall. One hand around my throat. The other between my legs."

Her lips parted as she remembered it. "And I come fast. Violently. But it never feels clean."

After the session, Elena didn't go straight home. She drove aimlessly for a while, the streets blurry through tired eyes. She ended up parked in a quiet lot overlooking the city skyline. The same spot Daniel once brought her to on a stormy night, years ago.

She remembered the way rain pelted the windows while he fingered her in the backseat. Told her to be quiet. Told her to look him in the eyes while she came. And she did. Harder than she ever had before.

The memory made her thighs tighten in the driver's seat now. Her hand slid absentmindedly between them, over the soft stretch of her leggings. She closed her eyes, breathing unevenly, letting the memory swallow her.

She heard his voice in her head.

"You were made to be ruined, baby. And only I know how to ruin you right."

Her fingers slipped beneath the waistband. She didn't stop herself. Not this time. Her body pulsed with heat and guilt and longing. She came within seconds—shaking, breath caught in her throat, her name dissolving on her tongue like a prayer whispered into darkness.

Back at home that night, Nathan was already asleep when she slid into bed beside him.

She lay still for a long time, staring at the ceiling, the weight of her orgasm still between her legs, the ghost of Daniel still behind her eyes.

It wasn't just the sex. It was the power. The loss of it. The surrender. The bruises she used to trace with pride. The feeling of being claimed so fully that nothing else mattered.

But now? Now she was trying to make it matter.