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narrowed her eyes.
    “And you think the years of pain play, the abuse — everything in those photos – was brought on by me trying to recreate what happened that night in the gallery?”
    I nodded at last. “Yes,” I said. “I think you’ve allowed yourself to get drawn into heavy sexual scenes hoping that men will desire you, but instead finding men that get their thrills from mistreating you, beating you, dominating you and hurting you. And when they do, you react – you fight back, so they hurt you more....”
    “Go on…” she said, her voice flat and somehow drained of life.
    “What you’ve been looking for since that night in the art gallery was a man who would take you because he desired you – not because he wanted to dominate you. I think you’re looking for a man like that so you can do the one thing you really regret. The one thing you did not allow yourself to do that fateful night. I think you regret not allowing yourself to respond . I am going to teach you how to mold that regret into a tool – a weapon you can wield that will set you free from this madness and give you not just a chance to survive, but ultimately a real chance for freedom.”
    For a long time, Amy didn’t move, then she sighed, her shoulders slumped, and she came towards me taking careful tentative steps as though walking delicately through the minefield of her emotions.
    “Assuming you are correct,” her voice was guarded. “How does this help me in any way? It doesn’t change my circumstances. It doesn’t change what’s about to happen to me.”
    “No,” I said. “But it does clarify how we can transform you from a plaything to a player .” There was a rising note of confidence in my voice and she heard it.
    “How?”
    I took her back to the bed and we sat down, side by side. “The man who has bought you wants a slave – a woman who will be obedient, a woman who will bend to his will and his whim,” I explained. “That’s what this is about, Amy. For men, this is a power play. The thrill is not the sex – the thrill is having the power over a woman to make her pliant to his every desire. Power,” I said again importantly. “It’s the name of the game.”
    “And you think it doesn’t have to be that way for me?”
    I nodded. “That’s exactly what I think. I believe I can coach you to become the exact opposite of what this man wants. I think you can ‘unman’ him.”
    She shook her head. “No,” she said, suddenly slumping again. “He would just send me back to Alistair again, broken to be fixed.”
    I smiled, and it shocked her. She looked at me like I was unhinged. “I’m not going to make you broken,” I waggled a finger under her nose and held the smile. “I am going to make you so perfect… so responsive … that you will be exactly what he asked for, but nothing like what he really wants.”
    She leaned away from me as though to see me more clearly – looking for signs of some cruel prank in my expression. She didn’t understand. I took her hand and squeezed it.
    “When a man orders you to bend over and spread your legs, he does so because he expects you to obey,” I said. “That’s what will happen when you are returned to your owner. Ordering you to obey him is the point of his power. You must comply, but it is his will you are bending to. His authority and the threat of punishment makes you obedient. Right?”
    She nodded slowly, still not understanding.
    “I will coach you and train you to respond so eagerly, so enthusiastically that you will be the perfect submissive… but you will be so willing and so eager to follow his every instruction the power will be taken from him. You will actually be playing him.”
    She shook her head, confused. “You want me to obey…”
    “Willingly,” I cut across her. “With unbridled enthusiasm. It will take away what he wants – the power and control to force you to his will. Suddenly the aphrodisiac of wielding power will be taken from