New ass cleaner

Ralf dragged Kinga by her hair through the silent house (past Rebecca still frozen on the rug, past Emily curled naked and leashed in the corner) until they reached the downstairs guest bathroom. The tiles were cold and white, the air sterile with bleach.

“On your knees, toilet-slut. Right there in front of the bowl.”

Kinga collapsed, knees skidding on the floor, face inches from the porcelain. Ralf stepped past her, dropped his pants, and sat heavily on the toilet seat.

He spread his legs wide so she had a perfect view.

“Hands behind your back. Eyes up. You don’t get to look away.”

The first slap cracked across her left cheek the moment he started pushing. Another followed immediately on the right. Then left again. Hard, open-palmed, rhythmic. Each impact jerked her head sideways, split her lip, sent tears flying.

Between smacks he laughed.

“Remember when you and your friends poured yogurt on my head in the cafeteria and took pictures? This is better than yogurt, isn’t it?”

He finished with a long, deliberate push, then leaned back.

“Clean me. Tongue only. Get every last bit, Kinga. I want to feel spotless.”

She crawled forward on trembling arms, sobbing silently, and pressed her face between his cheeks. The taste made her gag, but the ring **** her tongue out, lapping obediently, thoroughly, until he finally sighed with satisfaction.

He stood, turned, and looked down at her: mascara streaked, lips swollen and bloody, eyes dead.

“Welcome to your new life. This bathroom is your kingdom now. You don’t leave it. Ever. You sleep on the mat by the door. You eat from a bowl I’ll kick in once a day. Your only jobs are two:

1. When anyone in this house needs to shit, you crawl over, present your tongue, and clean them sparkling.

2. While they’re sitting, you keep your pretty face right here—” he tapped the edge of the seat “—so we can slap it whenever we’re bored.”

He crouched, grabbed her chin, **** her to meet his eyes.

“You’re not a person anymore, Kinga. You’re furniture. A filthy, disposable toilet rag. And every time you taste someone’s ass, you’ll remember exactly why.”

He stood, zipped up, and flicked off the light, plunging her into darkness.

“Sweet dreams, toilet. Someone will need you again soon.”

The door clicked shut.

The lock turned.

And in the blackness, Kinga knelt alone on the cold tile, waiting for the next set of footsteps.