I’m not going anywhere.”
“I know.” She squeezed my hand. “Thank you.” We exchanged smiles—hers with considerably less enthusiasm than mine—as Leslie shut the door behind us.
There was a couch in Leslie’s office, but it wasn’t the stereotypical black leather affair from movies and such. It was about as plainly and conservatively appointed as she was.
Meredith and I took a seat on the couch while Leslie sat in her armchair.
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” Meredith said.
“You’re welcome,” Leslie said. “I normally try to see new patients as soon as possible, and given your circumstances, I didn’t think this should wait.”
Meredith exhaled, and I couldn’t help noticing how relieved she sounded, especially when she said, “I appreciate it, believe me.” Aside from the other night, I wondered how long it had been since her needs and emotions had been a priority for anyone.
Leslie laid the file folder on her lap and folded her hands across it. “Now, we discussed your situation over the phone, but why don’t we start this session with what you hope to get out of this?”
Meredith glanced at me. I gave her a reassuring smile and squeezed her hand. She took a breath and turned to Dr. Reid. “Rich took everything I knew about sex and turned it into…” She trailed off, biting her lip for a moment. Then she shook her head. “I don’t even know how to describe it. He took everything I ever enjoyed and made it hell.”
I clenched my jaw. I’d heard of Doms and Masters like this, but I’d never been so close to the aftermath. I’d never been called upon to help someone recover from it, and wondered for the millionth time if I was capable of doing so.
“Go on, Meredith,” Leslie said softly.
“What I want out of this,” Meredith whispered, “is my sexual identity back. I do want to be a submissive, but on my terms this time.”
Leslie gestured at me. “Which is where Scott comes into the equation, I assume?”
We both nodded.
“Before we go on,” Leslie said, “are you concerned about your safety? Any possibility of your ex-husband threatening or harming you?”
Meredith shook her head. “I pressed charges against him when I left. His sentence isn’t up for a few years yet, and he doesn’t know where I live now.”
“Good, good.” Leslie wrote something in the folder in her lap. “What was he charged with?”
“Multiple counts of sexual assault, assault and battery, aggravated sexual battery, unlawful imprisonment.” She paused. “I got lucky. The district attorney had an ax to grind over both sexual assault and domestic violence, and so did the judge. The D.A. even tried to nail Rich for attempted murder, but that didn’t fly.”
“Wait,” I broke in, “Attempted murder?”
Meredith nodded, but didn’t look at either of us. “He thought Rich’s rather enthusiastic attempt at erotic asphyxiation qualified as attempted murder.”
I clenched my teeth, trying really, really hard not to get sick. Choking was one of the few things I absolutely refused to do, even if a sub wanted it, and if that motherfucker had taken it far enough to warrant charges…
“When you say ‘rather enthusiastic’,” Leslie said, “what do you mean?”
I held my breath, certain I did not want to hear the answer to that question.
Meredith reached up to brush a stray strand of hair away from her neck, but even that casual pantomime didn’t hide the way she gingerly rubbed the side of her throat. “I blacked out. Which wasn’t unusual. I guess he kept going for a while after that, I don’t know. When I came to, he’d already come, and he punished me for…” She paused, then shook her head and let her hand fall back into her lap. “Hell, I don’t remember. Anyway, he left for work, and a few hours later, my throat started swelling. I was locked in the house, just like I always was whenever he was gone, but I knew I needed help. So I…” Her cheeks
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley