Page 169 of Deep Cover

You hurt me.

"Come with me."

No!

He pulled me up by the arm. I went willingly.

If he had tried to take me back to the exam room, I would have done my best to kill him.

He didn't. He took me to his pain room and he stripped every inch of clothing off me, ordering me to stay still. When I was naked again, somehow not as vulnerable as I had been, he took me to one of the benches and bent me over it, my arms stretched out in front of me along its cold surface, my ass tilted up by the positioning of my body on the bench, my legs straining up onto tiptoes as he moved the bench into position, making it just a little too high for me to stand flat-footed.

He showed me the crop before he started using it. It was one of the lighter ones, one that swung easily and hit with a biting sting that echoed through me like an electric shock.

"You may count," he said and the crop sliced down and hit the outside of my thigh. I jumped and screamed. It was sudden and white hot pain. He wasn't fooling around. "And when you fuck up, we will start over."

Start over to what number?

But maybe it was better not to know. There had been thirty the day of the dinner party. I didn't think he had forgotten that. And how many did my litany of fuck yous cost me?

I screwed up in the thirties.

The next time in the teens.

And the time after that was over fifty before I lost count and simply cried, hanging on to the bench while behind me Cole threw down the crop and his pants and stepped up behind me, sliding hard into me and fucking me relentlessly, his hands coming round to stroke and pinch and pummel and drive me until I came as hard as he did.

And he collapsed over me.

And we just stood there. Breathing.

---