Reconstructing Meredith Read Free

took my breath away. “Rich was my Dom. My… Master.”
    A tremendous weight forced what little breath I had left out of my lungs. My shoulders fell. That controlling asshole called himself a Dom ? Short of telling me he was a mass murderer, there wasn’t much she could have told me that could have turned my stomach more violently.
    I found just enough breath to whisper, “What did he do to you?”
    She blinked a few times. Sniffed sharply. Fixed her gaze on her wringing hands. “I’d been thinking about being a submissive for a while. It intrigued me for a long time, but I wasn’t sure how to go about it, what it entailed, that sort of thing.”
    Inwardly, I cringed. Jesus, if I had known, I could have guided her into it. Shown her the ropes like I’d done with Kristen.
    Meredith went on. “Rich saw that in me. He saw that I was inexperienced, but wanted to be a sub. Even though I hadn’t said anything, he knew.”
    I winced, not even caring if she saw it. I’d seen the sub in her too, but she hadn’t been interested in kink while we were dating. Either uninterested or simply not ready.
    “So he…” She trailed off, closing her eyes as she gnawed her thumbnail. “Long story short, he made me his sub. His slave, actually.”
    “He forced you into submission,” I breathed.
    She nodded. “It was hell, Scott. Every day, for two and a half years, it was hell.”
    Rich, so help me God, if I ever get my hands on you …
    “I assume you’re divorced now?” I asked.
    “Yes,” she said. “I left a couple of years ago. I’ve only been back here for a little while, but the divorce has been final for almost eighteen months. Rich is out of the picture.”
    “Good,” I said. “What I don’t understand, though, is why you want a Dom now.”
    “Because he was right about one thing,” she said. “I am a submissive. I wasn’t ready to become one yet, I certainly wasn’t ready to be his, but I am a sub.”
    “But, after everything he put you through—”
    “I need someone who will help me pick up the pieces,” she said quietly. “I want to know what it’s like to enjoy being a sub.”
    I swallowed hard. I knew what it was like to be a damaged sub. I’d been one years ago, albeit to a lesser degree, after a traumatic experience with a Domme before I became a Dom myself. But two and a half years of twenty-four/seven slavery with an abusive Master? How the hell did anyone pick up those pieces?
    “Do you understand what it is I’m looking for?” she asked.
    “Yeah,” I said. “But are you sure? I would think you’d need to spend some time with a therapist before—”
    “I have.” She gestured sharply and shook her head. “I’ve been to four. They’ve all helped me grieve my so-called marriage and move past the abuse, but when it comes to the sex and the kink…” She shook her head again.
    I sat up and moved a little closer to her, barely resisting the urge to put a comforting hand on her arm. “What do they say about it?”
    “They all think I need to just focus on relationships, try to get back into a ‘normal’ sex life, that kind of thing.” She looked at me, and there were more tears in her eyes now. “Rich ruined enough things for me, Scott. He took away a few years of my life. He beat me, he raped me, he let other people—”
    I flinched, sucking in a breath. “Fucking hell.”
    “They think I should focus on dealing with the abuse instead of exploring kink, but they don’t understand that part of letting him go is taking back my sexuality and making it mine instead of his. I need to take this back from him.” Meredith put her hand over mine. The cool dampness of her palm raised goose bumps along my arm. “It’s a part of who I am, Scott, even if I never got the chance to explore it before him.” She sniffed, then cleared her throat. “You were the only one I could think of who’d understand, and you’re the only one I trust enough to help me find someone who won’t