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acting as an illustrated portfolio of her criminal history.
    Mandra Bay law enforcement was ill-equipped and ill-motivated to counter the shenanigans of a gang of soulless, antisocial marauders who had nothing to lose so the Bruisers ran a rampant, uncontested campaign of criminality. Sure, they weren’t top dogs in the criminal underworld --more an assembly of low-level rabble--but they were a force to be reckoned with.
    Maximillia became exceedingly thin, her lack of nutrition bordering on life-threatening. She’d become Mardo’s favorite girl and he found enjoyment in watching her every orifice get stabbed by several of his drug-addled goons as she was in the midst of Gatekeeper-induced intoxication. However, she found not a single one of them physically attractive. In fact, in sober moments she found them physically repellent but the drink potently diluted her standards and did so frequently.
    Mardo would remark how he liked his “little girl” skinny, so Maximillia’s deprivation of food was something of a fetish for him at that point. Wherever he went, she was at his side like a loyal minion and everyone in the gang knew that no one could lay a finger on her without his consent. She belonged to him. He made it a point to constantly compliment her on her long, dark locks and would illustrate this by cumming on her hair while she slept or even by ordering some of his knuckle-dragging disciples to do the same while he watched. He’d take great pleasure in watching half a dozen of his goons empty their balls into her hair; a kind of dry shampoo job.
    In Maximillia’s near-constant drunken stupor, she consented to every vile sexual escapade. During sex he began to get very physical, going so far as to choke her into unconsciousness on common occasion. Her bare ass would typically end up with a pink, hand-shaped mark on it after an especially energetic Mardo took his spanking to the next level. The choking and spanking led to light face slapping during sex, then heavy face slapping. The
one-sided physical altercations bled into non-sexual situations and the brutal beast began to find the simplest non-reasons to sling Maximillia’s weakened, rubbery form around his love nest.
    The violence escalated still. The first pure assault took even Maximillia by surprise. Mardo had just given her a heaping glass of Gatekeeper and she was midway into her blissful descent into drugged comfort when a hallucinatory episode brought about by a drug-fueled binge of his own threw him into a rage. He threw her across the room and proceeded to throw down a storm of fists atop her, cracking several of her ribs and loosening several of her teeth. She managed to slip out into the night after he collapsed into sleep and found refuge in a nearby storm drain.
    She’d been with the gang for nearly a year and had become so irredeemably blended into their ranks that she felt that her individual persona was gone and her only value was as one of them. She was cold, nearly naked, hungry, broke and with no friends whom didn’t bear the branded mark of a Bruiser that her options were few. She didn’t dare entertain the idea of going to see her father. Definitely not in her current state. The man, upon seeing his precious lost girl merely an upright sack of hair and bones peppered with cuts and bruises, would’ve rolled into the Bruiser compound with a blaster in each hand, gunning down goons until he himself was gunned down. She still loved her father dearly and couldn’t allow her horrible life mismanagement to doom his own. No, she’d keep her diseased curse of dependency and physical abuse to herself.
    It didn’t occur to her after the sixth or seventh time curled up in that storm drain --one of her eyes swollen shut, her nose bleeding and lips busted, courtesy of Mardo’s knuckles--that perhaps their association was less than beneficial for her. She always shuffled back into his open arms, tears streaming out whichever eye wasn’t swollen