She went inside, and I went back to the drawing room to make notes while everything was fresh in my head.
A couple hours later, true to her word, she indeed woke up screaming. Both Sebastian and I went to her. He had gotten there first and found her cowering inside the closet in a tight ball. He picked her up, and she buried her head in his chest and cried. With determined steps, he carried her out of her room and over to Ivan’s, causing me to smile. Underneath his tough exterior, he was a big softie.
“Tiny tot, shhh, it’s all right. We’re here, and you’re safe. It’s Ivan’s night, right? That’s what you said earlier?”
She nodded, her tear-stained face registering where she was.
“I think you should sleep in here. I don’t think he’ll mind.”
It was touching to see his words calm her. He laid her down on the bed, and she grabbed Ivan’s pillow and hugged it close to her. Each new sob transitioned from fear to her devastating heartbreak.
As much as it hurt to hear her cry in that manner, it was better than her being afraid. We quietly left her alone with her emotions and thoughts. Over the next few days, it became clear that as long as she slept in one of their rooms, her nightmares weren’t as deep. It would become her new normal to sleep in their beds, and soon the nightmares stopped altogether unless we had a tough session.
Chapter 10
Kinsley
A Surprise
Over the next severaldays, I continued telling Marcel what I had endured. With each passing day and each story told, the hellish memories got lighter and lighter. The experience of sharing with Marcel was everything I thought it would be back in Seattle when I dared to hope to unload my heart. His level of patience as he walked me through each memory only made me love him more.
In person, the splattering of freckles was more prominent, and his sharp eyes were a beautiful cerulean color. They never missed a thing as they analyzed me during our sessions. Outside of our talks, he was much more relaxed and had a spirited, quick-witted sense of humor, especially with Sebastian. I wondered if he was similar with the Kings.
While breaking through my walls, he seldom had to use his Dom voice with me anymore. I trusted him with my secrets in so many ways now and let him guide me through my answers to his questions.
I was getting better at determining my own feelings, thanks to his help, and it was exhilarating to be free from hiding everything. Though a level of fear still lingered because the Mask had found me again. But even then, he helped me manage my emotions.
“Let’s pick up where we left off yesterday, and then I have a surprise for you,” he teased.
“Where were we again?” I asked, even though I already knew. We had worked our way to right before Owen rescued me. He gave me a look, which made me chuckle.
“Start talking, young lady,” he commanded, then grinned.
“Remember when we talked about how my initial fear of the ball gag and Gorean slave whip became known to the Mask?”
I had told him all about the day X became a slave whore and was beaten, collared, gagged, and then fisted. I shuddered, thinking about it again. He nodded, and I took a deep breath in preparation for sharing my final beating by my captors. I rehearsed the words, reminding myself to change the context so the girls’ anonymity was protected.
“I do. But you seem to be struggling. Do we need to slow things down?” he asked cautiously.
“No, Sir.”
I walked him through the day, swapping Autumn out for X to keep the story I crafted going. The words poured out of me as I explained hearing her cries and how I wanted to make it better despite knowing it was breaking the rules. But I had to try.
“So I asked her what her favorite song was.”
I closed my eyes and allowed myself to travel back to that specific day. I’d heard Autumn because her room was right next to mine. The walls were so thin that I knew the exact place she was sitting on the other side of me.
On my side of the wall, I had sat down on the carpet so I could be closer to her. It was silly, but I’d put my cheek to the wall and imagined her doing the same. I was startled when Dr. Marcel brushed my tears back, squeezing my hand to ground me back to the present.
“She never answered me, and in hindsight, I’m thankful she didn’t. I chose ‘Amazing Grace’and kept singing it to her. After the second time, she stopped crying. I sang it four times all together, and then, in a moment of stupidity, I asked her what her real name was.”
Marcel and I had gotten so in tune with each other that he began rubbing slow circles on the underside of my wrist to both calm and encourage me.I was safe.This next part would be hard for me to share, but he needed to have the full context.
“Like before, when I asked her about a song, she didn’t answer me. At first, I thought maybe she was afraid, so I offered her mine. Even though she was more than aware of it since I’d been beaten several times for using it. But the Mask had come into my room as the first syllable ofMischaleft my mouth.”
Marcel’s face was stoic as he listened, though his eyes narrowed because I had previously recounted the day I’d written it down and how I’d been buried. As hard as it was for me to tell him, his broad shoulders helped me carry the load. His subsequent encouragement and murmurs of being a good girl helped, so I pressedon, explaining how the Mask flew into a rage and beat me with the Gorean slave whip.
“I’ve got you, Ms. Taylor. You’re safe here with me. I won’t let anything hurt you. Focus on how the story ends. It will help put into perspective the tougher parts. You’ve already survived it. I won’t let the memory hurt you.”
