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A low chime announced the arrival of the third course. I let it sit in the dumbwaiter for now and looked across the table at my companion and smiled warmly as she spoke. Her words had chilled me on the inside. I hope it didn’t show in my smile.
She had unknowingly revealed to me that she had been suffering from low-grade posttraumatic stress disorder or at least a minor depersonalization disorder (I am a neurologist, psychology wasn’t my specialty and the finer points of difference escaped me right then) for the last three years and none of us that knew her or cared for her had ever suspected.
Looking back at the facts, I cursed myself for my carelessness and how I had mismanaged the care of this remarkable young woman. Her symptoms appeared to be minor and a natural result of her catastrophic experiences. It was not too late; I could still make sure that she got the care that she needed.
If I didn’t devour her before-hand that is.
Not literally of course. I guess I have to say that since there is so much interest in the occult and vampirism and such in literature these days. I can understand the eroticism of the power and seduction and how arousing being a helpless victim can be while someone else brings you painful ecstasy. I had gone through my BDSM phase early in my lesbian life. However, after the initial kink had worn off, I found myself on the Dom side of the equation. After the experience of my failed marriage in which I had endured being a victim for 8 years, I found that I had real problems with allowing myself to submit to anyone. I trained as a Dom; it was the power over other people that really was erotic for me. But after a while I began to feel real disgust for my subs. It had only made me more popular. I have a tattoo of the Graoully dragon on my left shoulder and I was popularly known as “the Dragon Lady.” I know: a bit cliché, but there was an actual reason for this banal nickname
One day, I was training a bottom when I found myself enraged that they would be so weak as to use our safe-word. The look of fear in her eyes as she whimpered made me realize that I had carried the punishment too far. I broke down in tears, apologized and ended the session and my involvement. I realized that I had to get some psychological help.
There is nothing wrong with BDSM for healthy people that are engaged in it. I however realized that I was reliving the control of my marriage and playing the role of René, my ex-husband. Instead of dealing with my abuse in a healthy way, I was becoming the abuser but only in a sanitized and repackaged role.
I needed to deal with my own demons before I could be involved in a healthy relationship again.
I went through counseling and we explored my feelings of helplessness and why I had to have control. It made me look at myself in an objective way and I realized that at the core was a self-loathing of myself. I loathed myself for being weak, allowing myself to get entangled in an abusive relationship and for being both a victim and predator; for allowing through my actions and inaction people, families, and businesses to be destroyed by my husband and eventually for causing pain in others.
I was born Anneke Poncelet in Metz the capital of Lorraine. The Poncelets are an old family and our most famous member was a mathematician and engineer in the Napoleonic era. In an interesting side note, thanks to my distinguished ancestor, a poncelet was a French unit of power that was replaced by the metric horsepower. Power is a theme in my personal life.
You can call me a Messine which is the name by which residents of Metz are known. My home city is a beautiful European jewel and is nicknamed “La Ville Verte (The Green City)” because of the extensive gardens and parks that crown this beautiful place. The Graoully dragon is its symbol and when I was 18, I got a tattoo of it on my left shoulder to show my civic pride in my heritage. The city and area has been inhabited for over 3,000 years and has been at a territorial crossroad and passed through so many hands over the years that today, the population is rich and diverse. I had a lovely childhood. My accent is a product of my cultural diversity and has a somewhat Dutch sound to it. Most Americans hear me talk and assume it is a French accent, but I have spent much time in the various cultural centers of Europe; it is reflected in my accent.
When I was 18, I met my husband through family connections. René Beauchamp was an English Baron which although made him only minor nobility, made me a Baroness and a true Lady (The Right Honorable the Lady Beauchamp) when we married. I was allowed to retain the title after the divorce. I am officially known as Anneke, Lady Beauchamp as I do not have peerage in my own right. It is proper to address me as Lady Beauchamp. His family had invaded England with the Norman Invasion in 1066 hence the French looking family name. The anglicized pronunciation of Beauchamp is “Beecham.” It confuses a lot of people.
We were married when I was 24 and had just graduated medical school. casino oyna I wanted to heal the world. I always had a docile, gentle nature and was flattered and overwhelmed by the debonair and handsome René. Like all pathological personalities, he was utterly charming. René was a sociopath and I was snared easily. His ability to stay calm and in control and his intelligence had me madly in love with him
I was allowed to practice médecine. I think René found me more attractive as his possession because of my success as a surgeon. I thank God: it is the one thing that tethered me and enabled my recovery. However, otherwise I was isolated and controlled. At first René claimed that it was for my own protection and I accepted my gilded cage gladly. All my needs were taken care of. I had a driver and bodyguard (caretaker) and I was watched 24 hours a day. I never realized until I tried to leave.
It wasn’t until we had been married for three years that my dream of a happy marriage became a nightmare that would not end.
René began to use me more and more as a prop in his business schemes. It took those few years for me to realize that he was using me as an enticement for some of his clients and business partners and one night, the line was finally crossed.
We were on board a completely fabulous yacht and were attending a dinner party. It was being given for some Captain of Industry’s marriage. René told me that there was a very lucrative contract being propositioned and we were here not only to celebrate, but also to get the contract signed. Closing this contract would be very good for his business and as a result, we would go on a shopping spree in Milan and vacation for the next week as my reward. But I had to do my part this time.
I was confused because I had never been asked to take part in any of René’s schemes before. I was wary. He had bragged to me how he had ruined people and businesses before, but I rationalized it as just over-exaggeration or a necessary part of business and did not involve me. That night something had changed in our relationship and I sensed we didn’t have an equal partnership anymore. I never knew that it never had been equal until it was all over.
As it turns out, the business magnate was in his seventies and the marriage was a business arrangement to ally two families. (I did not connect any similarities to my marriage at the time) René explained to me that his partner in this venture was old and impotent, but had certain proclivities. The new wife was a lesbian and as part of a three-way business arrangement, René had to provide something for the marriage. I was to be the wedding-night gift.
I refused! No, I would not do it. René slapped me for the first time and told me that I would damn well do it because so much was riding on the consummation. It was the first time he hit me but the last time he slapped me in the face. He bloodied my nose and it almost upset the deal.
AIjele however must have had some mothering-complex triggered by my injury and was very gentle with me. She was about my age and very pretty. She was an Israeli and had raven dark hair and expressive brown eyes. Although I was very nervous and frightened, she managed to calm me and made gentle sweet love to me. Despite the circumstances, my first lesbian encounter was a generally positive experience. It was the surrounding circumstances that made me feel like property.
René praised me for my contribution to the family business. I felt like a whore.
It was a few months before René ordered me into action again. This time, it was a blackmail seduction scheme. The owner of a property had refused to sell to René and he had probed until he found a weakness. The owner’s wife was a lesbian and this information would be damaging to the man’s status in his society. I was told to seduce her and photos would be taken. My identity would be masked, but the pictures were to be used as pressure in the “negotiation.”
With my blonde hair and blue eyes and lithe figure, apparently I had a real talent for seduction. I was exploited by René for the next five years. I used my talent to break apart marriages and seduce wives into leaving their husbands. Everything was kept on the hush and the scheme worked until I simply had had enough.
I had been docile and compliant but on the inside I was dying a slow death. Part of me enjoyed the sexual encounters and I had become quite skilled at making love to women. René developed a growing jealousy and every episode earned me praise and a beating so I “didn’t like it too much.”
I truly realized that I was just a pawn in his manipulative schemes when he not only continually risked my life, but also my long-term health in pursuit if his “god” money.
One of my targets was a kingpin’s wife who was also very into the bodybuilding-fitness world. He hired a personal trainer for me and started me on an anabolic steroid regimen in order to make me fit the part. He told me it was for my own good and that it would be a healthy pursuit; no harm done. The steroids did make me put canlı casino on muscle quickly and they were accentuated by my naturally lissome frame. I began to train with my mark and accomplished the frame and dissolution of yet another business and marriage. The poor woman wanted to marry me and as soon as she divorced her husband for me, I abandoned her per the plan.
What René did not appear to plan for or expect was the effect that the steroids would have on my body. On the few months that I took them, they lowered my voice, caused hair to sprout on my face and chest, mild acne, and my beautiful breasts to decrease in size. The drugs had another masculinization effect in the thickening of the bones of my jaw and forehead. In addition, the steroids caused my clitoris to grow really huge. My clit had been big anyway and now it would grow into a mini erection when I was sexually aroused. The steroids greatly increased my sex-drive and while I was seducing the poor woman, I could find refuge in the sex. I had become a part of the fitness world and everything seemed comparatively normal to me regarding the sexual masculinization and the pursuit of bigger muscles.
However, when the affair was over and now, I was still afflicted with the side effects even after quitting the work-out regimen and drugs. My musculature quickly shrunk, but I was left with the manly bones in my face, the hair growth and a deep voice. I was overwhelmed with depression. I had always prided myself on my feminine charms.
René realized that he was on the verge of losing his secret negotiation tool and searched the world for the best plastic surgeon. I met Peter Chapman for the first time when he treated me and restored my lost femininity. Peter was truly brilliant and corrected everything that was taken from me by René’s reckless pursuit of business. The only thing that was never changed back was my enlarged clitoris. René’s perverted schemes were actually facilitated by my new hidden sexual asset. I learned to make my deeper voice sound sultry like the iconic movie stars and seduction actually became easier.
However, once the harm was corrected, I was done risking my life and my health for money. It took another couple of assignments for me to work up the nerve and courage to make my stand. I realized that part of me was enjoying everything too much and sooner or later, I would end up dead if I did not quit.
When I refused to continue is when I ended up in the hospital with broken ribs and a broken arm. I realized that René was becoming increasingly violent and next time he might kill me.
While I was in the hospital, René had to leave to secure a threatened Romanian connection and left me with my bodyguard (warden). Vincent was loyal to René but he couldn’t maintain a 24-hour vigil. I waited until he thought I was asleep for the night; he would leave the room for about one-and-one half hours. I summoned my nurse and she put me in contact with a lawyer she knew who specialized in high society divorces. Her advice was to continue until her private investigator could amass enough information to bring leverage against René. I was given a SIM card and told to check in in two months.
It was the longest two months in my life. I didn’t know how good the investigator was and could not believe that my present miserable situation would ever end.
When I checked in, I was told that I had to get myself away somehow and to follow these directions to a safe place.
The divorce was over fairly quickly. The investigator had been a former Interpol agent and there was already a case file that was overflowing on René. René had avoided prison for years because he had some high level connection that over whom; God only knows what kind of dirt he was holding. However, this connection had a very dim view of spousal abuse and the negotiations went quickly. I suspect this was just another failed business venture to René that had been lucrative while it lasted, but was in the end disposable. I chose some of the details to specifically hurt René as I knew that loss of possessions myself included, were his Achilles heel. As a result, I have the equivalent of several millions of dollars in various accounts, a chalet in Switzerland and villa in Italy that I cannot visit until 7 years have passed from the settlement of the divorce. One of the conditions was that I was to disappear from Europe so as not to embarrass René or impact any future business prospects.
Apparently my dragon tattoo was very famous and could not be publicly connected to René. The provisions were fine with me. Without René’s protection, I am sure there were many jilted and vengeful husbands that wanted to punish me for the role I played in their losses.
It was an inadvertent and fortuitous occurrence of fate that re-established my protection without further damaging my karma.
I was working in New York City when a Russian was brought in. He had been brutally attacked and beaten in the head. I had been working in trauma neurosurgery and studying the effect of damage from the toxic free-radicals kaçak casino released from injuries. I theorized that if somehow they could be prevented from attacking the healthy cells, the damage of the injury would be mitigated and the patient’s recovery could be enhanced.
Sergei received my treatment and was the first patient to respond positively.
One year after I released Sergei, I received an invitation to Le Chat Noir. It was a personal and personally delivered invitation and despite my paranoia; (I was sure this was going to be the coup I had been expecting from René) I was intrigued enough make an appearance. I was tired of living life looking always over my shoulder. I was barely keeping my head above water trying to balance good works with the guilt that I had accumulated. If this was my passage from my tortured life, I would welcome it gladly.
Ivan the owner of the establishment was the owner of this unique and very exclusive establishment. He revealed that he and Sergei were secret lovers and he could not adequately express his gratitude for my returning his dear man back to him. I tried to dismiss it as my pleasure and that the gratification of success was enough for me. He told me nonsense and having had enough exposure to criminally run enterprises, I realized that rebuffing any generosity would be a bad idea.
Ivan wanted to make me an exclusive surgeon for his contacts and as lucrative as that would have been to me, I did not need the money or the bad karma. I was trying to expiate my sins and knowingly saving mobsters and allowing them to continue their exploitive activities was distasteful to me to say the least.
We negotiated as I had a big marker of gratitude from Ivan. I still had to be diplomatic, but I sold my work for the good of humanity as too big for me to ignore (BIG sigh of relief, he agreed) but, I was granted official protection and that was hugely valuable to me. I no longer had to worry about not waking up or waking up to a smothering pillow and a gun shot.
I was 33 years old and finally free from having to lead a careful and watchful life. I went wild for about two years and the Dragon Lady was born and retired.
At 35, I was spent from excess in my private life and although I still devoted myself to the practice of médecine, I needed a change in my lifestyle. So, I packed up all of my considerable belongings and moved south to a city where I could flee my former life. It was a coincidence that it was the same city that hosted Le Chat Noir, the establishment in which I found myself tonight, as I had been offered a two year contract at a high level trauma hospital destination.
After all the harm I had witnessed, I realized that by perfecting my talents, I would be able to bring good into this world and balance the evil that I had witnessed and inadvertently been a part of.
Lynne McKinney was a case that tugged at my heart strings and I was blessed to bring my talent and techniques to play with her. She had been run off the road by a drunk driver and I was on call. I arrived to the hospital and examined my stabilized patient. I looked at the images of her brain and realized that she was the perfect candidate for my hypothermic technique, the same that had saved Sergei. She had a severe concussion but the most critical damage was confined to facial injuries. (and such a shame too, I saw pictures of her from before the accident and she was gorgeous!) The facial fractures allowed the brain to swell without strangulating the tissue so I did not need to “trephine” her skull which would have only increased the possibility of complication. Her brain tissue itself, while assaulted, did not show any bruising or gross damage. I felt that if I could control the toxic damage, she might have a full recovery. The only complication was that a blood test revealed that she was pregnant. She miscarried while I was debating the procedure and I realized that I had a green light to stop damage.
I kept her in a coma for about one month and would stop by to visit at the odd hour. I ran into her family often but sometimes when there was no one else, a very pretty blonde girl would come and sit with her for a few hours a day. I introduced myself as I was very curious who this young woman could be. No boyfriend or husband or potential father for Lynne’s baby ever came to visit or see her, but this girl was devoted. I was quite intrigued in the social aspects of this case.
Slowly Haley opened up to me and confided in me that she loved Lynne and they had been friends until something terrible happened and now “it was too late for (her) to repair the damage.” My heart went out to the young lovers. I tried to reassure her that everything would work out, but all of a sudden, she stopped coming to see Lynne. The nurse told me that there had been a scene and little Haley had been forbidden from visiting her love. Such tragic happenings, I decided that I would do whatever I could to make this poor girl’s life approach normalcy again. The accident had not damaged her brain as far as I could determine, but her appearance had drastically altered. For a former model to suddenly become misshapen and grotesque, I could only imagine what psychological damage would result. I knew what to do.
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