A latex girl thing
Slave looked down at Rusty and said, “That’s always fun.” She gave his face a few love slaps; his eyes contracted to the strikes, which only made her smile. “Now, let’s play a new game.”
Slave got up and left Rusty on the floor, covered in sweat and his soil, but without one drop of semen to be found. He blinked his blank eyes every once in a while. He breathed; it was horse, wheezy, and shallow. He was alive, but he was not there. A man purely broken in body, mind, and spirit; his brain able to grasp stimulation and react instinctive to it, but not under a process of intelligence or under the guide of free will. For lack of a better explanation, Rusty was practically a zombie by the classic definition of the word.
Slave returned with a single key on a big, steel hoop. She reached down with her free hand, grabbed Rusty’s unusable hand, and with ease pulled him down the corridor. Such a tiny thing did not appear so strong until now, standing fully erect and walking easily towing the much heavier piece of meat.
