Summary: Beautiful and broken, Bella has blossomed into something new. With his eyes on her, she feels complete. Nude and liberated, she tears herself done to transform herself into something new. As Edward's submissive, can she let the past go? Or will her scars and nightmares become too much? BDSM story. Rated M for sex, violence, and language.

**Trigger Warning** This is a BDSM fic and it may be extreme or offensive at times. While there are cute and cuddly moments … this story will have some violence toward the end. So, reader discretion is advised.

Author's Note: Hey, guys! I'm so excited to be back with this story! It was originally published in 2017 (I can't believe I've been writing Twific for three years!) and it got a LOT of backlash. As someone who had been new to the fic world, I was too afraid to continue the story with all of the nasty comments and death threats. Now, however, I really don't care. Since I was harassed so much before, I'll leave this right here: I don't care if you don't like this story or feel offended by my writing, grammar, etc. You can write a nasty review if it makes you feel better about yourself but know that I really don't care and I definitely won't cry myself to sleep over it. If anything, your reviews help my review count. Okay … that's the last time I'm going to address guest reviews with this story. I don't want to burden you guys with them because I really just want you to have fun reading!

Anyway, since I'm just reposting under my original story under my original version, you might not be able to review chapters again. Please feel free to guest review! I really look forward to what you think of my rewrites. I think this story is going to be SOOOOOO much better. The plot is going to be slightly different and I'm going to try to fix the things I messed up with the lifestyle originally. If you have any concerns about this story, please let me know!

This story will be updating EVERY SATURDAY! I'm super excited about that! Please look forward to it. 😊

On a personal note, my classes start back up this Monday (ugh) so please pray for me. I want to get a PhD in comparative literature so I have a super long road ahead. Writing fanfic is definitely a release for me. Also, I'm going to be self-publishing my third book "Tethered Souls" really soon! Please keep an eye out for it. I'm super excited to have it published. It's been my side project while I'm in school. "Jagged Hearts" and "Tethered Souls" are the published version of my fanfic "My Blessing" which is Bella's version of "The Blessing." "My Blessing" will be completed on fanfic tonight! So please check it out. 😊

Lastly, I want to take a moment to thank the beautiful people helping me on this story! Sally, Allie, Tina, Victoria, Alice, Alyscia, Gabriela, and Rae … THANK YOU SO MUCH!

Finally … Read, review, and enjoy!

1: Ocean Eyes

"I've been watching you for some time. Can't stop staring at those ocean eyes. Burning cities and napalm skies. Fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes."

-Billie Eilish

He was as cool and calm as the space around him, blending into the mellow notes, beige walls, and slick hardwood. Every morning, he came here—his small oasis away from where he called home. Part of her wanted to believe that she was the reason he came in promptly at seven o'clock. However, the rest of her knew better. Behind the espresso machine, she was an accessory; she felt just as useful as the fake plants that lined the muted colored walls. With her long brunette locks pulled back in a bun and her pale, makeup-free face, she could have been anyone. The light in her eyes had been extinguished three years ago, leaving her to live as something entirely ordinary. He was something else, though. Something larger than life. Something that consumed the entire room.

Every time he would order, he was expressionless. He stood like he was trying to keep a secret. Despite her hesitant, almost voyeuristic gaze, he showed no sign of interest as he told her his usual—a latte with two extra shots of espresso. Her shaky fingers would grab a porcelain mug and, like every morning, she would make his drink in a nervous silence. With a blank expression, he would watch her—almost bored by the fact that he was making her heart race. Her pulse fluttered against the flushed skin of her neck.

Sometimes, every now and then, his gaze would drop to that fluttering vein and stare before his eyes shifted to her collarbone. Every time he did that, her legs would press together as that pulsating feeling found its home in a different spot entirely. Her pussy fluttered for him—her entire body opened up, nearly ready to beg. Yet, he showed no reaction. He's a brooding, bookish type, she noted before she dropped her gaze and finished off his drink.

"One of these days, I'm not going to care about how much you need this job. You can't keep zoning out, Bells."

The sound of his voice made her nearly drop the mug in her hand. Latte splashed onto her right arm, covering the scar tissue before she could breathe and re-center herself. She bit back the pain, trying to shove the memories of three years ago back into the shadows of her mind, as she turned to look at her manager.

"Sorry, Jake. It's those midterms coming up." She had gone back to school, changing the entire trajectory of her life. It was just another thing to put her on edge. "I have two tests and a paper. I can't stop thinking about it."

It's the paper I can't stop thinking about … not the beautiful, copper-haired man staring at me with his expressionless gaze.

"Look, I know you're stressed but you're at work. Yesterday, do you know how many mugs you dropped?" When she didn't respond, her brown eyes wide and guilty, he continued. "Six. Yesterday, you broke six mugs. I'm not exactly made of money, Bells. I can't afford you breaking that many—"

"I can pay you back," she quickly chimed in.

"No, no. I don't need you to pay me back. I need you to be more diligent." He paused for a moment and then softened. "God, it's weird talking to you like this. I'm not used to it. I'm younger and all and it just feels … weird."

She smiled at him and ignored the sting in her arm as she slid the latte onto the counter and called out the name. Edward. It was an old-fashioned name that sounded like honey on her lips. He stepped forward and snatched the drink away as he murmured a quiet thank you, leaving her to make the next drink. Iced mocha with peppermint. As she began to pour the skim milk, she became lost in her own little world.

"You shouldn't feel weird," she finally said. "Billy gave it to you. It's yours to run."

"It's mine to ruin," he amended with a self-deprecating smile. "I'm sorry to be so hard on you. Really, I—"

"Can I get something to go?"

The smooth, rich voice caused the energy around them to shift. Her entire body felt him as he approached the counter. She drew her bottom lip in between her teeth, biting down to suppress the moan that threatened to escape. God, I'm getting too desperate. I've read too many romance novels. That has to be it. If not, it's surely not helping things. I'm turning into such a pervert … Bella had had sex once. Once and, had it not been her first time, it would have been completely forgettable. The other dancers had pushed her into it—she had been too "frigid," and her movements had lacked feeling. So, she had closed her eyes and opened her legs, letting a boy fumble around until he had come and she had wondered what all the fuss was about. The only thing she wanted to remember was the feel of cum against her cheeks. She loved feeling used—her cheeks had burned under his cum and she had pressed her legs together with the promise of masturbating as soon as she was alone.

Her fingers had kept her company while she had shut herself away from the world. With her hand covered in scar tissue, she made herself forget. It was an endless cycle—the memories would be benign one day and cancerous the next. Her orgasms would send her freefalling and the afterglow would push her into a darkness she could easily drown in. Sometimes, she wanted to drown in it. And sometimes, she would dream of the copper-haired stranger with dark eyes and an even darker soul as she played with her clit.

Nights alone, she would imagine his fingers trailing over her skin. How they would feel playing with her nipples … how they would feel on her cunt. That's impossible, isn't it? The thought of someone touching me … truly touching me … Her skin was scarred—violently red—reminding her of a night she couldn't accept as reality. The truth lurked in the darkness, waiting for her to slip into another depression so that it could pull her under. I'm always so close … always so close to slipping. It's not even fair.

Covering her hands and trailing beneath the black fabric of her button-up were the scars that reminded her of the worst night of her existence. Her flesh would never be the same. Red and deformed, it was a symbol of the life she had lost and the future that could never be. All the work … all that work to have it ripped away in an instant. She loved dancing—she had made a life out of it, taking ballet classes since she could walk—but the dancing she did now was unlike anything she could have imagined for herself. It wasn't that she didn't like it … she did. Taking her clothes off for strangers was liberating. It made her feel alive. However, she heard the remarks regarding her scars. She heard the snickers and lude comments.

Some nights, she felt jaded—like the whole world was fucked. What customer would want me? Who wants a deformed plain Jane when they could have a Barbie? As she finished up the mocha, she peered down at her tits—they were a handful, looking almost too big on her thin frame. If I had a budget for more than Cup O'Noodles, maybe I would look less ridiculous.

She slid the drink onto the counter, called out the name, and moved to the register. The copper-haired man—Edward … it almost felt weird saying his name, as they barely knew each other—loomed over the counter, causing her to shiver as she nodded and gave him the go-ahead to order. His eyes moved over her almost as if he were sizing her up. When his gaze hovered over her breasts, she paused for a moment and let her eyes drop, too. Her nipples were protruding against the fabric of her shirt. Her eyes widened before they shot up to meet the gaze of the man in front of her.

"Sorry," she apologized with a flush.

Sorry, sir, for imagining you on top of me while you're trying to enjoy your morning coffee.

"For what?" he asked dismissively. He checked his phone for a moment before ordering a second time. "I'll need a caramel latte with an extra shot."

Is this for someone special? Is there someone special? God, why am I even worrying about that? What difference does it make? His life doesn't involve me. I can get by on my own.

He paid for his drink and stood off to the side, watching her as she bent down to grab the milk from the refrigerator. His eyes were calculating as they skimmed over her pale skin and erratic breathing. She looked like prey—like she was waiting for something to find her … or waiting for something to conquer her. Or maybe that was just his mind playing again. She would look so perfect staring up at me, he thought as he watched her doe-eyes stare back in his direction. She called to him. If only she knew what she was calling to? He almost smirked. Almost. At the very last minute, he managed to control himself.

"Here you are, sir. Caramel latte with an extra shot."

Her voice was soft—timid. It was such a contrast to her body, which seemed to beg for him. She was a conundrum—everything about her seemed contradictory. She was so soft and yet so filled with fire. He could feel it beneath her skin without having to touch her. He knew that if she were in his arms, she would open up to him, bearing everything before letting him take her. A man could dream, at least.

"Thank you."

Her cheeks burned at the sound of his voice. Something about him was so familiar. She didn't believe in past lives, but around him, she had a strange sort of déjà vu. He lurked in her past somewhere … or maybe she was just imagining things.

"Have a good one."

He smiled at her voice, soft and melodic, before he turned to leave the shop. Work was calling and he couldn't spend another second staring at his coffee shop brunette. When reality hit, it was potent. He wasn't at the age where he could spend his days daydreaming. At thirty-eight, he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. As a psychiatrist with his own practice and a mother dying, he rarely had a moment to himself. Midnight to nine a.m. were his. These days, he rarely slept. He had too much stress that begged for relief. His nights had become filled with strip clubs and call girls. It was a habit he needed to break. He knew the cost of living so dangerously. After his last sub left—choosing to settle down and start a family with a man she met online—his life had been in limbo. He craved control, and now, everything seemed far too malleable for his liking. I need someone new. Even if I have to break them in …

His mind drifted back to the coffee shop girl as he slid into the back of a taxi. With her large, brown, impressionable eyes, he wanted to see her on her knees. He wanted to fuck her until she barely knew who she was. It's more than that, though, he silently admitted to himself as he checked the time on his wristwatch. Although they had never had a proper conversation, there was something about her … something he cared about. She seemed so fragile—like glass. Judging by her scars, she had already seen so much horror despite being so young. She was quiet—mysterious—and begged to be set free. And the way she drops her gaze … the way she bites her lip … She seemed like a natural submissive. He felt his cock stirring as he thought of her licking her plump bottom lip while peering up at him from the floor. With his hand on his cock, adjusting himself through his dress pants, he tried to remember a time when his body reacted like this to anyone. Tonight will be another night at the strip club, then. I need to fuck off this stress. I need a warm body while I think of those brown eyes.

*****************************************Under My Thumb***********************************

He was a vision of cool serenity in the corner of the darkened room. With the pink LED lights glowing on him from overhead, he became the room's aura, making her forget about everything else. The neon lights contoured his strong features. He was a Hellenistic statue against the backdrop of undulating naked bodies and cheap drinks. Does he know that I work here? He keeps looking my way … I just want to hide somewhere … I just want him to touch me. Bella's thoughts were everywhere at once as she tried to make sense of the sight before her. Suddenly, she felt naked in her pink petal pasties and thong. Under his gaze, she was exposed.

Bella slid off a bar stool, dodging the scantily clad waitresses as she made her way across the room. If it weren't for the loud music and atmosphere, she would have never had the courage. He watched her with an almost bored expression, as if he were too cool for the place. Still, despite his stoicism, he never took his eyes off her. Even as another stripper approached. Blonde and completely topless, she sat down on his lap. Bella couldn't deny the jealousy that blossomed in her chest. If Kate weren't her friend, she would have been lashing out at her inside of her head. If only she knew that this was the copper-haired man I'd been talking about. With her breasts in his face, Kate laughed at something a waitress was saying as she took an empty glass from Edward's hand and replaced it with a fresh sapphire tonic. He took a drink as Kate played with his hair, beckoning him to come to the back for a private dance.

There was part of Bella that almost liked watching them together. A hint of voyeurism made her core wet. The inside of her thong became soaked as she moved toward them. His hands ran over the curve of Kate's back. He felt Bella's gaze and soaked it in before turning his gaze to watch her approach. Will she actually come up to us? She seems so shy … Would this be out of character for her? He paused, almost smiling to himself. What is her character, anyway? I don't even know her. With his eyes on her, he ran his lips over Kate's skin, just above her breasts. He watched as Bella bit down on her bottom lip, sucking it in between her teeth as Edward pressed his lips into Kate's skin.

Finally, Bella reached them. She leaned back against the stage, peering up at the dancer on the pole as she prayed Kate would get the hint and leave. She didn't want to interrupt anything in case Edward did in fact want the blonde there. She wouldn't begrudge him if that were the case. It made sense. If it weren't for my tits, I'd think that they hired me out of pity, she thought to herself as a mellow song began to play. The stripper's moves changed, becoming fluid to match the gentle speed of the music. It was melodic and perfect for Bella to lose herself in. With her eyes closed, her hips began to sway.

She breathed in the scent of spilled beer and sweat as she listened to them talk. Kate asked him to come back to the private rooms. There was a silence, and Bella almost opened her eyes out of curiosity. However, she remained in her trance, listening to the music as she wondered how the rest of her night would play out. She had decided to leave it up to fate—to leave it up to Edward. She wouldn't force herself where she wasn't wanted.

"I'll pass for right now. Let me finish this drink."

Although his words were gentle, his voice was direct. Bella heard her friend leave and smiled as Kate's hand trailed across her stomach as she passed her. Bella kept her eyes closed until the song ended, and when she opened them, she found Edward staring at her. He kept silent, sipping his gin and tonic as he beckoned her forward with his finger. She didn't hesitate and slid onto his lap before coiling up on him like a kitten. He remained silent, too, and finished off his drink as he began to pet her hair. Good girl, his hand said as he began to play with her curls. If she could purr, she would as she rested her head against his shoulder.

This was closer than she had ever been to him and she took the chance to peer up at his face. He was older and refined. A few wrinkles around his eyes and mouth gave away his age. When he looked down at her, sensing her assessment, she noticed his eyes. Of course, she had seen them before but not this close. They were the most brilliant shade of green—emerald, like the crystal on her grandmother's necklace. They sparkled in the dark and sent her mind reeling. Something about his eyes felt like home.

"You want to come to the back with me?" she asked with her head tucked into his neck.

Like a child, she began to play with the edges of his tie—curious about everything. After a moment with no response, she peered up at him. He smiled at her. Right away, she noticed that it wasn't a friendly smile. It was more like a hungry predator sizing up its prey and realizing it's defenseless. She felt her nipples pucker as she continued to play with his fancy clothes. I bet his suit costs just as much as my rent.

"Is that what you want?"

She shrugged. There was always part of her that loved this life while another part of her wanted to sink into the alcohol-stained floor. "What else would I want?"

What else would I want? I feel like I don't even know where to begin.

"Lead the way, then."

As she stood up, she felt completely nude under his gaze. Unabashedly, he trailed his hand over the curve of her ass, beckoning her to move toward the room. She turned around and reached out for him, extending her right hand without thinking. Usually, she would hold out her left hand, not wanting customers to be turned off by her scars so soon. In everyday life, people were polite but drunk people let their thoughts escape their lips without thinking. She had heard so many things and had spent so many nights crying over her skin. This is the skin I'm in. At least I'm alive. Her heart fluttered as she felt herself begin to panic. What if he changes his mind? The backs of her eyes burned.

His eyes trailed over her scars for a moment, and then he took her hand, giving it a little squeeze before standing up. When she didn't move, too shocked to think, he nudged her forward with his body. Suddenly, she felt safe. She was at home against his frame.

"Show me the way, pretty girl."