It broke my heart and reopened old wounds, worse than actually stabbing me and it was just as painful.My father held my life in his hands, my breaths ...truggled to ease into my lungs without inadvertently causing his hand to slip any closer to my neck than it already was. The man ahead of me glanced to his side briefly but continued to the door. I wrenched a little in his grip, his fingers pulled up the hem of my shirt and slipped beneath it. Still keeping my throat in check. He roughly mauled. Quickly but gently he laid out dozens of strikes, each one making her back arch against the pain. Soon she whimpered even when the strikes were not falling. He stroked her skin with a bare hand and even that little stimulation drew a soft whine from her. "Enough for now, little lady?" He reached for her bonds before she answered, but when she nodded and whimpered again he pulled the knots loose and he helped her lower her arms, gently rubbing her shoulders. He grabbed the cream from the bedside. More

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