Page 17 of Need

It had been a while since he’d asked me that, but after a moment, I answered, “Six.”

“Tell me why.” I started to avert my eyes, but his hand came up to hold my head in place. “No,” he said firmly.

It was so hard to look at him, but I did. “I’m scared,” I said. “I know you said...” I took a deep breath. “I know you said you wouldn’t hurt me, but...”

“But the fear doesn’t just go away,” he said, finishing the sentence for me.

I nodded.

He leaned back in his chair and pulled me with him. He guided my head to rest against his shoulder as he began slowly running his fingers through my hair. I loved this. When he touched me as he was doing now, I felt so safe. So cared for.

“Brianna, nothing is going to happen tonight.”

What? “But I thought...”

“That as soon as you gave me the green light I would be dragging you into my bedroom to have my way with you?”

My only reaction was to push my body even closer to his. He was my only calm.

He responded by placing a kiss to my temple. “All I want to do tonight is talk. I know this is scary for you. I promise that I will push you, but I want this to be a positive experience. I want you to want this just as much as I do.”

His lips continued to move along my hairline as he spoke, sending a warm feeling down to my toes. “I don’t know if I can,” I said honestly.

“I know you can,” he said with confidence. It made me want to believe him. “It’s only your fear that holds you back. I’ve known that since the first week you were with me. I want to help you overcome that fear.” He paused before continuing. “Is that what you want? Do you want to chase those demons that haunt you away?”

I knew what he was asking. Did I want to live in fear my entire life? Did I trust him enough to help me work through the fear, and have a chance to be normal again? “I... want... to.”

“Good,” he said. “And do you trust me, Brianna?”

This time I didn’t have to think about it. “I trust you more than anyone else.”

I felt him nod. “That’s good, but I want more than that. I want you to be able to trust me completely, and I know that isn’t the case right now.”

As much as I wanted to tell him that I did trust him completely, I knew that he was right. There was still that little voice inside my head that told me I needed to be careful. That if I gave him what he wanted, he would hurt me.

We just sat there in a charged silence for several minutes before he said, “Your safewords will be very important as we go forward. I will be watching you closely, but I’m going to be pushing, and I need to know from you when you reach a certain point.”

The rest of the night was spent going over safewords again, and discussing what he expected of me in regard to communication in general. By the end of the evening, I felt relaxed. The fear I’d had at the beginning was pushed to the back of my mind, and I felt for the first time that I might actually be able to do this.

Before we went to our separate bedrooms, he leaned down and kissed me. The kiss had a new edge to it that I’d never felt before, and it sent my pulse quickening.

“Goodnight, Brianna,” he said before leaving me standing at my bedroom door staring at his retreating figure.

Thursday morning, as I was making breakfast, he disappeared upstairs for almost twenty minutes. I was putting everything on the table when he came back down.

As we were eating, I kept eyeing the paper he’d brought down with him that was lying at the other side of his plate. He waited until he was finished eating before handing it to me.

“I want you to read this and write your thoughts about it in your journal. We’ll talk about it when I get home.”

I nodded my agreement, and he smiled at me while getting up to complete his morning ritual before leaving for work.

The paper he’d given me talked about trust. It explained trust in a way that I’d never thought of before. I not only put that in my journal, but also told him that night as we were sitting in his chair. Although trusting someone did make me vulnerable, it also created a feeling of safety. Something I was already feeling when it came to him.

On Friday morning, Stephan did the same thing. He disappeared while I was cooking and brought another paper down with him. He left once again, giving me the same instructions as the day before.

This time, the paper talked about submission and what it meant. I found I had many questions after reading it and wrote them all down in my journal so that I wouldn’t forget. That night was the first time I let him read my journal.

He read in silence through the pages I’d written, not commenting until he was finished. “You express yourself well in writing, Brianna.”

---