Haphazard Explorations & Experiments In Fiction
He’s coming again tonight, into the room he keeps me locked in.
He’s coming to cum on my face, or into my mouth, or anywhere else he feels like, because we both know I can’t get pregnant, and even if I could it wouldn’t matter. No one knows I’m alive, and even if they did they wouldn’t know where to look for me.
I hear the key turning in the deadbolt of my door; just like like me, the lock, and him, with his key. He’ll probably want me on my knees. Yes, I can tell by the look in his eyes. That’s exactly what he wants…
I get on all fours, ass in the air, and expose myself to him and his hard, throbbing cock. He pulls up the skirt he makes me wear and shoves it into me. As he pushes in and out over and over again, there’s only a single thought pulsating in sync with my hatred, my rage….
“I hope you die.
I hope you die.
I hope you die you motherfucker!
I hope you die…”
The faint hope of it, and better still, that I might find a way to kill him myself, is all that keeps me going.