Sorry, It is?” I managed, blushing as I pushed my thighs together in an attempt to appear demure and innocent, wrinkling my nose with exasperation. ...avid rarely locked it. Why today?“Keys hanging by the fridge, I think?”“Thanks.” He started to turn, paused for a moment, eyes focused not on my face, but on my tits. I raised my eyes just enough to catch his appreciative smile for a moment, before lowering them again, my gaze drifting downward, seeing me as I imagined he did. It was impossible. I shield my body a little, reflexively, gasping as his foot swings into my stomach and pushes the breath out of me.I taste blood, and realise I must've cut my mouth when he punched me. It sprays out, coating the linoleum when he kicks me again, trying to get a reaction, and he falters. He swears and leaves, and I'm left rolling there in agony, feeling my stomach burn and drooling blood. It seems like all I've been doing this week has been trying to breathe, taking in big, cold breaths that are. More

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