Last night he had come to her call for help. He hadn’t said a word but drove her home in silence as she babbled the excuses for her presence at the pub on the wrong side of town. He had said it was a bad idea and she wasn’t to go but she did anyway. Her so called friends had got her more than a little tipsy, how is that her fault, she was only drinking to be sociable. When some guy started getting rough pulling at her, her friends disappeared, and she had hidden in the bathroom. Her only way out was to call him.
As he stopped the car on the drive of their home she yelled ‘Are you even listening to me?’ He said nothing, just opened the door and waited for her to go inside.
‘We will talk tomorrow’ he said and left her in the hallway as he closed the door to his study. All she could remember after that was sleeping and throwing up and sleeping. She awoke the next day and groaned until she realised, she was lying in between the crisp linen of their bed and it smelled fresh and clean. He had cleaned her up and put her to bed.
Her groan had been heard, and he entered the room with a cup of black coffee and two pain killers in a plastic pot. ‘That should sort your hangover out’ he said and left the room. He still cared for her, she had got away with it or so she thought. It was later she learned her Master was not to be disobeyed, embraced in his arms with the welts of his cane burning on her skin.
©JG Farmer 2019