by Carter Blake
“Yes! I will! I swear!”
I let him go, loosening my shoulders. I turn away, and Benny scuttles off.
“Wait a second.”
He stops and looks over. I love the look in his eyes. A savage dog that just had the shit beaten out of him. He’s a dangerous dog, but he just met an even worse one. I can feel myself grinning. I’m tempted to lick some blood off my knuckles just for shock value.
“Make sure my dear Dr. Hughes gets a gift. A note. Something nice. Something cute. To let her know she’s being thought of.”
Benny nods and beats it. I gather up my cigar and tiny bottle of booze, and lay back on my bed to enjoy them.
This shithole isn’t half-bad, after all.
Alison
I stride through the halls quickly to my office. I plan on getting the assessment done, but I know my mind’s a mess. I don’t think this has ever happened to me before. Thoughts are teeming through my head, rising and falling, and I just can’t focus.
I get to my office, slam the door and lean against it. The wood is cool, even through the layers of my clothing. I sink down against it and sit on the floor. I can’t seem to make it to my desk.
The doctor in me is admonishing me gently. Get a window open. Get a coffee or something else to eat. Basic grounding tools. Breathe deeply and have nourishment. It will always make you feel better.
Perversely, I ignore this good advice and sit quietly on the floor, running through my encounter with Jaxon.
Just thinking of him makes him so real, it’s like he’s in the room with me. I can see his eyes; the way they look into mine, the way they seem to see something no one else can see.
I feel naked in front of him, and even though I’m embarrassed and terrified…I must admit, I’m also powerfully aroused.
Occasionally, fits of arousal had come over me. I usually try to work through it because I don’t want the distraction of a relationship in my life, but I refuse to have casual sex either.
It’s probably the greatest contradiction in my life—I’m only prepared to share myself sexually with one, very special person. I don’t have time to bond and build such a relationship just to have it all fall apart.
I’m almost fanatically private and shy about taking off my clothes. I’m not going to do it for random strangers—I don’t know how anyone could. I’ve studied various types of nymphomania, of course. These people seem to lack the inhibition of other humans to show their bare skin. Their lust overpowers it.
The kind of lust I’m feeling right now is quite enlightening in that sense. I can understand how a person would be driven to seek out a stranger and fuck them.
I don’t want a stranger. I want Jaxon.
I know how stupid and selfish it is, but I let my mind wander. I give in to it.
I had found him interesting right from the first glimpse. Talking to him had impressed and intrigued me. I was already beginning to feel a physical attraction.
But the violence…Oh, god. It wasn’t until he flung himself across the room and set himself on the other man that I felt the real stab between my legs.
Watching him punch the fuck out of the other guy. Blood flying in small glittering drops. The raw power of the male body unleashed and tearing into its prey.
It’s so primal. Of all that I’ve learned about the mind—this, I think, is what I’ve been searching for. Evidence that we’re still monkeys.
That the most intelligent, most controlled, are still ruled by those basic instincts.
I can feel my cheeks burning just from the idea of touching him…and of him touching me. My mind feels as hot and slippery as my pussy right now and I don’t even recognize it.
Sharply, I pull myself back together. This is ridiculous. Indulging in these thoughts is not going to do me any good.
The icy control I’ve always depended on comes back, but slowly. I breathe deep, mentally whipping myself.
He’s a criminal.
Insane.
I’m his doctor.
Just a few reasons why my reaction—and the desire to indulge myself—are very bad ideas. I know what I have to do. I need to own up and say I’m not mature enough for this case.
I need to be reassigned.
The idea is painful. A silly little selfish part of my heart cries, desperate to see him again. I can’t bear the thought of walking away.
I have to. An act of violence from one of my most dangerous patients has arisen in me an attraction that I can’t control. I’m not an idiot. I have to protect myself, and my patient. He needs to be helped, not drooled over.
I decide to go up to my boss’ office when he messages me at that exact moment. I hurry upstairs and let myself into the head doctor’s room.
“Sit down, Alison, sit down.” He gestures to a chair in front of his huge desk and I take it. He has a large office—twice the size of mine. Various awards are framed and proudly displayed hanging from the walls.
He has an assortment of plastic body parts on the corner of his desk, one of which is a brain in many pieces. He flips through some paperwork as I wait.
“Now, I understand you interviewed Jaxon Covington today. How did that go?”
He stares at me, chewing on the end of an unlit pipe as he squints. That’s the tough thing about working in psychology. Everyone’s always trying to shrink you. The worst part is that you know it, and are trying to display ‘correct’ personality traits in response.
It’s a challenge I usually rise to.
“It was fine, sir, but—”
“I understand there was an incident of violence, yes? Did this upset you?”
He’s still looking at me too hard. I squirm slightly as I remember the sound of flesh smacking flesh, the thudding of bone.
“I was surprised, sir. But not upset, no.”
“Very good, dear. You’ve shown excellent work so far. The Covington case is quite a rare one. Very tough. I would like for you to take over it completely.”
“Sir, with all due respect, I must excuse myself from this case.”
He puts down the pipe and looks me square in the face.
“Why?”
I struggle to keep my face from flaming red. He can’t know the real reason. I’ll be finished as a doctor.
“I—ah—I’m having some issues with—”
“Alison.”
“Yes, sir?”
“You wish to move forward with your doctorate quickly, am I right?”
“Yes.”
“You want to run your own practice by the time you’re 30, don’t you?”
I sigh. “Yes, I do.”
He picks up the pipe to chew on it again.
“Then you must take this case. I met Jaxon when he was brought in. He didn’t take to me. He was hostile and difficult to most doctors—particularly if they’re men. I’ve watched the tape from the security cameras. He seemed to have taken quite a shine to you.”
“Yes. The conversation was good, but I still consider him to be a hostile patient.”
“Of course. Under crimes like these, we can see him as nothing else. The difference is you made some headway with him, more than even I could. I don’t think anyone else can take this case, Alison.”
I look down at my hands in my lap. What can I say? I want the case. At the same time, I don’t want it. I came here to give it away.
“Alison.”
I look up at the doctor. “Yes?”
“Are you frightened of him? There are guards there to protect you. You can see him in a secure room with his hands chained, if you feel it’s necessary.”
“I didn’t feel frightened; not of him, exactly. He’s an intriguing case.”
“That’s what I’m telling you. Not only is it a great opportunity to expand your skills, but it’s very high profile. Don’t think we’re the first psychs to take a crack at Covington—it’s been tried. We have him in a unique position, as his mental health program is now court ordered. But believe me, a lot of doctors have tried an
d failed here. Can you imagine the prestige if you manage to treat him? You could work anywhere in the world. Any hospital you choose would fall at your feet to have you.”
It’s really sad that three days ago, that would’ve excited me more than anything.
Now, I’m more excited by the thought of just seeing Jaxon.
For some reason, the idea of seeing him in chains is tantalizing. Just seeing him is like taking a sip of water to a dying man. I feel ripples of relief running through me.
I’m going to take him on.
“I have no objections, sir. I understand exactly what you’re saying. I’ll be pleased to pursue this.”
“Excellent. Then I shall assign him to you officially, and he’s all yours to do with as you see fit.”
Dangerous words. Very dangerous.
I can feel something awakening, slowly, inside me.
Something dark.
Something hungry.
It feels good.
Jaxon
It’s hard to tell day from night in prison.
Simple things like this cease to have meaning.
Time is broken up into blocks: exercise time, food time, sleep time.
I find that I enjoy the simplicity. The lack of distraction. It allows me incredible clarity of thought.
The urge to hang in my room like a giant, malevolent spider spinning dark webs out across the prison is strong.
Still, when the guards slide the door open with great clatter, I find myself springing to my feet and stalking up to them. One guard doesn’t look at me and tries quite obviously to ignore me. He’s got good instincts.
The other gives me a wink and a nod. I give him a smile. Good to know who your friends are.
I stride through the door with light steps. All around me, on higher and lower levels, doors are being opened. I see Benny down below and start to head for the stairs.
A few other inmates are doing the same.
It’s socializing time.
What a seriously ridiculous idea for dangerous human beings.
I walk slowly down the steps. As I reach the ground floor, I look around, appraising the room swiftly. There’s an old fellow on a chair in the corner of the room. He’s tall and thin with long grey hair.
The movement of the chair seems to be an act of rebellion—it’s the only chair not at a table and is half-hidden under the shadow of the stairwell.
So, that’s where all the fun happens, then?
I start to make my way there. Slowly. Got to work the room.
Men are so fucking easy.
No, that’s an oversimplification.
People are. You peg them—alphas or not. Then you break them or rule them.
All the guys in the room are eyeing me and displaying a wide range of reactions. Some are actively submitting, practically getting their bare asses out for me. I’m not against the games of domination, but honestly, if you have to take it to a level that extreme, I consider it somewhat of a detriment to character.
People should be threatened by your gaze. Your presence. Your aura.
I shouldn’t have to thrash someone physically to prove my domination. If I did, it would mean I wasn’t carrying my mantel of menace. Violence is fun for its own sake. But certain types of violence are dirtier than others.
I see Benny with some toughs over at a far corner. Those will be my guaranteed minions, then.
Benny gestures for me to join them, and I scowl at him—I know he’s looking out for me, and he wants me to head over to my crew for solidarity.
That’s not what I came out of my cage to do.
I came to find the head dog, whoever the fuck he might be, and force him to submit. I don’t want to own this prison based on my money or my status or how many boys I have under my feet.
I want them to fear me. I want to find the nastiest mother fucker here, the cunt that thinks he’s evil incarnate, and watch him bend under my will. Just because you’ve been locked in the big house, you think you know evil?
I’m smiling, wandering through the commons. People are sitting down to play cards or talk, watching me float through the crowd like a lunatic.
My truth is my deception.
Suddenly, I see a familiar face—well, a set of injuries familiar to my fists.
“Lummox!” I say with delight, stepping quickly over to the large man. He’s sitting quietly at a crowded table with his head down. His face is a fucking mess. I wonder if he just got out of medic. Both eyes are black, and his nose is a squashed red lump. I slap him hard on the shoulder, grinning like we’re old pals.
“How are you, my friend? Looks like that truck you ran into actually improved your looks! How’s it hangin? And I don’t mean the nose off your face, of course!” I stare into his eyes, a fake smile fixed on my face.
He sits frozen, looking right at me. The ridiculous fuck is practically trembling. Maybe he’ll wet himself. I start laughing at the idea. It’s so funny I can’t stop. I slap his shoulder again, bending over as the laughter pours out of me.
Benny and his crew all give a hearty laugh, just so everyone knows where they stand. It’s good that they obey, but I don’t need their support. I don’t want any fucker in this jail to think they can get the upper hand on me just because I don’t have my ‘boys’ nearby. I’m going to bend this place to my will single-handedly.
Lummox is shaking. A big guy stands up, and my laughter shuts off suddenly as I whip my pale eyes at the big dude.
“You got a problem?” The big guy growls at me.
I pat Lummox soundly on the shoulder.
“Several, in fact. None of which I assume you have the mental aptitude to understand. I’m just saying hello to an old pal here. We’re buddies, aren’t we, Lummox?”
“Yes, sir,” Lummox breathes the word out painfully.
“See? We’re good friends. Now you sit your cute little ass back down before the same truck Lummox ran into finds you.” I glare at him, all manner of humor gone. “Sit. Down!”
Lummox looks at his friend in panic. The guy looks between us, torn with uncertainty. Then he sits down. My smile comes right back like a lantern in the snow.
“Wonderful! Now we’re all friends here, aren’t we? It’s good to be my friend, you’ll find. Very good.”
I lean down and whisper in Lummox’s ear so my breath hits his cheek.
“And very unwise to be my enemy. You understand that, right?” I squeeze his fat shoulder.
He nods, terrified.
“Excellent!” I let go of Lummox’s shoulder and resume my walk, straight for the old dog under the stairs.
He’s got six boys around him, four younger, two older. They all look tough. One of them starts cracking his knuckles as I come near. Benny is furiously shaking his head, but I glare in his direction.
You don’t tell me what to do, fucker.
I lean casually on one of the metal chairs. How lovely that prisons have really shitty, breakable chairs. Inmates keep smashing them over each other’s heads, and it’s cheaper to replace them with a less sturdy version than it was to keep fixing up the inmates.
Health care is expensive, taxpayer money and all.
Old Dog looks up, smoke hanging out of his teeth. He’s cutting lines on a board. He’s showing me his cock—metaphorically. Publicly breaking the rules. His toughs hang close around him as our eyes meet.
“We gonna have a problem here?” I ask airily.
“I hear ya got money,” Old Dog takes a drag of his smoke with yellowed fingers. “If ya pay me off, I might put up with ya prancin’ around like a fucking princess in a tower. Whaddaya say, Jack?”
I feel the pleasant smile bleed off my face, oozing into a cold, toothy one, like ice running through my veins.
The cunt.
And I came here to be nice.
Without warning, I swing the chair up, first left, then right. As predicted, Tough Guy one and two lunge toward me and cop hard steel to the face. They go down as I swing the chair back and
slam it at the old fucker, pinning him to the wall with the legs. The other toughs jump in, but Benny and his pals—and would you look at that, Lummox too—jump in and hold them down.
The old prick looks up, panicking. I know what he sees. Most of the guards have fucked off. The only ones that remain are on my payroll.
“Do you want to try that again?” I hiss at Old Dog. “Maybe start by calling me ‘sir’?”
He growls and tries to fight back, gripping my legs. I use my whole body to slam the chair against him again, and he groans as it cuts off his windpipe.
“You listen up, you old fucker. I don’t plan on being here long. Once I’m gone, you can continue being king of shit if you so desire. Until then, you answer to me every time you fucking move, you got that? Otherwise I might have to take…precautions.”
I’m enjoying the look of him struggling against the chair too much, and just watching him turn red and blue for a bit.
“Ah, boss,” Benny speaks up hesitantly. “If you’re plannin’ to kill him, now’s not the best time. You do as you like, though.”
I sigh, leaning on the chair. Reluctantly, I pull it back, give it a twirl, and sit down on it. I cross my legs and sit comfortably, as the old fucker coughs his guts out on his hands and knees. Someone hands me a smoke and lights it as I wait for Old Dog to recover.
I take a look around at my companions.
“Anybody got a chessboard?”
Alison
With a lump in my throat and trepidation in my voice, I accept my new assignment.
“I have utmost faith in you, Alison,” my director says as my hand reaches for the door handle out of his dark, dusty office.
“Thank you, sir. We’re going to have him evaluated as soon as possible.”
“Alison?” he says as I start out the door.
“Yes, sir?”
“Don’t get too worked up. Take an extra thirty minutes today for lunch. Cool off,” he replies.
“Thank you, sir,” I respond as I clutch my notebook. The walk back to my office seems endless.
This case, Jaxon Covington, assigned specifically to me.
I understand why, but why me? Why did Jaxon take to me?
