Someone is shouting, and it makes your head throb with pain. You regain some of your wits from your place on the floor for long enough to realize that the troll who had knocked you out and put you in this situation in the first place is talking to you. You swallow and force yourself to listen, looking up and also forcing yourself to make defiant, defensive eye contact as he speaks. You hope that it conveys that you still have fight left, that if he tries to put his hands on you again he will regret having not culled you earlier like he very much could have. 

"Don't come near me," you finally snarl with only partial coherence. "I––I don't know what game you're playing," you add, with a wary glance at the nearby human. "Especially being [i]here.[/i] But if you lay a disgusting claw on me one more time, I am going to rip off your shame-globes and shove them [i]right[/i] down your protein-chute." 

How long has it been? Your lusus is probably worried sick.