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.

Patience is a Virtue

Part II

Patience can be rewarding.

I think this as I sit, holding the tiny girl cradled in my lap.  Her breathing has grown deep and regular and I know she's fallen asleep. 

It has been ten days since I took her.  Ten days, for me, since I unpacked my suitcase full of girl in this tiny room.  Ten days of patiently waiting, enduring her disobedience and watching time erode her will.

By my calculations, waking her after only a few minutes or hours of sleep, feeding her only enough to keep her always hungry, for her it should seem like more than thirty days.  Hunger is such a useful tool.  Hunger clouds the mind and confuses people.  Most have never known real hunger, so a few hours, a day, without food seems much longer to them.

In the time I've had her, she's cycled through the stages I expect – fear, anger, humiliation, acceptance and back again.  Over and over – but always confusion, feeling things she can't understand as well.

I give myself one more moment to enjoy the feel of her.  Tight buttocks nestled against my groin, the warmth of her breath against my chest through the cloth of my shirt and the hood she wears.  Then I stand and carry her to the mattress, gently placing her atop it. 

She stirs slightly and I pause, remaining still as she settles back into sleep.  I take my time now, letting my eyes rove over her naked body.  I've seen her nude many times over the last ten days, of course, but always from afar.  From the other side of the bars and the lights.  Now I'm close, right next to her.  I could reach out and touch her, run my hands over the mounds of her breasts and feel the nipples harden against my palm, reach between her legs and see if she's wet.  But I do not.

Patience.

She's lost some weight over the last ten days, but she's still nicely curved.  Between her legs I can see the hint of her pussy lips beneath the hair that covers them.  A small, tight cunt to go with her small frame.  I imagine what it will feel like when I finally take her – wonder whether she'll be wet and ready for me or if she'll be dry and I'll have to force my way in.  Wonder which I'd prefer.

Patience.

I stand and leave her.  It's time to prepare for the next phase.

* * *

Tina

Tina awoke slowly, drifting into awareness.  She was curled into a ball, hugging herself on top of the narrow mattress.  As she woke, she straightened her limbs and winced slightly when she moved her legs.  She reached behind her and felt her ass, wincing again as she put pressure on it. 

Bruised, she thought, and she closed her eyes tightly, tucking her chin to her chest. Bruised from being spanked.  Like a child over his knee.

"Hello, Tina."

The voice brought a violent sob from her.  She should have expected he'd be watching her, waiting for her to wake up.  But even as she sobbed, she began moving. 

She rolled onto her stomach, pushing herself up to her hands and knees, but couldn't summon the energy to rise to her feet.  Instead she crawled off the mattress and across the few feet to the red-painted dot on the floor.  She winced again as she lowered her ass to her heels and knelt, spreading her legs wide.

"Good girl, Tina, you've recognized that you shouldn't rise in my presence.  That's a very good girl.  I'm so proud of you."

But that's not … she almost spoke.  Not what she'd meant, not why she'd done it.  But now he'd said it was and he'd taken that from her, changed her reality and she couldn't be sure.  Had she really been too tired to stand, or had she felt she should crawl.  A single tear trailed down her cheek, but she straightened her back and kept her knees spread wide apart, knowing she had no choice.

"Do you understand why you were punished, Tina?"

"I …" she began, then paused, not wanting to give the wrong answer. "Because I hid from you, sir."

"What did you hide, Tina?"

She swallowed hard and hung her head, embarrassed by the question even spread and exposed as she was.

"Using my vibrator, sir," she said finally.

"Using your vibrator to do what, Tina?"

She raised her head, staring into the shadows behind the bright lights, pleading with her eyes.  Finally she realized that there would be no mercy, only silence awaiting her answer. 

"I hid using my vibrator to masturbate, sir."

"That's better, Tina.  Good girl," the voice told her.  "When did you first masturbate?"

"I … what?" she asked, confused.  Silence answered her.  "I don't understand, sir."

"Please, Tina, you do understand.  It's a simple question.  When did you first masturbate?"

Tina paused for a moment, struggling for an answer.  "I … when I was younger, I guess.  Sir."

"Of course you were younger, Tina.  Please tell me specifically – when did you first masturbate?"

Tina clenched her eyes closed.  She was horrified by the question.  Somehow, even though she was naked, legs spread, exposing herself to a stranger she'd never seen – but somehow the question seemed worse, more of an invasion; and answering it more of a surrender.

"I was … fifteen," she finally said, desperately thinking of some way to keep this thing private and not give away this part of herself.  "I heard some girls talking about it at school, so one night … one night I tried touching myself."

There was no response for a time, and then, "Good girls don't lie, Tina.  Good girls tell the truth.  Bad girls lie.  Are you a good girl or a bad girl, Tina?"

Tina's head dropped and her shoulders slumped.  Did he really know she was lying or was he guessing?  Did it matter? 

Slowly Tina leaned forward, crumpling until her forehead touched the floor.  She wrapped her arms around her stomach and sobbed.  "Please," she whimpered.  "Please don't make me.  Please let me go."

"Are you a good girl or a bad girl, Tina?"

"Please."  She was crying now, tears streaming from her eyes.  She rolled onto her side, curling into a ball and sobbing.  "Please don't."

"Tina, are you a good girl or a bad girl?"

"Stop it!" she yelled.  "Let me go!"

"Bad girl."

She heard a loud snap, like a switch being thrown and her skin suddenly felt cooler.  Tina opened her eyes, but saw only darkness.  The floodlights outside the bars were off for the first time and the heat from the mass of bulbs was gone.

Then there was the sound of footsteps, sharp against the bare concrete floor.  The clanging of steel against steel as the cell door was thrown open and the footsteps approached.  Tina realized he was coming for her and screamed.  She kicked out blindly into the darkness.

Tina rolled onto her back and tried to scramble away in the darkness, but she felt a hand grab the hair at the back of her head.  She reached behind her head and grabbed the arm with both hands, but his grip was too tight and he pulled her head back.  A second hand slid under her ass and levered her to the side, flipping her back onto her stomach.

A heavy weight came down on top of her, pressing her forcefully against the cold, bare floor.  She screamed again, struggling to get free, but she was a small girl and whoever held her was strong enough to keep her in place.  A hand found her flailing arm and grasped the wrist, pulling her arm behind her and her hand up between her shoulder blades.  She cried out again, this time in pain as the pressure on her shoulder increased.

Tina's struggles slowed as she realized they were useless.  She was trapped, one hand drawn up behind her and held firmly, her face turned to the side and pressed painfully against the floor, and the man's knee and shin digging into her upper thighs, pinning her to the floor.

"That's better, Tina," she heard and grip on her hair loosened.  Her head was released for a moment and she heard a rustle of fabric, then something touched the top of her head. 

Her body tensed and she heard, "Bad!"

She relaxed again and the hood was drawn down over her face.  She was breathing hard from her struggles and the inside of the hood quickly became hot and steamy from her breath.

"Better, now, but not a good girl, Tina.  Not a good girl at all."

Tina heard a click and felt the heat from the bank of lights again.  The weight on her thighs was removed, but her arm was still held firmly behind her.  She heard a jingle of metal and then the sound of something sliding against fabric.

"I want you to be a good girl, Tina, not a bad girl.  Bad girls are punished.  The badder they are and the more often they're bad, the more severe the punishment.  Since you didn't learn your lesson from the hand …"

Tina had a bare moment's warning as she felt his weight shift on her before there was a swishing sound and a line of fire exploded across her ass cheeks.  She screamed in surprise and pain.  Another blow quickly followed.  And another.

Tina screamed again and started struggling, kicking her feet wildly and trying to roll away from the blows.  The spanking had hurt, but it was far more humiliating than painful.  Even the pressure put on her shoulder by her struggles was nothing compared to the pain she was feeling now.

Again and again the blows fell on her unprotected ass, then, surprising her, one fell on her upper thighs and she screamed even harder.  In her struggles, she tried to rise to her knees and her thighs spread apart.  The next blow landed on only one of her thighs, wrapping around onto the even softer flesh between her legs.

Tina let out a howl of agony.  She'd never imagined a pain like this.  Lines of fire crisscrossed her ass and thighs, but this latest blow made her think her flesh must have been split open.  She clamped her legs together, but blow after blow drove her to struggle again.  As soon as her legs parted, another blow curled between them, cutting into the sensitive flesh.

"Stop!" she yelled. "Please stop! I'll be good!"

The blows continued, one after another without pause.  Whenever she failed to keep her legs tightly pressed together, her inner thigh was punished.  Through it all, her tormenter said nothing.  Not a word or sound. 

She cried, feeling the fabric of the hood grow wet with her tears.  Gasping for breath between screams, she felt herself grow light-headed.  Finally, feeling as though nothing existed but the burning pain in her ass and thighs, she stopped struggling.

"I'll be good," she whimpered into the hot, moist air of the hood.  "I'll be good.  I'll be good.  I'll be good."

The pace of the blows slowed.  Tina stayed still, limp, exhausted.  The pauses between blows became longer.  One landed.

"I'll be good."

Then another.

"I'll be good," she whimpered.

A longer pause, she thought, prayed, it might be over, then again the line of pain across her ass cheeks.

"I'll be good." A tiny, little-girl voice.

A longer pause and another sharp line across her thighs.

"I'll be good." Her voice broke in harsh sobs.

The grip on her wrist eased.  Her captor slid her arm down her back and released her.  She rolled onto her side, back to him, and pulled her knees to her chest. 

"I'll be good," she whispered, sobbing. 

"Yes, you will," he whispered back. 

She felt him move beside her and suddenly she was in the air as his arms scooped her up and carried her, still curled into a ball, to the mattress.  He set her down gently and she felt him move behind her.  His body pressed against her as he lay down, spooning her.  His legs curled up against hers, cupping her ass in his lap; smooth and cool against burning skin of her ass, she thought he must be wearing leather.  One arm wrapped around her, lightly, gently.  His other hand softly stroked her head through the hood.

"Ssshh," he whispered to her softly.  "It's all over now, Tina.  All is forgiven now and you'll be a good girl."

"I'll be good," she agreed softly. 

As when he'd spanked her, Tina felt the pressure of an erection against her back.  He likes it, she thought to herself.  He likes hurting me.

A tremor of fear went through her.  "I'll be good," she repeated.

"I know you will, Tina," he whispered.  "Some things might take time, but I understand that."  He gently kissed the back of her head through the hood.  "I have patience."

Tina shuddered fearfully, dreading what more he'd ask of her.  She leaned away from the pressure of his body against her back, but he moved with her, keeping her in a firm, but gentle embrace.  The cool leather of his pants pressed against her ass and thighs soothed the burning sting of the beating.

Despite herself, she eased back into that sensation, longing for relief, then pulled away.  She was confused, hurting, but the coolness felt good and being held was oddly comforting.  She was afraid of him, terrified of what he'd ask of her next, but comforted by his reassurance that everything was okay now.  For now.

More confused with every moment, she started to pull away, not understanding how she could be feeling this way.  He'd inflicted the pain, how could it be soothed by him?  She was so scared and upset because of him, how could him stroking her head be comforting?

"Ssshh," he told her, keeping her in place.  "It's okay, Tina.  Be still."

Confused, she relaxed back into his embrace.  She didn't understand, so it was easier to do as she was told.

"Are you a good girl or a bad girl, Tina?"

"I'm a good girl!" she cried desperately, tensing, fearful the beating would begin again.  "I'll be good!"

"You know what I want from you, Tina.  Are you a good girl or a bad girl?"

"I … I'm …" she stammered, finally, "I don't know for sure.  I don't know when it was.  I don't remember exactly.  I'm not lying!"

"That's alright, Tina."  He moved the hand that had been around her to rest gently on her hip, no longer pulling her against him.  "Just do your best.  What's the first time you remember?"

She inhaled deeply.  "I was … young … five or six, I think … my mother … I didn't know what I was doing, that I was doing it, I was just watching TV …"

"What happened, Tina?"

"I was … I guess I was … touching myself while I watched TV.  My mother saw me and told me … she told me that was a private thing and … that's the first time I remember."

His hand on her hip began petting her.  Just the fingertips moving up and down from hip to waist and back again.  The sensation was light, tingling against her skin.

"That's a child's story, Tina," he whispered in her ear.  "A child ignorant of what she was doing.  Tell me about the first time you knew what you were doing.  The first time you touched yourself with purpose."

She swallowed hard, thinking, trying to remember and get it right so he'd be satisfied.

"Maybe … thirteen?" she whispered tentatively.  "I … please …"

His hand stopped stroking her side and his fingers clutched her firmly. 

"No!" she squeaked.  "I'll be good!  I just … I don't …"

"Tell me what you remember, Tina," he told her, resuming the light petting from waist to hip.  "Just do your best."

"Thirteen.  I was thirteen," she said hurriedly.  "We went to a movie.  It was R-rated and it … I think my parents … it was the whole family … my parents didn't know it would have … "

"Calmly, Tina."  His hand stopped stroking again, this time sliding down her body to cover her stomach, fingers spread wide and pull her tightly against him.  "Tell me, but calmly.  No need to hurry it."

The firm pressure against her body seemed to steady her.  She took a deep breath.

"I don't think my parents knew the movie had so much sex in it," she said.  "It was supposed to be an action movie, but there were a lot of sex scenes in it and it was pretty embarrassing to be sitting there with my parents."

"Keep going," he prompted her.  Now gently stroking her stomach, bringing his fingertips together lightly at her belly-button, then slowly spreading them wide.

"I … never really paid any attention to those scenes before," she said softly.  "But this was different.  They made me feel funny."

"Funny how?"

"Soft," she whispered.  "Warm.  Melty."

"Good girl, Tina," he said.  "Keep going."

Feelings flooded through Tina.  Relief that he was happy with her followed by fear as she remembered what had happened when he wasn't.   She hated him, but at the same time her world had narrowed – her only source of approval was through him.  Physically, her ass and thighs still burned, but the burn was almost pleasant.  Like stretching an aching muscle, especially where the smooth leather of his pants touched her and rubbed against her when they moved.  As she continued speaking, his hands stroking her head and belly reassured her.  Reminded her that he was happy with her and she was safe from more beating so long as she pleased him.

"I still felt that way when I went to bed," she told him. 

His hand moved from her stomach back to her hip, then suddenly slid behind her to cup her ass cheek and squeezed.  The pressure on the welts and bruises there intensified the stings and aches, but he began kneading, squeezing and releasing, and the sensation changed.  Like massaging a sore muscle, the pain was still there, but became something else.

"'Felt that way', Tina?"

"Yes."

"'Melty'?"

"Yes, I … when I went to bed, it felt funny, so I touched it, and …"

"You touched what, Tina?" he whispered.

Tina felt herself flush.  "I … touched myself," she said finally.

"Where, Tina?" 

Face hot with embarrassment, she stammered.  "Down there.  I touched my … vagina," she tried, hesitantly.

The hand on her ass squeezed and his fingers dug in cruelly.  She gasped, suddenly realizing that she'd been enjoying his touch and feeling sick about it.

"Do you want to be a good girl or a bad girl, Tina?"

She cringed in on herself, fear blocking out the other emotions for a moment.

"That's a clinical term for it, Tina, but you weren't being clinical, you were being sexual.  Be a good girl, Tina, where did you touch yourself?" 

His fingers resumed massaging her ass and the swirl of emotions and sensations confused Tina.  Fear, disgust, embarrassment, comfort, pain, and pleasure all warred for her attention.  She couldn't take another beating, she told herself, and the next one might be worse.  She had to do what he said, and if doing what he wanted, accepting it, made it easier for her to get through this, then why was that wrong? 

"I … " More tears leaked from her eyes.  "I touched my … my pussy," she said.

"Good girl, Tina."

Her memories of that first time were special to her.  She remembered the movie, with an actor she'd had a crush on, and maybe still did a little bit.  She remembered the scene from the movie that had affected her so many years ago.  He'd been overcome with passion for the actress, Tina didn't remember who that was and, anyway, in her mind the woman was always Tina herself.  The woman in the movie, Tina in her head, had denied her own feelings, but he'd grabbed her, pinned her to against a wall and kissed her.  She'd tried to push him away, even hit him, but he'd ignored it.  He just kept kissing her, pressing his body against hers, until she couldn't deny herself any longer and had clutched him to her, fingers clawing at his back.

The young Tina had played that scene over and over again in her head under the covers of her little bed.  Her fingers rubbing furiously as she imagined herself sparking that much passion in her lover.  So much that he wouldn't take her "no" as an answer.  So much that he'd grab her and kiss her, no matter how much she struggled or fought back.

Heavy sobs came from inside the hood as Tina fought her own feelings now.  He was happy with her.  He was happy with her and that meant she wouldn't be hurt.  But she was giving in to him when she should be fighting.  But fighting meant being a bad girl and bad girls were punished.  She didn't want to be punished, she wanted to be a good girl, then she at least wouldn't be hurt and she might get some comfort, like someone holding her and telling her it was all okay.

"I touched my pussy," she repeated.  "I rubbed it and it felt … really good, so I kept rubbing it and then … and then … I came."

"Good girl, Tina.  Thank you for telling me that."

Inside the hood, Tina smiled a hesitant, scared smile.  She'd said that last part, thinking it would make him happy.  And it did, so it was okay and she was a good girl, and it wasn't so hard to be a good girl.  As long as he kept telling her she was a good girl, she'd be okay.

"Show me how you touched your pussy, Tina."

A thin, mewling whimper came from inside the hood.  

"No, please," she whimpered.  She'd done what he wanted, she'd used that word and told him what he wanted to know, no matter how embarrassing it was.  She couldn't do that, it was too much to ask.  She shook her head.  "Please."

"Yes, Tina.  Here, sit up and lean against me.  You can't show me properly with your legs all curled up like that." 

He sat up and pulled her along with him until she was sitting between his legs, reclining back against his chest. 

"Show me, Tina."

Slowly, she did as she was told.  Reclining against his chest, she felt the warmth of his body behind her.  The hard press of his erection was more pronounced in this position.  She parted her thighs slightly, then sighed, knowing what he wanted.  She spread her legs farther, then bent her knees and drew her feet up so that she could spread them more.  She moved her right hand down and cupped her crotch, barely touching herself, knowing it wouldn't be enough, but not willing to start, not willing to show him this.

"What did you think about, that night in your room, Tina?" He was barely whispering, his lips right beside her ear.  She could feel his breath on the side of her face through the thin material of the hood.

"I thought about the movie."

"What about the movie, Tina.  Tell me."

"The ... the sex scene in the movie," she said.  In her mind's eye she could see the images.  It was still one of her favorite fantasies and she replayed that scene in her head thousands of times.  It was private, personal.

"Tell me about it, Tina."

"He grabs the girl by her arms," she began.  "And pushes her back."

"'Grabs the girl', Tina?  Really?"  He slid his hand over her shoulder to the back of her neck, then up, beneath the hood into her hair.  His fist closed around her hair, pulling her scalp tight and tilting her head back.  "Who does he grab, Tina?" 

"Me!" she gasped out.  "I think about him grabbing me!"

She felt heat on palm of her hand, between her legs.  Heat and sudden moisture.  Oh, god, no, she thought.  This is wrong, I can't...

"Touch yourself, Tina.  Show me what you did and tell me what else he does to you."  Still pulling her head back by her hair, he slid his other arm beneath hers, just below her breasts and pulled her tightly against him.

She moved her hand, pressing down and finding herself hot and wet, lips parted and opening.  Her body betraying her because of years of priming with these thoughts, learning that these images meant sex.  She coated her fingers with the sticky fluid and slid them up, shuddering when she touched her clit.  She slowly rubbed herself.

The fist in her hair tightened even more and she gasped, mouth falling open. 

"Tell me, Tina."

"He grabs her ... me ... by the arms," she said.  "And he pushes me back against the wall.  Then he pins me against the wall with his body and lets go of my arms.  He puts his hands on my chin, on my face, on the sides of my face ..."

The arm around her middle tightened, pulling her more firmly against him.  He loosened his grip on her hair, then tightened it again.  Then again and again, pulling her scalp tight and then releasing it.  Her fingers moved faster as images in her mind played out and she described them.  Her breath grew ragged.  She'd never had someone with her when she did this before, never had someone touching her as she played out this particular fantasy. 

The sensation of someone touching her added to the images in her head.  The arm around her chest restrained her, as she thought of herself trapped against a wall.  Unable to move, to leave, to run, she couldn't even turn her head or lower chin.  When she tried, his grip tightened, pulling her head back.

"He ... I try to look away, to look down, but he pulls my head up and he kisses me."  Her fingers moved faster, sometimes darting quickly down to wet themselves again before returning to her clit.

"I try to push him away, but he's too strong," she gasped.  "I can't move.  He's kissing me hard, but I ... I won't open my mouth, so he's crushing my lips against my teeth.  Then ... then he grabs my jaw and he pulls it down.  I can't stop him, it hurts if I try to stop him. "

"Why do you want to stop him, Tina?"

She heard the whisper in her ear.  For a moment she was confused, lost in the fantasy and not understanding where the question came from.  Then she remembered -- she was trapped, held down, but the sensations were merging with her fantasy and she moaned.

"I don't!" she cried.  "I don't, but I can't, I shouldn't ... do this!"

"Tell me, Tina."

Her fingers moved faster between her legs.  The air inside the hood was hot, moist from her gasping breath.  She was breathing so hard and so fast that she couldn't get enough fresh air through the fabric of the hood.  She was lightheaded, confused.

"I shouldn't let him touch me," she moaned, "but I can't stop him.  I want him, but I can't stop him, so it's okay ... it's ... oh, god, he pulls my mouth open and I can't stop him ... his tongue's inside me ... I can barely breathe ... he's crushing me and covering my mouth with his ..."

She straightened her legs, thighs tightly together, muscles tense, but her fingers still worked furiously at her clit.  She tried to arch her back, but his grip around her chest was too strong, she couldn't move.  She strained against him futilely.  The struggle intensified what she was feeling, giving life to the fantasy, making it more intense than it ever had been.

"Oh ... god ..." she moaned.  "He ... forced his leg between mine ... I can't keep them together ... he shoves them apart and ... and his leg shoves against me ... against ..."

The hand in her hair tightened, more than it had so far, pulling her hair painfully.  She clenched her teeth, jaw tight, lips curled back in a grimace.

"My ... pussy!" she growled.  "He shoves ... his leg ... against ... my pussy!   The more I struggle ... the more ... it ..."

His arm around her chest moved, his hand slid over her breast, barely brushing her hard, stiff nipple.  This new sensation surprised her and brought the building tension to the edge.

"Aaaahhh ..." she moaned and then a sudden, sharp pain as her nipple was grasped and pinched tightly.  He twisted and pulled, the pain shooting through her.  It was like a fiery cord that went through her body connecting her nipple and clitoris.  It sent her over the edge and she screamed as the orgasm took her.

Dimly, Tina was aware of him moving, that he was no longer behind her.  She fell flat onto the mattress as he slid out from behind her, but her fingers kept moving between her legs.  Slower now, pausing before sliding over her clit, each stroke sending shivers through her. 

She cried out in protest as he grasped her wrist and pulled her hand away.  "Nooo ..." she cried, then groaned as he shoved his fingers inside her.  Two fingers deep inside her, pushing aside the clenching, spasming walls of her wet cunt.  Then he closed his hand, palm covering her clit, fingers inside, pressing, compressing the spongy flesh inside the front of her pussy.

Tina moaned as new sensations flooded through her.  His other hand found her throat, encircling it gently, but firmly, and he began working the hand inside her.  Opening and closing it.  His palm rubbed over her sensitive clit and the fingers repeatedly compressed that spot inside her.  Faster and faster he worked his hand, while Tina writhed before him.  Every time he closed his hand sent an explosion of sensation through her, rolling and growing as her orgasm continued. 

The feeling of the hand on her throat touched something deep inside her.  He wasn't choking her, but he didn't allow her to move.  She started to roll from side to side, but his hand kept her in place.  Her own hands reached out, clawing and clutching at whatever she could find.  One found his leather clad thigh and she grasped it, fingers digging deep.

"You're a good girl, Tina."

The words settled into her mind and her moans changed.  "I'm a good girl," she whispered.  "Good girl ... I'm a good girl ..."

He increased the force of the hand inside her, no longer flexing his hand alone, he used his whole arm.  Faster and harder, almost lifting her off the bed as his fingers pounded against the inside of her cunt.  On the downstroke, his palm slapped her clit hard.  Then his mouth closed around her nipple.  She cried out as he sucked it in, deep and harshly.

"I'm a good gir ... aaahhhh!" she screamed as his teeth closed on her nipple, biting deeply. "I'm a good girl!"

Now he slowed his movements.  His teeth released her nipple and he resumed sucking on it gently, swirling his tongue around the hard nub.  His fingers now rubbing softly along the outside of her pussy, covering the full length of the lips to her clit and back again. 

Tina moaned.  "I'm a good girl," she repeated.

He took his hand from her throat and straightened.  "I'm a good girl," she protested.

She rolled toward him, curling herself around his legs and clutching at him.  He bent and cradled her, rocking her gently.  "You're a good girl, Tina," he whispered.

"I'm a good girl," she agreed, voice soft and vague.

"You're my good girl, Tina."

"I'm a good girl."

"My good girl, Tina."

"Your good girl," she whispered.  "Your good girl."

She drowsed, rocked gently while she whispered it over and over.

***

Tina woke slowly, drowsy and satiated.  She stretched and her eyes flew open as she felt an ache and sting in her buttocks.  She sat up quickly, eyes wide and horrified as memory flooded her.

"Oh, my god," she whispered, looking around. 

The hood was gone and she was alone again.  She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

"What did I do?" she whispered.  Shame and guilt washed through her.  "Oh, god, what did I do?"

It was then that she noticed something new in the cell.  On the floor beside the bed was a remote control.  She looked around, but could still see nothing outside the cell due to the bright lights.

Tentatively she reached out and picked it up.  What now? she asked herself.  What's next?

At first she thought she'd put it down.  Ignore it.  But she knew that if it was here, she was expected to use it.  He wanted her to use it.  She knew what would happen if she didn't do what he wanted -- whether it was just withholding food or another beating, she didn't care, she didn't want either; or any other punishment.  She accepted that she was here and in his power.  She would be a good girl.

Tina raised the remote control and pressed the power button.

Two of the bright lights outside the cell went out and between them a large television came to life, its screen a solid blue.  Tina pressed the play button and the screen flickered to life.

A woman's naked body appeared, centered on the screen in close up from just below her chin to mid-thigh.  She was sitting, legs pressed tightly together. 

"Show me, Tina."

Tina jumped, startled.  She looked around wildly, wondering what he wanted her to show her now.

On the screen, the woman's legs parted slightly, then paused and spread widely.  Her knees bent and she drew her feet up.  The lips of her pussy opened, parted and showed her opening glistening with moisture.

"No," Tina whispered, horrified as she realized what she was watching.  The woman's hand, her hand, Tina's hand, came into view on the screen and slowly, trembling she saw, covered her exposed self.

"No, no, no!" Frantically, Tina pointed the remote and pressed stop repeatedly.

"What did you think about, that night in your room, Tina?"

The images on the screen continued.

"I thought about the movie," she heard herself answer.  She scrambled to her knees, pointing the remote at the television and pressing stop, power, then random buttons, anything to make it stop.

"What about the movie, Tina.  Tell me."

"No!" she screamed, throwing the remote at the television.  It bounced between the bars of the cell, spinning off into the darkness.  On the screen, the scene continued to play out.

"Please, no," Tina whispered, watching as her head is pulled back, extending and exposing her throat beneath the edge of the hood.  Hears him tell her to show him what she did.  Sees his arm encircle her.

Tina knelt, frozen and staring at the screen.  Her mouth open, eyes wide in a comical expression of horror at what she's seeing. 

On the screen, her hand begins to move.  She sees her fingers glistening with the moisture starting to drip from the open lips of her pussy.  Despite herself, she feels those sensations again, watching. 

This is no fantasy, this happened.  As she watches her onscreen image, she remembers the feeling of being trapped and helpless.  Her voice describes the fantasy of her childhood and she sits, stunned, watching until the end.

When the screen finally faded to black and she heard her own whispered chant of "your good girl ... your good girl ... your good girl ... " fade to silence, Tina's shoulders slumped.  She bowed her head and sobbed, eyes clenched shut and tears rolling down her cheeks, she collapsed to her side on the mattress.

Over the sounds of her sobs, she heard something else.  She swallowed hard, getting herself under control and listened.

"He grabs the girl by her arms," she heard.  "And pushes her back."

"Please, stop," Tina whispered, but it didn't. It continued, try as she might to block it out, the voices continued.  Hers and his, repeating the scene again.  And again when it had finished.

"I try to push him away, but he's too strong.  I can't move.  He's kissing me hard, but I ... I won't open my mouth, so he's crushing my lips against my teeth.  Then ... then he grabs my jaw and he pulls it down.  I can't stop him, it hurts if I try to stop him. "

Over and over again, Tina lay there and listened to the scene replay.  Remembering the sensations, the feel of his hand in her hair, her neck exposed and vulnerable. 

"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 ..."

The memories of her childhood, hands furtively moving under the covers, cupping her breast and feeling the nipple harden.  His lips on her nipple, tongue swirling, and then the feel of his teeth.

"My ... pussy!  He shoves ... his leg ... against ... my pussy!   The more I struggle ... the more ... it ..."

Her body reacted as she'd trained it over the years.   This story, these thoughts, meant sex.  Reluctantly, she moved her hand, sliding it between her legs.  Her body shuddered, trembling as her fingers slid over her clitoris and down between the soft, wet folds of her pussy.

"You're a good girl, Tina."

This wasn't all he wanted from her, she knew.  She needed to do more to be a good girl.  Quickly she rolled onto her back.  She opened her eyes and stared at the screen, seeing his hand inside her, her body writhing. 

Eyes locked on the screen, Tina spread her legs wide, straining muscles to expose herself as much as possible.  Her thighs were wet with fluid from her pussy and felt chilled when the air hit them.  Her pussy lips gaped open, spread and inviting.  She moved her hand, fingers flying over her clit as she watched herself.  She saw the back of his head obscure her breast. 

Her hand flew to her breast.  She heard herself scream and grabbed her own nipple, twisting and pulling as hard as she could.  She pinched harder, crying out in frustration as she tried to recreate the sensation of his teeth.

"You're a good girl, Tina."

"I'm a good girl."

"I'm a good girl!" she cried out, fingers flying over her clit, nails digging into her breast.

"You're my good girl, Tina."

"I'm a good girl."

"Your good girl!"  Close, so close to the edge, she threw her head back, missing the pull of his hand in her hair or the feel of his grip on her throat.

"My good girl, Tina."

"Your good girl."

"Your good girl!"

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.