The boot connects with my cheekbone, sickeningly. How. How has it come to this. Again. I scream, scrabble across the floor. I wanted a beating, a caning, a spanking. Not this abuse. The sheer violence, in the actions, in the eyes, astounds me.
Grabbed by the hair, dragged to my feet. A sneer. A fist to the stomach, the sternum, the hipbone, the cunt.
I love you. Stop. Please. Please.
The floor, again, relearning how to breathe. God. Please god. Please, god, save me.
Back to my feet. My face connecting with the pristine white wall. Once, twice. Thrice. Fuck, fuck, only me turning my face at the last moment preventing a broken nose. Fuck. Hands in my hair, slamming my whole body into the wall. Fuck.
The floor. Again. Face pressed into the carpet, boot to the neck. Boot to the face. Again, again, again.
Stop. Please. I love you.
Laughter. Screaming as the whip lashes against my back, arms. I'm bleeding as I drag myself across the carpet.
Dirty girl. Cruelty in the voice this time; not that it wasn't there before, but explicit now. Angry now.
A glance at the watch, a twist of the lips. We're running late already. A business dinner, and me being oh so inconvenient, insisting I meet friends beforehand. I'm paying dearly for it. A sigh.
Clean yourself up. I don't want you embarrassing me.
A boot. Connecting with my cheekbone, one last time.
A room left empty, except for my sobbing body.
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