Page 107 of Deep Cover

"Sir?" I asked.

"I'm changing some things in the morning routine," he said.

Instantly I had goosebumps. Still dressed, my first instinct was to run. The sick notion of punishment rose up, making me hot and cold all over, but I'd done nothing wrong. Or if I had, I was unaware of it.

"May I ask a question?" I forgot the sir at the end of that and left it alone when I saw him register it. Sometimes it seemed worse to tack it on.

"As we go. For now, just take your shower."

He was dressed. Long sleeved henley against the cold, as cold as it gets in the Southern Nevada desert, and bare feet under his jeans. He was carrying a bag but I couldn't see what was in it and suddenly my heart was pounding and I wanted out of the bathroom, out of Nevada, back to Seattle. I wanted to be a police officer again, I wanted to be undercover with Jesse, for Jesse not to be dead, for none of the previous months to have happened.

The desire swept through me as strong as the addiction ever had.

When he's dressed and I'm not, I never feel more naked. And though he's seen me remove my clothes on multiple occasions, something about this lack of balance of power today left me shivering.

Before he could order me to, or bring someone else in to do it for me, I took off my running clothes and climbed into the shower. Over the sound of the water, he asked me questions about the fentanyl addiction. They weren't new, but I thought somehow he was interpreting them differently. He asked me about my physical addiction and symptoms, about what it felt like emotionally, about any cognitive difficulties I might have experienced as a result of the addiction and I answered him as thoughtfully as I could. The rainforest cure he’d developed was either the greatest placebo in the world or some kind of miracle serum made from vines and herbs.

Toward the end of my shower I heard him go out of the bathroom and come in again, heard something placed in the room. The trembling started again.

My contract with him is irrevocable until I find that attorney I fantasize about. It gives him control over my time, my body, my behavior, my nutrition, my education, my financial upkeep, my punishments. In short, I've given him complete control of me.

And he's a sadist.

When I pulled back the curtain and wrapped the thick, fluffy bath sheet around me, I saw that he'd brought in the small bench that sits at the end of the bed to receive clothes cast off before sleep or extra blankets.

"I'm adding this to our morning routine. I've been attending to your health and making certain you eat properly and get adequate sleep. Now I'm going to add something new. From now on each morning after your shower you will climb onto this bench and kneel until I come for you."

It was better than kneeling naked on the tile floor, but everything in me was shaking now. I didn't like this. I also wasn't sure of the next step, so I asked. "Should I kneel there now, sir?"

"Yes."

"Should I keep the towel, sir?"

"No. Pull on your t-shirt."

And I didn't like that either. It only covered me to my hips. But I hung the towel and pulled on the t-shirt and knelt on the bench.

Cole took my face in his hands and kissed my mouth, then without hesitating, said, "Turn around and go to your hands and knees."

I started to tremble in earnest. This wasn't a beating. It wasn't a punishment. It wasn't anything I was used to. It was new and it was in a more intimate place somehow, than his usual room for correcting me.

"Annie." He had started a mental count.

"Please," I said and instantly knew that was the wrong thing. I let my head drop forward and I rose, turned awkwardly on the bench as if somehow stepping down to the floor to turn around wouldn't be allowed. I knelt on hands and knees, my back to him, the way he had indicated.

"Do you know what a Fleets enema is?" he asked.

I sat before I could stop myself. "Please! Please, don't, sir! Please!" The humiliation turned me scarlet, I could just see my face in the mirror which was how I realized I'd started to cry.

"I can see that you do. Please resume the position. From now on, every morning, you will take your exercise, then you will be cleaned inside and out. This is non-negotiable."

We locked eyes. I'd wondered before what would happen if I ever remained completely firm. If I ever said, no, I won't, and stuck to it. Would he turn me out? Would he tell Seattle PD everything I'd done or even part of it? Or would he just send me away to make my own way however I could? Working security at Walmart. Going back to live with my parents. Marrying Mark. That last shouldn't even feel like a failure.

But it would.

I held his gaze for a long time before I dropped my eyes and said, "Yes, sir," and turned and knelt again, then got up to all fours.

He hadn't removed any of the wrapping yet. I was privy to him opening more than one of the things, saline apparently, and he meant for me to have them. I had no doubt he'd done his research on how much was safe to give a person at one time.

I heard the rattle of packaging stop. Felt him move close behind me. In the time I'd been here he'd never touched me there. My breathing became labored, big breaths I dragged in and sobbed out. I heard him snap on a pair of gloves and felt the cold of lube on his finger. He pressed his finger into me, up to the first knuckle and I let out a sob.

He held it there long enough that the lube became warm and dripped out of me. Something happened, then, before he even inserted the first plastic tip. Something changed but I wasn't sure if I was more determined to run or less. Only that I felt less connected to myself, felt more of my old life slide away, felt that he, incredibly, was what I had to hang on to. This man violating me in such a base way.

I cried until he finished filling me and left me to take care of myself.

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