Captive 8

My head snapped up at the sound of the buzzer – that damn buzzer. Not being able to hold my head up, it rolled to the side and then dropped, chin to my chest.

God – I wanted to sleep . . . The buzzer stopped.

I was standing. I don't remember being put in this position. My arms were folded and tied against my back and I was held upright by ropes to the floor joists above me. I tried to slump against the rope, letting it take my weight. That only pulled my arms up and caused more pain in my shoulders. My whole body hurt and ached from fatigue.

I'd lost track of the minutes, the hours – the days. No longer did I know if it was day or night. I couldn't see. I was blind folded from the beginning.

I didn't care; I just wanted to sleep.

The buzzer started squealing again. It was a high pitched hurunk . . . hurunk, like a fire alarm or something. Couldn't anyone else hear it? The noise reverberated in my head.

Tears began to stream from my eyes, soaking the blind fold until they made their way under the cloth to run down my cheeks. I felt things stirring deep in my bowels. Oh god no – not again. I tried to open my legs, but found them bound together just above my knees and my ankles. My urine began to flow. I was helpless to stop it. My body was so fatigued I longer controlled it; all I could do is stand there and let my piss run down the insides of my legs. That wasn't all though – the stirrings and gurgling in my bowels – after I stopped pissing myself, I began to shit. It oozed from my ass, clinging to my legs as it emerged. The stench of my urine and my shit gagged me and I began to dry retch in reflex to the foul odor. I felt disgusted by the way my shit clung to my legs.

The last time I did this, I'd been tied in the fetal position with my hands and arm drawn between my legs, so I shit right on my arms and there it sat stinking and squishy between my ass and arms.

I prayed for him to come soon.

His coming would bring torment of its own.

All I could do is stand there, stinking, tired, sore and wait. For how long, I couldn't tell. Sometimes it felt like forever between his visits, sometimes it felt like he showed up every couple of minutes. Always the same, he never said anything. I only knew he was there when he touched me. He would take me from whatever position he'd left me in and let me collapse on the floor. He'd untie me for a while and if I needed it would clean me. No – He didn't clean me. He hosed me down with high pressure cold water. It hurt and strung, chilling me to my very core, the only good thing the frigid water did for me was to relieve the pain and aching in my joints. He'd leave me lying on the floor shivering and wet.

If I had pissed and shit myself, he'd move me to another part of the room. The only thing I could tell about it is that the floor was concrete. Then I would hear him scrubbing the floor and the smell of Clorox would fill the room.

After that he would re-tie my arm behind me and put me on my knees, the dirt and grit on the floor embedding itself painfully into my skin. Then I was bent forward, my head being led to the bowl of lukewarm, plain oatmeal on the floor in front of me. I had to eat like a dog, putting my face into the bowl, slurping and sucking it into my mouth. It would be thin and running – and that didn't help my shit any. It would come from my bowels lumpy and running, just like the oatmeal I was forced to eat. I did force myself to eat it. I hated oatmeal.

I would then have my face wiped off. He would lift me from the floor and throw me over a sawhorse. And then the worse part of the whole thing, he would shove his cock up my ass – god it hurt - hump the hell out of me and fill my ass with his cum.

Damn that fucking buzzer!

I couldn't stand any more. I leaned into the rope holding me up, staying like that until I could no longer take the pain in my shoulders. Tears flowed steadily from the pain I couldn't get away from. I was beyond caring about the humiliation I felt in the beginning, beyond caring about being left sightless and alone, beyond caring about being cold and naked – all I cared about was wanting the pain to go away and to sleep.

The buzzer started again and just as quickly went silent. He must be here.

In the silence I could just hear his breathing. The tension on the rope holding me up increased as he lowered me to the floor with it. Then, blessedly, the pain in my arms subsided to a dull ache. I collapsed face down on the floor with out the support of the rope. He untied my ankles and then my knees, kicking my feet apart. I tensed myself for the cold water that would come next.

He must've bent down close. The force of the stream felt harder and stung more than before. It was directed right up my asshole and cunt. I didn't have the energy to move from it, but endured with my face contorted. The force slacked as he hosed down my legs. With his toe, he prodded at my side and rolled me over to hose off the front of my body, again paying particular attention to my crotch and pussy.

He finished and yanked me upright by the hair. My body lolled and wanted to fall over in exhaustion. He supported me as he untied my arms. Lifting me by the armpits, he led me to another part of the room. My body was so exhausted and fatigued he had to carry me the short distance really, my knees and legs wanted to collapse under my weight, my arms hung limply at my side. I could no more resist him than I could stand on my own. He lowered me to the floor again and I rolled over on my side, my head supported until it rested against the concrete.

I began to doze to the sound of liquid being poured on the floor and the smell of Clorox.

I yelped into consciousness from the sharp, burning pain in my buttocks. Tears again came to my eyes as I began to sob.

I was helped in to a sitting position and my back leaned against the wall. Into my hands he placed the bowl of oatmeal. I drank as much as ate it. Gagging, I forced the putrid stuff down me. I felt him watching me. The pangs in my stomach went away, but the oatmeal did little to fortify and strengthen me. I finished and dropped my arms. It was too much effort to hold them up. I heard the bowl hit the floor and roll away from my hand.

As it did, he grabbed me by the hair and yanked me to my feet. I didn't care that it hurt – just get it over with - rape my ass again – sodomize me. I was too exhausted to care or fight.

This time he laid me along the sawhorse, the board running down my chest, splitting my breasts, one hanging on each side. Pain shot through me; he clamped each nipple in turn with a clothes pin, to each he then hung a weight, pulling my breasts and nipples downward.

With the pain in my chest I tried to steel myself for what would come next, it was no use. I he rammed his cock into my ass with such force that it pushed me along the board. I cried out and whimpered as he began to hump me, more forcefully than he'd done before. I counted his thrusts. Twelve. Twelve and it would be all over. The twelfth would be the worse. He grabbed my waist tightly, lifting my hips from the sawhorse, jamming himself as deeply as possible into my bowels. Pain radiated throughout my body as he filled me once again with his cum.

I must've blacked out. I didn't remember him withdrawing from me or leaving.

Then I realized I felt warm. I wasn't on the concrete floor, but lying in a soft bed. I opened my eyes – no blind fold – I could see. I lay still under the covers, so happy it was over. I closed my eyes again and snuggled down into the warm protected covers. I felt safe.

I opened my eyes. The room was softly lit. I had no idea how long I had been sleeping. I looked toward the window; it was dark outside.

Turning from the window, I saw him, sitting in a chair not far from the bed. His smile was tender and caring. "Any other fantasies you wish to tell me . . ."