Broken Runaway Toys
by Badsammie
Copyright© 2022 by Badsammie
Fiction Sex Story: A couple brings in a runaway, needy in the same ways as the wife was when she was that age.
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Mult Consensual BiSexual Fiction DomSub Humiliation Rough Sadistic .
I looked down at young girl on the bed, snoring softly, sucking her thumb. I smiled at that affectation. Hers’ was different from mine, it was less playing at being a little and simply a retreat of kid who had seen years of abuse. Despite the sheer sheet partially draped over her, those years were quite visible on her form. Not from what her dad had done to her, but scars from heavy cutting on her thighs and arms.
Her naked form was marked now in a different way, one much more familiar to me. Bruises marked her all over, as did wide straps from the belting they had both given her earlier. Oh, how she had screamed and cried and begged for more and more until she collapsed from exhaustion. The young lady seemed to exist in only two states, intense and down/muted/sleeping. In that way, she was much the cat, our adopted little kitten, a broken toy who came alive when we hurt her. That, I understood as well.
“Still sleeping?” my Master asked, to which I nodded the affirmative.
“We need to break or ease that nose habit of hers though. She picked up some bad habits from him,” I replied. He slapped my ass, smirking at me.
“Not been exactly easy on it yourself,” he said, which was true.
We weren’t sure where he had found her, but she’d lived with him for a few weeks, a runaway, willing to do anything to stay off the streets and strangely enthusiastic about it. A coping mechanism perhaps. I could relate. Regardless, he had put the miles on her hard before he dropped her off with us, having tired of her. She was twitchy, jittery, and needy. Not the brightest, but by god, was she attention starved.
We took it easy with her at first, but soon found her inserting herself happily into our bed. What she lacked in skill she made up in desperation for comfort and need. It didn’t seem to matter who used her, or how, as long as she got used. Talk about the past only resulted in her instantly clamming up. We simply let her know the door was open for that, if she wanted to talk.
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