Now, I realized I’d been at the doorstep. I’d crawled a mile since then, and I hardly noticed the crowd that cheered me on. The stinking refuse that pelted me was as innocuous as rain now, for it hung from my hair, covered my flesh, and saturated my nose and mouth. I was shit. If there was any benefit to the muck that plastered me, it was to guard against the cold. Oh, the cold. Not only did it numb my fingers and toes, but it stiffened every motion, making me brittle where I might’ve been soft. My flesh broke easily, my muscles bruised readily, and my joints stiffened arthritically, seeming to grind against the bone they were socketed within. But by far the worst torment I endured, was the pleasure. Oh, Yavara wouldn’t have it any other way. It wasn’t good enough for her that I be humiliated, brutalized, and ravaged. No, I had to enjoy it too. She had taken a page out of my own playbook. My belly was distended with the fluid she’d pumped into my ass, and that warm concoction sloshed. ‘Excuse me.’ She looked at him and waited for him to leave. Mike didn’t move. ‘This room is occupied, sir… Please leave,’ she said, more forcefully. ‘You don’t remember me, Joan,’ Mike said. ‘You don’t remember me and you probably don’t remember Miss Robin Walsh, either. She didn’t want me to take revenge for her, but she didn’t say anything about revenge for myself.’ Recognition dawned on her. ‘Oh, my god…’ Mike grabbed her and pulled her to him. Taking her by the waist, Mike kissed her deeply, forcing his lips on hers. She struggled at first, hands pushing him away. But in that moment, Mike Compelled her. An electrical shock went through her body and her mouth fell open. Mike pressed his tongue deeper into her mouth. She was limp and passive in his arms, as his lips took his pleasure from her. Mike pressed her back to the sink, hands tearing at her blouse, ripping the buttons off the front and revealing a pale heaving bosom encased in a lacy white bra. He reached out and grabbed.
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