Today's OneWord: Help

Calling for help wasn't an option here. Instead, as he groped for every open part of me that lay exposed but closed up like a puckering, terrified fish, I was left with one option. I used my remaining strength to clamp my right hand against his throat, ignoring the sting of my new black eye and the handprint on my left cheek.

My left hand went somewhere else entirely. I twisted. I heard the muffled scream against the closed trachea. His eyes bulged in terror and skepticism.

"There," I snarled as I held his manhood in a distorted knot. "Now you know how it feels."

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