Justifiable Homicide

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8

He went to the other side of the cage when he was done. He was breathing harder. He looked at her like a piece of meat.

She looked down and felt a throbbing pain inside her.

He walked over to her. He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.

She raised her chin with great effort and looked straight at him, saw a smile begin to spread at the corners of his lips, and spat in his disgusting face with what little saliva she could muster. A little reciprocal payback for earlier. She couldn't help it. And what did it matter anymore? She was his strapped-up Fuck Thing. It could only get worse, so why not show him what a bastard he was?

He slapped her.

Her face jerked violently to one side. She brought her head up and the man slapped her other cheek. It was as hard as a punch this time. Blood started to trickle out of one of her nostrils. She licked it off her upper lip with her tongue.

“Cunt,” he said. “Stupid cunt.”

He turned around and picked up his pants and underwear. He got dressed with his back to her. She saw the dark hair on his ass, the thicker tufts of hair collected around his mud-stained ass-crack, and thought, He's an animal.

He pulled up his pants and left the cage.

And if he comes back to do it again, I want to be dead first.

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