It comes and goes, that need, that primal urgency that can overwhelm me. I try to be a good girl, I truly do. Yes, I’m a slut, I’m a skank, and I’m a cheap set of holes. All that and more, and there come some days, rare ones, where I want to be so much more and so much less.

I want him to walk through the door and see me, except he doesn’t. He sees a warm mouth, C cup tits with pierced nipples, and two holes, one wet, one warm and tight. He doesn’t see me and honestly there isn’t a me to see. I am what he makes me and over time I see it. Broken, ruined, and desperate.

He grabs me by my neck and lifts me up, choking as he pulls me to his mouth, kissing me deep. No love, just need. Then with fearful strength, he throws me against the wall and I slide down, stunned. He needs to vent then and my body is the canvas to paint upon. I struggle to stand up, but he kicks my cunt, doubling me over. He needs it swollen, tighter. It’s never tight enough anymore unless his fist is shoved in it. He grabs my head and jerks it back up against the wall and rams his cock in my throat.

It’s not gentle or deep. He pounds hard, my head bouncing between his crotch and the wall, as he batters my throat until my gag reflex hits, puking up on it, and him and me. He’s mad, furious as he hits me, once, twice, three times until I am tasting blood and my eye is swollen. I can’t focus but I don’t need to focus, or think. That’s not why I am there.

He grabs my hair and jerks me forward, throwing me face first into the floor. I try to get up but he stands on my head, kicking my legs apart with his free foot. The he steps off my head and jerks up my hips and slams into my ass with no lube. It barely needs it anymore; with enough lube he can even fist it now. Like me, my holes are broken and ruined, desperate for his need and use so that he’ll love me again. He pounds me brutally, occasionally slamming my head against the floor. I still think too much sometimes and that cures it.

He slows and I understand when the belt is thrown around my neck and tightened. Then he starts pounding again as he pulls, so tight that it feels like my neck is about to snap. It’s ok if it does. I love him. My neck doesn’t snap however, instead as he speeds up, the world turns gray, then black, as I cum from his destructive need. I slump as hot cum gushes in my battered ass.

I wake being dragged to the bathroom. I smile because he’s still not done with me. I still have use and maybe this will earn his love. His shit covered cock is rammed down my throat and I clean it as he drains himself and then he uses the toilet. My bathroom doesn’t have toilet paper. He doesn’t need it. He grabs my head and I wipe him clean with my tongue. I gag and get sick a couple times in the toilet, but it’s ok. When I’m done I’m a mess so he shoves my head in the toilet and flushes several times to clean me. He loves me so much, it shows.

He then vents on me, giving me wonderful bruises all over until he’s done and shaking hard. The room spins but that doesn’t matter. My inability to stand or speak doesn’t matter. He feels better and that makes me better. I love him and as he leaves his garage, my home, to eat with his wife, I know he loves me the most. Because he visits me every day and every day isn’t the last, so I’m still worth something to him, and that’s enough.