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Author's Note:
This is a work of fiction. This is a work of fiction about a non-consensual kidnap. If you do not like that sort of thing or you do not fully understand and accept all of the disclaimers that a rational person would make about such a work, then you probably shouldn't read it; if you do understand and accept that sort of thing, then I don't have to repeat what you already know, so there.
I wrote this to begin exploring the genre, which was frustrating me due to its seemingly endless stream of girl-gets-kidnapped/girl-gets-spanked/the-first-spank-turns-girl-into-a-wanton-nymphomaniac-painslut.
So I started thinking about who I'd target, how I'd take her, and what some ways of actually breaking her psychologically might be ... because I'm a little creepy that way and it interests me. I plan bank robberies, too, but don't do that for real either. :)
Special Author's Note for Part III:
Folks ... I don't know how much more of a disclaimer I can give. This is not a nice story! If you want a rainbow-flavored unicorn fart story about the magical gift of submission ... This is not fucking it! Go and read my story about waxing -- it's fun and sexy and the girl I did that with was a dear friend. This story ... Is. Not. Fucking. That!
When I said in previous parts that this was an exercise in exploring how I would go about breaking someone ... that was not a euphemism for "seduce", it was a euphemism for "fuck her mind up beyond all recognition". If you cannot wrap your head around that concept, please go look at kittens.
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Part III
I watch her from the shadows behind the lights, my new little girl.
I watch her come to accept her situation, turn to watch the images of herself on the screen, spread her legs wide, and give herself over to passion and desire.
When I see her grab her breast, pulling her nipple harshly, I can sense her frustration. I recognize the sensation she's trying to recreate and fight the urge to go to her. It would be so easy, I think, to open the cell door, cross to her, and lower my mouth to that breast. Easy to feel my teeth sinking into her soft flesh and give her the feeling she's longing for.
Easy, but too soon. I must be patient.
Pain is one of the keys to this one. Her tolerance is low and she fears it -- fears it more than feels it, to some extent. A spanking, a belt ... these are not extreme, but already she fears them so much. That fear will push her to accept more, far more, to avoid worse pain.
There is a rhythm to these things. A pattern I follow.
She still resists, but she accepts things faster, the resistance fading and less frequent. After the acceptance, when her mind is vulnerable, she will start to desire. Already she is in the cycle: anger, shame, acceptance, pleasure, desire.
Right now, with her fingers busy between her thighs, she is taking pleasure in her situation. When that's done, when she has time to reflect and the pent up desire is released a bit, she will return to anger. Anger at me and shame at herself. But she has no choice, so she will accept her situation, thinking her acceptance is only for a time, that soon she might be free. But that acceptance bred with boredom, with no other outlet, will focus her on desires. She'll take pleasure in fulfilling those them.
Round and round, I'll take her, feeding acceptance and desire. Beating down her anger and shame.
With time, with patience, I hope, she will feel only what I wish her to.
I hear her litany. "Your good girl." Over and over, and I smile.
* * *
Tina drifted in the aftermath of her orgasm. Eyes half-closed, lips parted. Her fingers moved slowly between her thighs, stroking slowly and drawing out the sensations. Dimly she was aware when of when the sounds from the television stopped. Her head rolled softly to the side and she murmured, "Your good girl."
"Hello, Tina."
His voice cut through the haze she drifted in and Tina shivered in reaction. She rolled over and sat on the edge of the mattress. She started to stand, then stopped and bowed her head. She sank to her hands and knees, crawling to the red dot where she knelt and spread her legs.
"Please, may I have some food, sir?" she asked hopefully, feeling the now ever-present pangs from her stomach.
"Very good girl, Tina. Did you enjoy the video?"
"I ... " she paused. She considered, wanting to give a truthful answer. She was embarrassed, shamed, even horrified at what had been filmed, more so by what she'd done while watching. But kneeling there on the cold, hard floor of her cell, her thighs still sticky with the fluid of her desire, her pussy lips tingling and open between her widespread legs, her breast sore and scratched by own fingernails ...
"I ... enjoyed it ... sir ... but ..." She paused, afraid to continue and not wanting to anger him.
"You can tell me, Tina. But, what?"
Tina buried her face in her hands, breaking down in tears. "I want to go home," she cried. "I just want to go home."
"Is that how I taught you to address me, Tina?" he asked, sternly. "What does a good girl say?"
"Oh, god," she sobbed, speaking quickly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry ... sir. I just want to go home, sir. Please. Please don't hurt me again, sir. I'll be good, sir. I promise. I promise I'll be good, sir. Please don't hurt me again."
"It's not the first time you've forgotten, though, Tina. You didn't address me properly when you told me your story, did you?" He paused. "We can watch the tape, if you don't remember."
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, sir! I'll do better! I promise, sir, I'll do better!" She scrambled across the floor to the cell bars and grasped them tightly. She pressed her face between two of the bars, staring out into the shadows beyond. "I'll do anything you want, sir. I promise, sir! Anything, just please don't hurt me again, sir!"
She sagged against the bars, sliding to the floor.
"Please don't hurt me again, sir," she begged. "I promise I'll be good, sir. I'll be a good girl and remember, sir."
"But you didn't, Tina," he told her mercilessly. "You have to do better. You have to be my good girl all the time. I can only send you home when you're my good girl all the time."
Tina raised her gaze to the shadows again, hope filling her eyes. "Send me home?" she whispered. "I'll be good, sir. I promise I'll be good, just, please, give me another chance, sir!"
"Go back to the red dot, Tina, and listen to me. Do as I say, be my good girl, and I'll send you home."
She scrambled back across the floor and knelt, spreading her legs wide. "Thank you, sir," she whispered.
"First, you may eat."
A tray with a bowl on it was pushed from the shadows with a long stick.
"Then wash yourself thoroughly."
A second tray, this one with fresh towels and soap, then a third with neatly folded sheets.
"Change the sheets on that bed, they stink of sweat and your sex."
A fourth tray was pushed into sight, bearing only a black hood.
"Finally, put on your hood and return to the red dot to await your punishment for not addressing me properly."
Tina moaned, she'd allowed herself to believe he'd forgiven that and she wouldn't be punished for it. "Please, sir, please don't hurt me again," she pleaded.
"You'll be punished, Tina. Whenever you disobey or misbehave, whenever you displease me or fail to meet my expectations, whenever you are a bad girl and not my good girl, you will punished. Learn, do as you're told and you won't be punished. Be my good girl always and I'll be able to send you home. Do you understand, Tina?"
"I understand, sir," she whispered.
When there was no response, Tina's shoulders slumped and she crawled to the bars of the cell. Conflicted emotions stormed through her. Hope that he'd said he'd send her home if she was good. Fear of the punishment that was coming. Shame at the memory of clinging to the bars of the cell, begging and promising anything to avoid another beating. Knowing that, at that moment, she would have done truly anything, no matter how degrading, to avoid it. Terror of what he might demand of her next and horror at the thought that she would probably give it to keep from being punished.
She pulled the bowl of food through the bars, surprised at what it contained. More rice than she had received at one time so far and steamed vegetables. Carrots, broccoli, and peas mixed in with the rice.
"Show me, Tina."
Tina jerked in surprise, almost dropping the bowl. The television was back on, the humiliating video of her replaying.
She ate slowly, relishing each bite, but her eyes were drawn back, again and again, to the black hood. Terrified by what it represented and what was in store for her. The thought terrified her. He'd said she hadn't learned from the spanking and the belt had been worse, did that mean that this next punishment would be worse still?
Then her eyes would turn to the television. She watched herself spread her legs, touch herself, loose herself in orgasm. Those are the choices, she thought. Good girl or bad girl.
The belt had hurt while he was doing it, but she had to admit that he hadn't really injured her. The few welts and bruises on her ass and thighs did ache and sting, but not badly. How much worse was in store for her?
Telling her story had been humiliating, invasive, the soiling of something innocent from her childhood. Her eyes went back to the hood. At least being a good girl doesn't hurt, she thought. Being a good girl will get me out of here.
When the bowl was empty, she replaced it on the tray. Then she took the towels and soap and went to the sink to wash. The worst part was washing her legs, her thighs, covered in a thin, dried film from the moisture that had covered them. She flushed with embarrassment as she scrubbed them clean, seeing that the film extended almost to her knees. She'd heard of women "dripping" with excitement before, but hadn't believed it.
What kind of person am I? she asked herself. I've never been that ... wet. How can that happen here? Like this?
She cleaned gently between her legs, her clitoris still sensitive from the two intense orgasms. Touching it with the rough washcloth stirred her again and felt heat rise through her chest and into her face as she flushed again.
From the television, she heard her own voice, "Oh ... god ... He ... forced his leg between mine ... I can't keep them together ... he shoves them apart and ... and his leg shoves against me ... against ..."
Tentatively she ran the washcloth over her clit again. The sensation sent shivers through her body and her legs grew weak. She braced herself with one hand on cold metal of the sink and did it again.
It's not my fault, she thought, trembling at the sensations. This isn't my fault. He's making me. I have to be like this or he won't let me go.
The thought of him stopped her. He hadn't told her to do this, he'd told her to clean herself. She didn't know if he'd be pleased if she masturbated again, so it was safer not to.
Safer to do as I'm told, she told herself. Safer to be a good girl.
She continued washing, scrubbing herself with the washcloth and rinsing it in the sink. She reached her breasts and was shocked. A pair of deep scratches surrounded one nipple, red and angry looking, almost bloody. There was a fiery sting as she cleaned them with the soapy cloth. The few welts on her ass and thighs were nothing like this, the skin wasn't even broken there.
I did that, she admitted to herself. I did that trying to feel ... trying to ...
The worst injury she'd received here, she realized, had come at her own hand while trying to duplicate what her captor had made her feel.
What am I becoming?
* * *
After washing, Tina changed the sheets on her mattress. She took the old ones back to the bars of the cell and placed them on the empty tray, then she picked up the hood and returned to the bed. She sat down and stared at it for a moment, running her fingers over the seams.
She stared at the hood, thinking about what it represented. She was to put it on and await punishment for not calling her captor "sir". For not obeying him. Was she really going to do that willingly? Wouldn't that be agreeing that she'd done something wrong and should be punished?
But I already did that, she thought. The first time. I went along with it the first time because I was scared and I didn't know what he was going to do.
She thought about the fear she'd felt when the lights had gone out and he'd stormed into the cell. The feel of his hands grabbing her from the darkness and forcing her down and then the sting of his belt on her flesh.
It'll be worse if I don't obey, she thought. If I do what he asks, he'll still hurt me, but it might not be as bad. Nobody can blame me for not fighting him -- he's too strong and I don't know how to fight. I can't hurt him.
She raised her head and looked around the cell. The walls were as solid as ever, the bars attached to floor and ceiling with thick, metal bolts, the space between the bars was too narrow for her to squeeze through, the door to the cell was as solid as the bars, it remained shut when she tried it early in her captivity, even though it had no apparent lock or latch.
She bowed her head again. What am I supposed to do? she asked herself. A tear rolled down her cheek and dripped onto the hood in her hands.
Tina slid off the mattress to her hands and knees and crawled to the red dot. She knelt, legs spread wide and open, and slid the hood over her head to wait.
* * *
She knelt there for what seemed like a very long time, wondering why nothing had happened yet. He seemed to always be there, watching her and waiting, could this be the one time he wasn't? Her knees began to ache from resting on the hard floor. She had spread her legs wide, stretching her thighs apart, but this was the longest she'd ever had to wait and her muscles began to cramp. Her ankles were the worst. Tucked under her buttocks, her full weight rested on them and crushed them to the hard floor. If she tried to raise herself off of them, her weight transferred to her knees, grinding them into bare concrete.
Her back began to ache and her breathing grew labored. Inside the hood, each breath circulated warm, moist air around her head, but only a little fresh air seemed to come through the fabric when she inhaled. Her face began to sweat, wetting the fabric of the hood and making it even more difficult to breathe.
He's watching me, Tina thought. He must be. He's always there ... he's just ... waiting.
Time dragged on. The ache in Tina's ankles burned until she wanted to cry out from the pain. Her knees felt as though someone was shoving a knife into the joint. Still she knelt, still she waited. Her breathing grew slow and deep, and, as her thoughts grew dull from the heavy air inside the hood, the pain in her ankles, knees, and back seemed to recede. Her feet and lower legs went numb from lack of circulation, but still she knelt and waited.
He's watching, was the thought that ran through her head. He's always watching and I have to be a good girl.
She heard a footstep -- and then another. Relief swept through her.
He's finally coming, she thought. Then: No ... why would I want him to ...
But the sound of the cell door opening interrupted her thoughts and all she could feel was relief that the waiting was over. As the footsteps approached her, anticipation of being able to move made her more aware of her legs and back. Her feet were numb and distant -- she tried to wiggle her toes, but felt nothing. The same was not true for her knees and back -- pain from both washed over her and she dropped her head with a whimper.
A gentle hand cupped her chin through the hood and raised her head. It came up slowly, heavily, not resisting, but she knew if that if he withdrew his hand her head would fall again. His other hand brushed the side of her head and stroked it gently. Her world seemed to have narrowed to the pain and his touch -- she leaned into his hand and a small sound of contentment came from her. Here was something that didn't hurt, something that was comforting.
"You were a bad girl, Tina," he whispered to her.
Tina couldn't find the strength to answer. She made a tiny whimper and leaned her head harder against his hand.
"You're going to do something for me, Tina," she heard. "Then you'll be forgiven and be my good girl again."
Tina tried to answer, but her mouth couldn't seem to form words. She was so tired, she hurt so much -- she tried to concentrate on the gentle touch of his hands under her chin and against her head.
Anything, she thought. She remembered the feeling of his arms around her, cradling her to his chest. That was so much better than this agony. Anything ... just make the pain stop and hold me.
He stopped stroking the side of her face and she felt the edge of the hood lift. He slid it up until her mouth was exposed and she gasped as cool, fresh air filled her lungs. Her mouth opened and she sucked it in gratefully, but it was suddenly blocked by something else.
His hand grasped the back of her head firmly and she felt something press against her lips. It pushed forcefully into her mouth, forcing her lips wider apart and sliding over her tongue.
No, she thought. A spark of resistance flared in her and she pulled her head back, trying to get away, but his hand on the back of her head held her in place and he pressed forward more. Warm firmness filled her mouth, pushing against the back of her throat.
No! she thought again. This was too much, this was different. She raised her hands to push him away, but he slapped them down.
He began moving in her mouth, pulling back and then pushing forward, harder and deeper each time until she started to gag at the end of each stroke. From the texture and taste, she knew he was wearing a condom, and the slimy feel of that wrapper sliding over her tongue caused her to gag again.
She'd done as he asked. She'd stripped for food, she'd exposed intimate details, even masturbated for him, but none of that was like this violation. During her first few days here, she'd thought about this, about him raping her, but as time passed those thoughts had faded. She'd started to feel, not safe, but comfortable. She'd begun to understand the rules: bad girls are punished and good girls are rewarded. But this was outside of the rules and the role she'd almost made herself accept. The shock and force of the violation stirred the feelings of anger and terror she'd felt on first awakening here.
Tina gagged again has he forced himself deeper, past her tongue and into her throat. She felt her eyes tear and heard herself gasping to get air. He thrust harder and faster, pulling her face forcefully against him now, burying himself fully in her mouth and crushing her nose and lips against the leather of his pants with each stroke.
I have to let him, she told herself, trying to keep from struggling. If I fight him, he'll hurt me. I can't fight him. I can't hurt him.
She felt both his hands at the back of her head now and each thrust slammed her face harder against him. Saliva built up in her mouth, either running down her throat to choke her or spilling from her mouth and running down her chest.
Just be a good girl, she thought. Do what he wants and he won't hurt you more.
Sudden realization shot through her and her mind cleared.
I can hurt him! she thought.
Tina met his next thrust eagerly. She shoved her face forward, burying her nose in the soft leather of his pants, feeling him fill her mouth and throat. She growled, fighting back the reflex to gag and clamped her jaws shut, feeling her teeth slice through the condom and dig into the substance beneath. Anger welled up inside her, all of the fear and frustration of her captivity spilling out as she jerked her head to the side, pulling and tearing, hearing his ... laughter?
A hand grabbed her around the throat, pushing her back and down onto her back. Her head struck the concrete floor sharply and pain exploded in her ankles as a heavy weight settled on her midsection.
He's sitting on me, she thought, confused. He's sitting on me but it's still in my mouth, how ...
He stopped laughing.
"Silly girl, Tina."
The pressure on her throat increased and she struggled to breathe as her head was pressed hard against the floor. She tried to cry out, but her mouth was still full.
"Foolish girl."
His weight shifted and her head rocked to the side from a ringing blow to the side of her face. Her mouth flew open and the contents she'd tried so hard to bite were flung across the cell.
"Very."
Another blow, this one to the other side of her face, rocked her head around again. She cried out and felt her lip split against her teeth.
"Bad."
The hand around her neck tightened more and her thoughts grew fuzzy before a third blow landed. The taste of blood coated her tongue.
"Girl."
He released her throat and his weight lifted from her. Tina tried to move, tried to get away from him, but her limbs didn't respond. She lay stunned, arms slack, her legs still numb.
She felt him lift her head and grab her hair through the hood, then cried out as he began dragging her across the floor. When her knees straightened, she cried out in pain again -- it felt like jagged edges were grinding against each other after so much time bent with her weight on them.
Still dazed, she felt herself dragged to the corner of the cell and left against the hard wall. Tina tried to speak again, tried to say she was sorry, that it was a mistake, that she'd be a good girl, but she couldn't form the words, only tiny sounds emerged. She heard the sound of the cell door and then something being dragged.
Oh, god, what did I do? she thought. Stupid, stupid girl.
She tried again to form the words, stupid girl, but couldn't. What would he do if she couldn't tell him she hadn't meant it, that she was sorry?
The cell door clanged again and then silence.
* * *
Tina huddled in the corner of the cell sobbing. The hood had slid back down to cover her mouth. She wasn't sure how much time passed as she tried to make sense of her feelings. Even why she was crying wasn't clear to her.
The pain was part of it, of course. Returning sensation in her lower legs and feet had turned into burning pins and needles. Her knees and ankles, unbent now and without her weight resting on them, but still aching and sore from kneeling for so long. Her back and neck ached, and both cheeks throbbed from the blows.
She cried out of disappointment and broken hope. She'd had that one, wonderful moment where she thought she could fight back, felt that she might be able to beat him and escape. Now that hope was gone and, with it, the smaller hope that he'd actually let her go. He'd said he'd let her go if she was good ... had she lost that chance too?
She cried from fear of what would come next. She didn't believe that a few blows would be her only punishment -- what would he do to her now? What would he demand of her?
But, worst of all and confusing to her, she cried because she knew she'd disappointed him. She knew that he'd caused all of her misery, but he was also her one, only, source of comfort in this place. Alone, lonely ... his was the only voice she heard. The only touch she felt.
She thought back to the other times he'd punished her, punished her physically. After he'd spanked her, he'd held her -- gently and tenderly, until she fell asleep. Although part of her wanted to deny it, she'd felt comforted at the time. And more so after the second time, when he'd used the belt. That time his arms around her afterward had been both comforting and exciting.
Now she lay there, beaten and hurting, and a part of her wondered why he hadn't come to comfort her this time. Part of her yearned for him, anyone, to hold her, reassure her, and push away the pain and fear.
Gradually the tear faded and she felt able to move again. Tina raised her hands to her head and gingerly pulled the hood of, wincing as it slid against the tender sides of her face. She blinked, eyes adjusting to the lights again after so much time with the hood on. Her stomach lurched as she realized what the dragging sound she'd heard was and saw that the mattress and bedding had been removed from the cell.
So that's next, she thought, resting one palm on the cold, gritty surface of the concrete floor. I sleep on this. I guess I deserve it.
I don't, she thought next, angry with herself. I don't deserve any of this.
But she couldn't, now, entirely believe that. I wasn't a good girl, she admitted.
Tina struggled to her feet, wincing in pain as she straightened her knees and hobbled to the toilet. She settled herself on the cold, metal rim and realized that even this had come to seem normal to her. She'd grown so used to it that she no longer thought about him out their watching her as she relieved herself.
When she'd finished, she pressed the button to flush the toilet, but nothing happened. She pressed it again, but still nothing. With a sinking feeling, Tina stood and turned to the sink. She pressed the button for water at the sink, but nothing happened.
Tina turned and rushed toward the red dot, hoping she could find some words to apologize, to convince him that she would never do anything like that again. Promise him that she'd learned her lesson and would be a good girl.
As she reached the painted dot and before she could utter a sound, more lights began coming on with loud snaps. Banks of lights surrounding the cell, above and below those that were already on. The lights had always been warm, but now Tina could feel the intensity of the heat tightening her skin.
There was a rushing sound and the air began moving. At first the breeze cooled her after the heat from the lights, but gradually it warmed and then grew hot. Sweat broke out across Tina's body and she glanced behind her at the empty sink. She sank to her knees.
"Please, sir," she whispered. "Please, sir, don't ... I'll be good ..."
***
Tina's hair hung in lank, damp strands around her bowed head. Her head throbbed from the heat and the intensity of the lights. Sweat dripped from her, running down her back, between her breasts, falling in droplets onto the concrete floor.
At first, that floor had been a refuge. Tina had laid on it, spreading her arms and legs wide. The concrete was cool under her body and gave her some respite from the pounding heat of the lights and that of the blowing air.
She had no idea how long she'd sat there, miserable in the growing heat. Occasionally she'd nodded off, but it seemed like he was always watching her and, just as she fell into sleep, the noises would come. Music, alarms, sirens, always different and unbearably loud. He wouldn't allow her to escape into sleep. Wouldn't allow her to escape at all.
The worst part was the thirst. When the heat had first gotten high enough to make her sweat drip and run, droplets had run over her lips. Her tongue, by reflex, had darted out to lick at them. The feel of liquid on her tongue focused her attention on her thirst.
Since then, it had only grown worse. Her tongue felt thick and dry in her mouth. Once she'd tried to lick the sweat from her body, running her tongue over her arm, but that did little to stem the parched feeling in her mouth.
How much time had passed since then, she didn't know. More than ever before, her sense of time was dulled. Days or hours, she had no idea, but her thirst seemed grow worse with every passing moment. Three times she had crawled to the steel sink to test it, only to be disappointed. Three times she had knelt by the empty sink and her gaze had fallen to the brushed, silver finish of the toilet bowl and the fouled liquid it still contained. Once a drop, either of a sweat or a tear, had fallen into the bowl, sending rings across the liquid's surface, but three times she had crawled away. Sobbing, mouth dry, she could not bring herself to do it.
Now, a fourth time, Tina crawled toward the steel sink and toilet. She knelt for a moment, eyes closed, and her throat worked convulsively. She raised her hand rested fingertips lightly on the sink's button.
"Please," she whispered hoarsely. "Please, sir."
It was almost more effort than she could muster to press the button, and when, again, nothing happened, Tina collapsed to the floor. Her forehead struck the rim of the toilet and she cried out.
Straining with the effort, she raised herself again and clutched the rim of the toilet. For a moment, she stared into the bowl, steeling herself for what she had to do.
Would it have been so bad? she thought. Would it have been so bad to do what he wanted and not fight back? Would it have been worse than this?
Tina reached one hand into the bowl. The liquid was warm and she closed her eyes as she cupped her hand and raised it slowly to her face. Trying not to smell it, trying not think, Tina opened her lips and drank.
The fluid eased her thirst, but the taste was acrid and she had to force herself not to gag when she swallowed it. When her hand was empty, she lowered it again, hoping that the second time would be easier; but there was a sudden rushing sound and Tina opened her eyes to see the contents of the toilet drain, leaving the bowl empty.
"No," she whispered in horror, but it was all gone.
Watching me, she thought. Waiting for me to ...
Waiting for her to debase herself even further, then taking even that away. Desperately, Tina crawled to the bars of the cell and clutched them. The lights were strongest here, bathing her skin in heat.
"Please, sir," she whispered, her voice cracking through still parched lips. "Please. I'll be good. I'm so sorry, sir. I was wrong. I was bad, sir. I was a bad girl and I should be punished."
With a loud snap, the lights went out, plunging the cell into darkness. The sudden absence of the lights' heat was like a cooling balm flowing over her body. Tina sagged against the bars, whimpering with relief. She realized that rushing sound of blowing air had ceased as well.
"Thank you, sir," she whispered. "I promise, I'll be ..."
A jet of ice-cold water struck Tina full in the face. The force of it knocked her back and spun her around, scraping her skin against the rough floor. The jet played over her body, spinning her further and driving her back into the cell.
She tried to regain her balance, but the water knocked her down again, over and over. Quickly she was driven, sliding across the rough floor until she struck the rear wall of the cell. Her head cracked hard against the wall and she was dazed for a moment.
Unable to move, she lay helpless for a moment, body pummeled against the wall by the force of the water. Then the stream moved back to her face and she was struggling to breathe. Water forced her lips apart, filling her mouth, streaming up her nose and into her throat. Her cheeks and lips, still bruised and tender from being struck made her cry out at this new assault.
Tina choked and panic filled her. She struggled feebly, trying to raise her hands to protect her face and then, suddenly, the water stopped. She coughed hard, trying to clear her nose and throat. Continuing to cough, she struggled to hands and knees, feeling the water stream off her body.
Water, she thought desperately.
Unable to see in the dark cell, Tina ran her hands over the floor. The cell floor was slanted and most of the water had run out of it under the bars, but here and there it was uneven and held shallow pools of water. As her hands discovered each pool, Tina lowered her face to the floor and pursed her lips, gratefully sucking the water into her parched mouth.
When she could find no more pools of water, Tina crawled through the dark to where she thought the red dot was. She knelt, spreading her legs wide. For a time, she was still and silent, marshaling her thoughts. She thought she knew what she should say, what he wanted to hear, but she was afraid to be wrong.
The dark cell had cooled rapidly with the lights off and the spray of cold water. Goosebumps sprang up on Tina's skin and she shivered.
"Thank you for the water, sir," she began slowly. "I'm sorry I was a bad girl, sir, I ... I know better now."
She paused and swallowed, licking her lips before she continued. No, she thought. It wouldn't have been worse.
"Please ... please let me show you I'm a good girl, sir, and give me another chance."
There was no response and Tina closed her eyes tightly, stifling a sob. He'd want more from her, of course. Always more. She thought about what he would want, how he'd want her to say it.
"Please let me show you," she whispered. "Let me ... please, sir, let me suck your cock."
Tina heard footsteps in the darkness and her heart beat faster. He'd forgiven her. She'd be a good girl from now on, she vowed.
The footsteps stopped and were replaced by the rush of air Tina had heard for so long, but this time the air wasn't hot. It was cold and growing colder.
Tina collapsed to the floor, shivering.
"Please," she whispered.
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