Author's Note: Hey, guys, I'm back with a prequel for To Ruin! I was asked by my fav to write this so you can thank her for implanting this idea in my head!

Warnings: Implied Sexual Content, Dom/Sub, Spanking, References to Addiction

~~~Amanda~~~

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The sink releases another tiny droplet of water into the waiting drain, echoing loud against the silence of the bathroom walls. The continuous noise seems to count the seconds that pass, and I'm acutely aware of each and every one.

I've been standing here for too long, staring at my reflection, watching the tremble in my lips, the way my jaw clenches, the shimmering of my eyes. My hair is a disheveled mess, and yesterday's makeup is smeared about my eyes.

I'm naked, and the thrum of multiple orgasms still resonates through my body. The flesh between my legs is swollen and raw, burning from unrelenting friction.

I've done this to myself, chasing some fleeting idea of release.

I sat at the open window of my apartment for over an hour, smoking cigarette after cigarette, but I couldn't stop my mind from spinning, my leg from bouncing. When the cigarette wasn't in my mouth, I bit my nails. Finally, I stormed to the bed and tossed myself to the sheets. Asserting my trembling fingers to my aching body, I worked myself hard until I was sweating and screaming, twisting and bucking violently beneath my own hand…. But when the pleasure faded, I found myself wide awake, staring at the ceiling, unsatisfied. My pulse raced long after the effects of exertion had faded.

I need more.

And so I ended up here, staring myself down in hopes of finding the solution hidden somewhere in the scintillating blue landscape of my own gaze.

I lean hard on the bathroom counter, breathing heavily as I stare at the leaking faucet. Biting at my lower lip, I swallow back tears. I muffle first the tiny sounds of distress that reach up my throat, then the growls of agony.

I can't sleep.

I can't relax.

I just can't stop thinking and aching inside of myself. The tension broiling beneath my flesh won't bend to pleasure, no matter how rough and unrelenting. I need to break it, snap it beneath the force of something much stronger than pleasure… Something I don't know if I can find on my own.

I lift my head for half a second to gaze back at my own desperate expression. I whine at the weak, begging woman inside of me before I lie my head back down on the counter, pressing my heated forehead to the cool surface… Any relief will do.

I know I need so much more, and, God…. I even know what I want.

The dark recesses of my mind aren't far now when I've fallen to these lows, and things I would never even dare to dream of cross my mind - things I've kept buried for the sake of professionalism and goddamn respect.

My knees, unsteady and trembling, finally buckle beneath me and with a moan, I sink to the floor. Hunching over, I wrap my arms around my head and suck back tears. My breaths come hard, wheezing in through my nose and blasting out through my clenched teeth.

The desires racing through my mind spill arousal through my bloodstream. Images of copper hair and dancing dark eyes decimate my every defense, crushing my pathetic being between the long fingered fantasies of olive flesh and wine-colored nail polish. The low, raspy voice of my strongest yearning whispers to me the futility of my feeble resistance even as I sink to my side on the floor.

The cold tile floor shocks my flesh, but I can hardly respond as I collapse, my legs twisting to the side while my top half slumps me onto my face. My soft sobs choke intermittently from my throat, punctuated by whimpers, as I stare at the faux wood cabinets in front of me.

I beg to find some way out of these horrendous, sleepless nights and plead for some other solution.

So many times I've held my phone in my hand when I've found myself shaking on the bathroom, clutching the device in my trembling fingers as I agonize over the simple action of pressing the CALL button. I know that calling her would be easy, but explaining exactly what's happening inside my mind and body would be far from effortless. She'll want to know everything. She'll want to sit me down, hold my hands, look me in the eyes and hear every single humiliating, miserable detail.

I've forced myself suffer through every night previously, but maybe tonight is the breaking point. Maybe I've finally come to the end of my rope, where I can't hold on any longer.

Sitting up slowly, I reached up to grab the edge of the counter. My body quivers all over, but I manage to pull myself to my feet and grasp the bathroom door. I yank it open and stumble out into the livingroom.

My phone is still on the window ledge where I left my spent cigarettes soaking in a cup of water.

I reach the window and sink down on the ledge as I grab my phone and turn on the screen. The LED is bright against my already aching eyes, but I manage to scroll through my contacts to find the name that I want… that I desire…

Olivia Benson.

I swallow hard as my thumb hovers over the name.

I hardly need to even try to conjure the images that my brain so often assaults me with. I've taken innocent glimpses of her - a touch of her hand, a certain gaze, the way she walks - and cemented them into full formed fantasies that have taken on such a life of their own that I don't know how to stop them.

It would've been easy to look at such a tall, beautiful person and to strip her down in my mind's eye and become fixated on some kind sexual fantasy, but it isn't so simple. The thoughts that capture my mind are much more complex than sex, a need that thirsts for a dependency much stronger.

Addiction isn't new to me. In fact, I've often wondered if it is my body's default setting, but fighting this incessant thirst is perhaps harder than all of my other vice's combined. Cigarettes, alcohol, gambling… it's all a never-ending cycle of finding abandon in hedonistic activities, but what I want now is far different. I don't just want an adrenaline rush, or the numbing abyss of inebriation, nor the satisfying twist of nicotine in my lungs. This is so much more. I've spent so long distracting myself that now every single emotion and feeling is bubbling up inside of me, racing to any and every access point, searching for a way out; but I only want release from one person and one alone.

Gripping my phone in my shaking hand, I press my eyes shut. I don't need strength or courage in this moment… I just need to let these unending desires take over my body and manipulate my actions; then again, I've never had a hard time ignoring better judgement.

Opening my eyes, I tap the CALL button as quickly as I can and lift the phone to my ear. The ringing begins, immediately setting off the racing of my heart once more. Each one seems to stretch on for minutes while the spaces in between tick by with the doomed possibility of no answer.

"Hello?"

I nearly gasp when Olivia's voice cuts through the speaker, crashing across my ear like water on a parched tongue. I feel a tremble go through my entire body, washing goosebumps over my arms, legs, and back, all the way up the back of my head.

"Amanda?" Olivia questions when I don't reply. "Are you all right?"

"I…" I begin, my voice rough and halting. "C-can I come over?"

There is a beat of confused silence and I feel myself panicking at the thought of rejection. Turning away from the window, I pace across the room, clutching my forehead with my opposite hand.

"I'm sorry, I know it's really late… I just haven't slept and I'm having a really hard night." I swallow hard though my throat is dry. Licking my lips, I continue in a bare whisper, "I just didn't know what to do…. I thought about breaking my sobriety and-"

"Amanda." Olivia cuts me off, her voice firm but gentle. "Stop for a second. Take a breath."

"Right, yes…" I stutter, trying to follow Olivia's orders.

Christ himself fucking knows that all I want to do is whatever Olivia wants.

"You said you haven't slept?" Olivia asks, softly, after a moment.

"Yeah…." I murmur, rubbing my hand over my face. "It's been over 24 hours, I think."

"I'll come to you." Olivia says. "You shouldn't be out by yourself when you're that sleep deprived."

I open my mouth to protest, but I just can't find the ire to do so. I can already hear the rustling of Olivia getting out of bed through the phone and all I can imagine is her being here, holding me, alleviating me of my torment; not to mention, my heart sings at the very idea that Olivia cares so much for my well being.

"I'll be there soon." Olivia says, "Hold on, okay?"

"Thank you." I whisper, pushing back tears that blossom in my eyes once more.

The line clicks and I sink to the windowsill once more, my hand dropping limply to my lap. Staring down at the floor, I listen to the sound of my own breathing rasping from my throat in the sudden absence of Olivia's voice. In the background, my heartbeat chugs steadily in my ears.

Olivia hardly asked any questions on the phone, but once she gets here, it will be much different. I am both relieved and horrified that I actually made the call. I suppose I can pass this off as a struggle with relapsing into gambling, but I just don't know if I will be able to control myself once Olivia is in my space, enveloping me with the smell of her perfume or the exhilaration of her touch.

Several minutes pass before it occurs to me that I should dress myself. I have to be at least halfway presentable, but not enough that Olivia won't take pity on me. It's a manipulative thought, but at this point, I will do almost anything to have what I desire most.

Rising from the windowsill, I return to the bedroom where my clothing is strewn on the floor. I tug the t-shirt and pajama shorts back on before running my fingers through my hair. My blonde locks are mussed and knotted and I can hardly get through a section without catching on a tangle. Dropping my hands back to my sides, I let out a quavering sigh.

My fingers are trembling almost indistinctly, but I can feel the nervous butterflies twisting my stomach, my pulse racing shallowly throughout my body.

For a brief moment I wonder if I should call Olivia back and tell her that her presence isn't necessary, that I can get through this night alone just like every other night; but the very thought of taking away the possibility of fulfilling my desires stops me from picking up the phone again.

I'm fucking terrified, but the need inside of me pulses stronger than anything I've ever felt, including fear.

I return to the living room, finding myself bereft with nothing for my hands to do. My cigarettes sit on the sill, silently beckoning me, and I slouch down by the window to light up.

The sounds of city drift softly through my window and I lean my head back against the frame as I take the first drag. It feels slightly more calming than my first round of nicotine but maybe that's only because I know she will be here with me soon, taking care of me.

Grey smoke swirls out around my face as I sigh.

Despite my efforts to relax, I can feel myself quivering involuntarily. Nervous bursts of energy quake through my arms and legs and my stomach flips over and over with the scenarios that play out in my mind. I can quickly feel my body begin to burn and throb with heat which curls into a tight ball between my hips, expanding with each second.

I desperately suck at my cigarette, but the knowledge that she'll be here with me in a matter of minutes won't let my mind or body rest.

She'll want to touch me to ensure my well being, her fingers dancing over my arms, squeezing my shoulder. Maybe she'll even hold me, folding me against the warmth and fullness of her breasts. I can imagine already how she'll murmur assurances into my ear, her lips pressing soft kisses to my hair and temple…

Buzz!

I start, my body shaking suddenly as the buzzing from the gate down below jars me from my fantasy. I haven't realized how my mind has been whisked away with thoughts of her and my heart jackhammers in my chest when I find her suddenly here on my doorstep.

I stumble up from the window sill in order to buzz her in and immediately begin to pace the room, the cigarette still dangling from my fingers. The racing of my pulse nearly chokes my throat and I suck in shallow, useless breaths as I wait for her to arrive at my door.

Her knock stills my pacing.

Standing in the middle of the room, quivering and aching, I stare at the door. A part of me wants to run from this, to hide myself from the shame of such need beneath her discerning, dark eyes; but in the pit of my gut, desire twists me, tossing my willpower to the wind.

She knocks again.

"Amanda?" Her voice calls to me, muffled behind the separation of wood and stone.

I rush to the door suddenly, clenching my fingers hard around the doorknob. I'm quaking as I lodge the cigarette between my lips in order to turn the deadbolt with my other hand. Smoke drifts in front of my already blurred vision as I hesitate for a half a second longer.

"Amanda?" She repeats, the concern clearly etched into her tone.

Lowering my head, I forcefully pull the door open, and I want to curl to the floor immediately. I feel vulnerable and naked with her so close to me, weak and trembling beneath her gaze.

She reaches out, her hand settling on my shoulder. Her fingers seem to sear my through the cloth of my t-shirt and I clench my lips down hard around the cigarette, hoping to hide my watery eyes from her sight in a haze of nicotine.

"Let me in, sweetie." She murmurs, the soft firmness of her voice rattling my tethers of self control.

I step back, haltingly, allowing her enough space to enter. She brushes past me, drowning me in the scent of her hair and perfume, and I sink against the door. The weight of my body drags it shut, locking us inside together.

I reach up to grab the cigarette from my lips and release a wavering sigh, searching for some strength within me to turn and face her.

"Amanda." Olivia says, softly.

I feel her touch my back and I clench my eyes shut hard as my body shudders in reaction, but her hands don't leave me. Her fingers curls around shoulders, pulling me slowly away from the door.

"Come sit down." She whispers, soothingly. "We can talk about whatever is going on."

I hang my head as I turn, unable to lift my eyes to hers. All I can see her body wrapped in a dark trench coat, and a hint of olive flesh at the V of her neckline.

"I'm sorry." I whisper, shaking my head.

"No, no, no." She stops my apologizing, immediately, her fingers brushing my chin.

I want to fight the guidance of her hand, but I feel like a lump of clay beneath her hands, bending and folding and forming to the touch of her fingers. She drags my face upwards, and her eyes find mine.

Her face is bare of makeup, but that doesn't matter. She's no less intense.. No less beautiful…

Tears immediately burn my eyes and I swallow back a sob that wants to well up in my throat. I lift a hand to rub over my face and eyes, to hide the fact that her very presence is bringing me to my knees.

"Don't apologize, Amanda." She says, her fingers barely leaving my chin. "You did the right thing. You asked for help."

I nod, raggedly, my gaze flitting away from her to the walls, to the floor, to the ceiling - anywhere but her dark, inquiring eyes.

"Come sit down." She urges, pulling me towards the couch.

I allow her to drag me to the sofa and I sink to the cushions, though I can hardly relax into the comforting softness.

"Let's put that out." Olivia suggests, taking the cigarette from my fingers.

I allow her to remove it and I watch with a half-lidded, blurry gaze as she crosses the room to the windowsill and tosses the half burnt cigarette into the glass of water. When she turns, her brow is furrowed, her lips taut with concern.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on?" She asks.

I wordlessly lift my hands with a shake of my head. I don't know how to answer her, how to tell her that what I want is so far beyond the line of where our relationship should end, but that I can't stop thinking about it. I can't stop needing her.

"Amanda…" She says, slowly, as she begins to walk back towards me, "I'll sit here with you all night if it will keep you from doing something you'll regret, but you need to tell me what got us here."

The firm, unyielding tone of her voice strikes weakness into my limbs, and pulls my stomach tight with the pull of desire.

"I…" I begin, raspily, trying to find some way to explain. "I could've called someone else… you know?"

She frowns as she eases down next to me, her hands clasped together in her lap as she says, "Do you not want me to pry?"

"That's not what I meant…" I whisper, my gaze drifting over to hers with a guilty sheen of tears.

"What do you mean?" She asks, her tone unshaken by my words and behavior.

"I mean… I could've called someone else on a bad night, but….I…" I stop for half a second, my heart palpitating at the thought of baring my heart to her, but her intense, unwavering gaze won't let my explanation sputter out. "I mean… I wanted you… I need… you…"

The words fall quaking from my lips,my voice sounding strung out with desire and pain. I lay weakly against the cushions, tears pricking my reddened eyes, and I appear just as wasted as I sound.

The seconds between my confession and her response stretch out as her expression shifts from concern to confusion… then finally, shocked understanding. Even as the implications of my words form in her eyes, we don't move an inch, both of us staring at each other as if waiting for this moment to mean something different.

Finally, the silence extends into sharp discomfort, and I shove up from the couch.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that." I mumble, pacing away from her, and rubbing my hands over my face.

My heart is quickly falling, mortification filling me, and my brain races to find some way to reverse this moment, if only to find some other way to make her understand. I don't know if I can take a simple rejection because I'm not sure this is something I can live without.

"Amanda…" Olivia's voice finally cuts through my inner monologue of self doubt.

I pause my pacing, panting softly into my palms. I hear her footsteps approach and my shoulders clench against apprehension, but when her hands touch me, they're gentle. She pulls me around, slides her fingers around my wrists to drag away my mask of shame.

"Look at me." She says, softly, holding my hands between us.

I swallow hard against a barrage of tears, using every bit of strength inside myself to lift my eyes to hers. It's hard to read her tense expression, but it's a relief not to see disgust in her gaze… at least, not yet.

"I need to you to tell me exactly what you mean." Olivia orders, but her voice is soft.

I can't stand to hold her gaze any longer and I lower my head, staring at her long fingers wrapped around my wrists, barely brushing up against my palms.

"I mean…" I rasp, almost too quietly to hear, "I mean… I… I need….things… from you. I've thought about you doing them to me…." My voice trails away into humiliated sniffles as my face flushes sharply at the sound of my own admission.

She's quiet for a long moment, but I can feel her fingers tighten about my wrists. I chance a glimpse up at her but her gaze it pointed off to the side, her lips pursed tautly.

Panic sears my stomach and I begin to pull away from her, my brain screaming for some kind of escape from the horrifying path this conversation has taken. I wasn't sure how I was going to explain myself, but this is far worse than I expected.

"This was such a mistake." I groan.

My clenched fists strain against her, but her fingers squeeze down on my arms, anchoring me there in front of her with desperate tears streaking my flushed face. I whimper softly and try to wrench my arms from her once more, but she overpowers me, pulling me taut against her body.

Our struggle causes us to stumble back, and I nearly lose my balance in my eagerness to escape. She catches me about the waist, holding me securely against her as my back hits the wall.

"Amanda, stop, stop." She orders as I sink down in the embrace of her arms, tears twisting my face.

"Nooo…." I moan, hanging my head against her chest.

She smells sweet as my nose drags against her collarbone, and the softness of her flesh only makes want to sob harder.

"Just let me go…" I cry, panting against the humiliation that squeezes my throat.

"No… I won't let you go." She whispers against my hair.

Her voice is soft, a startling comparison to the iron grip of her fingers around my wrist and her arm circling my waist. She holds me down with the firm command that every fiber of my being has been aching for, causing a shudder to rake over my body. I tremble in her arms, an aching mass of exposed nerve endings and miserable desire.

"Breathe." She murmurs, and I don't dare to fight her again.

I suck in quivering breaths and she listens intently to every single inhale, allowing me to gather my composure until I'm no longer hiccupping and gasping with tears.

She shifts against me, releasing my wrist in order to touch my jaw. I don't want to look at her even as my body thrums at the barest brush of her fingers. She feels electric against me, shocking me with sensation after sensation.

"Tell me what you've thought about." Her tone is just above a murmur, even and unfaltering.

I whine once more, but she won't let me move even an inch away from her.

"I've seen the way you look at me." She says, softly, stroking the tears away from my cheek. "I know there's…. things you want to tell me."

I bite at my lower lip, turning my cheek against the warmth of her palm, seeking comfort in the fact that she hasn't pushed me away. I can't look at her yet because even the sound of her voice discerning my deepest desire is too much.

"You've noticed?" I whisper, my voice cracking.

"Yes." She murmurs.

Feeling even more embarrassed, I dig my face into my palm and swallow back emotion though this moment only seems to make me throb harder for her.

"Tell me." She encourages, her thumb rubbing gently over my cheek.

"I…" I choke out, my thoughts tripping over themselves as I try to find some way to tell her exactly what I want...what I need… "I think about you….hurting me…."

The words tumble roughly from lips, incurring a loud, ringing silence. I know it's not what she was expecting.

"Amanda…" She begins, finally, drawing back slightly to try to catch my gaze.

"I told you to just let me go…" I whisper, finally gazing back at her pathetically.

"I can't enable another destructive behavior pattern." She says, her tone sharp, though I doubt she means to hurt me.

"That's not how it is." I whine, right on the verge of pleading despite my efforts to push her away; despite the fact that just an hour ago I compared this to addiction.

"Tell me how it is." She insists. "And please tell me if you've hurt yourself or if someone else has engaged in this with you-"

"Olivia." I cut her off, my voice begging. "Please…I wouldn't."

She closes her mouth, but the furrow of her brows and the look in her dark eyes don't lose their suspicion.

"Look…" I breath out in a trembling whisper. "I just…want you to…" I shake my head, struggling to find words to properly describe these incessant desires. "I think about you….punishing me…"

Silence greets me once more and I can't even look at her out of curiosity this time. A flush rises on my cheeks and I clench my eyes shut, waiting for her condemnation once more.

"Punishing you how?" She says at last, and I can tell she's barely smoothed over her shock despite her even tone.

Swallowing hard, I force myself to keep standing beneath the heat of her interrogation.

"Holding me down…" I whisper, my voice husky and thin. " Taking off my pants… Spanking me…"

Her arm clenches around my waist and I can feel her chest expand in a quick inhale. She's quiet and I can feel us teetering on the outer fringes of a type of limbo, neither of wanting to break this moment, neither of us daring to move.

Finally, her arms slacken and she slips away from me, leaving me achingly cold in the absence of her touch. I lapse against the wall, emotional exhaustion pulling at me as I watch her walk away slowly, her back turned. Her hands are lifted to her face as if she can rub the shock and strain from her expression.

I know she's trying to process everything I've told her and that logically I should've expected this reaction, but I have been living with these increasingly strong desires for so long that I can hardly stand another minute of waiting.

She crosses to the window, and stands there gazing out for what seems to be an eternity.

I hardly move from the wall, frozen somewhere between the fear of rejection and the anticipation of action.

Finally, she speaks, her voice like a wave breaking against the shore. I am that dry, thirsty stretch of sand, soaking up anything she could possibly give me, falling to the undertow of her alluring currents.

"I don't know if I can give you want you want, Amanda." She says, her voice brittle against any telling emotion.

Her words fall upon my ears but the apparent implications don't cement themselves for several, seemingly long moments. When they finally do I feel as if my chest is collapsing in on itself.

I am truly doomed.

These nights will stretch ahead of me endlessly until this wretched need has run it's course though I don't know what will be left of me in the wake. I don't want to imagine possibly surviving the withdrawals of something I've only ever grasped in my imagination.

I sink down against the wall, my back sliding across the smooth surface until I crumple on the floor. The tears don't hit me until I'm hunched over my knees, my arms wrapped around my head. My shoulders begin to shake, heaving sobs welling up in my chest, ready to break into uncontrollable gasps and moans.

"Amanda, Amanda, honey…" Olivia's voice is next to me in the next second, her hands reaching out to touch me, settling over my shoulders as she kneels down next to me.

"You don't understand!" I cry, wrenching my head up from arms.

Her eyes are wide, brows knotted, lips turned down in a sharp display of unease and concern, and I realize that for once she doesn't know what to do. I've never imagined that she will grasp for direction, or falter in her decision. Even in my fantasies, I've placed my trust in her to take care of me and never doubted that she will find a way.

"You have to help me…" I whisper, my trembling hands reaching out to scramble over her arms for purchase. "Please…"

"Amanda…" She whispers, and when she pulls me close I can see the emotion striking her eyes.

The realization that I've cut beneath the thick layer of armour that she wears startles me, but I don't have time to decide whether that's what I've wanted or not. Her arms are winding around me again, cradling me to her chest and I collapse into her. She's soft, and warm, the utter epitome of safety, and my fingers claw over her back as if to draw her closer although we're already pressed tight.

For a few blissful moments, nothing else matters. The gnawing hunger deep inside of me quiets to the calm of her embrace, and lapsing against her seems a relief rather than a concession. She's found me here at my lowest point, a mess of tears and overextended emotions on the floor of my apartment - and I trust her to lift me up from here.