I’m restless and naked in the shackles you rigged to the ceiling of the small remote cabin where I’ve lived ever since you abducted me. The chains hang long so I’m suspended about four feet above the floor. I’m hanging belly-down, my arms are roped at the elbows behind my back, and my ankles are tied to the backs of my thighs, so my knees are bent. I’m frog-tied in midair. Gravity pulls my stomach downward, naturally forcing my spine into a dramatic arch. My nipples are clamped with regular clothes pins, the soft pink flesh throbbing incessantly and making my needy pussy ache.

My skin is decorated with your cruelty. You reminded me of my nature this morning, and so I was thoroughly marked. You took a permanent marker and wrote the word ‘rape’ on my left cheek, and then the word ‘hole’ on my right; both words accompanied by an arrow pointing down toward my mouth. You then scribbled ‘PROUD WHORE’ across my forehead in all capital letters before brutally whipping my tits, punishing them until the skin was striped and red. You wrote a myriad of other things all over my back and buttocks: trash; fuck-meat; cock-sleeve; rape-doll. And then you flogged my ass until the flesh was bruised. You wrote even more pejoratives all over my arms, tits, and torso: cum-dump; fuck-pig; stupid cunt; braindead whore; worthless slave. And only after you’d decided the billboard of my shame had been complete, did you finally use my mouth to find your pleasure.

I can still feel your cum dry across my face...

Right now, you’re eating at the dining table, enjoying a slab of meat from the deer you’d hunted a few days passed. I hang in the living-room beyond, forgotten, like nothing more than a slutty ornament. As if my shame is some kind of obscene decoration.