Time Out Of Time - Chapter 81 (Mf+, bdsm, exh, nc) [81/??]

Mayer weakly aimed a kick out at Jane, but being unfettered she easily 
danced out of the way. His ankle actually didn't get very far or have 
any real strength, being brought up short by the ropes Jane had 
attached to him. I thought I even heard her stifle a laugh. My mind 
flashed back to Sheila desperately trying to avoid that same foot. Her 
knees and hands bound. Unable to simply dance away. She wasn't 
laughing at the time.

Mayer simply wasn't all that coordinated. I actually had my doubts if 
he could have mounted any kind of offense or defense against Jane. 
Even if he'd been unbound. She was more in shape and faster than he 
was. Hell, even Sheila was probably a match for him despite the size 
differences. His style was to use blackmail and treachery to wear the 
girls down. Bully them. Then, when they were bound, and defenseless, 
he'd break them. Batter them physically while they were unable to 
fight back until they no longer believed in themselves. Believed that 
he was bigger, stronger, more powerful than them. Sheila hadn't been 
completely broken yet. But she was well on her way. The technique, 
while not elegant, would work. I had to give the bastard that.

Jane sauntered up to him, behind the kick and whispered something in 
his ear. All I caught was the word "balls". He paled at whatever she 
had said to him and tensed. She casually balled her fist and swung it 
in an wide arc. It hit him under his ribs. Not quite hitting his solar 
plexus. He grunted and then incredibly he grinned.

Jane had struck out at me once. Granted she wasn't really trying at 
the time. Just hammering her small fists into my chest in an 
expression of female frustration. I remembered after her marathon in 
the mall. It hadn't actually hurt all that much. She simply didn't 
have the strength to seriously hurt him. Not with her fists. But I 
wasn't even sure she was trying to hurt him at this point. Just 
getting out her frustrations.

Christi stepped in and let her right hit him in approximately the same 
place. This time his eyes registered a bit of discomfort. After all, I 
had softened the area already. Jane got the idea and again drove her 
fist into his midriff. She grunted as she felt the force of the blow 
in her hand and arm. Christi followed with another strike. 
Alternating, the girls used their small fists, always aiming to hit 
him in the same place. Just below the solar plexus. Finally, he began 
to break under the constant pounding. I suspect that the girls were 
hurting themselves more than him, but I wasn't really sure. I could 
still see the hate smoldering in their eyes and his.

Finally Evan began to breathe a little harder and grunt as the small 
fists continued to rain down on him. Quantity was making up for 
quality. At least that was the theory.

Jane suddenly stepped back, cradling her right hand. She managed a 
weak smile in my direction.

"I think I softened him up for you," she managed to get out. She was 
breathing hard. Her hand obviously in pain. You could hurt yourself if 
you didn't know how to throw an effective punch. I doubted Jane knew 
how. I was tempted to teach her.

"You okay?" I asked her.

"I'm alright. I'm feeling a bit better now." I assumed that she meant 
that her anger was fading. Punching someone tended to be a good 
release for anger. Even if it wasn't particularly effective and hurt 
the puncher more than the punchee. Pure stress relief.

Christi threw a couple more weak punches at him and stepped back as 
well. Knowing that she wasn't being particularly effective. He felt 
them, but it wasn't hurting him to the degree these girls wanted. 
Christi rubbed her knuckles as well.

Evan recovered his breath faster than the girls.

"You fucking bitches hit like girls," he taunted them. Despite his 
words, I could see that he was feeling it. I decided to let the girls 
fight this battle themselves. They didn't need me. Let them figure out 
how to hurt him. They were smart.

At the words, I could see the anger building back in Jane's eyes. When 
he'd finished speaking, she suddenly whirled on him. She hissed at 
him, "For the last fucking time. You don't have the fucking right to 
call me a bitch." Tears of hate and anger were forming in her eyes.

She instinctively swung out her leg. It actually was a damn good 
approximation of a roundhouse kick. Probably dumb luck. Her bare foot 
caught him hard in the side. About where he'd let Sheila have it. She 
almost fell with the effort. Her anger more than made up for her small 
size. I wouldn't have wanted to be on the receiving end of that kick. 
Even with her foot bare, she managed to connect hard.

Evan gasped as her foot connected with his body. Again, he completely 
lost his wind. Not expecting the vehemence behind the blow. Trying to 
draw breath. Jane managed to regain her balance and stumbled back to 
her feet. Her bare breasts rising and falling as she tried to catch 
her breath. This was quite visually stimulating. The way the girls 
moved and strained, trying to hurt Mayer. Their perspiration sheening 
their bare skin.

She watched Mayer as he managed to convince his paralyzed diaphragm to 
begin working again. He struggled to gasp out one word. "Bitch."

Jane closed her eyes, looking defeated. She'd put everything into that 
kick. She drew in another deep breath and lashed out again with her 
bare foot. Aiming for the same place. She was an athletic girl. Her 
legs had some muscle behind them. Her foot connected just under his 
ribs again. She cried out as her bare foot took some punishment from 
the effort. I could see that she was hurting herself. But she was more 
than determined to hurt him more, despite her own pain.

This time, when her foot hit him, Evan grunted in pain. I couldn't 
imagine him maintaining his obnoxiousness much longer in the face of 
these kicks. I knew that when Jane tired, or couldn't take the pain 
any more, Christi would gladly take over. If I were him, I'd be saving 
my strength instead of insulting the women. They'd barely begun.

Jane's kick didn't knock her quite as off balance as last time. She 
was beginning to get the motion of the kick down a little better. She 
returned to her feet and regarded him. More satisfied with the look of 
pain on his face. This one had almost definitely hurt Mayer more than 
her.

This just looked so surreal. Here was this older guy, in a business 
suit, tied to the ceiling. This petite completely nude teenager 
standing shakily in front of him. Almost pure rage emanating from her. 
It was like a palpable fog surrounding her. Completely and utterly 
focused on her task, ignoring her nudity. Drilling roundhouse kicks 
into his double breasted gray suit. It just struck me as unreal. 
Watching her bare foot, with her deep red toenails, so feminine, so 
delicate, so viciously striking into him. Flashes of her sex as she 
stumbled. Her bare body sheened with her efforts, like she was covered 
in baby oil. Her soft grunts as she kicked him. Sounds like you might 
expect a quiet woman to make during love making. I shook my head, 
trying to clear the impressions. Wanting to watch the display. Make 
sure everything was going smoothly.

He raised his head and looked at her. Still breathing hard from her 
last kick. "All your fucking fingers and toes. Enjoy this while you 
can, bitch. I'll have you screaming soon enough."

Jane closed her eyes at the words. Opened them and aimed another kick 
into his side. This time he tried to avoid it. The first sign that he 
was actually feeling it. The ropes held him in place as Jane's bare 
foot connected again. He let out an involuntary cry, but I doubted if 
he was anywhere near the pain level he'd caused in Sheila with the 
same technique. Jane simply didn't have the weight or the technique. 
She tried to make up for it in pure spirit.

This time Jane didn't wait for him to recover. She lashed out again. 
Regained her balance. Kicked him again. And again. And again. He was 
twisting in the bonds. Christi and I were watching in fascination as 
Jane just continued the onslaught with her feet. Mayer couldn't 
breathe. Completely unable to tense, or avoid the kicks to his side. 
Jane finally stumbled and fell to the carpet. She buried her head in 
her arms and wept there. Her right leg slowly moving back and forth on 
the floor. Her breathing a mixture of frustrated sobs, simple fatigue 
and pain. She was certainly getting her work out today.

Christi bent down to Jane. "Are you alright?"

"I. I guess. My foot hurts." Jane managed to get out.

Christi smiled. "If it makes you feel any better, he's hurting too. 
Probably worse that you are. Guess we aren't much in the fighting 
department. We'll do it together. He'll hurt."

Mayer recovered more quickly than the upset girl on the floor. 
Incredibly he mouthed off again.

"Hey bitch? That the best you can do? Christ, it's going to be fun to 
break your fucking weak fingers. And I'll teach you not to fucking 
kick me either." He was breathing a bit hard, and was in some obvious 
discomfort. But he still managed to be an asshole. Didn't he realize 
that it only made it easier on the girls to hit him when they were 
angry? Not the brightest star in the sky.

Christi rose to her bare feet and regarded the bound man. She began to 
walk towards him. Getting ready to continue the kicking exercise. She 
stopped when she felt a small hand on her shoulder. Turning, her eyes 
widened as she realized it was Sheila.

Sheila, her face showing obvious fright but also a measure of pure 
determination, whispered to Christi. "My turn."

Christi gave her a kiss on the cheek, her unbruised left one, and 
backed off. Nodding silently. Knowing that Sheila needed to do this. 
To confront her tormentor.

Sheila walked hesitantly up to her former master. She glanced down 
briefly at Jane who had managed to draw herself up into a sitting 
position, hugging her knees and rocking herself slowly. Her eyes were 
still tearing a bit mostly in frustration, but she watched Sheila 
approach Mayer. Fascinated.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing, cunt?" Mayer stared in hate 
at the nude frightened woman in front of him.

"Y-you hurt me." Sheila whispered.

"And I enjoyed every fucking second of your pain. Those bruises hurt? 
How about your ribs? Bloody useless cunt."

Sheila dropped her eyes. Tears overfilling them. Her bare body shook 
as she tried to control her fear and pain. I watched the drama in 
fascination. I idly wondered if she would break, or she'd manage to 
overcome her fear.

"I. I hate you." She managed to gasp out.

"You pathetic little cunt. Fuck. Why don't you just untie me and let 
things get back to normal. I won't punish you."

I watched as her head rose, her eyes flashed and she drew in her 
breath. She gathered some of her formidable inner strength. She 
managed to stop crying. Her eyes locked with his.

"You will punish me. You always will no matter what I do. I hate you. 
I may be standing here, naked and scared. But I'm ten times better 
than you are. A hundred time better. I'm not a cunt." She spat out the 
word. "I have a cunt. And you'll never ever use it again. I'm not 
worthless. I'm not useless. I'm Sheila McBain. And that was never. 
Ever. Fucking. Good enough for you. I deserve better than that."

She gathered her strength and spat in his face. Her spit splashed into 
his forehead trickled down.

He sneered at her. Unable to comprehend what she was going through.

"You are a pathetic worthless cunt. Remember those fingers and toes? 
That's really going to hurt. I promise it. I'll do it nice and slow. 
Breaking one every ten minutes. Letting you feel it. And when I run 
out of fingers and toes, after I ream you, I'm going make you watch as 
I gut you alive. You fucking waste of skin."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Wincing at the pain in her 
side. With no warning at all, she mimicked Jane's roundhouse kick. She 
put every ounce of her strength behind that kick. Her bare foot 
connected with his side and he twisted in agony. She fell heavily to 
the floor, in tears as the force of the fall drove the pain deep into 
her side. She lay there gasping and wept. Jane, favouring her right 
foot, crawled over to Sheila and just cradled her. Trying to ease her 
pain. Even through her tears, Sheila looked like she had just shaken 
the weight of the world off her shoulders. She'd just let out months 
of pain, suffering, frustration and humiliation. She was beginning to 
heal. She needed this. Badly. She sobbed uncontrollably in Jane's 
arms.

Evan just moaned as he tried to control his pain. Despite her 
handicaps, the kick had been a vicious one. It had landed squarely on 
the same spot that Jane had targeted. I wasn't a great judge of these 
things, but it wouldn't have surprised me if she had managed to crack 
a rib on him. An eye for an eye, if she had actually managed to do it.

Between gasps Mayer still managed to get the word out. "Bitch," he 
whispered. Still defiant. The man had more stamina than I had 
originally given him credit for.

I watched as Christi moved slowly towards the man.

She spoke to him. "I want you to apologize to both of them and me."

"Fuck you, bitch."

She stiffened her fingers and slowly pressed them into the area that 
Sheila had just kicked. Deep into his flesh. I could see the pain in 
his face as Christi probed his side. But he gritted his teeth and 
refused to yield.

Jane murmured from the floor. "It's not worth it Christi."

Christi held his gaze. She was taller than the other two girls and 
could pretty much look directly into his eyes, though she did have to 
look up a bit. Her eyes were mere centimeters away from his. He glared 
back at her, easily enduring the pain her fingers were causing. 
Keeping her left fingers ground into his side, I watched as she 
brought her right hand up to touch him through his pants.

"You want to fuck me. Don't you bitch? I'm a lot better than him. 
Trust me little girl." He had noticed the pressure of her hand. 
Mistaken it for an intimate gesture. He rocked his hips obscenely into 
her hand.

His mouth then opened in a soundless scream. I saw her right hand 
gently squeezing about where his balls were. It didn't take much of a 
squeeze there to cause intense pain. Ask any male. She released him.

"You fucking bitch. You can't do that." He pulled desperately at the 
ropes. Bucking his hips against the pain.

Sheila had managed to control her crying and was watching Christi with 
her undivided attention. Jane idly stroked Sheila's hair but was all 
eyes as well.

Evan turned to me with desperation in his eyes. He spoke to me. "Call 
your bitch off. You must know what it feels like. You can't let her do 
this."

I shrugged.

"Evan, darling. I can do whatever the hell I want. I told you I was 
your worst nightmare," Christi spoke softly to him. She jerked her 
head towards me. "He gave me permission to do whatever the hell I 
want. As long as it doesn't kill you. Why he wants a fuckhead like you 
alive, I don't understand." To be honest I doubted if any of the women 
had the stomach to actually kill anyone anyway. She gave him another 
squeeze. He cried out again. "This won't kill you. Unfortunately."

"God that hurts."

"Think about how much it is going to hurt when I whip you there."

"Christ, you fucked up bitch you can't do that."

Sheila's musical voice spoke from where she lay on the floor. "You 
fucking shithead. How many times? How many times did you have me like 
that? Hanging from your fucking hooks. Naked. Helpless. My legs spread 
for you. How many times? How many times did you come out here? That 
goddamn grin on your face? That fucking whip in your hand? How many 
times did you make me kiss it? Huh? How many times did I beg you not 
to use it on me? How many times did you use that fucking whip on me? 
On my pussy? Even on my asshole? While I screamed? And begged? How 
many fucking times?" Tears began to fall from her eyes again. She 
fought them back. Fought back the memories. "How many times?" she 
whispered.

Christi hadn't lost eye contact with him. I saw her eyes flash. Taking 
in Sheila's words. I watched as she struggled to contain the impulse 
to kill him on the spot. Instead she smiled. A scary, evil smile. He 
paled. I'd have paled too in his position. I watched as Christi 
purposely applied pressure with her fingers to his testicles again. 
Watching his face intently as it fell through the stages of fear, pain 
and then to agony. She kept the pressure on as he fought to pull away. 
Fought with the ropes holding him. Fought like a daemon. And finally 
simply held back his head and screamed. Much like Sheila probably had 
in another time as he whipped her mercilessly between her spread 
thighs. I couldn't imagine that kind of pain.

Finally Christi released him and backed away. Her face a mask of 
satisfaction. She'd finally broken the bastard. He fell forward, still 
gasping for breath. Moaning. If he wasn't bound, I was sure he'd be 
doubled up in pain. Unable to utter any intelligible sound.

Christi returned to her stance by my chair. Jane and Sheila shakily 
got to their feet and limped over as well. The two of them sunk to 
their knees watching Mayer. Too tired to stand.

I raised my eyes to Christi. Noticing my attention, Christi looked 
back at me.

"Nice," I remarked to her.

She smiled. While she had my attention, her hand purposefully snaked 
down her bare body, lightly brushing her hard nipples as it traveled 
down. I watched as her hand lightly traced her outer labia and she 
moaned quietly. She was showing me that she was turned on. I wasn't 
too surprised with her. I'd seen this reaction before. She had even 
admitted her sadistic tendencies to me. I saw Jane's eyes flick over 
and widen, but she probably just assumed that I'd asked Christi to do 
that. I didn't think that Christi had shared her dominant tendencies 
with the other women. But it was hard to tell. The look that crossed 
Jane's face had an element of understanding in it as well. Maybe she 
just knew. Jane was incredible perceptive.

With an obvious effort, Christi withdrew her hands from her own body 
and shivered. Mayer was beginning to recover. I glanced down at Sheila 
and out of the corner of her eye she knew I was looking at her. She 
glanced up from her kneeling position.

"Master? You wouldn't believe the pain he put me through up there. Can 
I? Can I kick him again? In the balls? Please?" Her face was flushed. 
She couldn't believe she was asking this. That she was pulling enough 
away from Mayer's control to ask this. She's probably dreamed, 
fantasized about doing this for months.

"Sheila honey. You can do anything that doesn't kill him. You don't 
have to ask my permission. I'm just observing. I doubt if a kick to 
the balls will kill him. He might wish he was dead, but it shouldn't 
kill him."

"Really?"

"Really."

Mayer had heard the exchange. He shook his head. Moaned. "Please. No."

Finally he was losing the attitude. Christi had a way with men. He'd 
felt her fingers. I couldn't imagine the pain of getting kicked there. 
Even by a small woman like Sheila in bare feet. Schoolyard mishaps 
were enough for me.

Sheila climbed to her bare feet and walked slowly and carefully until 
she was standing in front of him again. His eyes traveled over her 
nude body. She silently suffered his attention. Not much she could do 
to cover herself. Not like he hadn't seen her before.

I watched as he managed to regain some of his self-confidence.

"Well cunt? Can you do it? Put me in as much pain as I put you?"

She hesitated. He was clever. Playing on her feminine side. Trying to 
get her to remember how awful the agony was. Trying to make her think 
twice about inflicting it on someone else. Playing on her female 
tendency towards sympathy. However misplaced. It might have worked if 
he hadn't slipped and called her a cunt. He probably didn't even 
realize his mistake.

She slowly shook her head, "I'm not a cunt."

"You fucking cunt. I swear you'll regret this. Fuck you."

She closed her eyes and lashed out at him with her bare foot. I heard 
it connect with him. Right through his pants. Directly on target. His 
mouth opened in a soundless scream, pure agony crawling across his 
face. His whole body convulsed and twitched against the ropes. 
Finally, he gasped in another big lungful of air and screamed. If I 
didn't know better, I would have guessed it was a woman under extreme 
torture. I was actually surprised that he didn't pass out.

She had fallen again to the floor. Her face a mask of pain mirroring 
Mayer's. Her side, bruised muscles and cracked rib flaring into her 
nerves. She'd put all her fading strength into that kick. Tears ran 
down her face, but she managed not to cry out. Trying her best to 
control her breathing. Finally she raised herself to her hands and 
knees. She leaned forward, retching from the pain. Her stomach was 
completely empty and nothing came up. Finally she just hung her head, 
crying out as her stomach muscles contracted. She finally regained 
control of her breathing and looked up at me wearily. Tears falling 
freely from her eyes. She managed to get a smile out.

"Got him. Didn't I?" She gasped out. Proud of herself. I nodded back 
to her.

She struggled her way to her knees, looking at the man in agony 
hanging from his wrists. She waited a few minutes, breathing deeply, 
and then with a huge effort, managed to raise herself back to her 
feet. She cringed and gently held her injured side, but faced him 
again. Swaying from side to side. Even keeping her balance was an 
effort. A stunning bruised woman facing the rapidly failing man. She 
managed to hold her head up and quietly waited for him to recover.

Finally he raised his head and whispered to her. "Fuck. You fucking 
goddamn cocksucking bitch."

"Now you know why I was screaming so much when you whipped me between 
my legs. But you didn't fucking care. Did you? You just kept it up 
until I couldn't scream any more. No. No rests for me. You fucking 
bastard. Didn't matter if I hurt? Did it? I'll bet you fucking care 
now."

"I hope it hurt you. You deserved it, you fucked up bitch."

"Apologize."

"Apologize?"

"I want you to apologize. I want you to stop calling us degrading 
names. I'm not a fucking cunt. I'm not a whore. I'm not a BITCH. Got 
it? And neither are Jane and Christi. We're people. Human beings." Her 
voice had dropped to a whisper.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, bitch? You are a goddamn slave. If 
not mine then his. You're a fucking pet. You better fucking get used 
to it."

"I know that I'm his slave n-now. If he wants me called a bitch, then 
I'll accept it. But. I. Don't. Have. To. Take. It. From. You. Anymore. 
I also think that I'm the *woman* that is about to boot your balls up 
through the roof of your mouth if I don't hear an apology and right 
now."

I felt like applauding. She as getting the hang of it. Letting her 
pain and anger go.

"I. I can't take another kick. Not there."

"You think that I could take that whip of your's on my pussy? I didn't 
have a goddamn choice, now did I? I wished I was DEAD, you fucker. I 
just about committed suicide, you fucked up bastard. I would have if I 
wasn't afraid for my brother. And you think I won't kick you again? It 
hurts me to do it. I'm in fucking agony thanks to you. But I swear to 
god I will kick you again, and I'll keep kicking you until I can't 
anymore, if you don't fucking start APOLOGIZING." Her voice had risen 
from a soft whisper to a scream. She was nearly hysterical. She was 
scaring me, and I wasn't even the one she was pissed at.

"Alright. I'm sorry. Fuck. I'm sorry already. Just don't kick me 
again. I won't be able to have children. Christ. I'm sorry I called 
you names. I swear it. I'll never do it again. I swear."

"You weren't too worried about my future children? Were you? Care to 
apologize for whipping my cunt? Care to apologize for not giving me a 
chance? For raping me every fucking day for the last three months? For 
whipping me even though I was begging and pleading? Even though I 
couldn't beg because you fucking gagged me to keep me quiet? Care to 
apologize for kicking the shit out of me for no goddamn reason?"

"I sorry. I'm so sorry."

She closed her eyes. Seeing what was coming, he braced himself as best 
he could. Her foot lashed out again and traveled the short distance to 
his crotch. The flat top of her foot connected with him again. Again, 
he screamed silently. Twisting. His body retched. His stomach was 
empty as well and nothing came up, thankfully. He ended up mimicking 
that tortured woman again. Screaming. Crying. Begging. Much like I 
imagine Sheila did when the positions were reversed. Only in her case 
it went on and on. Her whole world just a wall of red pain. I was 
beginning to wonder how she'd survived as sane as she had. What I'd 
seen appeared to be just the tip of the iceberg.

She had fallen to the floor again. Tears running down her face as she 
tried to get her breath. This time, she was facing him as she'd 
fallen. Crumpled on the floor. When she could breathe again, she 
managed to hiss at him, "I don't believe you."

I seriously doubted if he could even hear her; his agony overriding 
all his other senses.

She collapsed onto the floor, sobbing. Christi and Jane were just 
watching this whole thing with tears in their eyes. Paralyzed. Not 
quite believing this woman's courage.

I slowly got out of the chair and walked over to her fallen form. I 
knelt beside her.

"You alright?"

"Emotionally or physically?" she managed to gasp out. Tears coursing 
down her cheeks. Her right cheek was turned towards me, the bruise, if 
anything, looked worse than before.

"Both."

"No." I took that to mean that she was hurting both physically and 
emotionally.

"Sheila. You certainly got him back."

"I. I can't get up." Her fingers weakly scraped at the carpet.

"I know. That's why I'm here." I very carefully rolled her over onto 
her back. I could have sworn that the bruise on her left side was 
larger as well. I reached for her hands and she placed her small hands 
in mine. I gently pulled her into a sitting position. She grimaced 
with the pain, and looked like she might be sick again for a moment. 
She fought off the nausea and actually managed a smile.

"He apologized. Even if he didn't mean it." She grinned and then 
shifted her weight trying to avoid the stab of pain running through 
her body. I waited for it to pass.

"Shhh." I admonished her. She nodded.

I bent down to her and guided her shaking arms around my neck. I 
tucked my left arm under her knees and lifted her. It was as though 
I'd lifted a trembling feather. I doubted if she was even a hundred 
pounds.

As she came off the floor, she let out an involuntary scream as her 
weight settled into my arms. I saw Evan's head glance up dully, but he 
immediately fell back to moaning. Not caring about her pain. He was 
still obviously in considerable pain. Probably still sick, too.

"I'm sorry. It had to be done. I had to lift you."

She whispered, "I know. It's okay. Thank-you for coming to get me."

I carried the bare female back to the chair. I carefully sat back in 
it, still cradling Sheila in my arms. She rocked slowly in my arms. I 
lowered her into my lap. Her arms still around my neck. She was 
moaning to herself softly. Crying into my shoulder. Trying to ease the 
pain in her wracked body. Her eyes closed.

After a while, Evan managed to stop moaning and just hung in his 
bonds. Silent.

Sheila finally managed to fight off some of the agony coursing through 
her. She smiled up at me weakly.

I spoke to her. "Let Christi take over now. You can't do any more. 
Okay?"

"No. I have to kick him again. He hit me so many times. He just didn't 
care."

"I know. I know, sweetheart. You can't though. You'll kill yourself."

"I don't care. I want to kick him again and again and again."

"I know. You are one brave little girl. But you have to let Christi 
have her turn. Okay? She hasn't been knocked around as much as you. 
She can hurt him more. Right? She'll kick him for you."

She closed her eyes. Looked like she was going to argue, but then a 
spasm of pain shot through her body again making her cry out.

"Honey? You can't even stand up anymore. You've done enough for now. 
Rest." I felt like I was comforting a child.

She silently nodded through her tears. Incredibly, her breathing began 
to slow and her eyes closed. She simply fell asleep in my arms.