the-dark-basement: My first feature story. Her wrists were raw. Her jaw ached. Her thighs burned. He
the-dark-basement: My first feature story. Her wrists were raw. Her jaw ached. Her thighs burned. Her feet were freezing. It had been two days since she was locked in the dark basement. Her wrists and ankles were chafed from the tight, heavy steel handcuffs and leg irons. She was exhausted from sleep deprivation. She would do anything for a sip of water or a bite of food. The old wooden basement door creaked open. She saw heavy combat boots thudding their way down the stairs. Her eyes went wide and adrenaline flooded into her bloodstream. Her captor slowly walked toward her, a collapsible baton in one hand and a small paper bag in the other. He stopped just inches from her. She could smell his heavy, thick musk on his black fatigues. A ski mask concealed his face, but she could see his slate gray eyes, piercing through her. They were the alert but steady eyes of a jackal tracking its prey. With a terrifying crack, he expanded the baton to its effective length. She jumped and cried out in fear, buckling her knees and sending a wave of fresh pain on her already raw wrists. He slid the baton up her thigh and stopped at her panties, circling the head of the baton against her clit. “Welcome home, sweetie.” he said in a deep and commanding voice. She whimpered when he pressed the baton harder up and down her cunt lips. “I bet you’re thirsty.” he continued. She stared at him blankly, hoping beyond hope that he would give her some water. With the speed of a striking cobra, he gave her a hard crack across the thigh with his baton. She screamed. The thudding pain went down to the bone. She was certain it would leave a nasty bruise. What little hydration she had left was turned into tears, leaking down her face in pretty little rivers of despair. “I asked you a question, whore!” he growled, suddenly irate with her. She was terrified into compliance, nodding her head up and down rapidly with wide, glossy eyes looking into his. Just as quickly, his mood shifted again from the territorial gorilla to the methodical stalking predator. “That’s a good girl” he said almost sweetly as he wiped her tears from her cheeks. He opened up the small paper bag and pulled out a bottle of water, a granola bar, and a stale heel of bread. He placed them on the ground at her feet. They were close enough to touch with her toes. She stared longingly at them. Her stomach grumbled at the prospect of food, and her mouth became dryer than it had ever been since her abduction. “These can be yours” he said, “if you do something for me. Quid pro quo, as it were.” She looked back up at him, suddenly terrified at what she was almost certain he had in mind. Her fears were confirmed when he started unzipping his pants. She moaned in protest through her gag as a fresh wave of complete and utter despair washed over her again. This latest display was met with another crack from the baton across the other thigh. She howled in pain through her gag, again collapsing and letting her wrists take the brunt of her weight. Fresh lacerations trickled tiny streams of warm, dark red blood down her forearms. To help her make up her mind, her captor picked up the bottle of water, uncapped it, and poured a little water on her gagged mouth. Virtually all of it ran coolly down her chin and onto her chest, but the tiny bit that made it into the crease between her gag and her lips was enough to make her realize that she had no choice. She froze, betrayed by her primal desire to live, to drink the water. She slowly looked down. Her captor’s cock was fully erect, towering out from his pants like the mast of a war galley. It was thick and ridged all over with throbbing veins. The tip was especially prominent, with an amply ringed head that was significantly thicker that the shaft. She guessed it to be at least seven inches, maybe longer. She shuddered at the thought of it inside her. Her captor grew impatient at her stalling. He lifted her chin with the baton to meet his gaze. “What’s your choice, my sweet little doll?” he asked. She closed her eyes tight, sighed a sorrowful sigh, and slowly nodded her head yes. Without a word, her captor flicked open a pocket knife. She kept her eyes tightly closed, sparing herself from the trauma. With three quick and precise slices, her bra was off. Her young, perky tits were fully exposed. Her nipples grew hard from the cold damp air of the dark basement. She flinched when the needle sharp tip of the knife poked her nipple. She moaned and sobbed louder, her symphony of terror echoing off the concrete walls. Next were her panties. Rather than cut them away, her captor took them in both strong hands and tore them off with a sickening rrrrrrrrip. He immediately began fondling her cunt, pressing his thumb against her clit as his fingers pressed and grinded inside her. She tried to go numb, to take herself somewhere else in her head like they say you’re supposed to when you’re raped, but it wasn’t working. She was hypersensitive to every little detail of the imperfections of the skin on his fingers, violating her in a most forceful manner. He pressed his hand over her mouth and nose. “Smell your cunt, sweetie” he said. She had no choice by to inhale, smelling her own juices, what little were there after two days with no water. She felt sick to her stomach, but there was nothing to come up. Her body was no longer hers, she realized. It was just a plaything for her captor. He reached up and unlocked the handcuff chain from the bracket, She would have collapsed right there, but he controlled her decent to her knees. Her thighs ached with great pain as she dropped. Her knees ground into the gritty floor. If she still had her pantyhose on, they’d be ruined. She found herself strangely wondering what he had done with the rest of her clothes; her pantyhose, heels and dress… That errant thought was soon erased by the pain of her still cuffed hands being pulled over her head and pressed into the nape of her neck. Her captor used a thick industrial zip tie to secure her hands to her neck behind her head. The zip tie closed around her throat with a rapid and loud cccccccccccccclick. He then unbuckled her ball gag and pulled it from her mouth. She stood there, jaw aching, almost unsure what to do with her newly restored, yet quickly fleeting oral freedom. She worked her jaw, loosening the stiffness from the last two days of restriction. Before she could appreciate the loss of the gag, her captor gripped her jaw firmly and raised her face to meet his. “Before you think your words matter, let me tell you something, sweetie; your mouth is mine. I own your lips, your tongue, your throat, everything.” He moved closer to her, so close she could smell his hot breath. “You get one sentence to give me a good reason why I shouldn’t rape you. After that, not a single word unless it’s ‘yes, Sir’” His words were like an anvil falling on her psyche. With just a few simple words, he had transferred feigned psychological power into her hands. She knew it had no merit, and she could try and make a case, but there was only one sentence he wanted to hear, and she knew it. She pressed her lips together, closed her eyes tight, and said in a fleeting whisper, “Please, Sir…rape me.” Those words were her last for a long time. He jammed his ogre cock straight into her mouth. She gagged instantly as his cock crashed into her soft pallet. She tried to pull away, but he grabbed a handful of her long wavy hair and jammed deeper. She couldn’t breathe, and her body went into overdrive trying to free the cock from her face. Even with a surge of adrenaline, he was thrice her weight, and all of it was muscle. His tree trunk arms held her head absolutely in place as he thrust away at her face hole. Her world started to grow dark. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and her body went into the throes of a last ditch effort to free the cock from her throat. She saw stars in her vision as the darkness closed in. The fight left her as the euphoria of unconsciousness nestled in. That’s when his full length buried into her, all the way to the hilt. He held it there just before the twilight took her, and then pulled out. She collapsed to the floor, still half in and half out. She laid there motionless for a brief moment. Then, like a shell-shocked soldier, she returned to the here and now. She coughed up a torrent of throat phlegm as the taste of his precum invaded her wind pipe. Her face was flushed red as she coughed like a middle school kid after their first drag of a cigarette. It was leaking from her nose. Her face dripped and oozed the last remaining moisture from her body. Her captor knelt down to her, and rubbed her face into the pool on the ground. The pool bubbled where she still gasped for air. “How’s your shame taste, whore?” he growled, visibly upset with her performance. “Does it taste good? It does, doesn’t it?” She was silent, and it was a mistake. “I SAID IT DOES, DOESN’T IT, WHORE!” he roared as he ground harder, nearly breaking her nose. “Yes, sir!” she said like a Soviet prisoner signing a forced confession after days of torture. Her eyes fixed on the water and food, giving her a reminder of why she was being sexually destroyed. “Keep your face in the puddle, sweetie” he said much softer, his fit of rage in an instant all but forgotten. She stayed perfectly still, her face to the wet floor, her knees tucked and ass up, her cunt exposed and presented like a bitch in heat to a hound. He pulled her pantyhose from his pocket, alleviating her curiosity of where they went. He ripped them in two at the crotch, making two long strips of nylon. He walked over to the small end table in the corner of the room and opened the drawer. He puled out her purple cocktail dress and her black patent leather stiletto pumps. He threw them on the floor next to her. “You looked absolutely stunning in this dress, sweetie.” he said like a man reminiscing about past glory. “And those heels…when I saw the way your long, beautiful hair swayed when you were laughing with your friends at the club, the way your hips swayed…I knew I had to have you.” She realized he had stalked her at the club two nights ago. She didn’t remember leaving. He must have drugged her drink. She was sick thinking about it. She wondered if her friends were also his captives, bound and gagged somewhere nearby, but she didn’t dare open her mouth to ask. He gripped her dress by the V in the chest and ripped it in two. She flinched at the disgusting ripping sound it made. He ripped it again making one long thick piece. He knelt down in front of her head and lifted it up by her hair. He used the torn piece to sop up all the thick throat slime from the floor, talking the gritty dirt with it. He ringed the fabric loosely into a solid wrapped length, and used it to gag her once more. She moaned in displeasure as he square knotted the gag very tightly around her neck, pressing the taste deeper into her mouth. Once her mouth was secure, he moved down to her feet. He put her heels on, enjoying the sound of the leather creaking and sliding against her feet. He used the ripped sections of pantyhose to tie the heels to her feet and ankles. He wanted her feet as pretty as the day he snatched her. He moved back to her head, admiring his work. She was his slave, no two ways around it. She would be his, any way he wanted, and she was utterly powerless to stop him. He dipped his still throbbing hard cock into what remained of the pool of her shame, making his cock glisten. He went back around her, and without any warning, jammed it into her cunt. She screamed as her raw pussy stretched against his girth. He was fully inside her, and his head jammed against her cervix. She never felt such a betrayal by her body as the fullness send a rivulet of pleasure through her. Her cunt responded by quickly lubing up as he started pumping his full length in and out of her with each thrust. Her whole body and mind were consumed by the brutal use of her cunt hole, with a cross-firing of her strongest emotions trying to kill each other. Her mind was being violated in the worst way, raped like a wartime civilian in a city occupied by an invading army. But her body was trying to savor every inch of him, and every ridge of vein as his cock gave her g-spot a through thrashing. Before long, her body won over, sending an unwanted yet explosive orgasm through her. Her mind was silenced fully for a moment, as the pleasure seized every millimeter of her body. Her vision went white, her breath stopped, her eyes rolled back, her toes curled inside her heels, and for a fleeting minute, she was somewhere else in her head; somewhere that her captor was her lover, and he passionately made love to her as the sun set against the mountains while her face pressed against a picnic blanket. She was brought back to reality when he removed himself from her, quickly returning to her face and exploding shot after shot of hot, smelly, sticky cum onto her face as he grunted like a territorial grizzly bear. When he was done, he wiped his red cock all over her face, smearing his cum over every last bit of her face. She moaned long, pitiful moans as he did. “As I promised, here’s your food, cunt.” He wiped the stale bread all over her face, sopping up his cum into the bread. He uncapped the water bottle, smiled at her, and then poured the entire bottle over her head. She screamed in despair, and began crying like a child with a skinned knee. He laughed at her misfortune, and retrieved a doggie dish from end table. He placed the bread in the dish. He unwrapped the granola bar, ground it against her dripping wet pussy, and placed it in the bowl too. She was still sobbing, looking down at the water that was spreading impossibly thin across the dirty concrete floor. He lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “Look at me” he commanded. She did, her eyes bloodshot and stinging from cum and tears. “Do you think you were a good little rape doll?” he said like he was scolding a child. She slowly an unsurely nodded her head yes. “You certainly were. Look how much cum you got out of me!” he said, inexplicably shifting to a lighthearted tone. He walked over to the end table again, and pulled a full bottle of water from it. He walked over to her, and lifted her to her shaking knees. He untied her gag. Her mouth held open, yearning for sweet hydration. “Did you enjoy your rape, sweetie?” he asked incredulously. “Yes, Sir" she said with stoic obedience. “Do you want me to rape you again tomorrow?” he said, opening the bottle and hovering it over her lips. “Yes, Sir." she moaned breathily. With that, he poured the sweet, clean, cool water down her gullet. She had never tasted such sweet relief in her life. The ache in her mouth and cunt were forgotten as she felt the water ooze down her throat into her empty stomach. Half the bottle was gone before he stopped pouring. She sighed in relief as some trickled down her chin. He cut off the zip tie around her neck, letting her cuffed hands fall in front of her. He went back to the end table and grabbed a long length of chain. He locked one end snugly around her neck with a padlock and the other to an anchored eyelet in the wall. "I’ll be back down to rape your pretty holes again tomorrow, sweetie.” he said in an almost affectionate tone as he ascended the stairs and bolted the door shut behind him. She quickly grabbed the bottle and chugged down the rest of the water. She looked at the cum and cunt juice-soaked meal in the bowl, and decided she was too hungry not to. She took a large bite from the cum-soaked break and chewed happily. It was the most satisfying meal she’d ever tasted. -- source link