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.

I wouldn’t call her a kindred spirit exactly, we weren’t equals, emotionally, mentally, or sexually. While I wanted pain to cope with stress, loved the intensity, her need was self-punishing. Whatever her dad had done had fucked her up proper and she could already out drink or out drug me. That was fine, because the young lady had introduced me to something else. Inflicting pain. I still wanted and needed to be hurt, but having someone who made me feel well adjusted, well, I brought out an evil bitch in me that I didn’t know I had.

We often looked the pair, at home, both naked, sporting bruises and black eyes. She hated being a urinal though but hated even more that I loved it. Everything sexual was tied to abuse with her and she both craved it and hated it. She didn’t love it like me. And that made her tears delicious.

My master enjoyed having a challenge again, and I enjoyed exploring my new sadistic side. We made her our kitten and made sure to hurt her every day, whether by words or fist or belt. Soon we would be having a party, and she might be included, or perhaps not. I might prefer the attention instead – I haven’t been properly wrecked in a while. We don’t know how long we will keep our wonderful new toy, but as long as she’s here, she is ours. To make cum, scream, moan, and use.

Life is wonderful.