It was a weird bondage phone sex session. H going to treat me like a nigger slave. Right then I knew I would likely die or wish I was dead. It was the later. He was pissed at something. It wasn’t me, but I was his escape goat. I am always his escape goat. That is why he strung me up from a tree in his back yard. I was completely bound, so I couldn’t move. He told me he was he keeps me around he says. He threw rocks at me. Just like I imagine lynchers did in the 40s and 50s. I was the strange fruit swaying on the poplar tree that Billie Holliday sung about. Only I am not black. I am, however, black and blue and purple with spots of red from rocks cutting my skin. He left me hanging for awhile after he ran out of stones. I was bleeding badly. I was battered even worse. I passed out, but he turned a hose on me, which woke me up. He cut me down and I fell with a thud. He pissed on my bruised and bloody body and laughed. With a smirk, he said, “Damn, Blair, that was fun.”
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