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condemnations to yourself?”
    “Because you advance this. Every day, in your club, you push submissive women toward dominants. You pushed me toward Clayton. You glamorize it like it’s some divine calling, something honorable and important.”
    “It is! For those in the lifestyle, it is.”
    “It’s sick. It’s exploitative. Of course you and the other dominants want to color it in pretty colors, make sure your victims remain blind and subservient. How else can you abuse and sexually exploit women without them fighting back?”
    Mephisto slammed on the brakes and guided the car to the side of the roadway. Traffic buzzed past, mixing with the drumbeat of fury in his brain.
    “How dare you?” he asked. “How dare you accuse me of abuse? No one in this community has spoken out more about consent, about safety, about emotionally healthy relationships. Not to mention, I saved your life, you ungrateful little bitch. Do you remember where you were when I met you?”
    “At some bar on Pike Street. I remember. Whatever.”
    “No,” he said, leaning closer. “Do you remember where you were mentally, in your life, when I met you? Let me remind you. You hated your life, you hated yourself, you hated Daddy, you hated every boy you beckoned between your well-traveled thighs. You were trying to destroy yourself with alcohol and drugs and hate, and came very close to succeeding. Do you remember that?”
    She sat frozen beside him, her lips set in a stubborn line. Mephisto cursed under his breath and moved back onto the road.
    “You don’t have to thank me,” he said after a moment. “You can be angry at me for trying to help you. But let’s be real. The life you gave up was no better than the life you had with Clayton.”
    “At least it was my life!” she retorted. “At least I was myself!”
    “Don’t you get it? You were yourself with Clayton too! You were at peace, you were happy. That week we spent together...” His voice faltered. “I spent the whole week testing you, questioning you, trying to be sure, and I was sure. When your Master returned for you, and he held you, and you cried, I was more sure of your love for each other than anything I’d ever been sure of in my life.”
    Mephisto fell silent. There was nothing else to say, only the truth, and he’d said it. After a long while Molly said, “I don’t think you mean to abuse anyone. Not intentionally. But I think you do.”
    Jesus fucking Christ. “I think I don’t.”
    “I don’t think you understand how this feels, to surface after you’ve been held underwater for so long.”
    “You were never held underwater. Don’t lie. You floated there yourself, with a big fucking smile on your face.”
    “Because I was influenced, brainwashed.”
    “Brainwashed. I knew that word would come.” He pulled up outside Clayton’s building and put the car in park, then rubbed his eyes and looked over at her.
    “You know what I think? I think your view of reality is way, way out of wack right now. I understand your life has been turned upside down. I applaud your decision to reassess your goals in life and really think before you move forward. But it’s unfair to my friend to paint him as a villain, an abuser. After all he gave to you, how much he loved you. How much you loved him.”
    She wouldn’t look at him. She stared out the window. “Of course you’d only see his side. You’re just like him.”
    Mephisto gave a mirthless, resigned laugh. “Yes, of course. Partners in crime. Brainwashing buddies. If this is your view now of him, of me, of the lifestyle, then by all means, take off your fucking collar and join the vanilla world. I wish you the best.”
    With those words, Molly opened the car door and left without a backward glance. So be it. Whatever made her happy. That’s what Clayton had wanted for her...to make her own choices about her future. But he and Clayton had both been so, so wrong about the choices she would make.

Chapter Three: