As Yoruichi struggled against Ichigo, his iron grip around her slender throat tightened convulsively. “How does it feel, bitch?” His black and yellow gaze bored into hers, “How does it feel to be at the mercy of someone stronger than you?” Her only response was to claw at his muscled arm while she fought for precious air. “How many other boys did you let him fucking destroy, hmmm? Not that it matters, you treacherous bitch, one was enough.”
Ichigo smirked at her feeble attempts as he pulled her away from the wall and brought her closer to his body. His grip slacked enough for her to drag in a ragged breath, “That’s right…breathe you sick fucking whore,” he whispered into her ear, “Breath and stay alive so that you can feel the pain.” Before she could blink, Ichigo repeatedly slammed her smaller frame into the hard floor. As he knelt next to the groaning woman, his grip on her throat slackened again. “Awww, Yorui-chan…did that hurt?” His expression full of mock concern, he caressed her rapidly bruising neck. “So fuckin sorry bout that…I haven’t really been myself lately,” he said with a smirk.