Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 41506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 166(@250wpm)___ 138(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 166(@250wpm)___ 138(@300wpm)
So that was it.
Adam wanted to shout, “Who? Who might be there? And what the hell did that bastard do to you?” But he sensed if he reached out too aggressively, she would retreat once more into her shell. So he bit his lip and kept his mouth shut.
To his relief, after a while, she continued, “It’s always the same nightmare, in some variation or another. I’m in the punishment box, or the timeout cage in the back closet. I’ve been there for a long time.” She was speaking in a strange, flat tone, as if all the feeling had been ironed out of it. But at least she was talking. “Suddenly the box lid lifts, or the closet door is yanked open. I’m blinded by the light as he pulls me out and upright. I can never remember what I did wrong, but it’s something that requires punishment. It’s for my own good,” she says, her voice finally cracking with emotion.
“Princess,” Adam breathed softly, his heart breaking at the pain in her voice. “If this is too hard—”
“No,” she said sharply. And then, in a gentler tone. “I want to tell you. I need to say this out loud. You’re right. I need to take away the sting, draw out the poison.”
“Okay,” he said, keeping his face on the road. “Tell me. I’m listening.”
She blew out a breath. “He hauls me to the whipping post or the rack or the restraint hook. He binds my body and my hair with rope. It hurts so much… I’m so afraid…” Her hand flew to her head, her fingers running over her shorn scalp.
She shook her head vehemently. “That’s it. I don’t remember more. Just a feeling of terror. Of helplessness. Sometimes I know I’m dreaming and I try desperately to wake up. If I can only wake up.” Her voice was edged with panic.
“And you do wake up,” Adam said quickly, reaching for her hand and gripping it tight. “You wake up and you recognize that it was just a bad dream. That you’re no longer with that horrible bastard who abused your trust and love. That you’ve made a new life for yourself that he will never be a part of. That you’re brave, strong and free now. Free to love a man who will cherish and protect you.”
“Oh, Adam,” she said in a tremulous voice. “You’re so kind. But I’m afraid… Maybe I’m not so strong anymore. What if I’m… broken?”
“I don’t believe that, Shani,” Adam asserted staunchly. “Not for a second. I’ve watched the way you comport yourself, both in and out of the scene. Yes, I sense you’re scarred, but also that you’re a survivor. And you’re courageous. A lot of people might have turned their backs on BDSM, but you stayed true to yourself. You wouldn’t let him take that away from you.”
“Yes,” she whispered. Then, louder and with more confidence, she asserted, “I couldn’t turn my back on BDSM. It’s too integral a part of me. To cut that out of my life would have been like excising a piece of my soul. I just needed a fresh start. A new job across the country, a new look…”
She was talking now. That was good. She was opening up, bit by bit. Adam needed to find out what had really happened to her, not just in her nightmares. He needed to understand so he could help her heal.
Her words still echoed in his mind: “He binds my body and my hair with rope. It hurts so much… I’m so afraid.”
“I get that,” he said aloud. “A fresh start is good. I think it’s great you were able to do that. But I also get the sense you haven’t yet really been able to put the past behind you. You haven’t yet dealt with the pain, or the man who caused it.”
When she said nothing to this, he plunged on. “Tell me the truth, Shani. Do those nightmares reflect real life? Why do you keep your hair so short? It’s because of him, isn’t it?”
Her hand flew again to her shorn scalp. “Yes,” she admitted in a low, strangled voice.
“That fucking bastard,” Adam swore, gripping the steering wheel hard. “Any man who abuses a woman is a coward and a bully, not to mention a criminal. He violated your trust and the sacred tenets of BDSM.”
He blew out a breath, forcing himself back under control. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t mean to make things worse by losing my temper over this guy. Tell me what happened. Tell me why you felt the need to cut your hair.”
“It was that last time. I had to get away…”
Again the long pause, while Adam gritted his teeth to keep his big mouth shut.
Eventually, she picked up the thread again. “He used my hair during bondage sessions. I had very long hair back then—all my life, in fact. The hair bondage was sexy at first—being restrained in a different way. But toward the end… When I had lost myself, when I’d forgotten who I was, it wasn’t sexy anymore. That last time…” She trailed off again, her hands twisting wildly in her lap, her face a frightened mask of anxiety and pain.