Katy lost count of how many times Cleophus had cum in or on her, but he shot one more load, smaller than the rest, all over her face, then stood up. She noticed the faint sound of rain on the roof.
Aight, bitch, that enough playtime for now. Cleophus gotta get him sumthin to eat. Go cook me up sumthin.”
Katy drew herself up, her whole body a nest of pains from the brutal raping she had received… and enjoyed. Still nude and wearing the collar, she would happily continue to be abused by Cleophus if he were able, but her she let her sexual appetite build as she waited for him to rest up. She went to his dingy old 1950’s refrigerator and opened the door. Inside there was part of a package of hot dogs, some American cheese, a few eggs marked to expire two days ago, and a few gigantic bottles of malt liquor.
“Are hot dogs and eggs okay?” Katy asked as she peered into the fridge. A heavy work boot flew through the air and struck her in the back of the head.
“Did I ask you a question, bitch?” Cleophus screamed across his small space. “My bitch does not talk unless asked a question. Now shut up yo cumhole mouth and cook me sumthin.”
Katy went to the hotplate on the desk and fried a few hot dogs and some eggs in an oily old pan. She found a crusty used plate that she wiped off, and put the food on it. She found a fork that looked at least somewhat clean, went to the fridge for a cold 0 ouncer, and brought it all to Cleophus. Even though the food smelled odd, just on the edge of spoiling, it still made her realize how hungry she was. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate, and her stomach grumbled loudly.
Cleophus snatched the plate and drink from her hands. It was clear he had heard her stomach. He looked her in the eye. “Oh is the bitch hungry?” She was afraid to answer.
Cleophus smacked her across the face. “IS THE BITCH HUNGRY?”
“Yes, master,” she replied meekly.
“Well you gonna eat then. Gotta keep yo strength up the way I gonna use you.”
Cleophus set down his plate and beer and walked over to a shelf. Katy listened to the rain hitting the roof, harder now, as she watched him rummaging through cans.
“Here we go,” he said and pulled out an old can of dog food, the label yellowed and peeling. “This oughta be just right for my bitch. Dis shit ain’t like the champagne and caviar you used to.”
He opened the can and a pungent odor emerged. He plopped the gloppy dog food into a metal dog dish and threw it on the floor next to a similar dish filled with water. She knew the odor should sicken her, but it didn’t. Maybe it was how hungry she was, or the magical power of the collar she wore, but she craved the food. She knelt down in front of the dish and was about to take a handful… she stopped, and looked over her shoulder and ass at Cleophus.
“Good dog, you learin fast,” he said. He paused a few moments. “OK, you can eat, but not wit yo hands, bitch.”
Katy smiled and buried her face in the dog food. She wished she was in her canine form so that it would be easier to devour the thick mushy meat, but she relished every bite as she wolfed it down, smearing it on her face. She licked her lips and dipped her face in the water, guzzling the whole dishful.