I bashed her stomach with the lamp next to her bed and I smiled brightly when I felt the blob I’d beaten within. I jumped on her like a wildcat–I couldn’t stop raking my nails into her eye sockets, kicking her, smacking her and ripping out her hair. She fell against the bed and took it like a good whore. Screams for help soon graduated to lowly and half-assed whimpers and raspy cries as her energy was drained away from her. Hayley bleeding from her mouth, her eye was swollen shut, and she sobbing hysterically. She’d lost control over her mouth, where teeth were now sparse, and so I took her maternity pajama top into my hands and ripped it open down the front, exposing her huge milk-brimming tits, swollen and achy and pregnant. Her nipples looked like little red buttons I just wanted to slice off to see what was inside. Begging pathetically, trying to cover her stomach with her arms. Trying to save the baby I wanted to kill for my own. I took out my pocket knife and slashed her pajama bottoms off. “Ever been fucked by a knife, you stupid cunt?” I asked her. She moaned and struggled weakly, flailing. I laughed. “I’m going to stick this blade up your cunt and fuck you real good with it. It’s about time we used that babyhole for what it’s good for.” She was too beaten and abused to resist much. I flipped her over like a nice piece of preggo ass and spread those breeding whore legs for what they were good for. “Bradley’s dead now,” I told her through my smile. “You’re a widow, and since I’m your next-of-kin, you’re my wife now.” This caused a horrible shaking to overtake her weak body, and tiny sounds of abject terror and fear escaped from her bruised lips. “I can’t hear you,” I told her chidingly. “You’re face down, ass up, like you belong.”
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