Therapy Part III
To Kate's dismay, Dean attended every session of his court-mandated counselling. Each session was the same. She would try to keep it professional, despite knowing it would end up being anything but professional. They would discuss his anger, his masked emotions, his life; he would humour her for the first ten minutes or so, but like clockwork, every time he eventually stripped her down and used her body as he pleased.
His last session was two months ago. She was convinced that
something
would happen. Stalking, or late-night visits, but...it'd been two months of peace and quiet. No stalking, no assault, no ached muscles or sore body, no overwhelming adrenaline rushes. It was really over.
Well, she was wrong again.
Now
Kate let out a startled cry when she opened the door and found Dean looming over her at the doorstep. Surprise crossed Dean's face too. He was not expecting her to open the door just as he was about to break and enter.
"Dean? What are you doing here?"
She had disconcertment written all over her face, and Dean took her in. Her black silky hair casually hung around her mid-back. Her delicate eye makeup accentuated her puppy eyes as she looked up at him. She was wearing a mesh laced dress, clearly dolled up.
"Going on a date?"
Now she was darting her eyes around and biting her full, pink lip. "No..."
"Good, that means we can talk." He stepped inside and she retreated as he intruded her space. He made himself comfortable on the sofa and she stood across him, arms folded over her chest, guarded.
"Talk about what?" Kate sneaked glances at his face. He looked good -- short blond hair that's combed back except for a few curly strands that escaped, sharp blue eyes and five o-clock shadow. She diverted her gaze.
"I've been thinking about what you said to me."
"What do you mean?"
"Everything that you said to me. You said anger is just a defense, a secondary emotion."
"Oh," Kate frowned." Oh. I didn't know you were paying attention." She relaxed a bit and sat down in the armchair adjacent to him.
"Well, I was. You said to pay attention to my stress levels, to do things that give me joy, and I've been really thinking about what will bring me joy."
"Okay," she acknowledged, slipping into therapist mode.
"And I want you."
She blinked. She knew Dean by now. Sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll were his coping mechanisms. "Sex is not going to fix your problems."
He shook his head. "Not just sex. I want to hurt you, control you, own you."
Kate froze in her seat, alarmed and suddenly hyperaware of how vulnerable she was with just a flimsy little mesh dress hiding her lush body from his view. "I d-don't understand what you want from me."
Dean seized her wrist and pulled, and she staggered onto the floor between his legs. "This. I want you right here, on your knees. I want to use you, humiliate you and make you submit to my every whim."
She winced. "Why!?"
"Because it makes me feel empowered and in control. Didn't you say those are the underlying causes of my anger?"
WHAT. THE. FUCK?
"What the fuck, Dean? This is NOT the way to---"
"Shhh..."
"Let me go!" She tried to pull away from him, pushing her feet against the sofa. "Serious-fucking-ly? Bullying a tiny woman empowers you?!"
Suddenly he grabbed her and she yelped, next thing she knew she was pinned across his lap, his unmistakable erection jabbing at her midsection. Her dress was promptly lifted and then five hard, unforgiving blows landed on her round, perky ass cheeks. Kate cried out in pain and writhed, her eyes tearing up from the sting. She tried to push herself up but the strong arm across her delicate back was immovable.
Dean lifted her chin and peered down at her. "Are you going to listen now?"
"You sick fuck!"
Smack. Smack. Smack
. Erratic outlines of his handprints appeared on her tender ass. She whimpered.