I just wanted to curl up and be by myself. I wanted tocry but found no tears. I was surrounded by sympathy and felt stifled. Ineeded to grieve but did...'t have time to do it. I wanted to be alone!My temporary foster parents were Sue and Phil, they were nice and gentlepeople and they must have realised that all these well meaning peoplewere doing me more harm than good. Gradually, I was left alone to mythoughts and sorrow.The following day Sue came in the bedroom and sat on the bed. I hadn'tmoved. Blaming the guy. Such a stereotype. But I guess that’s not unexpected, here. I’ll let it pass.The dog comes closer. She picks up a large rock and chucks it at him, hard. It goes wide because she’s too freaked out to aim. He walks closer and she grabs another rock. She’s lucky this time—it hits his flank, and the Dane yelps and backs away to watch his mistress from a safer vantage.Go away, go away, go away, fuck you, fuck you, GOGOGO. She’s hardly coherent. I’ll need to do a little sound editing. Where could she be? "Martha?" he called. No response. Hoping nothing was wrong, he went to look for her.He slowly walked to the bedroom. The door was shut, but he didn't think anything of it at the time. He turned the knob and pushed the door open. When the door was fully open, he was greeted with a horrible, heartbreaking sight. He felt like he had been hit in the stomach by a three hundred pound pulling guard. His wife was laying spreadeagled on the bed. Her long, chestnut-brown hair was. Eventually, the dog’s knot relaxed and was pulled from her body without ceremony. He licked at her bruised and pouting cunt, cleaning her of his traces. She shivered and gave him the benefit of a shower of piss over his muzzle. She was too exhausted now to even cry. Her head lolled to one side and she either slept or went into a state of semiconciousness, either way, she shut down and stayed that way for an hour or so.She woke to a familiar smell. One she hadn’t smelled for a long time. Her.
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