Unorthodox Therapy (54 page)

Rejected.

Just like me.

His words resonated in my mind. Perhaps there was logic in them. Could a woman like me ever feel content with the life of a sex slave or submissive? Maybe some time away from each other would be good. It would give us both a chance to look at our relationship from a new angle.

None of these arguments affected my emotions. All I cared about was that Thomas had left. I’d thrown all my efforts into being perfect again and failed. Thus, he was gone. His reassurance, the emotion in his eyes, the love I felt when we said goodbye didn't ease the hurt of being abandoned.

I wasn't being fair. I'd often been a bitch to him during our short, turbulent affair. I’d questioned him, led him on and never fully gave my trust to him. There were a thousand reasons I used to justify my behavior. Years of working in a highly competitive environment and all my unhealthy relationships had taken their toll on me. Perhaps the role of a submissive was not something I would be good at in the long run. My trust issues ran too deep. I wasn’t able to surrender and release myself of all doubts and fears.

He was gone but perhaps he had the right to leave. Thomas was young, smart, attractive and funny. Why should someone like him settle for a woman like me? Complicated and difficult, strong on the outside, fractured, fragile and messed up on the inside. Smoke and mirrors, thousands of masks. He’d seen through all of them. He was the first to see my raw core. Could it be that Thomas didn't like what he saw?

Maybe it was a gentle way of letting me go without hurting my feelings, under the guise of doing it for my good. A month of two from now I'd probably see him with another girl. He’d be happy and unburdened by the drama of secret affairs and my emotional meltdowns.

I sighed and went back inside the loft. The last few months had exhausted me but they couldn't have been easy on him either. I was entirely concerned with myself, my feelings, my happiness, my needs. Always about Lina Riley, the great and powerful. Maybe if I'd taken my time and thought more about how he felt, things wouldn't have ended so badly. Thomas clearly stated a 24/7 slave was not what he wanted or needed. And what did I do? I begged to be his slave.

My fingers ran over the red leather of the collar. Another sob escaped my already exhausted, aching lungs. It would feel so good on my neck as he fastened and locked it, claiming me as his. What was I supposed to do with his gifts – the collar and the boots? Those reminders of all that was within my reach but I never truly appreciated until it was gone.

Keeping them close would be too painful. Throwing them away would break my heart.

Maybe I'd lock them in a box and take them out when I was too sad or lonely, when I was drunk, high or both. Whenever I had an excuse to put on the old uniform of a pet.

I raised myself from the floor and wiped my tears. It didn't matter anymore.

He was gone and left me more confused and wounded than ever. Part of me was convinced Thomas would never come back. So what was the point of the decorum, of all the effort to keep me from my vices? Every bit of me was flawed, so I might as well fully embrace the fact I was damaged goods.

The rest of my life would pass by in a sad haze of cigarette smoke, scotch fuelled nights and meaningless one night stands. I'd throw all my efforts, every bit of energy, into ChaosTech Solutions and never look back.

Going back to my old, nasty habits could start as early as now. My face was red from hours of crying, and my hair was messed up and sticking out in all directions. The jeans and sweatshirt I’d chosen earlier were wrinkled. It was hardly the best way to go out, especially so close to midnight.

Who cared? I was dying for a cigarette.

On my way to the elevator, I couldn't help but think it could have been worse. Thomas had made me feel good and special in those short moments we’d shared. I was a better, more liberated version of myself. The unlikely feelings that blossomed between us were love. Maybe not the purest, most normal kind but it was love anyway. I wouldn't take back even a minute of my time with him.It was good to be loved at least once in your life. Some people didn't even get such short-term happiness. So, in the end, I should have been grateful.

The clerk at the 24/7 shop at the foot of the residential building I lived in smiled broadly when he saw me. His cynical gray eyes smirked in recognition.

“Well, well, look who is here.”

It was shameful to admit but this was the place that had saved me many times when I was in a nicotine crisis. The guy knew my poison just as well as some bartenders were aware of their regulars' favorite booze.

“I haven't seen you around for ages,” he commented while pushing two packs and a new lighter onto the counter. “I hoped you had quit.”

“You were right.” I shrugged and passed him the money with a forced smile. “But old habits die hard. Some people can never change.”

The guy I'd known for four years but whose name I’d never bothered to learn nodded sadly.

“Who knows? Maybe you should try a little harder before you start again,” he added nonchalantly and put the money in the cash register. “You've been gone for a long time.”

“I'd hate to keep your turnover on the low.” I winked at him with forced cheer in my eyes and turned to leave. “See you around, pal.”

“Take care, beautiful. You're a candy for my tired eyes, but I still hope to not see you again.”

He was smiling but his eyes stayed serious.

When I walked out, I felt my temptation waning. The old need and lust for the smoke in my lungs and the taste of nicotine on my tongue wasn't even half as strong as I remembered. I lifted one of the packs and undid the foil. A year ago I'd have ripped it with my teeth to get to the precious sticks of happiness and comfort, but at that moment, when my heart was torn and the pain of rejection was shattering me, I found I didn't want to light one.

I would do exactly as Thomas had said, follow his last command and go back to work on Monday. The forced rest had been driving me crazy but I knew that once I set my foot into the office, all hell would break loose. The first week would be a nightmare.

So why didn't I feel the need to indulge myself in the little dose of stress relief?

I closed my eyes and recalled his gentle voice from the dungeon, quiet yet so assertive.

Desperate cursing made me search for the source of the sound. A young man stood nearby, squatting next to a puddle where his cigarette had fallen. He must have caught me staring because he turned to me and nearly whimpered.

“It was my last one. Can I have one of yours, Miss? Please… I've had the worst day.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, I went to the stranger and handed him the two packs and the lighter. His eyes went as wide as saucers at such unexpected generosity. Just when he was about to utter some slurred gratitude, I cut him off with a smile.

“Don't bother. I'm doing you a disservice.”

I turned my back on the bewildered man and headed back to my building. The pain was still there, cutting me to the bone. I missed Thomas just as badly as ten minutes ago, but the smile stayed on my face and some faint hope began to lurk beneath the muck.

Midnight. Real life expected me back within little more than twenty-four hours. My buried instincts resurfaced. The battle was about to begin.

THE END

TO BE CONTINUED

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If you really loved Unorthodox Therapy then you must know that Lina and Thomas’ journey is far from finished. You can expect them to return in Book 2 of the trilogy. It is too early to say yet but it will come out by the end of 2016 or at the beginning of 2017. If you want to keep up to date with my writing, I invite you to subscribe to my
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Author’s Note

I am looking at my finished manuscript of Unorthodox Therapy and I still can’t believe it’s a fact. Just last summer about that time it was a basic idea, brewing in my brain, waiting to take shape. The characters were merely faint shadows and the story path was covered in fog.

Ever since I made my first attempts at writing in the BDSM genre I wanted to craft a tale about a fearless, kick ass heroine who finds relief and pleasure in pain and being dominated by someone strong enough to be her match. The submission of a strong woman is difficult, both for her and the man who is taking charge. I also wanted to write about an atypical Dom, or at least atypical compared to most of what I have been reading in the genre so far. I wanted to show my leading male’s transformation and journey to his true identity, his struggles, his mistakes, how he deals with them and how he finds redemption. It was also interesting to develop a dominant man with warm and affectionate personality paired with a more rational, cerebral submissive.

Have I succeeded? Are Thomas and Lina strong and memorable characters? Does
Unorthodox Therapy
make you want to spend more time with them? That is up to the reader to decide. All I can do is share them with you and present the intricate thread of their relationship and story.

Either way, I’m happy I decided to take a leap of faith and turn that story into a novel. My original plan was to make a mere short novella with an ambiguous ending. It would have seriously hurt both my characters and the narrative if I tried to cram their personalities and complex relationship in a shorter format.

And now I’d like to say a few warm words of gratitude to the people who helped me.

First of all, my fantastic beta readers.

R.B. O’Brien
, my sidekick, and fellow
Wicked Pen Writer
. I have no idea how I’d finish that project hadn’t it been for your faith in my writing skills, hours of support and chat, encouragement and advice on the craft. We may not see an eye to eye on the epilogue but your input was invaluable and taught me a lot. You’re a fantastic author, wonderful person, great friend and I am grateful to the gods of the Internet jungle for bringing us together. Keep being a… well, exacting and a perfectionist. Thank you, my friend.

Patrick Khayler
, your reaction, encouragement and ideas on the book really boosted my confidence and faith in the story. Thank you for being the warm, kind and creative person that you are, for your well-intentioned attitude and your attention to details. You were a true pleasure to work with and your perspective helped me a lot with the planning of my next book. Patrick is also a wonderful writer himself so I encourage the readers of this book to search for his work on Amazon.

Robert
, thanks for being such a great guy, supportive, loyal and incredibly perceptive. You never hesitate about whipping me into perfection no matter how close we are and that only works in my favor. Thank you for all your ideas and thoughts that only improved the quality of Unorthodox Therapy. You should really consider being an editor for a living, I’m serious.

Special thanks to
Heather Ross
of
Heather’s Red Pen Editing Services
for her quick and efficient work and help with all things grammar. Thanks to the wonderful author Charlotte E. Hart for connecting us and for being such a great source of information.

And where would I be without the help of
Mr. Blackthorne
and the group of the
Wicked Pen Writers
? I’d probably not be writing these lines because I wouldn’t have dared to try and publish my own work. Thanks to the mysterious Mr. B. for putting me in contact with such great writers as
Shelby Kent-Stewart, Bianca M. Schwarz, Naya Free, Ashlee Shades, Kat Crimson
and the rest of them. Thank you, dear ladies, you have been a great inspiration, support, and source of knowledge and wisdom. It’s been a huge honor to be able to join you and communicate with you on a regular basis. I hotly recommend each of the writers in these notes, you wouldn’t be disappointed if you indulge in their work.

Special thanks to
Jack
, for being my self-deprecating partner in crime and depravity, for sharing his hidden, unexpected fantasies and for not letting me beat myself too much. Thanks to
Lee
who taught me so much of the warm, affectionate side of BDSM and showing me how wholesome two people can be in a D/s relationship. Thank you for being my safe harbor at times of need. Even if you don’t hear from me for months, you’re always in my thoughts.