From the Wild Collective Heart series: Part 15

Content Warning: References to childhood sexual abuse, coercive control, sexual conditioning, dissociation, and punishment.

I looked for peanut butter when I woke back up. Carried it with me, licking my fingers from the dip. Where I found myself was nice. Clean and warm. The windows let light in and weren’t covered up. No terrifying dogs to navigate around. No Auntie though, no one to tell me where I was and for what.

I started talking to him and realized, oh, this is a handler. Okay, so there was someone to tell me what was up.

He was very kind. Usually handlers get to business faster, and I pushed him for it a bit because the waiting made me nervous, like I couldn’t be done with the job, and I sure wanted done with it.

It was very hard to figure out what he wanted me to do, too. I had to tell him I didn’t know a lot of things he’d been talking about, which was a scary admittance because I was unsure if he’d punish me for it.

He recommended some books about sexual chemistry, and I glanced through them. I liked to read. They were interesting, I guess, like how to read sexual energy between partners and how to respond to it.

So then I wondered, was he a client of ours and I’d misread the whole thing? Still wasn’t sure, but was leaning toward that due to the books he’d given me.

Then I learned he was training me.

Definitely handler.

Those first weeks I got my footing and learned how to make him content. He’d leave afterwards or punish us with accusations. I got worn out real fast and couldn’t keep front long enough to gather what he was up to.

-Bear