And as each thrust gave way to another more harsh, more invasive, he heard the chink of shackles coming completely undone and he was seeing that wide generous mouth again, and it was taking him to the Promised Land. Through a long tunnel he flew, propelled by screams and greased with semen, he was flying, he was flying, and he was sobbing, sobbing for her pain and sobbing with his joy because she'd been wrong. He'd had a shadow of doubt, shaken by her conviction, but bless the gods she'd been wrong, because at the end of the tunnel, past the misery and through the pain, patiently awaiting his arrival, was Thomas Brown.
He had found himself.
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