My Name is Mud

Waking up before he did, she noted that the room was silent, the TV was off, and the other boys were nowhere to be seen. For now she was happy where she was and didn’t try to wake him or move. Since she had been allowed to orgasm she felt much better, with little threat of snapping.

With nothing to do until James woke up, Katya looked down at herself, while trying to ignore the achey muscles in her lower back, and stinging feeling of her skin surrounding her sphincter. From breasts to thighs her body was awash in bruises, raised red welts and white stripes. This was, of course, on top of the numerous blue chalk streaks. Her arms to were marked with chalk and slightly bruised.

She was just thankful that it was summer and warm, or else her nipples would have been painfully erect from cold, and very sore from the abuse they had taken. She needed to stretch out her muscles, but was impossible with James’ strong grip around her waist that also covered one of her arms. Also were his legs entwined with hers keeping her in place. More to show a point she pathetically stretched her neck as far as possible in all directions. With a sigh she settled into the soft leather of the couch as best she could.

After counting the tiles in the room more than 2 dozen times she felt him wake-up. His arm tensed before relaxing, and his breathing became less deep and regular. She felt his nose and mouth nuzzling her neck and ear, “Hello my sweet little whore.”

Smirking she turned to him and answered with a polite, “Master.” Extracting their legs James propped his head on one arm while the other stayed draped over her side. She hadn’t moved much from how they had been sleeping, but stretched her limbs out.

James was thinking of what he felt like doing next, eating or showering, and not until Katya’s moans of pain tinged with some pleasure did he realize he had been squeezing and twisting her left breast. Looking down at her in surprise, he flushed red embarrassed, and trying to make it up to himself that his actions all along were intentional roughly pulled on the nipple ring until she was forced up into a sitting position. It hurt for her to sit, but she didn’t move. Before shoving her off the couch with the command to get his clothes he trailed his fingers up and down her spine, enjoying the way she shivered. Her pale shoulders would roll back suddenly, and her wide hips would jerk from left to right as if trying to shake something out of her, but the shaking of course caused her breasts to jiggle, their shaking was even visible when he was sitting almost directly behind her.

She stayed kneeling on the floor as he pulled on his boxers and shorts. Telling her to take a shower, James decided to eat. Walking back upstairs he gently patted her ass, “Take as long as you need, relax your muscles.” She murmured her thanks as she continued up to the second floor while he headed to the kitchen.

Simply standing under the hot water, she let her body relax, and stretch. Becoming less tense, she breathed deeper before taking up the bar of soap. As she began to lather it between her hands she paused and looked out the window next to her.
She grinned to herself at the perfectly idealized four pane glass. She studied the glass itself, the contradiction of it, a solid that was in truth a liquid. Stability hiding in fragility. Without touching it she knew it would be cool, a welcome relief to rest her hot forehead against it, but she did not. Even, the bottom was not yet thickened by the slow traveling liquid pooling at the base. And clear, no bubbles, or dirt. This she saw instead of the bluejay that had first caught her attention. Both its vibrant color, and it’s warbling.

With slippery hands she softly scrubbed and massaged her neck. The dark freckle in the middle and on the left side of her neck was covered by a small red hickey.

Her hands moved with the water fluidly down her body next to her arms. Waterdrops fell down on her silently, light and refreshing, a welcomed spring rain. Streams forged pathways down her biceps, beginning to tone and define as her “work” load increased. Over the bend in her elbow, some courageous streams becoming premature waterfalls here, as others traversed down more slowly over her slender wrists and elegant fingers, with individual drops reluctantly letting go at newly broken fingernails.

The water kissed her skin, relieving new hurts. As well as old, circular scars from cigarette burns encircling her arm. A connect the dot revealing a star.

Where she vainly tried to reach with her hands, carved by a new sterilized razorblade under the left ‘FY&’ and under the right “FtW.”

Idly running her hands over her stomach she no longer even remembered the bellybutton ring she had gotten, two light colored dots were the only hint of a passing phase, a bid to be popular.

Carefully she spread her lips to thoroughly wash herself. She finished quickly, trying not to irritate the skin further. Her hymen stolen from her by the rounded end of a broomstick cut in half.

She bent one leg then the other. Resting her feet on the side of the tub to wash herself. Her knees bore the pink color of rubbed away skin that never had the chance to fully heal. Rug burns from blow jobs she had enjoyed giving, and knowing that at some point soon, the favor would be returned.

Water streamed down her lithe form, kissing her from head to toe, and into the drain.

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A/N for anyone who doesn’t know
FY& FtW = Fuck You & Fuck the World

Sorry this was so somewhat depressing. The next chapter will brighten up some, I promise, so please read the next chapter, which is already up.