Battered & Bruised

She waited another minute, goosebumps cropping up all over her skin from the temperature, virtually all her nubile figure exposed save for her feet and the bit of her midriff that the dress still clung to.

Finally, she gave it another try, exercising caution in heaving herself upright, taking a few moments to see how badly her legs trembled before she attempted to stand.

This time, despite a slight stumble, she stayed on her feet.

Her dress was in disarray, bra hanging off her chest as well. The loads that Brett had spurted into her were leaking out, creating a slick mess between her legs.

A twinge at her right shoulder made her wince as she took off her bra, and readjusted her dress, bringing the straps back into place and sliding the hemline down her hips. Nearby, her panties lay ruined.

I'll just leave them...I'd like to see the looks on the construction workers' faces when they see them...

Now presentable, she collected her purse, discarded earlier, threw her bra inside, and trudged away from the site of her pretend rape.

Once she slipped through the hole in the other fence, only three blocks were left before her place. As she walked along, her eyes flitted here and there, keeping track of the people around her, to make sure nobody ventured too close. The light from the streetlamps revealed more scrapes and bruises than she had thought she had, and any passer-by who came near enough would have seen them, along with her rumpled and dirtied clothing, and very likely concluded that she had been assaulted. The resultant hubbub from such a discovery seemed like too much drama, the potential kindness of strangers only an obstacle at this point, stopping her from getting home where she could take stock of her abused body.

Thankfully, no one came near enough to her to notice anything out of the ordinary.

The first thing that she did when she got home was to text the group chat.

[Got home a little while ago. I may have tried to climb on one of the construction vehicles, and I also may have fallen off it, so I may be a little banged up but I'm fine. Forgot to text right away. Was busy stuffing my face. Love you guys, and thanks for caring about me lol.]

After that, she kicked off her shoes and trudged into the bathroom. Her ass ached as she sat down gingerly on the toilet, peeling her dress back to check on herself. It had been a peculiar yet delightful sensation to feel the copious semen leaking from her pussy and asshole during the walk home, the sticky flow creeping down her upper thighs, no panties in the way to obstruct its movement.

The area between her thighs was painted white, all that viscous spunk coating her folds, taint, and asshole, creating a gooey swamp that also included her own bodily fluids. Her fingers teased past her mound, reaching the tender flesh around her anus. Pain radiated out from there, and she winced as she let two digits dip into the torn-open hole, swirling them around, collecting more escaping seed. When she brought the fingers out, she could not help but notice that the cream clinging to them boasted a slightly pink hue. Another venture down there revealed the same thing, this time a few strands of red in the ooze.

Guess he really did tear me up...it's probably going to hurt to sit down for a little while...

She sent those same two digits deeper, ignoring the discomfort springing up from the intrusion. Her asshole twitched, starting the process of healing. There was more evidence of bleeding, but not enough to concern her, just light pink coloring the semen that she gathered.

Still worth it...

Standing now, she turned on the shower, adjusted the temperature, and then peeked into the mirror.

Her hair was matted with sweat and dirt, a few pieces of gravel stuck in the tresses until she shook them out into the sink. The persistent ache at her scalp reminded her of how assertively he had yanked at her hair, using those gathered fistfuls as reins with which to ride her so ruthlessly.

A cut underneath her left eye was the worst of the damage, slightly larger than the others on her face. A few trails of blood were already dried underneath it, standing out against her skin. There were other scrapes, on both cheeks, but all were either already scabbing over or only leaking lightly. Amidst these spots of red were stains of light yellow, dull purple, and pale blue. The biggest of them bloomed brightly on her right temple. The sight of those scrapes and bruises reminded her of how he had pressed her head against the ground while fucking her, such a wonderful addition to the debasement, driving home her helplessness.

More damage caught her attention from other visible places on her upper half: a few abrasions along her neck, three little cuts further down at her collarbone, light bruises staining her biceps, and some discoloration around her wrists. Those last marks were wonderful testimonies to how assertive Brett had been at the start, his grip severe and authoritative there, setting the tone for the rest of the experience.

Next, she took off her dress, slowly and intently, wincing at the various pangs that sang from the most basic and simple of movements. The front of the skimpy garment was lightly streaked with dirt, a few scratches dotting it as well where pieces of gravel had rasped against it. As the dress slipped down her figure, it revealed more marks of her subjugation, each one adding to the price of the pleasure she had been granted.

The slopes of her breasts bore bruises and cuts. The former dotted the pert orbs, arranged in semicircular rings of five, serving as an illicit reminder of his carelessly possessive grip, the pain such roughness had caused an integral part of the experience. The latter, fewer in number, were also not as clustered, here and there, a few dribbles of blood seeping from one. One of her fingertips brushed over the stream, a shudder running down her spine as she recalled how the ground had been unforgiving against her bare chest, as it had been towards any part of her it had met. Even where there were no bruises or cuts, the flesh was reddened.

The dress slid further along, gliding past her belly. She leaned over, her back sparking with pain, and shoved it all the way down, letting it pool around her feet before stepping gingerly out from it.

Her hips and thighs were thus revealed, but she was distracted by the view of her pussy, soaked with wasted semen, the pink barely visible through the white. Three of her fingers squelched idly into the mess and collected a creamy mouthful. With her eyes fixed on her reflection, she brought those fingers up to her mouth, and watched herself suck them clean. The taste drew a moan from her, that masculine muskiness delectable.

Maybe next week I'll beg him to cum in my mouth so I can have it fresh...

The fingers started the return journey to her pussy, but she marshalled her willpower, staving off the desire to taste more of his semen, and forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand, her focus moving to her hips and thighs.

The smooth swaths were marred with only bruises. At her hips there were blobs of discoloration, from his hands clutching assertively and aggressively. At her thighs, the stains were smaller in size, but there were more of them, evidence of how he had forced her thighs apart. Arousal washed steadily over her from the recollection of how his strength had overwhelmed her.

Although I hadn't been fighting back that hard...

Her self-appraisal ended at her legs, liberally decorated with scrapes and bruises. Although they had not been targeted for any specific abuse, they had received their share of it, owing partly to her lack of pantyhose or stockings, but largely to a combination of their frequent closeness to the gravel-strewn ground and her restless squirming. Most of the cuts had partially healed, but a few still leaked blood sluggishly.

Satisfied with the completion of that first task, she stepped into the shower, the warm water cascading over her battered frame. The sensation was comforting, so she luxuriated, occasionally wincing or gasping when the spray hit a sensitive area.

Once she had cleaned herself quickly and efficiently, during the process sneaking more mouthfuls of the semen down between her thighs, she gathered certain items from the cabinet above her sink and took care of the worst of her wounds. Some needed just antiseptic, but others she treated with bandages.

She took one more look in the mirror once she was finished, almost chuckling at the sight there, the bandages dotting her body and the bruises mottling her skin. There were plenty of both that would be visible even with clothes on, specifically those on her face, arms, and legs.

I can explain them away. Nobody will see the rest unless I let them.

Aches still sang out loudly as she dressed, throwing on a t-shirt and a fresh pair of panties.

Exhaustion crept over her, but she grabbed her laptop and opened it.

I really must thank him...

It almost seemed too soon to write to him, but Natalie felt truly indebted, grateful that he had not only been so thorough in his dramatization, but also that he had taken the time and effort to make it realer for her as well.

What she found when she opened their email chain, however, made her jaw drop and her pussy twitch.

There was a new message from him, sent roughly an hour ago:

[Hey, just checking in. Didn't want you to think I forgot about you or got cold feet or something. I've been out of town this past week on business. I get back on Monday, and then we can make it happen. Looking forward to it, as I'm sure you are too. Hope you're well.]