The skin on her ass throbbed. She panted, her body sweating and sweating, her ass feeling like it was roasting in the country air. Crack. Crack. What number was it? God, she had no idea. Didn’t think she would make it. Crack. Crack. Another low one, on her thighs. It burned and burned. Crack. Tears ran now. With a shudder, she cried. Crack. He was grunting, putting his all into punishing her. Crack. “Five more,” he said. “Lift up. Earn it.” She had to please him. Really had no choice. Crying, hurting, she lifted her sore ass up for him. Crack. “If I so much as see one ticket in the next six months appear on that record of yours, me and my belt will be making a visit to that fancy apartment building of yours.” Crack. She screamed, her body shaking and shaking. “Yes, I think you’re beginning to learn your lesson. Arch that ass up. Please me.” Crack. She lost herself in the pain. It filled her. She couldn’t even remember her own name. “I don’t think you’ll be sitting for days.” Crack.. When he found something to be pleasing to him, he was prone to a low, hoarse kind of chuckle, as if privileged to some private and vulgar joke. Outwardly, nothing about him betrayed a sense of perversity or menace. His disheveled appearance, in fact, seemed to inspire sympathy from the passers-by, some of whom generously offered up their pocket change and lunch time leftovers, entirely unasked. The stranger could only laugh at their acts of kindness, unashamed and with mild contempt. He found human compassion a curious thing, some mutant form of weakness to which he was unafflicted. And on such a day as this, so incongruous was it with his intention, that he could only laugh. ————————————————– Before she even knew what time it was, darkness was already ushering in on the heels of evening, spreading across the slate-grey sky like spilled ink. The clouds had not seen fit to part that day, and there was no sunset, just the slow onset of night, marked by the arousal of streetlamps and.
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