The sensation pushed her into motion, and she stood unsteadily on her feet and made her way to the bathroom, sat on the toilet and cleaned herself up....She felt like she was drowning. What was wrong with her? She knew that she could have stopped him. All she had needed to do was fight, shout, yell, anything. Instead she had just let him use her like a thing, “like a kajira” a part of herself whispered, but she pushed it from her mind. The thought of Amy catching them ran across her mind again,. She undressed and fell into her duvet.Perhaps an hour or so later, she was woken from the light sleep she had fallen into, at the sound of her door being knocked on softly, as if the knocker didn't really want to come in. She called out and a sheepish Sonia poked her head round the corner, and then the rest of her followed, apologetic and mollified. Sonia sat on the edge of Michelle's bed, waiting for the words of forgiveness she hoped her flatmate would give her. She squealed delightedly when. “We’re going in there to fuck shit up.”My squawk of protest is met with clenched fists of annoyance.“You always gonna be like this?” she growls.“Like what?”“Yu’know.”“Clearly not.”Annabelle mimes sucking a dick. “Don’t deny it, shithead. You want a piece of their commercialized heroism.”“Fuck. This again?”Her eyes narrow but she pulls out a thick envelope that’s already been opened and hands it over. “Thought I’d take the initiative for you since you never will.”“Initiative?” Slammed with. I carried the marks from that paddling for weeks; the marks from the large holes in the paddle. He knew exactly what he was doing with that paddle too. Each mark was a circle with a raised bruise in the center, outlined by an ashen white circle. The worst ones were all over my ‘sit-down’ area, they covered it. Material of panties or slacks were an irritation when I walked (and it was uncomfortable to walk for a few days), sitting was uncomfortable. I could clearly ‘feel’ the marks, every one of.