I sat on the edge of the bed, looking at her body still trembling in the aftermath of her release. My hand gently stroked her disheveled red hair, brushing it from her tear-and-cum-stained face.
"How do you feel, Ms. Fiona?" I asked, my voice returning to a flat, professional tone, a stark contrast to the roughness moments before. "Do you feel a release of tension? Any change in your bodily sensations? Did my therapy help you?"
Ophelia opened her eyes with difficulty, her gaze still foggy. Her swollen lips moved, producing choked words.
"Very... very helpful," she answered, her voice hoarse and broken. "I... can't think. My head is empty. But my body... feels light. Like years of burden have been lifted."
She paused, then her eyes met mine. A smoldering desire still burned within them.
"But... it's not enough," she whispered, ashamed but honest. "I feel... there's still tension not released. In... in my womb. It still feels hollow. As if it needs... longer therapy."
