she was just under six foot. she stood curling over me like a tarted-up insect. stringy hands dangled at her lumpy upside-down triangle pelvis. there was the stubbled clam, punching out between concave thighs the same width as her calves. 

but then there were these two sudden round globes, way past her arm pits, halfway down her rib cage. they hung aloft either side of my head. tiny pink indents for nipples, high up on them, like she had bulging eyes on her chest, with dilated pupils looking up at her, asking “why are we here?”

those aren’t real? I prodded one. they can’t be.  

they are! she said.

I slapped one: 

nothing. no wobble. it didn’t even flinch. was like smacking a small pumpkin or a big apple  

or some other hard fruit. 

they’re rock solid, I said.

what can I say, she shrugged – made those balloons slide up and down her long bony body – god loves me. 

god hates you, I said. he made you to be raped. why did he make you? 

she got down on the fists of her knees. 

to be raped, she said.

now was she kneeling, we were face to face. now those tits were suspended parallel to my dick.  

I put it between them … 

you big skinny rape doll, I rutted against her chest. 

I cupped them, tried to squeeze them together …

you’re so fucking insecure you lie about getting a boob job. 

they were too far apart. I couldn’t get them to meet.

it’s obvious, you know.

my dick was stranded. it just slapped around in the gap between those globes.  

I know it’s obvious, she looked up at me.

so why’d you lie about it then? 

because, she said. I like to pretend god made me this way. It makes me feel better about what I am. like this is my purpose in life. 

oh yeah?  

there was no friction, but I was nearly there …

and what’s that? what’s your purpose?

to be a skinny insecure rape doll, she said. with really fake tits. 

I started to shake …

but you know deep down that god’s really ashamed of you, don’t you?

uh huh, she nodded. just like my daddy is.

I splattered up her throat, uppercut her chin with seeds …    

I went off script at the end there, she said.

I loved it. thank you.

you’re welcome. you well come, he he.  

yeah, thanks to you, I said, rolling over to face her. you know, the more I degrade you, the more I need you. you know that, don’t you?

she didn’t say anything.   

doms always need subs more than subs need them, I stroked her hair. don’t they?

she didn’t say anything.

I’m probably patronising you here, but since you did so well, I just thought that you deserved to know that I know that. that’s all.  

she got up. her hair fell from my fingers. 

what’s the matter? I said. 

she went over to the dresser. ripped open a king-size Mars bar and tucked in. 

being so tall, she ate six or seven times a day. there was always food everywhere. she was always just reaching out and finding something to

gobble on. it was endearing as hell. 

she chewed, looking away from me … 

your daddy pays me to fuck you, I said. 

she looked up, a bit shocked, cheeks full … 

sorry, I said. was that too –

mmm, no! she swallowed. no! she threw the wrapper away and got back on the bed. does he?

yeah, I sighed … well, only a fiver, like. you’re not worth much more than that, are you?

ooh my god, her spider hand crawled up her wide fuzzy triangle … daddy sells me cheap, huh?   

yeah. I video it, so he can watch while your whore mummy sucks him off. 

oh daddeeee … her knuckles were white at her opening … while I stifled a yawn and I wondered if there were any Mars bars left.