300 Days

300 Days

Three hundred days. Less than a year. It felt like nothing. Your ex had married her first love. You'd been replaced fully. You didn't even know how to explain your new vibrant marks, a permanent submission to your ex-con of a Master.

You vomited into the porcelain throne once more. You weren't sure the cause of it. Guilt about your new marks? Your unspoken enemy, making advances? The frailty of mortality? Excising the poisons wracking your body? You hugged the porcelain, the coldness soothing you.

"Bitch! I need my cock sucked!" Trevor cried out from the main room. You bit your lower lip, unsure of what to do. Finally, you sounded perky.

"Coming, Master!"