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Patience is a Virtue
Copyright © 2008, Ragoczy – all rights reserved.
Author’s Note: This story is primarily psychological. If you are looking for a quick sex or torture scene, you’ll be disappointed and should move on to another story. I started writing this out of a bit of dissatisfaction with the typical girl-gets-kidnapped/girl-gets-spanked/girl-immediately-decides-she-likes-being-kidnapped-and-spanked story. I decided to explore the question: If I were to kidnap someone, how would I break them?
Part I
Patience.
A full month of patience and careful observation has led me to this moment, but even today’s act will be only the first in a series before my ultimate goal. I’ve learned all I can about the target passively, through careful stalking, and now it’s time to move closer and learn more. Climbing up the stairs of an apartment building to the second floor, I already have tools in hand: in my right, an L-shaped length of metal, small enough to place in a door lock; an odd, gun-shaped object in my left-hand. My fingers are curled inward, obscuring the tools and hiding my fingertips from any casual observer; even if there were one, they would be unable to tell that my fingertips are covered in short sleeves of latex unless they looked closely. No one looks closely at an ordinary man in nondescript coveralls and a tool-belt moving through an apartment building. I am the repairman, the exterminator, the plumber … whatever explanation their brains might come up with to explain the ordinary; I am normal and unimportant.
I walk casually to the door of 2C, not rushing or looking around. There is no one watching, but if someone were to exit their apartment now, I wish to appear as innocuous as possible. The L-shaped key goes into the lock first; short-end inserted, long ready to turn the lock, and then the tip of the pick-gun. Three squeezes of the trigger and the pins inside the lock have been jostled into position; I turn the key and the lock opens. Next the deadbolt, this lock is harder and takes six squeezes of the trigger before the key will turn. In all, it has taken me less than ten seconds since arriving at her door.
Inside, I close the door quietly behind me and make my way to the laundry room. A visit to the rental office two weeks ago gave me a tour of the apartments and everything I needed to know. The alarm panel is in the laundry room, just off the foyer. I climb onto the drier to access it, pick-gun and key in my pockets now as I use a small, cordless screwdriver to remove the single screw that holds the alarm panel’s door in place. It swings out on hinges and I reach inside to pull the phone line from its socket, rendering the alarm isolated.
This alarm system is better than most, but I know this already from my earlier tour. As soon as the phone line is disconnected, the alarm’s siren begins sounding as it senses that it’s been cut off from the outside world. Moving quickly, now that the siren is calling for help, I use an electrical cord stripped to the bare wires on one end to short out the electronics of the alarm system. When she returns home, the control panel will be dead and dark, surely the victim of an unfortunate power surge or other system failure. She’s a careful girl, diligent about her safety, so she will call maintenance to have it repaired quickly. I’m counting on this; it’s part of my plan.
I do not like publicity. I send no taunting letters to the police or newspapers. Ideally, it takes a number of days before my targets are reported missing and, even then, it could be assumed that they simply left town without telling anyone. I want no uproar, no public outcry to find the missing girl. To achieve this end, I go to great pains.
I begin placing small cameras around the apartment. These wireless marvels, no larger than a cigar, transmit an encrypted signal triggered by motion. Fully charged, their batteries will last over a week, plenty of time for me to find out what I need. With tiny lenses at the end of fiber optic wires, the body of the camera can be well-hidden, with only the unobtrusive, thread-thin lens visible. I place one in the kitchen, high atop a cabinet where the thick layer of dust tells me it will go unnoticed. A second is inserted deep into a vase full of silk flowers near the front door, its lens with a clear view of the alarm system’s control panel. Two more are hidden away in the living room and bedroom.
With hours before she returns home and free run of her apartment, I can take my time. I don full latex gloves, safer, but more obvious, than the fingertip coverings I wore to enter. I wander the apartment, learning as much as I can about my target from her home. There are no surprises and I’m soon ready to leave – only one thing of any real note from my search: I will have to remember to retrieve the vibrator from her nightstand when I take her.
There is one final thing I must deal with before I can leave. The front door has a security chain, which I’m sure she sets when home. Luckily, hers is the same as the model apartment I toured and I’ve come prepared. I use the screwdriver to remove the screws from the plate attached to the door-jamb. Identical screws, these cut short, come from my pocket and, with weak glue, reattach the plate. These will hold everything in place, but will pop out at the first sharp blow without damaging the door.
I strip off the gloves and exit the apartment, locking it behind me.
Patience.
* * *
Three days later, a review of the day’s video shows the alarm company has sent someone to repair the damage, let into the apartment by the building maintenance man. He spends some time out of sight in the laundry room, clearly replacing the damaged circuit board, and then programs the system from the control-panel in full view of my camera. He places a work order on the kitchen counter. I now have the master alarm code and when she returns home and follows his instructions I have hers as well.
When the camera batteries die, I have a decision to make: either retrieve them, which means reentering the apartment, or leave them, which carries the risk of them being discovered. Which I choose depends on their placement and the target’s habits. These cameras are well-concealed and the girl seems set in her ways, she doesn’t explore her own home, so is unlikely to discover them. This time, I leave them in place.
I review the data I’ve collected on this target, hours of video detailing her habits. I’ve seen nothing that indicates she’s a poor target, nothing to make me change my plans for her. I set a date for the next step: three weeks, time enough for the damaged alarm to be a distant memory in people’s minds. When she goes missing, they’ll remark on it to her friends, family, the authorities, but part of the remark will be “but that was over a month ago”. Curious, but probably not significant will be the thought.
I’m eager for this one, but control it. A petite blonde with pert breasts and a tight ass, I first saw her at a local bookstore. I haunt these stores, looking for a particular type of girl buying a particular type of book. Not pornography, but fiction that has some graphic sex scenes. These are my prey, but I must hunt carefully.
Patience.
* * *
The date arrives and I enter her apartment once more during the day. There are two things I wish to accomplish before the night comes and I take her. First I use the alarm system’s master code to turn off the zone for the front door. Now when she sets the alarm for the night, opening the door will not trigger it instantly. The second thing is to introduce a sedative into her food, a precaution, but caution makes for success. I’ve observed that she has a habit and habits benefit me. Each night before bed, she allows herself a small luxury – a single piece of expensive chocolate; truffles from a high-end chocolatier. Using a syringe, I introduce a sedative into each of the truffles remaining in the box. In a matter of hours, I’ll be returning here when she is at home.
Patience.
* * *
Four a.m. and I approach her door for the final time. I ring the bell and wait patiently, just in case she’s awake. I want to be sure, to take no chance on her having time to scream or alert a neighbor. Only silence from within and I move quickly, picking the locks and putting my shoulder to the door to pop the security chain from its mounting. No sound from the alarm, it obediently ignores the front door.
I hurry through the dark apartment to the bedroom, Taser ready in my hand, and flip on the light, prepared to incapacitate her if she wakes, but all is well. She sleeps soundly, still and peaceful in her bed, completely oblivious to my presence. Something deep inside me swells in satisfaction as I gaze on her sleeping form, the darkness inside me that drives me to these acts.
She does not wake or even stir as I bind her, hands behind her, ankles bound together and legs pulled back into a hogtie and tape across her mouth. I long to begin touching her now. The silk of her nightgown has been pushed up, exposing her legs all the way to her panties. I want to tear away the thin fabric and see her, see if she shaves or trims her pubic hair, see if the lips of her pussy are small or pronounced.
Patience.
When she’s well bound, I begin to work. I take a suitcase from her closet and pack it with her things. Carefully making sure to get all the things a girl leaving on a trip would pack, but making the apartment appear as though she hurried. Drawers left half open, hangers in disarray, unwanted clothing scattered haphazardly. Personal things from the bathroom, birth-control pills, makeup, leaving nothing to beg the question: “why would she leave that behind?”
I take her suitcase down to my van and return with my own. Mine is large, oversized, the size to make airport skycaps wince. It needs to be large to hide a whole girl.
Positioning her in the suitcase is another exercise in self-control. Moving her limbs, my hands holding the smooth, firm flesh. It would only take a little time to satisfy myself with her, but that would spoil the fun to come later.
Patience.
Into the suitcase with her goes her purse and the vibrator from the nightstand. I take her keys and seal the case, looking around to ensure I’ve forgotten nothing. Wait … the chocolates … into the case.
Once the alarm system is reprogrammed to recognize the front door again and the original screws are replaced on the door’s chain lock, I’m done, ready to take her and leave.
This is the most dangerous part, moving the suitcase full of girl from her apartment to my van. If anyone sees me, they’ll remember this, but it’s late and no one is about. On Monday, her employer will wonder why she doesn’t show up; friends will begin to worry; family will call the police who’ll be let into her apartment, but what will they find? What will they say?
Looks like she packed in a hurry. Her car’s still downstairs. Did she have a friend? Boyfriend? Girlfriend, maybe? Someone she might have run off with? No sign of a struggle, no sign of foul play. She probably took a spur-of-the-moment trip with someone, you know how these young kids are. Probably show up in a few days. We’ll take a report.
Patience.
Tina
Tina woke slowly, groggy and tired still. She stretched and yawned, groaning as she felt some strange aches in her arms and legs. She rose and swung her legs over the side of the bed … only to open her eyes wide in shock as her feet found floor instead of air. She wasn’t in her bed at home, but on a twin-sized mattress resting directly on a concrete floor. The bed was in a small room, perhaps fifteen feet on each side – two sides were cinderblock, grey and bare; the other two were bars from floor to ceiling, like a prison cell. She couldn’t tell what was on the other side of the bars, because there were bright lights mounted there that made it impossible for her to see into the shadows behind them. More lights were recessed in the ceiling, protected by heavy wire covers. The corner of the room … cell, she decided, this is a cell … where the two cinderblock walls met was a combination toilet and sink made of stainless steel.
“What the fuck!”
“Hello, Tina.” The voice was amplified, coming from speakers hidden in the shadows behind the bright lights on the other side of the bars.
She jumped up and ran to the bars, screaming, “Who the fuck do you think you are?! Let me out of here!”
“Please stand on the red dot, Tina.”
“Fuck you! Let me out of here!”
Tina stood at the bars, staring out into the shadows, but there was no reply.
“God damn you, let me out!” she screamed again, but still no reply. She began furiously trying to shake the bars, but they were firmly embedded in the concrete floor and ceiling. She tried the door in the bars, but that too was solid and immovable. “Let me out!”
Tina threw herself at the bars, straining to bend them or force the door open. Screaming the whole time she tried every bar without success and then moved to the block walls, searching for a way out. Finally, exhausted and crying, she collapsed on the mattress.
“Hello, Tina.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” she demanded searching the shadows for some glimpse of her captor.
“Please stand on the red dot, Tina.” Tina looked at the floor and saw a red dot painted in the center of the room.
“Why don’t you stand on the fucking red dot so I can kick your ass, you sick bastard!”
Silence greeted this and Tina slowly sank back onto the mattress, tears flowing again. How long she lay there this time, she couldn’t tell, but she was actually drifting off to sleep when the voice came again.
“Hello, Tina.”
“What do you want from me?” she cried.
“Please stand on the red dot, Tina.”
“No!”
Silence again as Tina huddled on the mattress, tightly grasping her knees to her chest and rocking back and forth. How can this be happening to me? she wondered. What does he want and what’s he going to do with me? Thoughts of rape and murder went through her head, terrifying her and setting off a new round of tears. Eventually, she realized she needed to pee, but the thought of using the exposed toilet repulsed her. Her captor was probably watching.
“Hello, Tina.”
She jumped up and ran to the bars, grasping them desperately. “Please let me go,” she begged. “I won’t tell anybody, I won’t go to the police, I promise.”
“Please stand on the red dot, Tina.”
She looked behind her at the circle painted on the floor. If she didn’t, he’d leave her alone again and then start all over. Would it really be that bad to just stand on the dot? If she did, then maybe he’d answer her and she could find a way out of this. She walked over to it, nervous and scared for some reason. It’s just a painted circle, she told herself angrily. It can’t hurt you.
She took a deep breath and stepped onto the circle with both feet.
“Good girl.”
Tina leapt off the circle as though it had shocked her. The pleasure in that voice, the approval, sickened her. She wrapped her arms around her middle, stomach churning at the thought that she’d just given her captor a victory, given him what he wanted.
“That’s okay, Tina, take your time.” The next words sent fresh fear flooding through her. “I have patience.”
* * *
More hours of silence passed. Or at least Tina thought it was hours, she had no way to tell time in her cell. The pressure from her bladder increased until it was painful, hunger and thirst began to gnaw at her. If she drank from the sink it would assuage her thirst and hunger a bit, but it would also increase her need to pee and she couldn’t face using the toilet where her captor could see.
“Hello, Tina.” The voice’s return was almost a relief; it broke the monotony and gave her something other than her bladder to concentrate on.
“Look, I just want to go home. Please … please let me go. I never did anything to you, to deserve this. Please.”
“Please stand on the red dot, Tina.”
“Damn you!”
* * *
The demands of her bladder finally became unbearable and Tina approached the toilet. Formed of a single piece of stainless steel, the toilet had no seat, no tank, nothing that could be removed and used as a weapon, just a bowl connected to the wall by a pipe. Trying to expose herself as little as possible, she sat down before lowering her panties, sliding them out of the way and hunching over, elbows tucked into her midsection to hide herself. The cold steel of the toilet sent chills through her, but she sighed with relief as she began to urinate.
“Hello, Tina.”
Horrified, Tina tried to stop the stream of urine, but the pressure had built to the point that now, once started, she couldn’t stop it. The sound of the strong stream hitting the metal bowl of the toilet echoed loudly and she hunched lower, trying to hide herself, blushing furiously with shame and anger.
“Take your time, Tina. I can wait until you’re finished.”
Fresh tears welled in the girls eyes. “What do you want from me?” she moaned.
“Please stand on the red dot, Tina.”
Shoulders slumping in defeat, the girl pulled her panties up and rose, walked to the middle of the room and stood on the painted circle, head hung in shame.
“Good girl. Are you hungry?”
Tina’s stomach growled at the thought. “Yes,” she said quietly.
“I want you to say: ‘Please, may I have something to eat, sir.’”
Anger flared again and she raised her head, eyes flashing. “Not a fucking chance!”
She waited for a response, but none came. Of course, she thought miserably.
* * *
Tina’s hunger grew until she thought she might be sick from it. She drank some water from the sink, but it did little to assuage the pangs. Soon, she began longing to hear the voice, resigned to the fact that it was her only chance to get food. She’d spent the time going over the cell from top to bottom, examining every inch for some sign of a way out, and she was convinced there was none.
Gradually she became aware of a scent, she inhaled deeply and her mouth flooded with saliva, her stomach growling painfully as she recognized the smell of grilled hamburger. She looked around and saw something new outside the bars of the cell. A small rolling table had been pushed into the light; on it was a plate with a huge hamburger, loaded with toppings and topped with a toasted bun. She rushed to the bars and reached through them, struggling to get to the food, mouth watering.
“Hello, Tina.”
She couldn’t reach and collapsed to the floor, crying and staring at the hamburger with her stomach clenching in hunger. Slowly, she stood up and moved to stand on the circle. Bitterly and through clenched teeth, she said, “Please, may I have something to eat, sir?”
“The words, but not the tone, I’m looking for.” Out of the shadows a small bowl was being pushed across the floor toward the cell’s bars by a wooden stick. When it reached the bars, Tina leapt forward and grabbed it. Inside was a small portion of rice, perhaps a quarter cup, but Tina greedily scooped it into her mouth with her fingers. When it was gone, she looked desperately into the shadows beyond the bars.
“Could I have some more, please?” When there was no response, she jumped to her feet and hurried back to the circle. “Please, may I have something to eat, sir?”
Still no response, but the hamburger still sat on the table, just out of reach, tormenting her.
* * *
“Hello, Tina.”
More time had passed and Tina was weak from hunger, desperate for anything to eat. She hurried to the circle and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself and make her voice as respectful as possible.
“Please, may I have something to eat, sir?”
“Take your nightgown off, Tina.”
Tears filled Tina’s eyes. She’d spent what must have been hours whispering to herself, practicing the tone of voice she’d use to please her captor and get him to feed her more, and now it wasn’t enough, he wanted her to take off her nightgown and expose herself to him. But she knew that if she refused, she wouldn’t eat. Tears streaming down her face, stomach clenched with hunger and burning with shame, she drew the nightgown over her head and clutched it to her front, trying to hide her breasts.
“The act, but not the spirit, of what I told you to do.” Another small bowl of rice was pushed to the bars and Tina leapt forward, grabbing it and eating rapidly before pulling her nightgown back on. The tiny portion of rice did nothing to ease her hunger pains and she sank back against the bars, wondering miserably what she’d done to deserve this and what would happen next.
* * *
“Hello, Tina.”
Resigned, legs trembling and head bowed, she stood in the circle. “Please, may I have something to eat, sir?” she asked, voice trembling and cracking. When there was no response, she sobbed heavily, but pulled her nightgown over her head and dropped it to the floor, not even trying to cover her breasts, knowing that if she did, she would disappoint her captor and she’d only receive the tiny portion – she hoped that this would satisfy him and he’d give her more food.
She stood in silence for a few moments, wondering if she’d done something wrong and he was going to punish her by withholding the food entirely. She almost sobbed with relief when he spoke.
“Good girl. You have lovely breasts, Tina, you should be proud of them.” She always had been, but now she felt her chest and face blush scarlet with shame. She wanted to cover herself, but didn’t dare, so she stood there with her breasts exposed, tiny nipples hardening in the cool air. She knew he was watching that too, and probably getting off on it, and her shame increased.
A larger bowl was pushed to the bars of the cell and Tina walked over to get it. She didn’t rush, she didn’t have the energy, and she didn’t bother to put her nightgown on. What’s the point? she thought miserably.
This time there was enough rice to take the edge off her hunger, but not enough to fill her. She pulled her nightgown back on and huddled on the mattress to await the next demand. Soon she fell asleep.
* * *
She woke, startled, to blaring music. Heart hammering, she leapt to her feet, hands covering her ears. The music continued for a while, loud and pounding, something Rap, she thought, but so loud that she couldn’t understand any of it.
Suddenly there was silence and then, “Hello, Tina.”
Once more she stood in the circle and removed her nightgown. “Please, may I have something to eat, sir?”
Silence answered her and she felt a sinking feeling. What had she done wrong? She’d asked politely, her nightgown was on the floor beside her, what else did he want? “I don’t know what you want,” she said quietly.
“I want more from you, Tina. Think of something more that will please me.”
Anger flared in her, wiping out the hunger. “I said ‘please’, you sadistic prick! What do you want, some fucking sugar on top?”
Silence.
* * *
“Hello, Tina.”
She’d had time to think and despair filled her. Her hunger had grown again, it had become constant, of course, because the food wasn’t enough to fill her completely, but now it was worse again. She’d struggled to think of what he could want from her, what she could do to please him. The only thing she could think of horrified her, but she had to eat. She truly believed he’d let her starve here in this cell if she didn’t find a way to give him ‘more’.
A realization hit her as she made her way to the circle and the thought twisted in her like a knife, bringing a fresh flood of tears.
I’ve become a whore, she thought to herself, pulling the nightgown over her head and dropping it to the floor. Except I don’t get money, I let this guy get off on me for a bowl of fucking rice! Taking a deep breath, she bent and lowered her panties to the floor, standing again and exposing herself to her watching captor, hands loose at her sides and making no effort to hide herself.
“Please, may I have something to eat, sir.” I’m a worthless, fucking, rice whore.
“Very good girl.”
And the worst part for Tina was that it made her feel better. The tone, the words of approval eased her shame. As she ate her rice -- enough this time that her stomach no longer pained her for a while – Tina struggled to understand what was happening to her.
* * *
This went on for some time, over and over again. Tina’s hunger would grow, then her captor’s voice would come and she’d go to the circle and strip; a bit of rice and then back to the mattress to sit and wait for the next repetition. If she fell asleep, she’d be awakened by blaring music. She never knew how long she slept or how long she was awake; she was always hungry to some extent, so she couldn’t gauge time by that. At one point, she tried counting the number of times she used the toilet, but now couldn’t remember what the count was as fatigue and hunger combined to confuse her.
The boredom and monotony worked on her and she began to long for the sound of her captor. At least that was something different, something to do. She tried asking questions, but he never answered. As time passed, Tina realized that it had been quite some time since she’d bathed or brushed her teeth. She began to feel disgusted by the state of her body.
It was at this point that the routine changed.
“Hello, Tina.” Stripped and standing in the circle, she waited. Sometimes her captor took longer than others to push the bowl of rice to her.
“Kneel, Tina.” It took her a moment to realize that he’d said something different. She felt a brief flare of rebellion at this new humiliation, but fought it down. She knew it would do her no good. She sank to her knees on the cold concrete floor.
“Good girl.”
This time a toothbrush and toothpaste were pushed to the bars with the rice and Tina felt a surge of gratitude. After eating and brushing her teeth three times, she lay down and relished the feeling of smooth, clean teeth and a mouth that tasted fresh and minty. She thought about her reaction to receiving the reward. For that’s what it was, she realized, he’d ordered her to do something and she’d pleased him by doing it, so he’d rewarded her. She should’ve been angry, it was, after all, his fault that she’d had no toothbrush in so long to begin with, but all she’d felt was gratitude. Even now, she had trouble feeling angry; she’d grown, not used to her situation, but maybe resigned? From that point on, she knelt in the circle when she heard her captor’s voice.
The next change was almost a relief, anything that changed the never-ending routine was welcome and she’d come to realize that each new demand came with a reward of some kind.
“Spread your legs, Tina.”
Kneeling in the circle, she complied. Pushing down the feelings of shame and humiliation, simply accepting that she had to submit, she spread her knees wide, exposing herself to whoever was watching. It surprised her how widely she spread her legs, stretching them apart until her inner thighs ached. It was humiliating and degrading, but if he approved, if she pleased him, she’d be rewarded somehow – and if she didn’t, he’d withhold the little bit of food he allowed her. The constant ache of hunger she lived with wouldn’t allow her to risk that.
“Very good girl. You’re a very beautiful and special girl, Tina. I’m proud of you for trying so hard to please me.”
She didn’t feel beautiful or special. She felt like a filthy, weak little whore for giving in like this. The voice in her head that told her to fight, that she was a pathetic, worthless piece of shit for giving in to him grew quieter as she concentrated on what he said. Someone was proud of her; someone thought she was beautiful, even though she stank and her hair hung in limp, greasy tangles; someone thought she was special, not worthless. She wanted to believe those things about herself, not that she was weak and worthless.
When she saw what was pushed out of the shadows with her bowl of rice, she almost cried with gratitude. “Thank you, sir,” she whispered, crawling to the bars to retrieve the towels, shampoo and soap.
* * *
Bathing in the small sink was difficult, but Tina reveled in the feeling of water and soap. First she soaked her hair, forcing her head under the low faucet, heedless of it digging painfully into her scalp. Then she forced her head under the flowing water again, rinsing the shampoo from her hair. It took two more repetitions of this before she felt her hair was finally clean and it was time to work on her body. Still naked, she used a washcloth and soap to lather and scrub her body, repeating this over and over again until she felt clean. With a towel wrapped around her wet hair, she looked with disgust at her nightgown and panties.
“Not going back on like that,” she muttered and threw the clothing into the sink to soak.
Feeling a bit human for the first time in … she had no idea how long, Tina lay down on the mattress and closed her eyes, shortly falling asleep.
* * *
For the first time since the beginning of her captivity, Tina woke normally. There was no blaring music or demanding voice that dragged her from sleep, simply a gradual, gentle transition to wakefulness. She sat up and pulled the towel from her head. Her hair would be tangled now, but at least it was clean. She rose and went to the sink to finish washing her clothes.
“Oh, no.” The sink was empty.
She looked around, frantically, not wanting to believe that her only clothes were gone. It didn’t matter to her that it had only been a simple nightgown and panties, that she now regularly stripped out of them and displayed herself to her unseen captor, what mattered was that they were clothes. Her clothes. Something to wear between the brief times when she humiliated and degraded herself for a simple bowl of rice, and now they were gone … but there was something new in the room.
Sitting next to the mattress was her vibrator. She recognized it as her own, the last time she’d seen it, it had been in the drawer of her nightstand at home. Now here it was, sitting on the concrete floor of this miserable cell. That’s what next, she thought. He’ll make me use that next.
“Hello, Tina.”
She jumped, startled. What do I do? she wondered. With no clothes to strip out of, she simply walked to the circle and knelt, spreading her knees wide as she knew he expected her to. Her stomach clenched in fear as she anticipated his next order and tried to decide what to do. Could she do it? Could she really take her vibrator and use it on herself while this stranger, whose face she’d never seen, watched? She didn’t know. This would be a new level of humiliation that she hadn’t expected.
“Good girl.” And a bowl of rice was pushed to the bars of the cell.
* * *
Tina pondered this latest development for a long time, trying to understand. Why hadn’t he ordered her to use the vibrator? He’d clearly put it in the cell for a reason, but now ignored it. That’s it, she decided. He knows I’ll dwell on it so he’s waiting. Waiting so it’ll bother me more, the sick fuck.
Through several feeding cycles, Tina expected to be ordered to use the vibrator, but there was no mention of it from her captor. Each time she received the same amount of food as she had been, so she wasn’t being punished for not using it. Maybe there’s a reward I’m not getting because I haven’t used it, she thought, then had an idea. Maybe he thinks it is a reward.
She did like to masturbate; after all, that’s why she had the damn thing, maybe he thought she’d want it. But that was at home, in private; not here, where she was constantly exposed to someone’s prying eyes. She’d leave it right there and ignore it, she decided. There was no way she was going to voluntarily put on a show like that for this pervert. If he demanded it, she’d decide what to do then, but until then she’d pretend the vibrator wasn’t even here.
This proved more difficult than she’d thought, though. Before she hadn’t thought about masturbating, it simply hadn’t occurred to her in this situation of fear and deprivation. Now, she couldn’t get the damn vibrator out of her mind. It wasn’t that she was aroused, even a little bit … she was bored. Between feedings, there was simply nothing to do. She could pace or exercise or try to sleep, but those were the only options. Now there was a new one … one that she didn’t want to try, but that preyed on her idle mind.
Hour after hour, she found her eyes drawn back to the device. Twice she picked it up, thinking it couldn’t really hurt to do it, but put it back down again; twice more she thought to throw it through the bars of her cell to remove the temptation, but couldn’t bring herself to, both afraid of her captor’s response and unwilling to give up the possibility of some break in the boredom.
Finally, she gave in. Tired of pacing and thinking, she crawled onto the mattress and covered herself with the thin sheet, then grabbed the vibrator from beside the mattress and turned it on. The familiar hum and vibration in her hand was comforting, something from her life before this place. She closed her eyes and slid the hand with the vibrator under the sheet down between her legs.
At the first familiar sensation against her clit, her body relaxed, tension flowing out of it. She could concentrate on this, just for a little while, and forget about where she was and what might happen next. Her mind wandered, calling up her favorite fantasies. Her arousal grew, but something was wrong, none of the fantasies would flow right in her mind. Fantasies of strong, forceful men reminded her that she was a captive in this place; fantasies of exhibitionism, like spreading her legs to the shoe salesman, reminded her that she was forced to exhibit herself here. Each time she started playing a fantasy in her mind, her arousal would begin to grow, but then it would all go wrong and reality would set in … but she found herself still aroused, wanting more than ever now to orgasm, but unable to get close.
“Hello, Tina.”
Shit, she thought to herself, the hum of the vibrator seeming very loud to her now. Keeping it under the sheet, she turned it off with what sounded like a very loud click.
“I’m waiting, Tina.”
Reluctantly, she crawled off the mattress and knelt where she was expected to. As she started to spread her legs, she paused, horrified as she realized that her pussy was wet and glistening with arousal. When she spread her legs, he’d be able to see that, but if she didn’t she wouldn’t eat. Face burning with shame, she spread her legs wide apart.
“I’m very disappointed in you, Tina. I left that toy for you quite some time ago and now, when you finally use it, you hide yourself from me.”
Tears formed in her eyes, a mixture of shame and humiliation. Tina closed her eyes tightly, trying to understand her own feelings. Part of it was shame that she’d given in to the temptation to masturbate and was now showing her wet pussy, lips gaping wide, to this stranger who’d taken her. Another part, a part that she didn’t understand, was a sense of shame at having disappointed him. She’d spent so long, how long she didn’t really know, hating herself for complying with his demands, but with him approving of her and praising her for it. Part of her looked forward to that approval, needed it; and now that he was disappointed in her, she felt ashamed that she hadn’t done more to please him. And that made another part of her angry and humiliated that she even wanted to please him; that she’d sunk so low as to care what this stranger said to her.
“You’ve been a very bad girl, haven’t you, Tina?”
Before she realized what she was doing, she’d nodded and mumbled, “Yes, sir.”
More confused than before she wondered: Am I? Bad because I disappointed him or bad because I want to? Does it matter?
“Bad girls should be punished, Tina. Do you agree that you’re a bad girl and should be punished?”
Her confusion grew, thoughts flashing across her mind: Bad because I masturbated? Bad because I didn’t do it earlier? Bad because I want to please him? Bad because I don’t want to please him? Bad because I care what he thinks about me?
In the end, she realized the details didn’t matter; whether she believed it or not, even why she believed it, made no difference to the answer. “Yes, sir.”
“Close your eyes, Tina.”
Immediately she obeyed, clenching her eyes tightly closed, wondering what would happen next. She heard footsteps and then the clank of metal on metal followed by a faint squeal of hinges. She realized he’d opened the cell door, that he was in the room with her. For a moment, she considered attacking him, trying to force her way out and escaping, but she didn’t know what was beyond the lights. Surely another locked door and no real hope for escape. Resigned, she stayed where she was, eyes closed and waiting.
She sensed rather than felt it when he neared her, then something was quickly pulled over her head. She gasped in shock and her eyes flew open, but she saw only darkness, her gasping breath sucked cloth tight against her nose and mouth. Some kind of hood, she realized as she felt him tighten it firmly around her throat.
“This is for your protection, Tina,” he told her gently. “So long as you don’t see my face, I’ll be able to let you go.”
Relief and confusion flooded her. He meant to let her go! It seemed like it had been so long since she’d thought about any future than life in this cell that she didn’t know what to feel at the prospect of being released. When? And what would he demand of her before that?
“Stay still, Tina.”
She heard his footsteps move away and then return. His hands gripped her upper arms firmly and she jumped, startled.
“Stand up, Tina.”
Half rising on her own, half lifted by his grip on her arms, she rose to her feet and he released her.
“Tell me again, Tina. Do you agree that you’ve been a bad girl and need to be punished?”
Her heart began pounding with fear. When she’d agreed before she’d thought he’d meant withholding food again, that was the punishment she’d come to expect. Now she was afraid to agree; afraid of what he meant to do with her.
“Tina.” His voice had taken on an edge of warning and disapproval.
“Yes, sir,” she replied weakly. There was no point, no way to back out now she knew.
“’Yes’ what, Tina?”
She thought frantically for a moment, she’d said ‘sir’, after all, then realization struck her and she felt tears of shame begin running down her face inside the hood as she replied: “Yes, sir, I was a bad girl and need to be punished.”
Without warning he grabbed her, one arm around her chest, just below her breasts and the other around the back of her thighs, snatching her feet off the ground and holding her sideways against his body. She stifled a yelp of surprise and felt herself sway and shift in his grip as he took several steps and then turned. With his next move, she realized what was to come and she couldn’t suppress a cry of protest as she felt him sit and found herself face down across his lap, one of his hands on her back, pressing her firmly down on his thighs, the other resting lightly on her bare ass.
“No!” she cried, realizing what was about to happen. A spanking, she thought. I’m not a child! He can’t spank me! Before realizing how ridiculous that sounded; realizing that he could do anything he wanted to her.
She felt him tense and his hand left her ass before returning with a resounding crack against her bare buttock. The impact shoved her hips against his thighs, but that was lost in the sharp, stinging pain of the blow. Tina had been spanked as a child, had even played around it with a boyfriend or two, but this was different; not the restrained chastisement of a parent or the playful smack of a lover, the stranger delivered the blow with what she thought must be the full force of his arm, sending a wave of pain through her ass that made her gasp. Then his hand rose and fell again, this time on the other side, and she cried out as the pain swept over her.
Again and again the blows landed. Some sharp and stinging, others hard, deep thuds that pounded into her. Under the hood, Tina’s eyes overflowed with tears from the pain and humiliation; her breath came in raspy gasps, heating the inside of the hood. She became dimly aware of something hard pressing into her between her side and her captor. His cock, she realized. He’s turned on by this. Through the haze of pain from the blows landing on her ass and the shock of her unexpected situation, she wasn’t sure what to think of that.
As blow after blow continued to land on her ass and her breath came in shorter, more ragged gasps, Tina became light-headed from the pain and hyperventilating. She stopped thinking of anything but the rhythm of the blows and the sharp waves of pain that coursed through her with each one. How many blows or how long she’d endured them, she had no way of knowing, her entire awareness became reduced to a sharp flare of pain, followed by the sound and feel of her breath within the hood while she waited for the next.
It took her a while to realize that the blows had stopped, that she’d was no longer draped face down over a lap, but had been turned over and was now curled up in that lap, cradled in strong, surprisingly gentle arms, her head resting on his chest. Her captor’s lap … her captor’s chest … with a start, she tried to pull away, but his arms tightened, holding her close.
“It’s all right, Tina,” he murmured to her softly. “You’re safe here. You were bad and had to be punished, but now it’s over and all is forgiven. You’re a good girl.”
This isn’t right, part of her thought, but her mind was still cloudy and confused. That dim, distant part of her mind screamed objections as she relaxed into the embrace. The part of her in control now wanted the comforting, wanted to forget the stress and fear of her captivity as well as the pain and humiliation, even if it was only for a little while. She ignored the voice in her head that told her to fight back, to jump up now and try to escape; instead she listened to the voice murmuring to her through the hood enclosing her head. Listened to the words that told her she was a good girl, that she was beautiful and pleasing, that she was safe and everything would be all right now.
Feeling the stress and fatigue of her captivity catch up with her, Tina closed her eyes and fell asleep.
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