Page 235 of Deep Cover

And then I ran. Still dressed for it. Inside, in the compound. Running to the room at the center of it all, the cell where Ariel was.

For once she wasn't up and waiting for me, or kneeling with her head down. She was at the desk in her room, writing something in a slim volume with a fountain pen. When I burst in, she rose unsteadily and too fast, her face a study in surprise. One hand flashed out and knocked over the bottle of ink, sending it cascading to the floor.

She looked honestly distressed, catching most of the ink with a towel before it splashed. "Sir, I had no idea – "

I grabbed the back of her neck and propelled her across the room the way a cat scruffs a kitten. At the bed, I shoved her hard, sending her sprawling.

"On your belly!"

Too far gone to realize, until I saw the tape hours later, that she'd taken a moment to comply. It was the smallest possible lag but she didn't instantly do what I said.

Any other time I'd have been thrilled to see Ariel fight back to any degree at all.

Instead, I was in a blind rage, only aware of my own need. I ripped open the locked cabinet and selected the canes I wanted, the crops, the whips, the paddles, dragging everything out and onto the bed.

From the corner of my eye I saw something moving. Even in my rage I realized Ariel was shaking.

Good. Good. I wanted to hurt something. I wanted to bring her to her knees when she didn't mean to kneel. I wanted to leave her more bloody than I'd just left Annie in her own bathroom by her own hand. I wanted to paint this cell with Ariel's life has nothing for me blood.

I wanted to make her scream. And scream.

By the time I picked up the first cane she had come up to all fours, her back bowed and her ass held high, her head down, her eyes closed. The only tension was revealed in the way her hands gripped the bedspread.

I grabbed a Lexan cane, drove it through the air with a sound like fury.

Smashed it into the bed to the left of her quivering white ass.

Even just hitting the bed it exploded with a sound that shook the room. Ariel made a sound of pure fear and started to crawl up farther onto the bed.

I raised the cane again.

And threw it across the room as hard as I could. It hit the opposite wall by the door and fell, and lay there looking innocuous.

The room filled with an unusual silence. There was no sound of blows, no sound of something implacable hitting something soft and giving. There were no grunts, either from me as I struck repeatedly or from Ariel as she absorbed the blows as if that were the only thing she was there for. The only thing she was anywhere for.

I realized I was sitting on the edge of the bed, my face sunk into my hands, my breathing shallow.

I felt the bed move behind me as Ariel crawled over to me. In the years she'd been prisoner here, I'd never seen her do anything voluntarily like that. There were no mirrors in her room. Too dangerous and she didn't want to see herself anyway. So I had no idea how close she'd come until her legs came around from behind me, sliding over my thighs and wrapping like a hug. Her arms slid under mine and locked over my chest. Her cheek came down on the back of my neck. The warmth of her breath stirred my hair.

"Cole," she whispered, and it was a shock, hearing my name from her. "You're a good man. Who hurt you?"

A range of answers presented themselves. Punishing her for speaking out of turn. For using my name. For daring to ask anything at all about me. For presuming that she knew anything about me.

There were no repercussions. There was no pain.

When I began to sob, she wrapped her arms around me and dragged me onto the bed, pulled the covers over us both and held me.

Until the tears stopped.

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