Trying something a little different here.
All characters are entirely fictional and any likeness or similarities to any persons are purely coincidental.
Thanks for dropping by.
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"You whore!" Buckley wheezed, kneeling as his broad frame doubled over with his large hands trapped between his legs.
Azalea probably would've laughed if she could focus. Fog surrounded her; somehow, her mind wasn't connecting to her body. Every movement was effortless, yet, slow and weighted. She kept forgetting...
James swallowed very slowly. There was something incredibly wrong with this scene as her surveyed the woman in center of the dirty cell. Her wavy ebony hair resembled a bird's nest, littered with bits of hay; her light skin bore cuts, blackening bruises and scrapes. Whatever it was she was wearing previously, now barely covered her high breasts and her sex. Any exposed skin that hadn't been damaged in some way was smeared with dirt.
The woman turned her head slowly and looked him in the eye. It was unnerving, but, he couldn't show weakness, no matter how much he wanted to turn away. Instead, James adjusted his focus past her to wall but stopped short when her head suddenly snapped back. Oh heavens above...
I think Buckley just broke her neck
.
Buckley grinned menacingly as he slowly stalked towards the woman. Pulling his right arm back he punched the woman in the face, feeling a crack of satisfaction as her left eye socket broke under the force of his calloused fist. Her head snapped back and stopped. "Stinkin' whore." he spat, bringing his shoulders up and cracking his thick neck. He didn't even see her move before, how was it that she'd managed to land one in the cojones? The woman stayed motionless. Buckley's eyes narrowed.