83
The crop sped through the air, biting into the firm female flesh as it found its target. She bucked, arching her body as she took in the pain, letting it flow through her. The inevitable sharp sting followed; then her body began to relax. She was fifteen strokes to the good already and she was beginning to tire, but still she said:
“Again.”
Jake obliged but knew that he should call time on their session now. It had been an enjoyable encounter—almost like old times—and if they were smart they would quit while they were ahead.
“One more.”
Jake raised the crop with relief, bringing it home with a little more speed and strength than usual. She groaned—a satiated, happy groan. Jake found himself wondering if a change was taking place. Was she beginning to take sexual pleasure from her punishment? Many of the women he beat finished themselves off in front of him without embarrassment, brought almost to the point of orgasm by the cruel but delicious blows he administered. Would she allow herself to go there? Could he take her there?
Jake had found himself spending more and more time thinking about her. He had always been curious, but since their falling-out and reconciliation, he’d found it hard to stop trying to fathom her inner workings. Why did she hate herself so much? In his mind, he’d rehearsed a dozen different ways to broach the subject, but in the end the question just popped out, surprising both of them.
“Before you go, is there anything you want to talk about?”
She paused, regarding him curiously.
“I mean... you know that everything that happens here is private and discreet, so if you did want to talk there’s no need to worry. What’s said here stays here.”
“What would I talk about?” Her response was curious but noncommittal.
“You, I suppose.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Perhaps because you want to. Because you feel comfortable here. Perhaps this is the ideal space for you to tell me how you feel.”
“How Ifeel?”
“Yes. How do you feel when you come here? And how do you feel when you leave?”
She looked at him strangely; then, gathering her things, she said:
“I’m sorry—I don’t have time for this.”
And she was heading for the door. Jake stepped forward, gently but firmly blocking her path.
“Please don’t misunderstand me. I don’t want to pry and I certainly don’t want to hurt you. I just want to know how I can help you.”
“Help me?”
“Yes, help you. You’re a good, strong person with so much to give, but you hate yourself and it doesn’t make any sense. So please let me help you. You’ve got no reason to beat yourself up like this and perhaps if you would talk to me...”
He petered out, such was the ferocity of the glare that she directed at him now. It was a toxic mixture of anger, bile and disappointment.
“Fuck you, Jake.”
With that, she pushed him out of the way and was gone. Jake slumped onto the chair—he had played it all wrong and would now pay the price. He knew with absolute certainty that he would never see Helen Grace again.
84
Everyone has a tipping point. A line that must not be crossed. I was no different. Had the stupid bastard been sensible, then none of this would have happened. But he was dumb and greedy and that’s why I decided to kill him.
I was a wreck by this point. I’d given up on life—I knew that it was my lot to be damaged and discarded. I’d made my peace with that—after all, that’s what happened to the girls I knew. None of them made it out the other side. Look at my mother—a sorry fucking excuse for a person. She was a doormat, a punching bag, but worse than that she was an accomplice. She knew what he was doing to me. What Jimmy and the rest were doing to me. But she did nothing. She ignored it and just carried on. If he kicked her out, she’d probably die in the streets—no one else would have her. So she took the easy way out. If anything, I hated her more than I hated him.
At least that’s what I thought until that day. When I saw him come into our bedroom and hesitate. Normally he just charged in and took his fill—he liked things to be brief and violent. But that day he paused, and for the first time his gaze drifted to the top bunk.
I knew what that gaze meant, what evil thoughts were spinning round his head. Strangely, he backed off, walked out. Maybe he wasn’t quite ready to go there yet. But I knew it was only a matter of time. And in that moment my mind was made up.
