Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Title: Smack


Summary: Two junkies, in search of a fix, find a whole new addiction.



   Keywords: competition, anal, oral, straight sex, sex, hardcore, rough,
bondage, toys



   Bracing myself with a flinch, my cloth-bound fist punches out the small
decorative pane of glass.  There's a deafening crash and a shower of
tinkling glass across stone tiles.  I freeze to the spot, listening for any
movement inside.

   `Fucking noise...' I think, knocking out the broken shards as quietly as
possible.

   The oak door's fixed with a large iron lock some would call `rustic' or
`traditional'.  I find the whole thing a distasteful waste of money;
another way of showing how superior and classy you are, and a frivolous,
pretentious waste of good green.  It doesn't keep people like me out of
your house and it won't stop me trading your gear for a fix or two.

   The cold key sits snugly inside the lock, just inches from my broken
window.  I reach around and laugh, turning the key with a satisfying clunk.
The door swings open silently, belying the modernity of the wrought-iron
hinges.

   `Big locks won't keep me out if you leave the key in them.'

   Stepping inside, I survey the heavy, rustic surfaces of an expensive
kitchen.  The walls hold racks of gleaming copper pans and solid cupboards
of a light-coloured wood I couldn't name; I've never been an expert on any
wood but my own.  A central table made of stained timber hosts two rows of
matching chairs with fine, carved backs in a delicate red fabric.

   `That would earn you a few good days out of your head.  Shame it's too
fucking heavy to carry that shit out of here.'

   My hands stroke the pristine, varnished surfaces and tear open drawers
and cupboards, haphazardly, in search of loot.  Cloths, towels and cheap
cutlery are the general order of business, sadly.

   Elegant copper taps on long, decorative stems droop over a Belfast
basin, set in the immaculate wooden counter-top.  I wonder about tearing
the taps from their fixings.  They're worth a few quid, but not worth
taking.  Really, I just want to destroy something.  Call it the vandal in
me, but such obvious wealth encourages my destructive side.

   I clear my throat, shrugging and stretching out my arms to ease the
tension in my muscles.  Looking around the room, my mind goes temporarily
blank as I try to subdue the violent craving of my limbs.  Lifting weights
in prison is no substitute for real-time exertion and aggression.

   My eyes open and I immediately bark out a laugh.

   `Well that ruins the image, huh?' I see a subtle cupboard housing the
biggest microwave I've ever seen, set beneath a large plasma TV.  `So much
for quaint and rustic.  I've nicked TV's smaller than the microwave!  Well
there's something I can snatch.'

   A stone hearth holds a cast iron range, surrounded by various confusing
implements.  I can't help running my hands over the shiny surfaces, turning
over the pans and tools.  The room is filled with shining metal, but
nothing catches my eye.  As I scan over the range, I notice the discrete
electric hobs on top.

   `More cheating.  Even fire isn't good enough for some.'

   Spinning on the spot, I give the room one last sweep for anything worth
taking immediately, but decide to check out the rest of the house.  Ducking
to avoid the ornate sconce perched on the door's stone frame, I step slowly
into the darkened hall.  The carpet is soft under my old, tattered
trainers.

   I can't see a fucking thing on the other side and my eyes strain through
the darkness.  I'm impatient, immediately reaching for the light switch,
but an unexpected rustle down the hall stops my hand a quarter of an inch
from the switch.

   Adrenaline can do real miracles.  My eyes adjust to the dark almost
instantly, shrinking to peer through the darkness.  If my ears could prick
up, they would; tuned into the noise from the end of the hall.

   I edge towards the source, crouched on my heels and my body braced. 
I've had enough tussles in life to know to be prepared.  My knees are bent,
my hands are out in front of me, semi-clenched, and I'm ready to beat the
shit out of whoever's in there.

   "Fuck...  Off!"

   The voice behind the door is shrill and loud.  I know it; it's virtually
engrained in my skull, by now.

   `That fucking bitch...'

   With a growl, I kick open the door.  My hand yanks on the pull-cord,
bathing the pink bathroom in light, and I burst into the room with fists
raised.

   "Get this fucking thing off me!"

   Zoey's in the bath, beneath an open window, entangled in a shower
curtain, flailing like a fish out of water.  She bucks and tears at the
mass around her, demented.  Standing still and crossing my arms, I adopt my
best patronising face, waiting for her to notice my distain.

   "Fuck.  You!  Get me out!" Her last words are shrieked so loud I flinch,
almost covering my ears.

   I dive forward, pressing my finger to my lips as though shushing an
unruly child.  I feel ridiculous the moment my finger touches my lips so I
snatch at her kicking, thrashing leg instead.

   "Shut the fuck up, Zoey!" I'm hissing at her, trying to listen for any
noises in the house, as Zoey refuses to stop kicking, thrashing and
swearing.

   My hands scramble with the rustling curtain, tearing it away from her
while my mind reels.

   `What's the best way out, now?  Shit!  They'll have heard her fucking
screaming!  This stupid bitch will get me time again.  Fuck!  We're gonna
have to run, now!'

   I'm yanking desperately at the curtain in my panic, without thinking. 
Zoey just lies back and laughs.  I pull too hard and it jars her leg,
causing her to yelp.  A bony hand reaches out and smacks me around the
head.

   "Stop your fucking worry!  There's no one home, you stupid bastard!  Who
could we wake up?  If anyone was here, they'd have heard you fucking punch
out that window and start rattling all their fucking pans, wouldn't they?"

   I'm so pumped that the moment I grab her wrist, I tear her out of the
bath and onto her feet.  One smooth movement has her pirouetting until
she's pinned against me - back to my chest - with my arms wrapped around
her.  My hand clamps over her mouth and I try to stop her never-ending
fucking chatter.

   "Shut the fuck up and listen." My tone is a cutting whisper; quiet, with
an edge of danger.  I'm proud of its menace.

   She stops and we both listen to the complete silence.  If anyone is
home, I don't hear them.  Neither does Zoey, as she tries to wriggle free.
A wet, tickling tongue slides across the palm of my gagging hand and I
snatch it away with a clucking tut.

   "Dirty bitch...!  You were supposed to stay outside!"

   "And you were supposed to stay quiet and be quick, not smash fuck out of
the place and be here all day!  No one's home, so I came in!  Keep your
fucking thong on."

   Her arms thrash against my grip and her feet shuffle.

   "Sometimes, Zoey, I could just..." My tone fades with the hint of a
growl.

   "You're the one holding me, tough man." She tries to look at me.  I know
it'll be a patronising sneer; I don't allow it.  She sighs and slumps,
pretending to be bored.  "Let me go or put up and fuck me.  I don't care
which; just make your mind up.  I'm bored."

   `What kind of squeal would she give if I shoved her face onto my cock
and fucked her throat?  I bet the tough bitch would whine like a cheap
whore and beg to be fucked.'

   "Don't tempt me."

   I let go and she stumbles forward.  My hand smacks her arse and she
turns to stare at me.  Her long, dark hair is usually lank and unkempt, but
now it bushes around her.  It matches the wild look in her dark eyes.

   "You don't have it in you, pin dick."

   She tries to smooth out her unflattering clothes.  She's not a big girl
- poverty, drug addictions and a general contempt for food is a hell of a
combination - but her clothes do nothing to show her size.

   A large hoody drapes over her shoulders, exposing her pale, thin neck
like a strand of unruly cotton.  The fabric bunches and hangs off her in
all the wrong places.  It shows nothing of the scrawny body beneath except
over her bony shoulders - and occasionally her modest breasts.  Zoey
doesn't wear clothes to look pretty.  Sometimes, I think Zoey begrudges
wearing clothes at all.

   She straightens up and almost looks my six feet frame in the eye.  Her
height is accentuated by her slight shape and her long, straight hair. 
I've told her to cut it or style it into something different, but she
doesn't care.  Her hair is the least of her concerns when she's after her
fix - whatever that fix may be.  With Zoey, you can take your pick.

   I step forward with a furrowed brow, locked jaw and broad shoulders. 
It's all part of an intimidating demeanour I've honed over the years. 
Zoey's eyes flit side to side and she backs up against the wall, looking up
at me.  I lock my gaze with hers, towering over the skeletal woman.  My
palms slam past her, into the wall.  She's forced to look directly at me
with wide, uncertain eyes.

   "You know that my cock's the best you've had, girl.  I remember you
begged like a little whore for more." A smug smirk smears across my
features.  I lean in towards her.  "You'd be my little slut right now, if I
asked.  But for now, shut up before anyone finds out we're here and the
sirens come wailing."

   `Perhaps that won't have helped things.'

   I step back and watch her strained and slightly breathless form.  She
pants in front of me, clutching a radiator.  I can see her flushed cheeks.
I don't need to see the tiny, swollen peaks of her nipples - stiffened
against her hoody - to know I've succeeded.  I've turned her on and I know
she hates me for it.  Spinning on my feet, my thighs fidget as I try to
ignore the throbbing bulge between my thighs.

   "Is anybody ho-o-o-o-me?!"

   `I swear she'll be the death of me...'

   I whip around.  Her hands are cupping her mouth, amplifying her
antagonising shout.  She looks at me with a wicked, challenging grin,
confidently rocking on her heels.

   I reach out and snatch at her chin, pinning her in place as my pelvis
jams into hers.  She raises her hand, but I grab her wrist, shaking my head
slowly.  She looks into my eyes and my expression seems to wither her.  Her
cocky demeanour fades, replaced with caged submission.  I don't feel much
triumph in victory.  Zoey scares me.

   "This is not funny, Zoey." I'm growling now and I can't help it; she's
riled me up.  Infuriatingly, she knows it and her arrogant smirk comes
back. "If you get me sent down again, I swear I will break out, I will find
you and I will fuck you, Zoey."

   "Oooo, promises." She grins, pressing one cheeky finger to her lips and
grinding her hips deliberately against my hardening shaft.  I let her go
and she just blows me a kiss.  "There's no one here but us." Sultrily, she
palms over my manhood, cockily cupping my weight.  She purses her lips in a
mocking coo and winks as she slides out under my arm, slipping from the
room.  "Try to relax a little."

   Anger fires and swirls within me, along with an unfathomable need to
hold Zoey down and stuff her so full of cock she doesn't see or walk
straight for a week.  I want revenge, to show her what I can be, but that's
not all of it.  I hate to admit it, but I really like the irritating,
infuriating, incredible bitch.

   Now I want to punch the plasterboard, but it would only please her even
more.  She sashays into the hallway, brazenly throwing on every light she
passes, whistling to herself.  I can only stand and watch in total
amazement of her audacity.  Her hips and ass swish and sway with the
tuneless melody that fills the house.

   `You have to admire her spirit, at least.  She really does not give a
fuck.'

   I walk after her into the kitchen.  She's opening drawers and casually
glancing through them - just as I did minutes ago.

   "Look at all this grade A, high quality shit you left behind, Joshua."
She slams the drawer shut and turn, shoulders sagging with a sigh.

   I'm sure she can hear my teeth grating and she lets out a shrill little
giggle.  Zoey knows I hate my full name being used.  I'm Josh and nothing
more.  Sadly, she knows how to make it worse and pronounces it `J-awe-shua'
with a ridiculous accent.  It's petty, but it gets my back up and she knows
it.

   "I swear you're angling for a hate-fuck, Zo."

   Her head slews around, mechanically, to hone her narrow eyes onto me.  I
can almost hear the clunk of gears and the whirring of a motor behind her
pupils.

   "Do not call me `Zo'."

   `Two can play that game...'

   For a few silly seconds, we stare each other down.  It's preposterous
posturing, but it's important when she keeps trying to rile me.  I know
I'll win.  I have her wound up and horny; I can't lose.  Zoey always has a
soft spot for a firm hand.

   Given a few seconds she shrugs and feigns an indifferent air.  She
shuffles around the kitchen while I watch her idly poking through the
cupboards and the cheap crockery.  She slams a door and huffs, blowing out
her cheeks in a tiny growl.

   "Look at this kitchen!  It's immaculate.  It's money!" She seizes a
cheap plate from the draining board and hurls it across the room.  Crashing
into the plaster, it disintegrates in another cloud of debris.  I flinch at
the sound, watching her.  "Where's all the expensive China?!  Where's the
crockery?  This cheap shit isn't all they have...!"

   Her hoody splays out behind her - along with the mess of her hair - like
a villain's cape as she stomps loudly out of the room.

   `How can such a skinny woman in little trainers make all the noise of a
marching band?'

   I follow in what feels like Zoey's tumultuous wake.  I can almost feel
the storm of her mood tainting the air she passes through.  The dark clouds
gather in that well-kept hallway and the sound of thunder is not far away
as Zoey inconsiderately tears through the potential loot.  A cartoon-like
stream of junk is thrown out behind her, littering the floor.

   `She really isn't a dainty, delicate creature, is she?  I've seen prison
riots more subtle than Zoey, I swear to fucking God...'

   She storms into the living room and immediately attacks something.  I
slowly follow the thumping sound of doors, the upturning of drawers and
various angry outbursts.  She's working herself up too much and I know I'll
have to stop her soon.  I hate having to get between her and whatever she's
decided to obliterate.

   "It's all shite!"

   I enter the room just as some explodes in front of me.  The object of
Zoey's hatred is a small snow globe keepsake.  At least, that's what it
looks like for the split second it fires past me before shattering in a
thousand tiny shards of glittering light and snow flakes.  It would be
almost magnificent in the moonlight, but the artificial, stinging glow of a
100w bulb rather ruins its majesty.

   "Zoey, calm down, woman." My voice is intentionally low and steady.  I
feel like I'm talking down a bear.

   `I wish Reggie would give her a discount on her fucking smack, this is
ridiculous.'

   She whirls around in a blur of baggy clothing and tossing hair.  Her
fist swings in blind, stupid anger as Zoey looks for any poor punch-bag to
whale on, venting her frustrations.

   I catch her fist with one hand and her throat with the other, holding
her up on her toes.  Her staring, violent eyes bulge in the sockets and she
tries to swallow around my gripping hand.

   "Do not raise your fist to me, Zoey."

   I can see the burning threat still alive behind her eyes.  I'm
involuntarily grinding my teeth and scowling as I haul her higher,
straightening her toes to a ballet pose.  Slowly, she relaxes and her eyes
close before she nods and sags in my hands.

   Zoey settles onto her heels and turns away from me, avoiding my eyes. 
She's stooped over in front of me, holding and massaging her throat, head
bowed.  I've hurt her and I hate myself for it.

   I'm overcome with guilt and I suddenly need to hug the ridiculous woman
in front of me.  I want to comfort her and apologise, but I know it's no
use.

   `Why do you have to be so aggressive, Zoey?  I don't want to hurt you.'

   Sighing, I place a hand on her shoulder, pulling her body to mine.  I go
against all instincts and give the meanest, roughest bitch I know a tender
cuddle.  Zoey stays hunched in her quiet moment of misery.  Suddenly, she
lurches up, batting away my arm, looking disdainful and sour.

   "Tough jail bird wants a cuddle, does he?  Aww.  Bless."

   Zoey's almost spitting it at me.  It's her twisted brand of
self-defense. I watch as she paces around the room, determined not to look
in my direction.  She stops, looking at the TV cupboard.  iIt's home to a
DVD player, a games console and various shit I don't even recognise.

   "Huh.  Might be worth having."

   I try to change the mood, but she shrugs me away; still sore and
wounded. She looks at the DVD player a little too long, but eventually
faces me again, clearing her throat.  Her cheeks are flushed, but her eyes
hold that same tension - that determined scowl.

   "Huh.  Maybe.  Let's see what else there is, if anything."

   The atmosphere shifts with her mood, turning gloomy and heavy.  The
house is silent except for shuffled steps and low mumbles.  Zoey's manic
personality is addictive - but destructive, too.  Part of me loves to see
her that way.  It kills me to axe her spirit, even if she is wayward.

   `It's the smack.  It makes her violent.  Fuck, if she could be rid of
that evil shit...'

   I know it's hypocritical of me to judge Zoey for her addiction.  Rolling
up my tattered sleeve, I see my arm's littered with puncture marks and
track lines.  I look like a notice board, but I know that Zoey looks a
whole lot worse.  I wish I could say her legs don't look the same, but I
know that's not true.

   Watching her shuffle up the wooden stairs, weighed down by her unwilling
body, I hate feeling helpless.  My own addiction is stupidity.  Just a few
weeks ago, I was clean.  A few years behind bars has a way of cleaning you
up - or ruining you, actually - but the second I saw Zoey and she offered
me her last precious needle, I was drawn in again.

   `Maybe one day we can both be clean.  What would the pair of us look
like, then...?  We might actually resemble real, regular people.'

   Lining the walls on the stairs are family photos.  Beaming parents - and
a small tribe of children - grin at the camera in those stolen moments,
huddled together as one.  To me, there seems to be a façade of happiness in
every picture - an unrealistic portrayal of family life.  Studying the
array of phony faces smiling back at me, it doesn't appeal to me as much as
I'd like.

   `What is happiness?  Do they know, or are they just pretending?  Who are
they convincing, if not themselves?  Happiness.  Ha.  Ask Zoey about
happiness.  To Zoey, it's about the next fix.  That's it.  Smack does more
for her than a contrived family gathering or day-trip to the beach.  She
feels truly alive when she gets that sweet hit.  What fix do these people
get?  Their daughter's first A grade?  A promotion at work?'

   I snort and scowl at the pictures again, trying to dissect what makes
these people happy.  In every picture, no matter where they are, they're
grouped together, hugging and laughing.

   `Does their happiness come from each other?  The company of those they
love?'

   I turn to Zoey and frown as I watch her baggy clothes flapping with her
over-zealous rummaging.  She's pulling apart the main bedroom, opening
every bed sheet and cupboard door, emptying them out.  I can hear her
mumbling about hidden money.

   Zoey was the last to see me through the prison gates and the first to
bring me out again.  I missed her while I was in there, but you miss most
things in prison.  I did lie awake at night, though, with a firm fist of
flesh, remembering her and fantasising.  I've had my share of pussy - and
more - but sex with Zoey is a real event.

   `Does Zoey make me happy?  She infuriates me; some days I could kill the
bitch.  Some days I could just hold her down and fuck her senseless, just
to shut her up.  Do I feel happy with her?  I prefer her company than none
at all.  Does that count?  Is that all it is?'

   I watch as she pulls a fine, pine drawer from its runners and completely
up-ends it on the mattress, scrambling through the collection of
knick-knacks and junk.

   `Could Zoey and I be regular, happy people?  People with kids, jobs and
responsibilities?  What does it mean to be normal?  Are we normal?'

   I climb onto the landing and quietly pad into the main bedroom.  Zoey
has a suitcase on the bed, digging through it and casting out anything she
deems worthless.  Occasionally, she grabs something and stuffs it into her
pocket.  The room is filled with the sounds of digging fingernails and
disgruntled grunts.

   `God, she sounds like an angry badger...'

   Inside the bedroom is a full-length mirror on a swivelling frame. 
Vanity is not my style anymore, but it's been days since I saw myself.

   `Curiosity kills...'

   I'm a mess of dirty blonde hair, draped lazily over a pale face with
sunken cheeks, blackened eyes and unkempt facial hair.  The skin is almost
transparent and my clothes hang loose where they used to hug my muscular
build.  My once pink lips are replaced with a pursed, grey slit; chapped
and torn.

   `I could scare birds professionally, looking like this.'

   Under scrutiny, my gut feels upset and heavy.  I came out of prison
feeling good; fit and healthy.  A few weeks later, I'm already
degenerating. An unpleasant taste rises in the back of my throat and I
swallow my own disgust.

   `How can we be normal?  What happiness does Zoey bring me?  What
happiness do we really know?'

   I close my eyes and sigh, leaning forward on the swinging mirror.  When
I eventually lean back, I leave behind a smear on the glass.  I have to
swallow again, feeling verminous.

   `When did this happen?  Why do I come back to this pathetic, evil shit?!
Why throw it all away, again...?"

   Staring at my own dead eyes, I grasp for an answer and fail.  I don't
know why I am who I am.

   "And people call us deviants..." Zoey's voice is unusually quiet and
slow, but it rouses my attention.  Her voice, rasping like a cat's tongue,
lifts my spirits.

   "What did you-" I start to ask, turning to face her.  The corner of the
room is a walk-in wardrobe and Zoey is holding open both doors.  Stood
statuesquely still, she stares inside.  It's literally filled with the
kinkiest collection I've ever fucking seen.

   There's an obsessive, compulsive collection of cuffs, vibrators, dildos,
restraints, flogs, whips, butt plugs and every sex toy available.  A
clothes rack carries an array of lingerie, PVC outfits and skimpy
nightwear.

   I let out a long, slow whistle and Zoey's head locks onto me as though
laser-guided.

   "You like this stuff, you dirty pervert?"

   I can only laugh at the shocked look on her face as I walk forward.  I
thought nothing would faze Zoey, but this has her shocked.  I'm surprised.

   "We're all dirty perverts, Zo.  You have to admire the work someone's
put into their collection, though." I pluck a leather corset from the rack,
holding the outfit against her slender frame, wolf whistling like a builder
on break.  "Some are dirtier than others.  I don't expect an innocent,
vanilla girl like you to understand."

   My smirk is so thick it's almost dripping from my face as I just marvel
at Zoey's complete bemusement.  I rifle through the outfits, giving a small
murmur of approval at the tasteful choices.  There's a whole range:
basques, corsets, babydolls, lace knickers, stocking and garter sets; you
name it.

   `This woman must be a really frisky bitch when she wants it!'

   "You've really never wanted to try any of this, Zoey?"

   She looks at me with a single raised eyebrow and smacks my arm.

   "You think I care about skimpy lace and leather whips?  We're not all
perverts."

   "Oh please, I've seen you looking!  You're all red and flushed!  You're
embarrassed!  I never thought I'd see the day that tough-bitch-Zoey blushed
at little lacy knickers!"

   Her eyes narrow to near slits as she just glares at me.

   "Shut the fuck up, pin dick."

   Zoey snatches something from the rack and swings it at me so fast I hear
the air whistle.  My hand whips up, grabbing her wrist.  Looking at each
other, we both smirk and laugh to see she's attacked me with a little
leather crop.

   "I knew there was a kinky slut in you somewhere, Zoey."

   Playfully - and very out of character - she sticks her tongue out at me
as she relents, letting me take the crop from her grasp.  Turning back to
the wardrobe, she bends at the waist to pick something up.  Clutching a
small crop and seeing her ass forming tight against her denim jeans, I
can't resist.

   Smack.

   Only a short, sharp smack swats her arse, but the sound echoes from
every wall.  I jump back, expecting a scream, a hiss and a whirlwind of
wild, wolverine fingernails clawing for retaliation.  My jaw drops ungainly
as she lets out a long, guttural moan from the back of her throat and
shivers on the spot.

   Zoey doesn't speak, but remains bent over inside the wardrobe, her
inviting ass pointing skyward.

   `Is she...  Wiggling it at me?!'

   "Is that all you've got, big boy?  I'm disappointed."

   "You enjoyed that, you filthy slut...!"

   Zoey's face is filled with mischief and excitement, tongue snaking
languidly over her lips.  Her response is only a breathless whisper.

   "Maybe." She looks over her shoulder, pulling the denim enticing tight.
"Okay, I admit I have always wanted to try a good, rough, kinky fuck,
Joshua."

   I want to respond, but I'm left standing, holding that kinky plaything,
with my mouth swinging open.  I didn't expect this of Zoey.  I might have
expected her to be the one using the whip, but...

   She tuts, walking towards me to place her palm on my chest.  Her cheeks
are still flushed, but there's fullness to her lips that I've never quite
noticed and I can see her chest heaving.

   "What do you think of a hot, rough fuck, Josh?  Hm?  Just this once..."
She smirks and fingers through the rack-full of outfits.

   My life has been a strange mixture of events, but this is one I'm not
prepared for.  My brain freezes and I can't react.  Zoey tuts and clears
the bed of loot in a single swipe, shoving me onto it.  She has new
priorities.  The lust and hunger gives energy to her lifeless eyes -
reanimating the dead fire within her.

   With me perched dumbly on the bed, she smirks at my no doubt gormless
expression.  She starts to flit through the outfits in front of us, pulling
out a couple at a time.  Giggling as she scans them, she's bouncing on the
spot.  She holds up a basque, with a grin which fills her cheeks and gives
them a healthy red glow.  Her face is almost alight.

   "I couldn't pull this off, could I?  Nah." It's dismissively launched
across the room, knocking over a lampshade and immediately she's leafing
through the lingerie again.  "Oh!  Ah!" Zoey pirouettes on the spot,
clutching a pair of red-topped hold-up stockings like an excited teenage
girl's first prom dress.  "I'm wearing these!

   I can barely blink before she's kicked her pumps off against the walls.
Her face creases with a genuinely naughty look.  She saunters over, swaying
her hips as she lifts the ridiculous hoody over her pale, smooth navel. 
Her hands caress herself before she snaps open the button of her jeans. 
Hooking the stiff denim, she starts to work it down her legs.

   Zoey sways and dances like a professional, shimmying out of her bottoms.
She turns and bends, cheekily grinning back as she slowly exposes her pale,
skinny ass.  As the jeans slip over the crease of her arse, her simple
white panties slip into view.  They're cupped delicately around the
inviting, swollen mound of her visibly wet pussy, nestled between her
tightened thighs.

   I'm stupidly holding the crop as she looks over her shoulder, with a
feline grin, nodding towards it.  Her arse squirms impatiently and I can
laugh quietly as she closes her eyes, excitedly waiting.

   "You've always wanted it nice and rough, huh Zo?"

   She nods, eyes still closed, as she presses her arse towards me.  I
decide against using the crop.  My hands seize her arse cheeks firmly,
instead.  She moans in surprise, thrusting back into my grasp as my hands
spread her ass.  With fingers roughly digging into her skin, she squirms in
my hands and moans at even the simplest touch.

   The damp patch of her knickers grows before my eyes.  I can't help it: I
brush my lips over the wet gusset, tenderly, before biting hard into her
taut ass.  There's a sharp hiss, which turns to a full, throat-launched
groan when I pull back with a mouthful of her flesh.  My mouth snaps away
and her whole body quivers.  The moans pour from her as I snatch up the
crop and give her bouncing cheeks a couple of solid smacks.

   Zoey darts forward, yelping and hopping inelegantly on one leg as she
squirms out of her denims.  She's lost all pretence.  She snatches her
hoody over her head, beaming at me.  It's cast aside - along with the
loose-fitting t shirt.

   Her hair is ruffled and out of shape; her skin is pale and scored by
needle marks and bruises; her modest, tiny breasts barely fill out her bra
and she's skinny enough to show bones in several places, but as she stands
there clutching the stockings, she's nothing but beautiful.

   I sit and stare, feasting on the sight of her glee and the happiness on
her face - brought by something she hasn't had to inject.  I love the
effect of this healthy - albeit wicked - high.

   She steps into the stockings with a surprising grace, snapping the tops
against her thighs.  She's completely mismatched in white panties, red and
black stockings, and a cream, misshapen bra, but I love it.  I can't help a
smirk and a little laugh, much to her annoyance.

   "What?" She raises an eyebrow.

   "Oh nothing, you just look...  Patchwork." She catches my smirking face
and - surprising me again -sticks her tongue out with both eyes scrunched
tight.

   "Oh fuck off, I look gorgeous!" She pirouettes and flourishes her arms,
casting her unruly hair out behind her almost majestically.

   "You've the moves, you just need the outfit and you could be a pro." I
wink at her and nod towards the wardrobe.

   "I think I'll pass on the other lingerie for now, though." Her nose
wrinkles as she looks directly at the assortment of laced knickers.  "I
don't know where they've been."

   "Oh, so you've no problem sharing needles, but you're not wearing
another woman's panties!"

   Zoey's eyes flatten into a scowl as she stomps towards me.  Her one hand
reaches back and deftly unsnaps the clasp of her bra.  It drops at her feet
even as she sashays towards me.

   "You're lucky I'm all revved up, Joshua, or I'd walk and leave you
blue-balled."

   She tries to be hard, but I can see the desire raging in her eyes and I
know nothing`s going to stop her now.  She's more invested in this than I
am.  I lean back on my hands, waiting for her approach.

   `She needs cock.  It's written all over her.  She's mine.'

   She straddles my lap, climbing onto the bed to press against me
completely.  The sodden gusset mashes against the prominent bulge of my
waiting crotch and she wraps her arms around me.  Her intentions are clear
enough as she grinds her dripping cunt over me and kisses me hard.

   Kissing isn't normally Zoey's style, but I play along; grabbing her ass
and squeezing that modest slice of flesh in my palms is invigorating.  The
simple contact makes us both to grind into each other, dry-humping together
as her lips devour mine.

   `She can't wait much longer, I'm sure.'

   She takes a little control, her confidence growing, pushing me back and
stepping off me.  I can see the dark, spreading patch of her oozing essence
against her pale panties.

   `She's too turned on to resist for long.  I know that look: that
complete, willing slut look.  She's fucking desperate and doesn't care what
happens.  I've seen it a thousand times - but not from her.  What's gotten
into her?'

   My musing is cut short.  She turns and bends at the waist, presenting
her wiggling ass to me.  Admiring the sight is a pleasure, but she whines
impatiently.  After just a few smacks of leather, she's inches from my face
with the succulent smell of her sodden snatch.  Zoey's fingers hook the
waistband and her hips sway as she slips them slowly down her stockings.

   I sit and stare as her pussy slips into view - streaking her sweet cream
between her engorged lips and the ruined material.  A hand emerges between
her thighs before I can react.  It spreads open her pink slit and
delicately rubs through the slick and creamy folds of Zoey's cunt.

   `God.  It's as beautiful as I remember.  The nights I've lay awake in
prison, dreaming of that tight, dripping, swollen-`

   She flashes around with a dramatic, impatient sigh, tearing her sweet
slit away from me.

   "Fuck's sake, you're useless today, Josh.  Fucking useless, as always."

   Zoey's so impatient for her prize that she's pawing at my crotch.  Now
I'm determined to just sit and watch her clawing and grinding at my beating
cock before she starts to manically tear away the material.  Her fingers
pull, snatch and hook at y trousers until she's ripping them down my legs.
I've barely time to kick off my boots before she seizes me.

   Her long, slender fingers grip the base of my cock with a practiced
manoeuvre.  Her big pupils flick up to my face as her mouth opens and
immediately envelops of the swollen, solid head of my now pulsing cock in
gentle heat.  I'm the one moaning now, leaning back on my hands as she
kneels at my feet and bobs her head on me, lovingly sucking.  She's taking
me deep in seconds, shoving herself down on my length and cramming every
inch of my shaft into her throat.

   A hand pumps in tandem with her working lips, twisting delicately to
have my whole body twitching at her command.  Her free hand reaches up and
grabs mine, placing it on the back of her head.  I wrap a hand in her hair,
watching her eyes widen and water now she chokes herself - with gusto - on
my grateful cock.

   Zoey splutters up for air, streaking saliva from her lips.  Her eyes are
wide and glazed with lust.  Her single hand strokes me faster than before,
diligently working my aching meat in a blur.

   "Fucking wake up and fuck my face, Josh!" Zoey spits on the tip of my
length and massages it into my skin as she glares up at me.  "I want it
rough!  Fucking take me!  Make me have it, don't just fucking sit there
with your thumb up your ar-"

   She stops talking - instantly - when I oblige her.  Her condescending,
obnoxious tone infuriates me until I snag a handful of her hair.  I see her
eyes bulge at the suddenly violent grip before one solid shove on the back
of her head sends my dick sailing down her throat.  She tries to gag and
gasp around the base of my cock, futilely.  I'm pinning her down, making
her take it - just the way she wants it.

   `I'm sick of hearing this shit.  The dirty little fucking whore wants it
rough, does she?  I'll show her rough...'

   I could laugh at the shocked eyes she shows me for the split second I
let her lips linger at the head of my knob before I ram her down again. 
Both hands pin Zoey's face a few inches higher, my hips lurch and she's
made to take the fucking entirety of my cock until she's drooling
uncontrollably down my crotch.  My teeth are gritted and feeling her
convulse and gag on my invading manhood satisfies me, wickedly.

   I pull her off and she desperately tries to breathe.  A single hand
steers Zoey by her hair and rubs her lips around my balls.  She obediently
sucks them in, gathering up the loose, trailing droplets of saliva with her
tongue.

   "Come on, Zoey, you want to be a good little cocksucker then you'd
better get working it, slut.  Lick that all up so I can choke you on it a
little more."

   She tries to respond.  It's probably something challenging or cheeky,
but I don't allow the first syllable out of her lips before sinking into
her throat once more.  I'm overhanging the bed now and she's almost leaning
backwards while my cock slides smoothly through her open orifice.  My free
hand grabs at the crop lying on the bed.

   Zoey has just a second of panic to see my intention before her eyes slam
slut.

   Smack.

   The deep-throated groan she lets out around me makes my whole body
quiver.

   `I never thought Zoey was one for whips and spanking.' My eyes cast over
the array of toys ahead of me.  `I wonder what else the dirty slut would
like...'

   I look down at her, watching her squirm and quiver in response to the
crop's gentle stroking of her ass.  When it leaves her skin, I see her
tense up and await the imminent, sweet, agonising sting.

   Smack.

   She's really crying around my cock.  I've eased up fucking her face, but
she's having none of it.  Her cock hungry streak is insatiable and she's
straining against my grip on her hair, trying to impale herself on me,
mumbling incoherently.

   `Just how much does she like being smacked, exactly...'

   Grinning evilly, my foot kicks open Zoey's thighs.  Burying myself in
her throat, I let the crop glide over the inside of her thighs.  She's
squirming, moaning and swallowing; her whole body grinds impatiently.  The
crop pulls away and she tenses again.

   Smack.

   She screams around me to feel the sharp sting on her inner thigh. 
There's silence the second it pulls away, though, waiting for...

   Smack.

   A matching scream leaves her, for the matching mark on her opposite
thigh.  I pull the crop back again and now she whines.  Her mouth stops
sucking and she waits obediently, stock-still and stiffened.

   A moment's pause causes a tremble to develop and her throat constricts
around my thick cock when she tries to swallow.  I feel an impatient moan
building in her throat, and then...

   Smack.  Smack.  Smack.  Smack.

   Each clip of the leather crop on her swollen pussy has Zoey bouncing and
convulsing with agonised pleasure.  She's wailing deafeningly and the
fourth strike brings her lunging up from my cock with a deep, roaring
breath of air.  She's quivering, staring at me with watering eyes and
salivating lips.

   "You fucking loved that, didn't you, Zo?"

   She doesn't speak - she nods.  I love that: watching her resistance
crumble to expose the bare naked slut inside.

   She starts to regain her composure a little.  She looks at me directly
and splays her thighs at right angles in front of me, on the floor.  The
cheeky girl re-appears behind her eyes as her slender fingers slowly strum
the scarlet slit.

   "Is that it, Josh?  Are you done, now?" She tuts.  "Do I have to take
over?"

   Licking her lips, Zoey sucks on her fingers and soaks them in spittle.
Her other hand peels apart her engorged labia, brazenly exposing herself.
Nimble fingers scuttle through her folds beneath her staring, hungry eyes.
She teases slowly around her clit, moaning to herself, and then rolls her
fingers slowly inside, raising her hips to meet the intrusion.

   The room echoes with the guttural, primal moans from her immediate,
incessant finger-fucking.  I'm simply watching her with my exposed,
dripping cock throbbing in my hand at the sight of her obscene performance.
I don't want it to end.

   She's moaning; her whole body writhing in no time as she liberally fucks
herself for me.  It feels only seconds before her eyes whip up and she
grins.

   "Come on, Josh.  Give it to me.  Fuck me, right now!"

   Zoey kisses me hard, pushing me back onto the bed and straddling me in a
single movement.  She leans over me with her infectious grin, fingertips
plucking her nipples while the dripping folds of her sex slide over my
shaft.  I wish I could say I didn't moan for her.

   "Come on, Josh!" she screams at me, smacking my chest.  I shake my head
and look up at her.  "Fuck me already!"

   She rises onto her knees and reaches for my shaft.  The tip is slowly
rubbed through her lips once before she starts to sink onto it.  I take a
grip of her hips, teasing her pelvis with my thumbs and pushing her down,
gently.  She breathes out slowly as she's slowly impaled, stretching open
around me.

   Zoey's nails are untended and razor sharp, digging into my skin.  She
gives just a hint of a moan, closing her eyes with the sensation.

   "Oh, that feels good.  Fuck me, Josh.  Fuck that horny little cunt,
right now!"

   With a tight grip, I raise her up again, dictating a steady pace. 
Zoey's moaning, but she's impatiently rocking in my hands for more.  I
watch her face, seeing her frustration build, knowing that at any moment
she's going to scream.

   She smacks me.  I flinch and I feel the pressure build in my chest as I
hold back a growl.

   "I said fuck me, you limp-dicked wimp!" She smacks me again and I feel
my jaw tighten.  "What's wrong with you?  What, you can beat an old man
half to death, but you can't give me a little roughness?"

   `That no good, dredging, horrible little fucking whore!'

   I lose it.  She's cast sideways over the bed with one throw.  Zoey yelps
as I grab her ankle and haul her over to me again, leaning over her.  I
seize her wrists tightly - too tight - and shove them above her head as I
glare into her hardened eyes.

   "What the fuck did you just say, bitch?"

   She sneers at me.  "What, you gonna hit me too, now?" She snorts and
stares into my eyes, still.  "I said you can beat an old man half to death,
but you can't take a willing woman.  What kind of man are you, huh?"

   Her gaze dips a little as my hands grip her wrists even harder.  I'm
angry and she knows it.  Sadly, it's what she wants.  I hate that.

   "What, you want to be used, Zoey?  You wanna be held down and fucked all
nice and hard, huh?  Nothing's too rough for a tough bitch like you, is it?
Hm?"

   She smirks and looks at me challengingly.  She whispers back.

   "Show me what you've got."

   My glare turns into a smirk and I see her steady stare falter for just a
moment.  I know just how to treat her.  I can't say I've never wanted to
punish her so completely with a rough, unadulterated fucking.

   `I should just do what I've always wanted to do and fuck the little
bitch to unconsciousness.'

   I can feel her hips thrusting and grinding as she searches for my cock.
Lowering my hips just a little, she can reach me and she starts to
impertinently grind herself against my pelvis - and whatever else she can
reach.  Sitting up, my hands pull her to the edge of the bed.  Her eyes
still hold the lingering challenge and an excited sneer adorns her face.

   "Yeah, that's it.  Show me what you can do, big boy.  Fuck that little
cunt, right now!"

   I look at her and smirk with a shake of my head.

   "I don't think so, whore."

   Confused, she starts to frown - suddenly whimpering as I seize her
ankles, rolling her onto her front.  Zoey gasps, looking back, her marble
eyes wide as I grab two firm handfuls of her ass.  Spreading her cheeks, I
smile over her shoulder and openly spit on her puckered asshole.  My thumb
glides down the cleft of her ass and massages the moisture into her skin.

   As soon as she understands, Zoey wails, squirming and kicking beneath
me. She's trying to crawl up the bed, but it's simple enough to pull her
back by an ankle.  She kicks and fights, yelling at me.

   "No, Josh, I didn't say that...!  I said fuck my cun-"

   Smack.

   She's cut short the instant the abandoned crop swipes swiftly across her
arse again.  Zoey's cries are loud enough to hurt my ears, before she's
moaning into the sheets, writhing.  Squirming on the spot, Zoey raises her
arse again just as my hand pulls back.

   Smack.

   Another shriek from her plump lips is all I'm waiting for.  Her hair is
balled up in my fist and her head yanked back to look me in the eye,
upside-down.

   "You're my little fucking whore now, Zoey, and you'll take what I give
you.  Won't you?"

   Again she struggles, but another swat across her ass brings a whimpered
cry and an attempted nod.

   "Say it, slut."

   She whines, swallowing and trying to breathe as I drag the crop down the
cleft of her ass.

   "P-please!  I'm yours, Josh!  Just...  Just fuck me!"

   `God, I've waited long enough to hear that.'

   I laugh.  It's a laugh of power and control; a happy laugh.

   Dropping her unceremoniously to the sheets, I steal a handful of panties
from the rack behind me.  Zoey turns, mouth open to speak, just in time for
me to stuff them into her mouth.  I can see the complaint forming behind
her eyes until my hand tightens around her hair and pins her face to the
sheets.

   "Do not make me tape your mouth shut, whore."

   She nods, obediently.  Her arms are heaved behind her back and I snatch
a small silk scarf.  It's quickly lashed around her wrists - tight enough
to make her whimper.

   "I'm sick of your wriggling.  You're mine, now, and I'm keeping it that
way, bitch."

   She's essentially powerless, now.  She knows it, as she moans and whines
into the sheets in front of me.  Again, I spit on her tight star, chuckling
because she flinches and moans at the gentle probing of my thumb.  It slips
easily into the constrictive hole and she just collapses onto her stomach,
moaning.

   Smack.

   "Get on your knees, bitch!"

   She screams and struggles up on her knees, raising her ass for me.  I
just run the wet tip of my dick between her cheeks as she writhes against
me with endless quiet whimpering.

   In a moment of mercy, a bottle of lube from the toy chest is drizzled
over her ass.  Zoey's wriggling promise of satisfaction is too tempting to
resist much longer.  I don't wait on ceremony.  Looking at the back of her
head, I remember her vicious words.  The anger boils again and my jaw
tightens.

   Grabbing her hip with one hand, my shaft is guided to her puckered star
and immediately pressed inside.  She tenses up, her back straightening, and
screams out; I don't stop.

   `Fuck her.  Fuck the little whore right now and shut her up at last.'

   Zoey's whole body struggles to rise, but she's pinned by a strong hand.
My cock sinks into her as the room reverberates with her cries until the
moment I heave her body back onto my length.  She stops for a moment,
gasping silently with a choked breath, before a long, plaintive whine is
muffled into the sheets.

   I don't stop.  I'm buried inside her now and I'm going to see it
through.

   I slide out quickly before I ram back in - noting how much easier it is
the second time.  I see Zoey's bound hands clenching and opening,
uselessly. She can only lie there and take the fucking I'm going to give
her.

   I reach out and snatch her head up, seeing the tears rolling down her
face.

   "Is this what you wanted, bitch?  Hm?  Is this rough enough?"

   Zoey doesn't answer me; she's too far gone.  She's mumbling
unintelligently, mewling to herself.  I throw her down again, just pulling
back on her hair enough to lever her deeper onto my cock.  She's pinned by
one hand, made to take the solid cock inside her, while the other
mercilessly smacks her blood-red arse cheeks.

   After a few minutes of primal, grunting fucking, her mewls turn to
fully-fledged whines.  I can feel her whole body quivering and I know what
she wants.

   "Ohhh, I see!" I pull out suddenly, throwing Zoey down on her back to
stare into her blood-shot, tear-streaked eyes.  "Hoping to come, are you,
slut?"

   She's desperate and plaintive, looking at me and nodding furiously.  She
tries to speak and a wad of panties slips from her mouth.

   Smack.

   "If you're not going to behave, slut..." I reach for a roll of tape from
the shelf.  She's shaking her head and bleating, but she's earned it.  A
strip of black tape secures the makeshift gag to make her feel that little
more powerless.

   "You want to come, bitch?"

   She nods - violently - eyes properly bulging.

   "Ha.  We'll see.  Beg me."

   She raises an eyebrow and mumbles a question past her gag.

   Smack.

   She screams into the material.

   "Don't question me, whore, just fucking beg!"

   Her cries are loud and desperate - if completely incoherent.

   "I'll trust that was begging."

   Laughing, I hook her stocking-clad legs over my shoulders and seize her
hips in my hands.  I deliberately stare at her as I press slowly into her
ass again, watching her quiver beneath me and her eyes rolling back into
her head.

   I'm not waiting around.  The second my head slips into the tight tunnel,
I grab her hips and start to fuck her, mercilessly.  She's immediately
screaming and moaning into her gag again, thrashing on the sheets,
possessed.  Her legs are locked against my chest with my forearm while her
swollen clit is rapidly flicked.  I can see her creamy juices trickling
from her needy cunt.

   Her eyes are open for just a second, but it's long enough to spot me
reaching for the crop once more.  She clamps them shut and whines, waiting
to feel its sting.  It doesn't come.  Zoey's eyes snap up to mine as she
feels the leather tip gliding over her dribbling pussy.

   She finds me wearing a smirking leer as the crop pulls back.  She can
barely flinch in time.

   Smack.  Smack.  Smack.

   She is properly loud now, filling the room with her pleasure-driven
shrieks, her body jumping and bucking desperately.

   "You really are a fucking filthy little bitch, Zoey!" I laugh, watching
her convulse on me.  It's obvious to see her breathing becoming faster and
faster.  Leaning forward, one of my hands wraps tight around her throat as
I whisper to her.  "I fucking love it."

   My hold is tight enough to make her eyes bulge, but she desperately nods
her approval as she's clamped in place.  Seeing her eyes roll back into her
head just draws a moan from me and my thrusting gets harder and harder. 
The gag can't possibly stop the sheer weight of her pleading screams.  Zoey
desperately tries to fuck me back, wanting every bit of it, before her eyes
snap open at the last second.  Her breath catching, she stares straight at
me.

   "Come on me, Zoey, you dirty bitch!"

   She's lost to it immediately.  Silence falls as her breath stops and her
eyes clamp shut.  Zoey arches, raising up and falling again with a massive
spasm, shaking and sweating into the sheets.  I've not stopped fucking her
and I've not slowed down.  I ease my grip on her throat and she desperately
tries to breathe.  I quickly tear the strip of tape from her mouth with a
ripping sound.  The cry she lets out quakes her body all over again before
she collapses onto the bed, twitching and shaking.

   Stuffing my fingers into her mouth, the makeshift gag is pulled out to
let her whole body swell with the first proper breath of air.  Zoey's
panting frantically, flushed red and quivering.  My incessant pounding
doesn't let her down from the constant quivering high that has her body
vibrating.  Her eyes plead with me, but her mouth hangs open uselessly.

   Smack.

   She screams again and whines, her pleading gaze turning anxious. 
There's a patch of her ass that's swollen and red from the crop's bite.

   Smack.

   She's not stopping me - she's not even complaining - she's just whining
with complete need now, resigned to her fate as my fuck toy.  Despite it
all, she's still rocking her hips and grinding into me.

   `She really is fucking unstoppable...'

   "You want more, do you, Zoey?"

   Her eyes widen and she hesitates for a moment - crying out at the crop's
swift encouragement.  She nods at me, thrusting her hips needily into the
air.

   "Pleaaaase, Josh!  Just give it to me!  I love it!" Her head collapses
back, her face masked by a mess of long hair, thrashing gently from side to
side.

   I slip out of her ass without warning.  Her pained cry of disappointment
is genuinely horrible to hear.

   "Please, Josh!  Please!  Please!  Don't stop now, I want mor-!"

   Her cries halt as she looks over towards me.  I grab the biggest
vibrator on the shelf and I see the moment of panic in her eyes.  Her lips
move, but I dive forward and place my palm over her mouth, pinning her
down.

   "You are my little whore right now, Zoey." I'm rubbing the soft shaft of
the toy over her sodden pussy, coating it in her juices.  Zoey only looks
up at me with frantic, needy eyes, nodding for more.  She still grinds
insatiably on the plastic cock nestling against her entrance.  "Good girl."

   At the last word, the tip of the toy presses into her clenching cunt and
immediately slams home.  She shrieks against my palm, thrusting her hips
and nodding uncontrollably as I bury every inch of it inside her.  She
bucks, trying for more, as I start to fuck her with it.

   The toy kicks into an intense vibration, with one little button, deep
inside Zoey's pulsing pussy.  Watching her trembling increase just paints a
huge grin over my face and I instantly shove myself back inside her arse
with a grunt.  All breath leaves her at once.  Zoey has nothing left to
give except to limply raise her pelvis skyward and groan uncontrollably,
thrashing her head on the ruffled sheets.

   Groans turn to pleas and whining rattles of breath as I seize the
pulsing toy and, in time with my own thrusts, start to fuck her clenching
snatch.  Every inch of her pale, punctured skin glows bright red and burns
with a searing heat.

   Her hips saw on the penetrating shafts and her whole body shakes a
little as she gets closer and closer once more.  Quickly, I bury the toy
inside her and seize her hips.  Raising Zoey's arse into the air, my hips
find a new burst of energy and immediately start to fuck her harder than
ever.

   Zoey arches up, screams out and then falls suddenly silent for just a
moment as she quakes in my hands, her cunt clenching on the buzzing toy
inside her.  I can feel the vibrations and as her ass tightens on me, I
can't hold on much longer.

   Zoey's dropped heavily onto the sheets as my cock pulls out.  She
breathlessly shudders, trying to claw her herself away from the endless
buzzing of the vibrator inside her.  Just the sight of her spasming
pleasure is enough to send me over the edge.  I only need to pump my shaft
half a dozen times to coat her fiery skin in ropes of white hot come.

   My hips jerk, my eyes clamp shut and I groan out loudly as I feel myself
erupt over her.  I almost cry out as the first rope fires from me with that
full-bodied jerk.

   Just the splash of heat over her skin is enough to send her poor, spent
body through another round of uncontrollable quakes.  Eventually, Zoey's
left collapsed in front of me, breathless, her pale skin decorated by
trickling rivers of come.  A thick streak of it dribbles down her face and
follows her lips.  She seems too spent to move.

   "P..  Pl...  Please...  Josh..."

   Relenting, now that my lust and aggression has been slightly sated, I
mercifully remove the toy from Zoey's openly weeping pussy.  She lets out a
relieved moan and rolls onto her side, just enough that I can undo the knot
binding her wrists together.

   She curls up on top of the sheets in front of me and I can see what I've
done to her.  Welts form on her ass and thighs with whole areas glowing
red. She stills quivers in front of me as her arms hug her knees.  I can
see small strain areas on her wrists from the ties and a rush of guilt hits
me.  The sight of red handprints on her throat is a surprise.  I'm
compelled to sit next to her with a hand on her hair.

   "Zoey...?  Are you okay?"

   She doesn't respond, just lets out a happy murmur and curls up tight.  I
watch her for a minute until her trembling starts to fade.

   `She should rest.  No one's coming home tonight.'

   Sighing, I gather the discarded sheets from the bed and lay them over
her.  Softly, I slip under the bedding and sidle up to her radiating body.
I feel guilty, yes, but part of me just wants to be close to her, still.

   `I'm sure she'll be fine in the morning.'

   My eyes cast to the walls and I see the pictures of the family around
me. My mind wanders again.

   `Can we really ever be normal?'
   pics---->> http://bit.ly/1D1q3qp