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Click hereMy skirt flips up, cold air hits my bare ass,
He glares at me, calling me a slut for not wearing panties.
"Count," he demands, before his hand connects with my skin,
I try to crawl away, but he drags me back in.
"Don't make this harder than it needs to be,"
He says, hitting me again, the sound ringing in my ears.
I whimper, counting each strike as they land,
My skin on fire, my tears falling like sand.
Finally, he's satisfied, rubbing my ass with care,
But then he flips me over, his eyes filled with a stare.
Less rage, but something else, a hunger I can see,
He's going to eat me alive, and I can't break free.