She enjoyed, and even needed, the closeness of her loved ones, but the months of being bed ridden had taken it’s toll on her vigor. She exhausted quickly. Her lids hung heavy as her husband kissed her forehead goodbye, and she nodded off as the door shut on her last visitor. Sleeping was hard. She had managed to crack or break enough bones in the collision that the net result was a full body cast. She could speak. She could wiggle her toes. She could clench a fist. Everything else was locked down with steel and plaster. For someone used to sleeping on her side, not turning her head was debilitating and maddening. She eventually adapted, but she spent a lot of time in a state of tired delusion. Good news would be her savior though, the new hope surging though her body relaxed her like no pain medication could. Her dreams were filled with hope and excitement. She woke late, the sun hours from returning. This was common, the itch of her cast and the infrequency of her sleep would. In her fucked-up head, Natalie relives the night of Ruth's death. I deserve it. I deserve it. I deserve it, she mentally repeats to herself, over and over, even as Mark goes on his knees and parts her legs, angling his head to begin lapping at her pussy, savouring the tang of her shower time mingled with her essential female pungency, the metallic tang of her most intimate tissues.He nibbles her flesh, snaps his teeth, licks and nuzzles, sucking at Natalie's cunt while Eva's cane delivers its cruel kisses from behind.Such pain in her calves and thighs and buttocks. Pain like she never thought could be. Then the small of her back, her shoulders, again and again. With each stroke, Natalie is learning how to ride the pain. She no longer anticipates each blow, no longer rebels against the strike, wincing at the thought of it. From her acceptance, pleasure is harvested from hurt. Her entire body hums, the rawness of fresh pain sublimated becomes something joyous. She feels her endorphins.
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