Mel hadn’t prepared for this. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. This exact moment, being driven back to her new owner’s house in a surprisingly nice sedan, waiting patiently in the passenger seat while her soulmate drove her into her new life, that she had prepared for. She’d thought about that for years.

But… Bekah as a whole was a mystery to her. She’d heard about the anti-soulmark contingent before of course. They’d been on tv just a few short days before, before her life had changed forever. But she’d never quite put the idea of “people think slavery marks are evil” together with the idea that someone in her life, someone important to her, would be one of them. 

It was an uncomfortable reminder of her experience coming out as trans. She’d known, vaguely, that there were those in the world and even in her own church that still thought of trans people as disgusting. She’d just never thought her parents would be among their number.

But Bekah wasn’t like that. She was nice, she was beautiful, she was gentle and when she held Mel in her arms she wanted to stay there forever. But she didn’t want to own her. Not just that, she thought owning people was fundamentally and morally wrong. And she thought that Mel was wrong for wanting to be owned, that she should want to be normal instead

Why did this have to happen to me, God? she prayed silently, casting her eyes to the dark grey roof of the car, the interior lit up rhythmically with the flashing of passing street lamps. Why couldn’t You have made this easy for me, for once.

She knew that wasn’t how it worked. Her life had been a series of trials, god-given, but conquering each of them had left her more fulfilled and full of joy than she could have previously imagined. This was just the latest example. 

Mel let her eyes slide smoothly from the car roof over to where Bekah sat, hunched intensely over the wheel and focused entirely on the road. Her gaze was drawn inexorably to the simple mark on the other woman’s cheek. Nothing more than an extended rectangle, with lines like a T extending from the outer edge, and an angular pathway winding towards the corner of her mouth. She couldn’t help but think about how, if she only leaned slightly over to rest her head against her– against Bekah’s face, their marks would touch, matched as a pair. Her delicate filigree twig against the harsh angles and lines that marked that pale cheek.

Bekah swore under her breath as a truck swiped into their lane just in front of them, but didn’t move a muscle. Her body was perfectly controlled, an instrument to her purpose. Mel shivered.

“Language,” she said, once she’d had a moment to process what the other woman had actually said.

“I beg your pardon?” asked Bekah, not turning her eyes from the dark street unfolding in the glare of her high beams. 

Mel flushed, realizing that she’d just corrected her Hypnotist. Her owner. Except Bekah didn’t want to own her. She wanted to be normal. “I don’t like it when people swear. It feels rude.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“N-no. I don’t like it. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said–”

Bekah glanced at Mel and raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Hey no, it’s okay. Sorry, I didn’t realize you were being serious. I thought you were joking.”

“Why would I joke about something like that?” Mel asked, perplexed.

“To like, bust my balls, you know?” Another stolen glance, and a small smirk slid into place. “Maybe you don’t.”

“I feel like you’re making fun of me now, but I’m not sure how?”

“Hah,” Bekah crowed. “Good instincts. I was teasing you. Sorry, I’ll stop.”

“I didn’t say I minded.”

Silence reigned for a moment. The short woman refocused her attention completely on driving, leaving Mel to stew in her thoughts. You’re fucking this up already. How do people even do normal? What are you supposed to do when no one is telling you what’s good or bad?

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“I’ll try and stop swearing. I can’t promise I’ll be great at it, it’s kinda a habit for me at this point. But I’ll try.”

Mel flushed again, an even deeper red than before. “Th-thanks. Bekah.”

“No prob.” Bekah turned that intense dark stare on Mel, leaving her squirming awkwardly in the passenger seat. “Good job, by the way.”

Oh God. It was happening. She felt contentment rise from a place deep within her, a feeling of joy and pleasure yes, but also rightness. She’d pleased her owner. No, she thought to herself angrily, I pleased Bekah. Not my owner. The contentment fell away, sucked into the empty hole in her stomach as quickly as it had come. “Thanks,” she mumbled.

“You don’t need to keep saying thank you, you know?” Without turning to look, Bekah reached out her right hand and grasped Mel’s own lightly. “You’re a person. That’s the point. You’re allowed to have preferences. If it makes you more comfortable to have me not swear, I’m happy to do that for you. Okay?”

“Okay.” 

It didn’t feel right, not the way that service made her feel, like she was fulfilling a purpose set out for her by Christ. But it felt okay. She could do this. She would do this. This was her trial, God’s path for her, written in skin and soul. She would come out the other side of this a better person or a broken one. It didn’t matter which.

***

Bekah was crushing this. Sure, they’d gotten off to a bit of a rocky start and clearly Melody would need more support in throwing off this societal brainwashing she was dealing with than Bekah had thought at first, but this was gonna go great. For the first time since the whole ordeal began, she allowed herself to think that Melody might actually be her soulmate. That even if the roles they’d been assigned were bullshit, the connection might not be.

Bekah did not have a thing for damaged women, no matter what Chet might say. Sure, her previous partners had all been in some degree of crisis when she’d met them, but they’d all gotten better. With her help. And the fact that the relationships all ended shortly after they became fully self-sufficient and didn’t need her anymore was just a coincidence. 

They hadn’t gotten to relationships in her and Hana’s sessions yet, which they probably should at some point. Not that there was anything too deep to uncover there.

But on the drive home she’d caught Melody staring at her, and she had to admit the attention was flattering. She didn’t have any false modesty about her attractiveness, she’d had enough partners in the past that her ego was well fluffed already, but there was always something special about knowing that she’d entranced a pretty girl, drawing her eyes in so she can’t look away. 

And beyond that, she’d gotten the other woman to assert herself. Even if it was in only the smallest of ways, and one that Bekah found slightly annoying, she was happy to yield to Melody on swearing if it meant she wasn’t acting so damn vulnerable all the time. She was a person in there, underneath the layers of conditioning that told her she was lesser, that she needed to be ordered around. Bekah was going to find the real her. She knew it. 

Before she knew it, they’d pulled up in front of Bekah’s home. Without really thinking about it, she’d swung her body smoothly outside the driver's seat and started making her way towards the familiar doorway, painted purple in a manic moment a few years prior. She’d had the door unlocked, open, and halfway closed behind her before a squeak reminded her that she was not alone.

“Shit, sorry Melody.” She scrambled to swing the door wide behind her, letting the other woman walk in. Melody held herself closely, her face a combination of awed and uncomfortable.

“You live here?”

Bekah blushed. “Yeah, I uh… yeah. I live here. This is my house. C’mon in, have a seat.”

She led the way through the front hallway, across the polished hardwood floors and elegant carpets, and into the comfortably appointed living room. She flopped down exhaustedly on her couch, and waved languidly towards the nearby recliner. Melody sat, back straight and head up, utterly missing the point of the deeply comfy chair. “You can relax a bit, you know. I’m not gonna bite.”

It was Melody’s turn to blush. “Right. Um… what do you do, again?”

“I’m a grad student. Public Policy.”

“And that pays well enough for…” she waved her arms around helplessly, indicating the entirety of a two story home full of well designed furniture that had clearly never come out of a Swedish flatpack. “This?”

“Yeah, um, I got some help from my moms.” She turned away, hiding her face in the plush cushioning. “Anyways, make yourself at home.”

Bekah didn’t want to be a host. She wasn’t used to having guests. This was her place, her house, her home. Even her various girlfriends had rarely spent time there, and almost never stayed the night. Having Melody here to stay was a new experience. It made her feel…vulnerable. She didn’t like it. 

Lost in thought and cushions, she didn’t notice Melody’s movement until a heavy weight settled on the couch next to her, and gracefully lifted her feet into her lap. She was about to protest, but the unexpected sensation of a delicate hand pressing hard into her sole turned the incipient comment into a groan of pleasure. “Fuck you’re good at that, Melody. You don’t have to though, I don’t…” Another squeeze and Bekah decided that maybe she could save the deprogramming for later. They’d both had a long day, and if this helped the other woman calm down, there wasn’t much harm. She had plenty of time to work on Melody.

The rest of our lives. The thought sent a not-unpleasant frisson of realization down her spine. We’re stuck together, like it or not, forever.

The full weight of her situation hadn’t landed until that moment, lying on the couch as her life partner massaged the day’s stress out of her feet. Whatever happened, however she helped Melody or didn’t, they were now a part of each other's lives forever. Legally yes, but after meeting her and seeing how helpless and controlled the girl was, Bekah knew that she couldn’t abandon her. Somebody had to protect Melody, to make sure she was learning the right things, that she could take care of herself. And the idea that that somebody was her felt right, even if she’d never have even considered it until the day the Soulmark branded it’s way across her face. The idea that she might never stop being needed, that Melody might never stop being broken, was sinfully appealing.

Can’t think that way, Bekah scolded herself. If I’m taking responsibility for her, my job is to help fix her, get her to where she doesn’t need me as much. That thought was somehow much less appetizing, but she forced it through regardless. 

The combination of her inner thoughts and the physical pleasure she was getting from the massage meant it took far too long for Bekah to notice the shaking. She rolled over and saw Melody, still resolutely massaging her feet, sobbing silently, with tears running down her cheeks.

“Hey, hey what’s wrong?” She pulled herself up, tugging her legs out of Melody’s grip and tucking them underneath herself. “What’s going on?”

“I-I just,” she said, words peeling through the sobs, “This is so nice. Just this. Just serving you, making you feel good, knowing I’m doing a good job. And I can’t have this.” Her tears flowed freely down her face in streams. Her voice was harsh, a far cry from her usual melodious softness.

Fuck, Bekah thought, she looks cute when she’s crying. 

Wait, what the fuck?

Ignoring her inner thoughts, she scooched over to Melody, pulling her into a hug. Unlike their first hug just hours before, the taller woman didn’t melt into her. Her body was taut, her breath coming rapidly between the sobs that were tearing their way out her throat.

“C’mon, talk to me, what’s wrong?”

“I just want to serve, I just want to be good,” she cried. “I don’t know how I can live without it, how I can be normal.” Melody almost spat the last word, disgust coating her tongue like honey. “How am I supposed to live like this?”

“It’s okay, shh, you’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Melody wasn’t listening. Her arms tightened around her generous chest, pulling so tightly Bekha was surprised she had the breath to cry. Her breaths were coming fast and shallow.

“God, why did You do this to me? Why did You make me like this and prevent me from having what I need?” She was a tight rock in Bekha’s arms, closed off as stone. “Why is this my cross to bear?”

That’s it.

Bekah grabbed the woman’s face and brought it to her own, face to face. Melody’s eyes were wild and rolling like a panicked horse. “Shut up.”

That almost gave her pause, but it wasn’t enough. “Lord, why make me who I am and give me this mark and still I have to suffer.” Her voice cracked and Bekah’s heart cracked with it.

“I said. Shut. Up.” Her voice was cold, her enunciation precise. “Don’t talk to god, talk to me. You’re having a panic attack. Do you know what that is?”

Melody’s eyes focused in on hers, her mouth parted but silent.

“Nod if you understand. You don’t have to talk.”

She nodded, eyes still wide.

“I know how to deal with these. Can you listen to me? Can you trust me?” 

Another nod.

Bekah marveled at her own calm. She knew all the techniques for handling panic attacks, but it was so much harder when it was her own panic she was trying to deal with. Not this time. Her thoughts felt like they’d been dunked in ice water, cold and clear and perfectly controlled.

“Breathe with me. In for four, hold, out for four.” She demonstrated the breathing technique and looked expectantly at Melody.

“I-I can’t breathe.” 

Good, Bekah thought. She’s here. She’s talking to me. I can work with this.

“Yes you can. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but don’t trust how you feel. Trust me, trust what I’m telling you. You can breathe.” She repeated the pattern again, and waited expectantly.

Slowly, hesitantly, Melody followed, and Bekah felt a rush of pride.

“Good job. Good girl. Keep doing that. Keep going.” Bekah took a moment to collect her thoughts and try to remember the techniques Hana had taught her. “Can you hear me? Nod if the answer is yes.”

Melody nodded slowly, breath still coming in stops and starts but following the square breathing as best she could. Her eyes were slowing in their panicked whirl, and her gaze focussed firmly on Bekah’s intense gaze.

“I need you to focus on what’s going on right now. Don’t think about the future, don’t think about what’s going to happen. Just think about the here and now. Think about what you’re feeling. My arms around you, keeping you safe. The couch, soft underneath you.” She squeezed the other girl tighter, and felt some of the tension begin to flow out of her.

“Focus on what you’re hearing. The fan in the other room. The clock ticking on the mantel. My voice. Just listen to me and what I’m saying.”

Melody nodded again, more firmly now. Her eyes relaxed even more, lids drooping softly.

“Good girl. That’s perfect, I can feel you relaxing for me. Just keep listening to my voice, feeling me holding you. Focus on the feelings, not your thoughts. We can deal with those later. Look at me. See my face?”

Bekah angled her neck, showing the taller woman her forehead.  “See that scar? I got that when I was a kid, rollerblading accident. I was so stupid and young and thought I could get away with not wearing a helmet.” She laughed. Bekah hadn’t thought about her rollerblading phase in a while. “There’s some really dorky pictures of me back at my moms’ place I’ll have to show you sometime.”

 “This one,” she continued, turning her face to expose a pock mark on the side of her neck, “is from a rubber bullet. Protest a couple of years back went wrong.” 

The girl’s eyes followed the motions of Bekah’s face, drinking in every detail.

“You’re doing so good. You’re doing so good. Tell me, what can you smell?”

“...you.” Melody’s response was quiet, subdued. Such a far cry from the frantic shrill tone she’d had just a moment before. 

Bekah chuckled. “What do I smell like?”

A pause. “Sweat. Soap. Sunshine.” Melody buried her head into Bekah’s arm, but Bekah lifted her face back up to her own.

“Shhh, keep your eyes on me. That’s good.”

She was so beautiful. So sweet, so vulnerable, so trusting. Melody was completely relaxed now, a melted puddle in Bekah’s arms. She couldn’t resist any longer.

“Now tell me, what do you taste?”

Bekah leaned in to kiss Mel gently on the lips and the girl leaned into her hard, deepening the kiss far beyond what Bekah had intended. She wasn’t complaining though. She could taste the tears on Mel’s lips, soft and plush and salt.

After a far too short moment, she pulled away. Have to stay focused, she reminded herself. You’re helping her calm down, not making out. As she leaned back, Melody fell forward against her body, limbs loose and limp.

“How do you feel Melody?” she asked.

“Mmm goood,” came the reply, languid and lazy.

“Do you think you can get up for me?”

“Yes Miss.”

“Hey, none of that,” Bekah laughed, untangling her arms and leaning away. Melody rose to her feet, surprisingly gracefully given her recent emotional state, and waited.

“Melody?” Bekah lifted herself off the couch, and looked her in the eyes. Her lidded, glazed eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yes Miss.”

She waited. And waited. And Melody didn’t say anything. Or move. She just watched Bekah, head cocked as though… as though waiting for instructions. She looked like there wasn’t a single thought in her head, like she’d relaxed so completely they’d all slipped away along with the fear. 

She looked exactly like the girls Bekah had seen in her research into her new Soulmark. Those girls that had all been utterly and perfectly hypnotized..

Fuck.

***

Mel felt incredible. If she’d had the capacity to be surprised at how quickly her mood had turned around from the brink of collapse, she would have been, but she wasn’t. She felt floaty and wonderful, and totally and completely focused on the woman standing across from her, a look of dawning dread on her face.

It was so nice, to not have to think or worry. So nice to just be able to think of how it had felt to be held, how beautiful Bekah was with all those fascinating scars. How her body had smelled, like home and safety. How her mouth had tasted against Mel’s own. It was all she needed to think about, so it was all she did think about.

Bekah asked her a question, and she answered automatically. She wasn’t really sure what the question had been, but that wasn’t important right now.

“Melody, listen to me.”

That was important. Her eyes focused in on the other woman’s perfect lips, waiting to hear the words that would come out.

“I think you’re hypnotized. I-I think I hypnotized you by accident. I’m so sorry.”

Oh. That made sense. 

Is this what being hypnotized feels like? The thought floated through her head soft as a feather. This is really nice. I like being hypnotized. It floated all the way to the top of her head, and out, leaving her once again empty and focused. She waited patiently for Bekah to continue.

It took a moment. The other woman looked expectantly at Mel, but swiftly jerked in abrupt realization and kept talking.

“I need you to wake up for me. Can you do that?”

Could she? She thought it through, and gave the best response she could. “I don’t think I’m asleep, Miss.”

“I meant wake up from hypnosis.”  A current of panic ran through Bekah’s voice. That was odd. What was there to panic about? “I don’t want you to be stuck like this?”

“Why not?” Melody asked. A simple curiosity, expressed without a thought. It didn’t disrupt her focus, or her relaxation. It was just… there.

The question struck Bekah like a brick. “Because this is wrong! Because you’re a person, you should be allowed to think on your own without some idiot like me coming along and messing you up.”

“But it feels good.” The question that had been tearing Melody apart mere minutes before seemed so simple now. Why couldn’t Bekah see it too? “What’s wrong with feeling good?”

“Because I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to do this to you” The defeat in Bekah’s voice broke Melody’s heart, and that was enough to snap her out of her single minded focus.

It felt like waking up from an incredible nap, the rest of her thoughts bubbling up from where they’d lain soft and fallow underneath the blanket of comfort that Bekah had laid. Her mind stretched, languid as a cat, and a moment later she spoke.

“I’m here. I’m awake. It’s okay.”

“You are?” Bekah looked at her with a mixture of shock and pure profound relief.

“Yeaah. Yeah. I’m a little sleepy, but I’m back.” She stretched her arms behind her back, enjoying the feel of her body moving. She also enjoyed the way Bekah, distraught as she was, couldn’t help but stare at her chest thrust outward. “That was…”

“A mistake. I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.” Now it was Bekah’s turn to be on the edge of tears.

“I was going to say incredible, but that works too.” She laughed, short and sweet and delightfully relieved. “I guess God was right after all.” How foolish she’d been to doubt Him.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you see? Our Soulmarks are right about us. You’re meant to hypnotize me, and I’m meant to be hypnotized by you.”

Bekah stared in horror as Melody beamed down at her, her smile radiant with the new knowledge that swelled her heart with joy.

“Don’t you see? I’m not the one who was wrong!”