Author Topic: Stolen: Chapter 4 (Latest Chapter added: 09-15)  (Read 1346 times)

0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.

September 05, 2017, 08:50:39 PM

Offline Emily

Emily Honeywell's
Stolen

Written By: Emily Honeywell

Editor: Emily Honeywell
Editor: Minnie McFarlane

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real events or person(s) is purely coincidental. While I enjoy the themes contained herein purely as fantasy, I should stress that I do not condone the violent, reprehensible, and illegal acts found herein.

SERIES SYNOPSIS:

Stolen is a harrowing tale of a young teen's kidnapping and forced captivity in a dark basement known only as the 'Room.' It is told from both the past and present, switching between the young girl's last few days leading up to her disappearance and her lengthy period of captivity at the hands of an unnamed man in alternating chapters. Stolen is a bleak tale, with little hope to be found, and with little mercy granted to our young heroine. What she endures in that room will change her life forever, if she can escape that is...

As Stolen alternates timelines with each chapter, you'll find much shorter chapters than in my previous works. The present chapters will run about five or six pages for the most part, and the past chapters will be much shorter, at only two or three. This is simply a tool to give the impression of faster pacing. The chapters leading up to the events of the Room will be short and concise, because it the Girl remembering only bits and pieces of past events.

GENRE(S):

Older Male/Teen Female, Non-Consent, Slavery, BDSM, Watersports, Bestiality.

CHAPTER INDEX:

[Pg. 1, Pst. 02] [09-05-2017] Chapter 01: The Darkness
[Pg. 1, Pst. 05] [09-07-2017] Chapter 02: Birthday
[Pg. 1, Pst. 09] [09-14-2017] Chapter 03: A Perfect Speciment
[Pg. 1, Pst. 10] [09-15-2017] Chapter 04: I Belong To You

September 05, 2017, 08:53:35 PM
Reply #1

Offline Emily

CHAPTER 1: THE DARKNESS
Written: 09-05-2017
Revised: 09-07-2017   

   When I awoke, I was no longer at home in the safety, comfort, and warmth of my own bed. Instead I found myself alone, in silent isolation with nothing but darkness surrounding me. I tried desperately to remember the events of the previous evening that had led me here; in this room, dark and foreboding as it were, and as cold as ice, but I could not focus. I felt weak, and my mind, hazy. I couldn’t conjure clear images in my head, and my inability to do so only caused further anxiety.

   I had to fight with every ounce of strength that had remained in my body just to sit upright. The mattress I was sat upon was cold and damp, and I felt a chill in the air as my body rose. I instinctively wrapped my arms tightly around my chest, in an attempt to keep warm, but as I did, I realized that I was naked. I panicked at that moment and began to run my hands up and down my legs, arms, and chest. I felt no clothing of any kind; I only felt tiny goosebumps perked across my smooth skin.

   It was in that moment of realization, knowing I was alone in this unknown place and completely naked, that the fear had really begun to set in. I had heard stories like this on the news. I’d read books about it. Deep down, I knew what was happening even though I would not yet admit it to myself. I had been stolen. 

   I pulled my knees to my chest and clung tightly to them with my arms before putting my head between my legs and sobbing. I didn’t know what else to do. I was alone and scared, and the cold air that whorled about the room was cutting through my naked flesh and to the bone.

   I thought maybe I should try calling out to someone. Maybe someone would hear and come to my aid? Probably not, I thought. I took a deep breath and decided, against my better judgment, to call out to the shadows that surrounded me.

   “H-hello?” I whispered, in a low, hoarse voice. “Is anyone there? Please, if anyone can hear me I need help!”

   I waited a few seconds but heard nothing but the ambience of the room and creaking wood. I tried calling again, louder this time, but my throat was dry and it pained me just to speak. I realized that I was thirsty, and I begun to wonder just how long I’d been down here for. Was it a few hours? Was it more than a day? What had happened to me? How did I end up here? Why in the hell can’t I remember anything!?

   I screamed at myself while I sat on that filthy, cold mattress and spent the next few minutes blaming myself for what had happened, even though I had clue what events had transpired to have led me to this room. I tried calling out again.

   “Please… Please, is there anyone there? I need help… Please, help me…” I begged, my voice trailing off in the dark, falling deftly on no ears at all. I held myself tighter and resumed crying.

   Eventually, I gathered some tiny piece of courage and decided to explore the room. I knew how dangerous it would be. After all, I had no concept of how big this room truly was. Or what secrets it held hiding away in the blackness of the void around me. I wondered if I was alone in the room? Maybe there was some other girl like me trapped down here, too? Or maybe, just maybe, there would some kind of monster down here.

   I don’t know why, but for a moment I seriously entertained the idea. I peaked up from between my legs and scanned the room. I couldn’t see anything, of course, and that unknown only caused further anxiety and unsettlement. But even still, I knew I had to explore this place. Carefully of course, I knew it wouldn’t do me any good to remain ignorant to my surroundings. I knew I had to push on, and I did. I picked myself up from the mattress, my knees weak and wobbly, yet ready to explore the depths of the unknown.

   I stepped forward with a single step, and then looked back. The safety of the mattress called out to me; and I knew with each step I took it would disappear, possibly forever. Even still, I took a deep breath and exhaled, then inched forward once more. I looked back again, breathed and exhaled, and continued with another step until I could no longer see the mattress. There was nothing but the blackness, the frigid air, and the musty smell of what I could only describe as a ‘very old crypt.’ I thought then for a moment, and for the first time, that this place could become my tomb.

   Even still, I took another step forward. There was still nothing but the cold earth and hard pebbles digging into my bare feet. So, I took another step, and I tripped on something, landing forward on my face and hard to the ground.

   I whimpered and held my skimmed knees as I remained in the dirt and clawed frantically with my hands, trying to find whatever it was I had tripped on.

   “Come on, come on…” I whispered to myself desperately.

   Suddenly, I felt my fingers cling to something cold, and hard. I hurriedly patted it down, trying to figure out what it was. It was round, and deep. Made of some kind of metal. As my fingers delved deep into the object, I soon realized it was a dog bowl. One previously filled with water, judging by the wet ground my knees were pressed into.

   “Water… in a dog’s bowl? Are there animals down here?” I spoke in a hushed voice to myself.

   “Hello?” I called out. “Is anyone down here?” I cried. I started to cough from calling out too loudly. It was becoming more apparent that I was in dire need of water.

   I curiously dipped my finger in the bowl. The bottom still held some water. The wetness felt good on my dry skin, and I contemplated for a moment drinking from the bowl. The idea of it repulsed me of course, I mean, I had no idea as to how long the bowl had been there, or who, or what, had been drinking from it.

   I swallowed and felt a sting. My throat was painfully dry, and I needed water desperately. I quickly exhaled and mentally prepared myself for what I was to about to do. I closed my eyes, grasped the rim of the bowl with both hands, and began to drink greedily from it. The water tasted funny, not awful, but there was something off about it that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. But the taste didn’t matter. I had to drink something if I wanted to survive this place, and so I did, lapping it up greedily like a thirsty dog.

   I dropped the bowl to the ground as I felt the last drop of water roll down my chin and to the ground below. I wiped my lips with my hand, and continued to creep forward into the dark. With my hands stretched in front of me, feeling for anything I could, I took several more steps forward until I came to a wall. I felt the rough, grainy texture of concrete against the palm of my hands. I walked along the wall for a short while, never once letting my hand leave it, as it guided me through the dark. It was both my savior, and my captor.

   Eventually I came to another wall, feeling with my hands the corners where it met with the other. I wondered if there was nothing but walls here. No doors, no windows, and no escape. This was my tomb. I began to walk along faster, circling the room countless times hoping that each time I would feel a door, or a hole, or some other form of escape. But I never did. Instead, I simply tired myself out and collapsed with my back pressed against the concrete.

   I felt my legs and bottom sinking into the mud, the moist and cold ground making me more acutely aware of my situation. Things had seemed bleak, that was for sure. I started to cry as I wondered if I was going to die down here. In this dark room, naked, cold, and alone. Grovelling and afraid, spending my last days wasting away into nothing. Then I heard my stomach grumble. I was starving, and there was no food to be found down here.

   I continued to sob helplessly for a few more minutes before I remembered the dog bowl. There was water down here, and it wasn’t there on its own. Somebody had to have placed it there. I thought that perhaps they might have hidden away some food, too. I realized that a dog bowl likely meant dog food would be the only edible item I found in this hell, and I didn’t think I was that hungry. At least, not yet.

   My stomach grumbled in apparent disagreement, and I knew that I would eventually have no choice but to eat whatever I could find. Be it dog food, or something worse… I sat with my back to that wall pondering such things for some time. Of course, there was no concept of time down here and yet, I knew that I must have laid against that wall for at least a few hours. I was still hungry, and I was feeling thirsty again, too. To make matters worse, which I thought was impossible given my current predicament, I needed to pee badly.

   But those luxuries not afforded to me here. There was no food, no water, and no toilet. I remembered the concrete walls that held me and I couldn’t help but compare myself to a caged animal. That was not a comforting thought, but it wasn’t entirely untrue. My stomach rumbled a second time and I knew I had to find something to eat. My whole body felt weak.

   I tried to stand, but I couldn’t. I simply didn’t have the strength. With no food, no water, and little sleep, my body had been deprived of every basic necessity for life. All I could do in my weakened state was crawl. Those animal comparisons were seeming more and more relevant with each passing second in this room.

   So, I crawled. Through the cold mud, my knees and hands kneading through the slop as I slowly explored the floor, searching for anything I could find. I don’t know how long I wandered, or how many times I probably circled the same area. It was probably minutes, but it seemed like hours. Time had slowed in this place, like every second of this hell was magnified ten-fold.

   I never found food during my search, nor water, nor anything except the dirty mattress that I had first woken up on. It was strange, but I felt this kind of safety there. Maybe it was just the fact that it wasn’t dirt and rocks. That it was the only humanizing thing left in this room. There was no food, water, or hope to be found in the room. I crawled slowly unto the mattress, not caring one iota about how filthy I was, and curled up into a ball and closed my eyes. I never thought I’d be able to fall asleep in a place like this, but exhaustion is a powerful thing. I fell asleep the moment I closed my eyes, the last thought that came to mind was that I was likely going to die here.

   But I did not die. I awoke, how much later in the day I couldn’t be sure, but I did open my eyes to the darkness yet again. Out of the frying pan and into the freezer as they say; and it was a freezer. My whole body was shivering, my teeth were chattering loudly, and I tried desperately to find warmth in any position imaginable.

   I found no such warmth however, instead finding only the unending cold. I could feel the stiffness of my nipples against the skin of my arms. They felt like tiny needles, trying to poke out through my flesh. As I lay there in the dark, feeling cold and tired, hungry and hopeless, I thought only about my life before this room. I thought about my Mom and Dad, my friends, my school, my soccer team and even the things I didn’t like. Homework, my English teacher, and Dad’s cooking. As I shivered and whimpered on the mattress, I couldn’t help but smile. It gave me some semblance of happiness, thinking of all those things.

   Anything to keep my mind from the reality that was quickly setting in. I tried to shut it out. All of it. But I couldn’t. No matter how hard I tried, there was simply no escaping my fate. I was going to die down here and I started to accept it. It didn’t make it easier, accepting it, but it felt good to stop fighting the inevitable.

   I remained motionless on the mattress. Not by choice mind you, rather the fact that I couldn’t physically move. I told my body to, but nothing happened. I started to close my eyes, feeling the end looming over me. Then, just as my eyelids were about to seal together for what would likely the last time in my life, there was a faint light.

   Not a metaphorical one, but an actual light. I slowly opened my eyes and looked at the tiny ray falling from the ceiling. I wondered if I was simply hallucinating. With the last of my strength, I scurried from the bed and crept across the floor on my tummy, pulling myself forward with my hands. As I came within a few feet from the light, I jumped as I heard a loud noise, and saw something fall from the light. It then disappeared back into the ceiling.

   I crawled closer and stopped where the light had been. I reached out slowly and felt around, finding a small box that I pulled towards me. I clutched it against my chest and began to crawl back to the ‘safety’ of the mattress. When I could feel the uncomfortable fabric of the bed against my skin, I struggled with opening the box. It was a simple cardboard box, wrapped in Christmas paper. I was confused, but I had little time to ponder what was going on.

   When I finally peeled the paper back, and pried the box open with my trembling fingers, I couldn’t believe what I felt inside. It was a bottle of something; presumably water. I fought with the cap, tossed it aside, and chugged the entire bottle down. I didn’t even check what it was, I was too weak to care. As the bottle left my lips, I tossed it aside with the cap and reached into the box again, finding nothing else inside.

   I was no longer thirsty, but I still starving and needed to pee badly. It felt like my stomach was going to collapse and my bladder was going to burst. I was still too weak to stand, but I knew I had to go. I crawled a short distance from the mattress, leaving one foot upon it so I didn’t lose it. I raised my other leg off the ground slightly, and felt instant relief as I felt a hot stream begin to cascade from between my legs followed by the sound of my urine hitting the ground.

   I felt humiliated at such an act. I was on all fours like an animal, and peeing on the ground. I could feel the urine splashing on the ground and against my inner thigh. I, of course, wasn’t afforded the luxury of toiler paper either. I was forced to deal with sticky thighs and a shattered sense of self-esteem. If the Room’s purpose was to break me down, then it was working. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been here, but I already felt less than human. Drinking from a bowl, crawling on all fours, and peeing like a dog.

   That humiliation and dehumanization was worth less than my survival I found myself reasoning, and that kept me going, even if I didn’t entirely believe it. Was surviving here really better? Little else crossed my mind as I struggled to crawl back to the ruined mattress that had now become my bed.

   I curled up yet again, and as I held my body in my arms tightly, shivering from the cold, I kept telling myself that I would make it. I didn’t believe it - not really. But I did know that I had to tell myself whatever lie I could to somehow keep it together. I was cold and alone, starving and tired, naked and captive in some dark place. As my closed my eyes and drifted to sleep, one last thing crossed my mind yet again: I was probably going to die in this room.

September 06, 2017, 04:37:44 PM
Reply #2

Offline gscmar64

Welcome to what will become the new standard in Erotic Horror shows and movies opening!

September 06, 2017, 07:14:53 PM
Reply #3

Online vile8r

I expect nothing less from Emily!

September 07, 2017, 03:49:38 PM
Reply #4

Offline Emily

CHAPTER 2: BIRTHDAY
Written: 09-07-2017
Revised: 09-07-2017   

September 21st. Thirteen days before the Room.

   Just a few days after my thirteenth birthday, my Mom got married to a man named Gregory. Now Gregory, or Daddy, as he ‘asked’ me to call him, was not a nice man. While it was true that he had treated my Mom like royalty, and his friends and others equally well, he treated me as little more than a parasite. His words, not mine. He hated me, and while he hid it well around others and even my Mom, he had no such restraint in showing his contempt for me, any time that he and I were alone. No matter how small and unimportant a grievance I made against him was, he would scream at me, berate me, and more than once, even strike me.

   Last year he slapped me just simply for humming a song I liked while he was trying to watch the football game. He struck me so hard, that it left a red welt on my cheek. I had to lie to my Mom when she got home from work, telling her it was from soccer practice. All the while, he sat in the living room with his eyes glued to me, making sure I didn’t speak a bad word against him.

   That was the first time he hit me, and it wouldn’t be the last. That was also the first moment that I realized just how much he hated my very existence. He had after all, called me a parasite, and on the day of my thirteenth birthday no less. What kind of a person does that to a child? He didn’t give me a hug, nor a present or even a simple ‘Happy Birthday.’ No, instead what I got was being left humiliated, insulted, and scared.

   I still remember that afternoon perfectly. It was the perfect day. A windy autumn afternoon, that was neither too warm nor too cold. The sun was out, and the skies were blue and clear. I thought that nothing could ruin a day like that, not even him. It was my thirteenth birthday, with a party where I was surrounded by all of my friends and family, and Greg, too. I didn’t think that given the circumstances, he’d even consider doing something to ruin it, but he did. I should’ve known something was up when he called me into the house for seemingly no reason.

   I didn’t want to go, but my Mom heard my protests, and saw my hesitation and told me not to argue with him. I begrudgingly stomped inside, all alone with my soon-to-be step dad.

   The very moment I stepped inside, he shut the sliding doors behind us. I had just gotten out of pool, and was leaving a trail of water on the floor. He roughly grabbed my wrist and pulled me aside, just out of view of the glass. I protested and received in return a firm slap to my face and a comment on how I was a dirty girl, for making such a mess on the floor. I could smell the alcohol on his breath as he spoke, and knew he had been drinking in secret.

   Greg was a mean drunk. He held his liquor well, and he didn’t telegraph his intoxication much. But as cruel as he was sober, he was another kind of evil when he was drinking. At least, to me he was.

    I tried to yell at him, reasoning that he had forced me inside without a towel, but he struck me before I could. He then pressed his hand against my mouth tightly. I was terrified, but I did not move. He had hit me before, but this was different. I chose to remain still, afraid of what he might do if I didn’t.

   He then shoved me hard against the wall of the kitchen. Just inches away from the door, with my Mom and friends outside swimming and enjoying what was, for them, an enjoyable party. Greg was giving me a much different experience though, and I had no idea at that moment what his intentions truly were. While I hated him, and he had been physical with me in the past, it was never like this; it never felt inappropriate and wrong like this did.

   After all, he was mere inches away from me. I could feel the warmth from his body radiating against mine. His hand was still pressed tightly over my lips, and he leaned forward and began to whisper in my ear.

   “Don’t fucking move.” He said threateningly. “And don’t make a fucking sound, understand?”

   And I didn’t. I just nodded and remained perfectly still against the wall, terrified and sniffling. I then felt his fingers brush against my tummy. He commented on how smooth I felt, and how I was finally becoming a woman. Then he started to kiss my neck, sucking and gently nibbling at my flesh. His fingers didn’t once leave my tummy as he did.

   I closed my eyes and tried to shut it all out. His kisses. His fingers massaging my stomach. Everything. Greg had no intention of allowing me such a comfort, however. The next thing I knew, I was on the floor, coughing and heaving. He had punched me hard in the stomach. Hard enough to knock the air from my lungs, and hard enough for me to get the message.

   “Stand up, idiot.” Greg said, begetting no response. “Stand up, I stand! We’re going to the bathroom.” He repeated louder.

   This time I stood up. I knew better after what he had just done than to ignore or disobey him. I always knew there was a monster lurking in there, but I had never realized just how bad it really was. As he led me through the kitchen and down the hall to the bathroom, I figured I was about to find out first hand. As I stepped inside after him, he closed the door slowly before shoving me hard against it. I heard it lock as he turned the knob and knew just then that my fate had been sealed.

September 07, 2017, 04:41:29 PM
Reply #5

Offline gscmar64

great place to have him take her. She can feel dirty while cleaning up without leaving the room!

September 10, 2017, 11:13:24 PM
Reply #6

Offline brokenwing

Incredible read so far.  Horrifying!  The written word puts you into the room with her and on the cold muddy rough floor.  I even felt I sensed a perception for what seemed like an overwhelming large room with an un-reachable high ceiling.

I felt like I could smell the alcohol on "daddy's" drunk breath. 

The situation just seems to be getting more bleak.

September 11, 2017, 03:06:33 PM
Reply #7

Offline Emily

You are not allowed to view links. Register or Login
Incredible read so far.  Horrifying!  The written word puts you into the room with her and on the cold muddy rough floor.  I even felt I sensed a perception for what seemed like an overwhelming large room with an un-reachable high ceiling.

I felt like I could smell the alcohol on "daddy's" drunk breath. 

The situation just seems to be getting more bleak.

I'm glad you liked it, BW! I'm hoping to return to this alongside working privately on that other story I showed you. The one that is based on my own experiences. I'm setting this one up in a manner that the bathroom is where her step-dad first assaults her, and in the present timeline, she's led to a bathroom where she wakes naked, with her ankles bound and wrists secured to either side of the tub. She is left to be cleaned by the loving matriach of the house that the 'Room' is located beneath.

September 14, 2017, 07:10:37 PM
Reply #8

Offline Emily

CHAPTER 3: A PERFECT SPECIMEN
Written: 09-13-2017
Revised: 09-14-2017   

   As I opened my eyes, I hoped that what little I could recall of yesterday’s events were all just a bad dream. But as my eyes became focused, and I could see nothing but darkness around me, I swallowed and realized that I was really here – that this room was very real, and that I was really trapped within it’s confines, naked and alone.

   Or so I thought. Suddenly, I heard what sounded like voices from high above me. I held my breath and listened closely. There was nothing but silence. I thought maybe I was losing my mind with all that had been going on, but then I heard it again. It was definitely a person’s voice. A woman by the sound of it, but I couldn’t be sure. 

   I contemplated calling out for a moment. I thought maybe that person could rescue me from this place. But then I realized something else, too. That person may be the one who put me here. I suddenly felt terrified, more so than I already was, thinking that maybe this person was going to hurt me or do something perhaps even worse…

   I knew that sooner or later I was going to find out what was going on. I guess, despite everything about this room, I had hoped it wouldn’t be as soon as it was, as suddenly I was blinded by an intense light radiating from the ceiling. I covered my eyes and panicked, scurrying about on the mattress and curling into a ball.

   Then I heard that voice again, only this time, it was much closer. Then, I heard footsteps, followed by a second voice, this one sounding more like a man. I was terrified and shaking as I heard them moving closer to me. I thought that this was it for me. I was going to die. Without any control of myself, I felt a warmth pooling between my legs and I realized I was peeing!

   I was so embarrassed and yet, I did not move. Not even as the footsteps got louder and louder, until they stopped suddenly. My eyes were shut tightly, and my whole body was shaking. I could feel someone close to me. Very close to me. Then I heard the woman speak and I knew they were standing right in front of me.

   “Such a filthy little creature, isn’t she?” She spoke harshly.

   “Indeed.” The man replied. “But she is quite beautiful in such a state, don’t you think?” He asked, sounded amused.

   I heard the woman chuckle, and then I flinched as I felt a hand on my hip, rubbing it softly. “Of course. She is, after all, in her natural state, and my, what a beautiful specimen she is.”

   I felt her hand leave my hip and slide under my arms, groping my breast. “She has such perfect breasts, too. Tiny but well formed, and I’m sure she still had plenty of growing to do.”

   I winced as I felt two fingers then pinching my nipples. “Such tiny nipples she has. I can hardly wait to see them clamped, pierced, and tied to some weights.”

   As the woman still squeezed at my breasts, I suddenly felt another pair of hands begin to rub my bottom, gently scrapping dried mud from my skin with his fingers.

   He then worked his fingers lower until he was rubbing between my tightly closed legs. I heard him sniffing as he tried to force his fingers between my thighs. “Do you smell that, darling?” He asked.

   “Smell what?” She replied.

   “Our little captive here pissed herself.” I felt his fingers leave my thighs and heard more sniffing. “Yeah,” He laughed, “She definitely pissed herself.”

   “What a truly filthy little creature.” I heard her remark, before speaking again. “Put her out. It’ll be easier to get her upstairs that way.”

   “You’re the boss.” I heard him reply. Then they both went quiet. The only sound I could hear with my head still pressed against my chest was rustling. Like someone was searching through their backpack for a book or something. I swallowed and wondered what they might be doing. It was all I could think about, but I didn’t dare open my eyes. Then suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my neck.

   Just moments after, I felt weak. Not exhaustion weak, but like I was paralyzed. I tried to move, but I couldn’t. I tried to speak, but my lips wouldn’t move. For the first time, I even tried to open my eyes but everything was blurry. My vision was nothing but clouds and shapes, moving as I felt myself being carried somewhere. I felt my mind slowly drifting away. As if I was being forced into falling to sleep. I just hoped, before I slipped into unconsciousness, that I would wake up.

   And I did. But as I realized the predicament I was in, I immediately wished secretly that I hadn’t. When I woke, I found that I was still naked. I also found that I had a pounding headache. I tried to place my hand to my head, only to find that I couldn’t move them. I looked over and saw that around my wrist was a leather cuff. I checked my other arm and found a similar looking cuff on my right wrist, too.

   I tried pulling on them, but they had been securely fastened with rope that had been pulled through metal hoops bolted to both sides of the bath tub I was sitting in. I began to panic, breathing heavily and trying to struggle against my bonds. I looked down as I fought, realizing my ankles had cuffs around them too. They were bound together with rope, forcing my ankles maybe an inch or two apart.

   I quickly tired myself out. I tried to catch my breath, but it proved a challenge with a ball gag filling my mouth, painfully stretching my jaw wide. As I struggled to breathe, I looked over at the door, finding the woman from earlier standing there with an amused look on her face. She was smiling, but somehow, that didn’t make me feel any better.

   “Fight all you want, dear. You won’t escape those bonds. Tougher and bigger creatures than you have tried.” She said coldly, walking towards the tub.

   The woman stopped in front of me and sat on the edge of the tub. She gently brushed her fingers across my face, brushing away strands of my hair that had fallen in my struggles to escape.

   “You are so beautiful, pet, do you know that?” She asked, still rubbing my cheek. She laughed, then mused, “Oh, of course. You can’t speak, can you? Here,” She said, “Let me help you.”

   I then watched in terror as the woman reached behind my head and unbuckled the strap, pulling the gag from my lips and setting it aside. As I looked at the ceiling and noticed, for the first time, a camera above the tub pointing directly down at me. My eyes went wide and I started to struggle once more, realizing that I was being recorded.

   But no matter how much I fought, or pulled against those cuffs, I couldn’t set myself free. I was completely helpless despite my best intentions. The woman knew this too, which is precisely why she just looked on amusingly as I struggled and fought helplessly to escape. I quickly tired myself out and my hard jerks faded to pathetic tugs at those bonds. I soon stopped struggling altogether, and simply resigned myself to the fact that I wasn’t going anywhere unless this woman willed it. I thought maybe I could play along with her sick game, to earn her trust, and so I did.

   As the woman noted the increased pace of my breaths, and watched as my struggles slowed and stopped, she smiled softly and said, “Are you finished now, girl? You should know that you won’t escape this, so you may as well be a good girl and comply. If you don’t, well… let’s just say you wouldn’t be the first girl to be found dead in Lake Whittaker.”

   My eyes went wide as she mentioned the Lake. I knew what she was referring to, and I wondered if she and the other man were responsible for it. Over the past few years, there had been several young girls, ones just like me, who had turned up dead in it’s icy waters. Girls who had been abused, raped, and tortured. I felt my heart sink to the floor thinking that her threat might not be an empty one.

   The woman noticed my silence. “I see you know what I’m talking about. I’m sure you’re also wondering if it was us who killed those girls.” She spoke coldly, looking directly into my eyes while her hand rubbed in circles on my quivering chest.
   My whole body was trembling. It was like I was freezing cold, which in a way, I suppose I was, but this felt much different to that. I was terrified, but I did answer her simply, “A-a-are you?”

      She smiled at me and roughly squeezed my left breast, causing me to wince in pain. “Yes, my girl, I am. You see, my husband doesn’t like to kill pretty little creatures like you. No, he would prefer to keep you alive and use you for a good long time until you’re older and worn out. I, however, am much less patient when it comes to disobedience,” She explained, twisting my nipple painfully around, forcing a small whine from me. “You break the rules, and I’ll hurt you. You disobey, and I’ll really hurt you. You try and escape, or to fight us, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

   As that last threat escaped her mouth, she twisted my nipple even more. As I cried in pain, I thought that she was going to tear it from my breast. I begged her to stop, but she only twisted it further.

   “You are our slave, girl. You need to learn that, and we’re going to help you. You no longer have a home, parents or friends, or rights. You are our property, nothing more and nothing less. You are simply a thing, a toy for our amusement. Now say it.”

   I wanted to scream at her. To hit her, but my bonds were too tight and I knew that her threats were not empty ones. As I contemplated my choices, she pinched hard on my nipple, still twisted between her fingers. It hurt like hell and then she slapped me across the face.

   “Answer me, creature. What are you?” She repeated, her face looking uncaring and unflinching. This woman was pure evil, I thought.

   “I’m a t-toy…” I whispered softly.

   She pinched harder. “What was that?”

   “I’m a toy!” I screamed out loud. The pain in my chest was becoming excruciating and I needed relief. I would have done anything she asked just then, no matter how degrading or humiliating.

   And relief is what she gave me. She let go of my nipple and I instinctively tried to move my hand to my chest, but instead was reminded of the cuffs as I felt them going nowhere at all, despite my best attempts. I started to cry uncontrollably, my body shaking and wracked with pain.

   The woman simply laughed at me. I then felt her fingers brushing through my hair, before grabbing a handful and pulling. My head jerked back against the wall and she moved her face so close to mine that I could feel her breath on my neck.

   “And to whom do you belong, toy?” She asked.

   I sniffle and replied, “Y-y-you… I b-belong to y-you.”

   I saw her smile before she began to kiss my neck. I shuddered as her wet, warm lips sucked and licked at my flesh. I wondered just how worst things could possibly get as she whispered in my ear.

   “Yes, you do. And you’re going too for a very, very long time.”

September 15, 2017, 10:03:19 PM
Reply #9

Offline Emily

CHAPTER 4: I BELONG TO YOU
Written: 09-15-2017
Revised: 09-15-2017   

September 22nd. Twelve days before the Room.

   My life changed forever after my thirteenth birthday. Things that I loved were suddenly enjoyable no longer. Hanging out with my friends became a chore, and even the smallest things like homework or sleeping became hard to focus on. I could still smell the alcohol on my stepdad’s breath, stinging and hot, and I could still feel his hand gripping my wrist tightly. He had held me so hard he left a bruise. But even despite the physical reminders of him, the worst part was what he left in my head. I could still feel his hands on my body. Touching me. Caressing me. Doing things that I hated and didn’t want him to do.

   It was bad enough having all of these marks on my body to remind me of yesterday, but having to live under the same roof as him was hell. He constantly teased me about it. Pretending as though I wanted it and maybe, in his own sick mind, I did. But in mine, I didn’t. I just wanted to have fun with my friends, swim in the pool, eat hamburgers, and stay up late to gossip and talk about boys. But he took all of that away from me.

   I didn’t find being with my friends fun after that. I didn’t go swimming, telling everyone I simply wasn’t feeling well. I was hoping my Mom would ask me what was wrong. Why I suddenly became ill after going in the house with Greg, but she was so enamoured by his charms. All she said was to take some Tylenol and to go lay down. I couldn’t believe it. I ran to my room, locked the door, and cried myself to sleep under the sheets of my bed.

   I thought tomorrow would be a better day. That things couldn’t get worst. But they did. They always did with him. The next day went on without incident, mostly because Greg was at work and I never left my room. My whole body felt numb. Even as I lay in bed and touched my fingers to my skin, retracing where Greg’s hands had been yesterday. It’s like my own skin felt nothing anymore except his touch.

   That was how I ended up spending most of my day. Laying in bed and trying to feel something, in between bouts of crying and sleeping. I felt so different after what he did, and I hated it. I hated everything. I hated him.

   So, you can imagine my horror when I heard him walk through the front door, coming home late from work, followed by my Mother’s voice from the kitchen telling me to come eat dinner. I wanted to argue with her so bad. To scream and tell her what that sick asshole had done to me yesterday. But I knew better than that. Mom always took his side, it was like she didn’t even care about me anymore.

   I slumped my shoulders in defeat and crept into the kitchen where I sat down without saying a word to my Mom or Greg. Both of them noticed my silence, and my Mom decided to scold me for it.

   “Greg just got home, and you’re not going to say hello to him?”

   Greg smiled at me as my Mother scolded, saying, “That’s okay, dear. She’s probably still not feeling well after yesterday. Is that what’s wrong?”

   I averted looking into his eyes directly and simple nodded.

   “See?” He looked at my Mom, “Peanut’s just not feeling well.”

   I couldn’t believe he called me that. Or that he even knew about it. Peanut was my Dad’s nickname for me when I was little. I felt angry hearing that word from him. I clenched my fists tightly under the table and wanted to hit him. He took everything away from me and now he wanted to take the memory of my Dad away, too.

   I stared at him with contempt as I watched he and my Mother speak while she served us dinner before joining us at the table. It seemed like they ignored me completely as they talked amongst themselves. I drowned out their voices, while slumping in my chair and flicking peas back and forth across my plate. But Greg noticed this, and being the man he was, he wouldn’t let me ignore him for longer than a few minutes.

   I nearly jumped out of my seat as I felt it. His foot, covered in a sweaty sock, rubbing against my bare thighs. I wanted to leap out of the chair and run, but I didn’t. I just sat quietly as he touched me the same way he did the day before. He rubbed in circles along my smooth skin, leaving wet traces from his socks.

   Then he started to get bolder and exert his control over me. He started tapping my thigh with his foot gently. I knew what he wanted and I complied, opening my legs slightly wider for him. He smiled at me from the across the table, loving my submissiveness, and started to rub higher, inching ever closed to my mound. I suddenly began to regret my decision to have changed into my pajamas so early, realizing that my shorts were not only loose fitting, but were very, very thin as well.

     I felt his wet toes wiggling just at the edge of the fabric of my shorts. Instinctively, I tried to close my legs tightly, not wanting him to go further, but he gave me a stern look from across the table. I realized he was losing his patience, and I knew what he would do if he did. I did my best to hold back the tears and simply parted my legs again for him. I felt his wet toes slip underneath my shorts as he and my Mother simply continued to chat about their day.

   I let out a soft whimper as I felt his toes brush against my pussy, through the thin fabric on my panties. It felt wet to the touch, and I knew it was not just because of his socks. I was being turned on by this; by him. I hated myself for it, just like I did yesterday. But I couldn’t help it. I let out a moan as I felt him begin to push in and rub, up and down, through the fabric of my soaked panties.

   My face went red as my Mother heard it and looked at me. I thought for a moment she knew what was going on. That she would save me from this man. But she didn’t. Instead of helping me, she told me she was going to get me some Tylenol and a glass of water, thinking I was just feeling sick. I guess in a way she was right, but no medicine was going to help me now. I tried to protest, not wanting to be left alone with Greg, but she insisted and left, leaving he and I all alone at the table.

   He continued to rub my crotch, teasing, “While I have you all alone, Peanut. Let me explain something to you. What happened last night is going to happen again. You’re mine now. And if you even think of telling your Mother, or your friends, or going to the police,” He threatened, pressing his toe hard into my pussy. “Then you and your Mom are fucking dead. Got that, Peanut?”

   I couldn’t fight back the tears anymore, but I nodded back at him.

   “Then say it. Be a good girl and tell Daddy who you belong to.”

   I swallowed. “I belong to you.”

   He pressed his foot harder between my legs. “To you, what?”

   “Don’t make me say it, please!” I pleaded.

   He pressed harder again. “Say it.” He repeated.

   “I belong to you… Daddy.” I whispered, defeated.

   “Damn right you do, slut.” He sneered.

   My Mom returned just after he said that, and found me crying. She asked what was wrong and I lied to her, telling her I felt sick and asked if I could go and lie down. She handed me the Tylenol and glass of water and told me to go to my room. I felt Greg’s foot slip from under my shorts as I stood up. I ran to my room and hid away under the sheets. I cried myself to sleep for the second night in a row as I wondered if I would wake to him in my bed again…

September 16, 2017, 11:59:28 AM
Reply #10

Offline Jed

This is very good Emily.  Thank you for sharing it with us.

The sock under the table and her fear as she is forced to call him 'Daddy' and knows so much more is coming.

September 16, 2017, 04:46:05 PM
Reply #11

Offline gscmar64

Nice way to continue her degradation at his hands (Sorry at his feet) ;D