The surge of energy when she hits me is intoxicating. I can see nothing but her face. I can feel nothing but her fist. I can hear nothing but my own breathing. And I can taste nothing but the copper taste of blood in my mouth from the cut where my lip and tooth connected.
Two others hold my arms and all I can do is hold my ground and pride, letting her slap and punch and grab and grope. She wants to make me small. She wants to destroy and degrade and shame, but more than that she wants me to prove that I am worth the attention she is lavishing on my body.
And she is extolling a great deal of attention. I gasp, aching and humbled by her punches, but not ready to break.
"Aren't you scared I'm going to hurt you?"
"I'm not afraid to be hurt."
She smiles and lands another hard smack on my cheek, holding my face to look back at her. "You're bleeding."
I nod, spitting to the side, and the spit comes out bright and brilliant red. "Yes, Ma'am."
"Are you wet, too?"
"I'm not sure, but I bet you'll fuck me either way."
She laughs, holding my face again. "Are you worthy?" Her lips are so close to mine, and this, this briefest of touches, will get me wet.
"I believe I am."
"Are you mine?"
"I am mine, Ma'am. But I will let you use me." She slaps me again. Harder. I smile, red seeping in between my teeth as my lips curl up and open.
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