He told me I was his snuff porn doll. I knew he meant it too. I was chained up in his bedroom. I was there for several days. I owed him money from a bad debt, and he was collecting with a pound of flesh. My flesh. He said I was too pretty to fuck, so he beat me black, blue, and purple. I hate when men hit my face. Most guys don’t want the bruises they give me to show. Most men don’t want to ruin my face. My face and my tits are what make money. He was not most men. He was a sadistic man, a heavy misogynist, and a violent man. I would be lucky to survive him. I almost didn’t, however. He punched me so hard in the face, I tasted blood. He laughed as I cried. I tried to fight back the tears, but he was making me ugly with his fist. He took turns between fucking and hitting me. The harder he hit me, the more he fucked me. Punching me made him horny or perhaps it was my crying. It didn’t matter, I was being abused and he was amused. I was saved by the bell. Literally, saved by the doorbell. His wife came home early from her trip, wondered why the door was deadbolted. She unwittingly saved my life. He forced me out the window and down the fire escape. I guess I need to be cognizant of who I owe money too.
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