What if this was my life? Kept, confined, restrained. Punished, defiled, degraded. All day, all night. What if his brutal slaps were our only point of contact? What if his piss was my only source of sustenance…and intimacy.
I can feel her hot breath and desperate licks on my sensitive holes. I lean back and press hard into her buttery mouth, and a low, guttural voice tells her “be a good little bitch, eat that asshole.” That voice is mine.
