After the initial ride home, it now found itself in a poorly lit room with a stone cold cement floor. A thin mattress sat in the back corner where it would sleep, along with a torn blanket, and little pillow. The concrete walls around it had a grungy yellow tint to them with a bit of dirt built up in the imperfections. There were no windows, nor any vents; by all accounts, it was a very boring room. In the corner high up was a camera with a single red light on it. Always letting it know that it was being watched. The door to the room was set in a heavy frame, steel with a single slot in the middle of it for a tray, no handle on the inside. Finally, across from it's bed was a red bucket, bolted into the floor.
From the moment it had woken up on the bed, it had tried to fight against what was happening. Once the initial confusion wore off, the screaming started. Howling. Wailing. Begging and pleading to be let out. Why was I doing this. Why it. Dumb cunt said it would do *anything* if I let it go. I sat there, watching it through the camera as it begged with me. Not saying a word, never giving any indication that I was watching. To it, the act must have felt like talking to wall.
I let it tire itself out for the first couple of hours. It was cute, seeing it think that any amount of pleading would make me let it go. That there was something it could offer that would be better than *it*. No. When I could see the initial feeling of defeat start to set in, I took some scraps from last nights dinner and got them ready on a dinner tray for it.
Seeming to be startled when I opened the slot in the door. I slid the tray through and a water bottle. Surprisingly, it didn't say a word to me. It took it's meal and drank it's water. Poor little thing must have been starving; it was going to get used that that feeling. I watched it scarf down it's food and gulp down the water. Then, it sat there on the mattress, and occasionally looked at the bucket.
It had been in it's new "home" for around two weeks now. Seemingly, no one thought it was missing, just another sad attempt at some form of rebellion by something far too old to have it look stylish on them.
Two weeks of buildup in the bucket. It must have reeked in the room, though I would only get a waft as I fed it the scraps every other day. It was visibly skinnier, and certainly much weaker. It has been using its new toilet—the bucket—and every time seemed to hate it. I thought I would finally be time to step into the room.
I put on a mask and stepped to the door, opening it for the first time and making sure to keep it proped open; it seem shocked but did not do all that much but look at me, not that it had much *to do*. I wasted no time and walked to it, grabbing its hair. Without much of a word said, I dragged it to the bucket and made it look inside.
I don't think it quite understood what I was about to do before I started; I took my pants down and started to kick it in the ribs, stomp on its legs, and spit on it. This, of course, continued on until I was hard, and, once again picking it by the hair, I shoved it's face into the shit and piss filled bucket.
Behind it, I positioned myself to start fucking it. Shoving my cock in its surprisingly wet cunt to get a bit of lubrication before pulling it out and ramming it up it's asshole. It really seemed to hate this, I could hear screaming bubbling up and it really started to thrash around. Poor bitch had nothing it *could* do to stop me, though. I fucked it there, taking it up for air every so often, while I slammed my cock in and out of its tight asshole for what must have felt like hours to it.
Eventually, I shot my cum inside of it, and took my hand out of its hair. It just laid there, curling up into the fetal position, and started sobbing. I kicked it once more for good measure and left the room, shutting the door behind me.
amandla
stormborns
yousharknotpass
areudirty
titsay
