your face is against the cold concrete, knees tucked under your tummy and ass pointed upwards, held in place with the tip of her boot steadily grinding into your cheek. you've been kept in the humiliating position for what feels like hours as the bruises all over your body scream in pain, all the while she's cooing over how each one paints such a pretty picture of her abuse.
you think it's over for a moment when she lifts up her foot, giving you just a second to breathe a sigh of relief.
then she lands the first kick. it's deep, quick and painful, like being jabbed with a blunt object. you groan without meaning to. another shot to your sides, hard enough to topple you over this time. you can hear how much she loves it when she giggles at your body curling into the fetal position. she snaps at you to get on your back, punctuating the demand with a kick to your thighs.
you don't realize you've been squeezing your eyes shut until she bends down to strike your face and ask if you're still awake. she's always been a sucker for the fear in your eyes, and you know it. this time, you watch her lift her leg and expect the worst, body tensing on instinct. she lands the sole of her boot in the lower center of your stomach and you let out a sound you didn't even know your body could make, a guttural and low moan full of both lust and anguish.
the heel of her boot now, digging directly into your bladder. by now, you usually know better than to tell her to stop, but the new and intense sensation causes you to whimper and rasp out pleas for mercy. you stumble over your words as you pointlessly repeat chants of "please, stop, I don't want to make a mess, you'll be mad at me, please stopstopstop-" until you break. until you feel the warmth spread through your underwear and down your legs, puddling underneath your ass.
you were right, of course. she's furious.
