Page 260 of Ashes of Sin and Stardust

“It’s your journal, but you’remy girl. And I told you before, I don’t like you saying mean things about my submissive.”

“But I’m a bitch!”

“Yeah!” I snapped. “Sometimes! But I’m the only one who gets to call you that!” I held her face in my hands, pulling her forward and pressing our foreheads together. “Now I’m going to have to punish you for being mean to my brat.”

She didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure if she should be excited, or anxious.

“But... but I’m in so much trouble anyway. ‘Cause of the sugar, and how mean I am, and stuff. And, hey, wait a minute! We don’t have a rule about that!”

“Rule twelve. You are not allowed to say–or write–mean things to, or about, my submissive.”

Her lips wrinkled up. “You’re getting good at this loophole thing.”

“I learn fast.”

“It’s a little scary.”

“You’rea little scary.”

I got a hint of a smile for that one.

“I think this is a good rule for you. The more negativity you entertain in your head, the darker of a place your head is going to be. It’s not going to change your entire life overnight, but trust me when I say, the negative self-talk is not helping you.”

She shrugged.

I brushed her hair back, and then put a finger under her chin. “You can agree to this rule for me, right baby?”

She closed her eyes and sighed dramatically, lifting and dropping her hands. “Okay...fine, I guess... no being mean to myself.”

“That’s my girl. Add it to your list.”

“Yes Sir... what’s my punishment?”

“I think you need... forced cuddles.”

She wasn’t completely opposed. The timidness and depression weren’t alleviated, but she did seem to relax a little, and eventually, her feet fell still on their own.

The following evening, she was supposed to give me her finished report. I knew it was done because she’d typed all afternoon, and was now sitting in her bedroom, staring at the printed pages sitting in her lap. She gnawed on her lip like she was nervous.

I was reading through the rest of the book Becca had brought by, thinking through an interesting section on the physical ramifications of her disorder. I already knew Alice experienced physical pain because of her emotional distress, but the way the book described it, it was more like misery.“Some experts even agree that BPD is the most painful disorder to have, as the chronic pain brought on by episodes of distress, accompanied by the mental turmoil of said distress elevates the pain level beyond what the neurotypical individual experiences. While some will cry and sob at a ten on the pain scale, a Borderline may live there.”

I knew I’d been pushing her to find other coping mechanisms, but I also knew the relationship she had with her masochism. Had I underestimated her needs? It didn’t surprise me that she hadn’t been able to clearly communicate her needs to me, because that was par for the course for her. Had I made the past few days worse by not giving her that outlet?

“Alice, come here little bug, I need to ask you something.”

Alice tip-toed out a few minutes later, clutching her papers in her hands, tears running down her face.

Always crying. Poor thing. I really needed to get her to up her water intake.

“Come here. Genuine question.” I patted the couch beside me and she tentatively walked over, tucking her feet up under her.

“Can you help me understand your physical pain in conjunction with your disorder? What the intensity is like, how often you experience it?”

Her shoulders relaxed a little and she began to attempt to explain. “Um... what’s the most painful thing you’ve ever experienced?”

“I tore some ligaments in my knee in the car accident.”

“Okay. So let’s say that’s an eleven. That’s the pain you don’t want, it’s too much, and it’s not something you can tolerate. Safeword level. For me, it was when Michael put nails through my tits.”

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