Part 2: Therapy Begins
“Nervous?”
“Terrified, actually.”
Bradley Scott nodded, gesturing toward a chair placed next to his door. “You know,” he said softly, “we don’t have to do this.”
Helen Adler sighed softly as she slowly took a seat, her eyes measuring the distance between her chair and the one Brad now occupied on the other side of the room. Seemingly satisfied with what she saw, she shook her head. “Yes,” she said softly, “we do.”
“And why is that?”
Helen seemed to consider the question for a long moment. Finally, she said, “What happened last time I was here raises some questions I need to answer. About myself, and about what happened to me. I need to answer those questions, and you’re the only one I feel I can trust to help me.”
“In other words,” Brad said, “your rape, and your new interest in bondage that came out of it.”
Helen winced slightly. “You know I don’t like that word,” she said.
“And you,” Brad replied, “know I won’t stop using it. You were raped, Helen. Not using the word isn’t going to change that.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to keep saying it,” Helen countered.
Brad sighed softly. “Helen,” he said, “I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you, I hope you know that.” Helen nodded slowly. “Good,” Brad continued. “You should also know I won’t coddle you. As long as that rape controls you, as long as you let your feelings about it guide you, you remain a victim. You have to get past that, and I’m going to do whatever I can to help. If my methods seem harsh, I’m sorry. I can only do things the best way I know how.”
Helen nodded. “I know,” she said softly. “Maybe that’s why I trust you to help me.”
“That,” Brad replied with a smile, “and the fact that Jenny recommended me.”
Helen returned the smile wanly. Jenny, Brad’s cousin, had brought them together, thinking Brad’s experience with bondage could help answer Helen’s questions about her own newly discovered interest in being bound, which had been brought about by the rape she had endured not long before.
“You already know bondage arouses you,” Brad said. “We found that out last time. Are you ready to learn more?”
“Ready?” Helen shook her head. “I’m not at all sure I am. But I need to do this, so please don’t say you won’t help me.”
“I’ll help,” Brad said, slowly rising to his feet, “but we’re going to do this slowly. Like getting into a hot bath. You don’t just jump in. You go slowly, one step at a time, to get yourself used to it.”
“How do we start?” Helen’s voice trembled slightly as she spoke.
“Hold out your hands.” Helen did so, watching carefully as Brad approached and wrapped a leather cuff around each wrist. Next, he held up what looked like a short metal bar with a clip on each end. Using this, he connected the cuffs together, securing her wrists in front of her. Releasing her hands, he retreated to his own chair, watching while Helen examined her new bonds.
“No locks?” She sounded surprised, and Brad could hear the barely contained fear in her voice.
“Not this time,” he said softly. “In fact, if you tried, you could get yourself out of that without my help.”
Curious, Helen twisted her hands, finding that, if she held them just so, she could use one finger to open the clip attached to her other wrist. Nodding, she dropped her still secured hands to her lap.
“So this isn’t true bondage,” she said, sounding vaguely disappointed.
“Yes,” Brad replied, “it is. Bondage isn’t measure by how inescapable it is. You are restrained, just as you were before when I held your wrists together. How does it feel?”
Cautiously, Helen raised her hands, tugging at her bonds. Her eyes closed for a moment, then snapped open, almost as if to make sure Brad kept his distance from her. Finding him still seated in his chair, her eyes slowly closed again as she tugged lightly at her bonds. As Brad watched, her body slowly began to lose the tense stiffness it had held since she came in.
“It feels good,” she finally said, her eyes opening again. “Does that make me sick or twisted?”
Brad smiled. “Of course not. Many people find pleasure in the sensation of helplessness.”
“I didn’t find pleasure in it the first time,” Helen said in a harsh tone.
“Of course you didn’t. That time, it was forced on you. This time, it’s by your own choice.”
“And that makes a difference?’ Helen’s voice now sounded skeptical.
“All the difference in the world,” Brad told her. “That first time, helplessness was forced on you. No matter how you try to justify it, what was done to you was wrong. This time, it’s by your own choice, and with your own consent.”
Brad fell silent for a long moment. “I’m not sure,” he finally said, ‘if I can explain this right. In the right situation, with the right person, your helplessness is a kind of gift. You’re giving control to someone you trust not to abuse or take advantage of that gift.”
“And what am I doing while you’re not abusing?”
Brad smiled. “Experiencing. Responding. Hopefully enjoying the sensation of being helpless at the hands of someone you trust.”
Helen gazed at Brad for a long moment, then her eyes slipped closed. She sat quietly, only a slight motion of her arms visible as she gently tugged at her bonds.
“Was it my fault?” she finally said.
“What?”
“What happened to me. Was it my fault, something I said or did that encouraged him, made him think I wanted it?”
“Of course not.”
“But,” Helen persisted, “if I enjoy being bound, maybe he saw something in the way I acted that told him that. Even though I didn’t know it at the time, maybe he could see I wanted to be tied up. Maybe, in his own sick, twisted way, he was trying to give me what I wanted.”
Brad sighed. “Helen,” he said softly, “what he did to you was wrong, and nothing anyone says can change that fact. You were a target to him, nothing more. He’d done the same thing to six other women, remember? Or are you suggesting that each and every one of them secretly wanted to be bound and attacked?”
“I suppose you’re right,” Helen said softly. “I just can’t help wondering if I somehow encouraged him.”
“The only possible encouragement you could have given him was something you have absolutely no control over.” Opening her eyes, Helen gazed at him quizzically. “You didn’t choose to be a beautiful woman, after all,” Brad explained. At his words, Helen blushed vividly.
“This is strange,” she said slowly.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m sitting here,” Helen explained, “with my hands cuffed together, talking about……. about…. damn it, talking about being raped. I’m scared, I’m nervous.” She shook her head. “And at the same time, I’m about as comfortable as I can ever remember being. And my…….” She blushed again, even more brightly than before.
“Your what?”
“My….. um….. well….. my panties are soaked.”
Brad’s eyes widened as he realized that those slight movements of her arms were being caused, not by tugging at her bonds, but by the motion of her hand softly stroking herself through her baggy sweat pants.
“I think,” he finally said, “that maybe you’ve had enough for one day.”
Helen gazed at him silently, something akin to disappointment in her eyes. Slowly, she rose to her feet and approached him, her hands held out in front of her. As he reached toward her, she tensed, but held herself still while he unfastened the clips and removed the cuffs. Hands free, she backed to her chair and sank into it.
“Is that it?” she asked. Brad shook his head.
“That,” he said in reply, “is entirely up to you. I guess you need to decide how far you want to explore helplessness. Just remember, the further you go, the more intimate the contact is likely to be.”
“By intimate, you mean arousing.”
“I can’t say yes or no to that. But from the way you responded to this simple bond, I would say your arousal will be stronger, the more helpless you find yourself.”
“In other words, I could reach the point of wanting sex while I’m bound.” Brad nodded slowly. “So what happens,” Helen asked, “if you bind me, and I ask you for sex?”
“If that happens, I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed.” At Helen’s curious look, Brad explained. “You came here asking to be bound, as a way to help you find out about yourself. You didn’t ask for sex. And permission to bind you doesn’t automatically give me permission to do anything else.”
“Even if I ask for it?”
“Even then.” Brad smiled. “If I bind you, and then you ask for sex, I can’t be sure if it’s you asking, or your arousal. If it’s you asking, that’s one thing. If it’s your arousal causing you to ask, then I’d be taking unfair advantage of the situation if I complied.” He shook his head slowly. “I’m not even sure that made sense.”
“In other words,” Helen said slowly, “if I want you to bind me and then have sex with me, I have to ask you ahead of time. That way, you know it’s what I really want, and not a momentary lapse brought on by arousal.”
Brad nodded. “I think that about sums it up,” he said.
Helen rose and turned toward the door. “I think you were right,” she said as she opened the door. “I think that’s enough for today”. Stepping through the door, she stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “Brad?”
“Yes, Helen?”
“I was raped.”
Brad nodded slowly. “Yes, you were.”
“I was the target of a sick man,” Helen said, “but I refuse to be his victim.”
Brad smiled. “I’m very glad to hear you say that.”
“Next time,” Helen said slowly, “I want you to make me a little bit more helpless.”
“One step at a time,” Brad told her. “And you’ve already taken the hardest step. We’ll take the rest as it comes.”
Nodding, Helen silently turned away and closed the door behind her.
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08.10.12
story continues in Helen's Journey 3: More Therapy
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