Abducted

Despite her brave defiance in the moment, Sarah crumpled after the door closed and the lights switched off. This left her with only a small nightlight out of reach on the ceiling, a thin smear of light through the dirty windows and tears that wouldn't stop coming. She lay in bed awake for hours before her hunger finally overwhelmed her pride and she crept around the room finding and eating stray potato chips she could find on the floor. Afterwards she tried to use the shower to get a drink, but it was turned off. Sarah almost resorted to the toilet. In the end she couldn't bring herself to do something so disgusting. A few minutes later she was thankful she'd drawn the line there. Lying in bed, she realized that a man that had planned everything else out so well would certainly have cameras in here. Just because she couldn't see it didn't mean he wasn't watching. She wouldn't want that monster to see how low he'd brought her in less than a day. That would be a fate worse than death. Eventually she fell asleep miserable and a dehydrated.

Sarah awoke in the morning as she heard the door open and her captor walking downstairs. "Shower is on, for as long as it takes me to finish breakfast," he said absently before sitting down on one of the lower stairs and taking a bite of his burrito.

She sat up almost immediately as she heard the noise, but still bleary eyed from a lack of sleep she didn't process what was happening or move right away, as she looked from the shower to her jailer and back. She would have to get close to him, almost within arm's reach to get clean. She wanted to refuse, but by the time he was halfway done with his breakfast she finally got up, walked to the shower, and turned it on. While waiting for the water to heat up, she cupped her hands and shivered as she took several long drinks of water.

"Is this ever going to get warm?" She asked finally, as she clutched the sheet to her body like a threadbare toga.

"Heh," he chuckled. "It will - when you deserve that sort of luxury. For now, cold clean water is all you get, but if you don't want to get clean that bad, I'll just bring the garden hose down in a couple days and keep the stink off you that way."

Sarah let the sheet drop away and stepped into the cold torrent. Her body language conveyed her obvious conflict at trying to cover up her most intimate places, one moment, and trying to shield herself from the worst of the shower spray in the next. After ten seconds she gave up on modesty, and after less than a minute she gave up on the idea of a shower, and stepped out, clutching herself and shivering.

"Now that you've gotten an eyeful, can I at least have a towel, asshole?" she demanded, addressing her captor for once without any prodding on his part.

"Of course, slut," he answered without missing a beat, "Just get down on your knees and kiss my feet, and I'll get you one right now."

Sarah looked at him like he was crazy, before turning away and picking up her sheet to dry off. "Like I would ever do that," she said, turning towards her bed as she dried herself off. "I'd rather die." She didn't hear him take off his belt, but she turned as he rose and took a step toward her. She wasn't fast enough though, and his doubled-up belt came down hard against her back and shoulder blade.

"That can be arranged, cunt." he said, though she didn't hear him over the sound of her own screams as she panicked and ducked to the floor. Sarah thought fast and tried to crawl under her bed while three more blows rained down on her lower back, ass, and thighs. Each strike left a red mark, but her tormentor was forced to stop temporarily to grab her by the ankle and pull her back out. She tried to hold on to one of the legs of the bed, but her strength proved no match for his, and she was forced out, kicking, and screaming.

"No, no, please don't. I'll do whatever you want. I'll kiss your fucking feet. Please." she pleaded.

His silence spoke volumes, and his only answer was to step on her back, with his left foot planted squarely between her shoulder blades, pinning her to the ground like a butterfly to a display. He let the moment of anticipation build, then without warning at all brought his belt down in four brutal strikes crisscrossing her mid and lower back. Each blow cracked against her skin audibly, and each left an immediate red mark with welts around the edges.

"The problem with you is that you're a proud cunt." he said, bringing the belt down again to another answering shriek of pain. "You're used to everyone listening when you tell them what to do, aren't you? But you've got no power here, hole."

"No, please," She said between tears, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Just stop."

She was answered by two more hard blows on her back. "If I tell you to do something, then you fucking do it, and you do it with a smile on your fucking face, cunt. If you talk back, then I hurt you. If you fight me then I hurt you much worse. Do you understand, slut?"

"Yes, I under--" she started, before the pain of another blow from his belt stole the air from her lungs.

"Yes, what, cunt?" he asked again.

"Yes... Yes s-sir." She said, unsure if this was the right answer, "Yes sir, I understand."

The belt stopped swinging, hanging there silently while she cowered at his feet, afraid to do anything that might make it start again, but then he took his foot off her back. And sat on her bed. "Okay slut, if you understand then get up and I'll take you over my knee and finish your punishment the way that you deserve." he said, setting the belt on the bed next to him.

For a moment Sarah thought about grabbing the belt and trying to attack him. Her pride hurt more than her body, and her back was on fire. Slowly she stood up, trying to decide how best to get the weapon, only to chicken out at the last second when she saw the amused look he was giving her. He knew she was going to do it. He knew she was going to try to surprise him, and that even with a weapon in her hand she had no chance. So, she stopped herself from taking the bait and instead bent down, laying across his lap, getting strange flashbacks from childhood as she settled into place. She'd been a willful girl, even back then, and her father had spanked her for years, though he never left a mark on her body. Her reminiscences were shattered as the first blow came down on her pert little ass though. For a moment it didn't hurt, but then as he raised up his hand to strike her again, she could feel the burn.

"One," he said casually, as he brought his hand down again hard in the same spot.

"Two. Three. You know - your ass jiggles more than I thought it would." Sarah opened her mouth to say something but closed it again and clenched her teeth as she realized his hand was already descending again.

"Four." Her whole body stiffened as the pain got worse, and little whimpering noises leaked out of her throat as Sarah struggled not to give him the satisfaction of screaming and crying.

"Five." It was a fight she was losing.

"Six." Every blow hurt worse than the last as he sensitized her left ass cheek with the impacts.

"Seven. Eight." her captor called out, before adding, "Your pride might be able to take this abuse, but your ass is starting to look worse for wear. You're definitely going to be wearing my handprint for a few days. Her whole body was rigid and straining as he spoke. She wasn't going to let his taunting break her concentration.

"Nine" The dam finally broke, and the whimpering turned into more plaintive cries.

"Please,'' she pleaded. "Please. No more. Sir. No more sir, I can't, I can't..." she whined.

"Ten."

He paused for a long moment like he was thinking about stopping. Instead, after a long moment of teasing, he answered the request with a flurry of blows. "Eleven. Twelve." Twelve was the first blow that drew a strangled scream from Sarah's throat. "Thirteen."

"Please. Please. PLEASE." She shrieked, "I'm so sorry sir."

"Fourteen." This blow brought only a wordless silent scream to the slut's mouth.

"Fifteen." She had been tested, and she had found her limits only to be pushed farther past them than she ever thought she would be. She flinched involuntarily when sixteen would have struck, but instead it never landed. Instead, he groped her sore ass, kneading it and massaging it, making her squirm uncomfortably under the painful pressure.

"I wonder what makes you more nervous," he said finally, after a moment of silence, "The idea that I might keep hurting you, or the idea that I might figure out you like it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sarah said quickly.

"Sir," her rapist corrected.

"...I don't know what you're talking about, SIR." she said after a moment of hesitation, where she weighed the greater of the two evils in her mind.

"That might be true," he said, letting his hand slide down from her ass to her inner thigh, "But that doesn't mean I'm wrong." She tried to squeeze her thighs shut, but it was too late; she hadn't expected the pivot, because she didn't know how the pain would make her drip. But they both knew once he slid a finger deep inside her pussy without any effort. "Mmmmmh," she moaned slightly at the feeling of being penetrated again. Normally she could have covered the sound of her arousal, but her struggle to keep silent during her spanking had taken a lot out of her.

"You're completely soaked," he said, obviously taking joy in her shame as he added a second finger to her small hole. "You keep telling me how much you hate this, but that's obviously not true, is it. You love the way I make you feel. At least part of you does."

"There's nothing I like about any of this... sir." Sarah said, remembering herself at the last minute. "You're a monster, and this is monstrous, that's-- Uhhh... that's all." She flushed red at having lost enough of her self-control that she gasped as he stroked her g-spot with two curled fingers while he continued to finger the squirming little slut on his lap.

"Nothing at all," He asked, as he added a third finger, stretching out her abused little hole as he vigorously abused her hot little hole.

"No... No sir..." She said between gasps, openly moaning now as she could no longer disguise how good he was making her feel. She loved what he was doing, and she hated herself for it. She couldn't deny it though; she could feel her orgasm building, and she was ashamed. How could a man she hated give her this much pleasure?

"Alright." He said, stopping suddenly, and pulling his fingers out of her, leaving Sarah feeling frustrated and suddenly empty. "If you hate it then we don't need to keep playing. I've got plenty of other things to do today anyway."

He pushed her off his lap suddenly, and then rose, stepping over her in a pile on the floor.

"Can I at least have something to eat before you go?" Sarah asked, managing to set aside her dignity long enough to try to address that gnawing hunger deep inside her.

"Sure," her captor answered, "Since you've been such a good girl." He left the basement and came back a minute later with a granola bar and a bottle of water that he set on the bottom stair where she could reach it. "Tonight, we're having Italian. Well, I am anyway. If you can keep your hands off that needy little pussy, you can even join me. That shouldn't be too hard since you hate everything I do to you, right?" he said, before leaving.

Sarah wanted to make some kind of sarcastic comment on his way out, but two things stopped her. First, she was afraid that he might take the food he'd left behind with him, and second, he'd struck a nerve with his parting comment. She had been planning to play with her clit as soon as he was gone, and the door was safely closed behind him. She could still do it now. She didn't see any cameras, even if they were probably there... but she couldn't afford to chance it. If she didn't keep up her strength, then she'd never be able to get out of this sick and twisted dungeon. So reluctantly she had half of her snack, some of her water, and tried to nap fitfully for the next few hours without much success while her pussy begged her for release.

The basement windows didn't allow her to see much outside beside the tall weeds growing up around the windows, but they did let her guess the time of day reasonably well, so as she woke up periodically, she could look up and see that time was passing slowly. Much too slowly. She had nothing to do and thought that might be worse than all the beatings she'd endured all day, added together. But eventually the sounds and smells of cooking drifted down into the basement.

Eventually she heard the door open and sat up, trying not to seem too eager. Her kidnapper came downstairs with two bowls... it took her a moment to see that they weren't real bowls though, they were doggy bowls. He set them down on the floor near the edge of her reach on the other side of the room and waited. "Come here girl," he called softly. "Dinner - come and get it."

She flushed at the idea of how humiliating this was but was too hungry to try to fight and rose despite herself.

"Ah, ah," He chided. "Not like that. A good little bitch eats dinner on her hands and knees, and I expect you to eat the same way."

"But I--" she started before silencing herself. She wanted to tell him to fuck off... but not as much as she wanted to eat some food before she passed out. Reluctantly, and only by force of will she crawled across the room, like a broken bitch. She could wait until after she'd eaten her fill to tell him what she really thought of him.

When she got to her dinner, she could see that it looked as good as it smelled. Noodles in a Bolognese sauce were on one side of the food dish with broccoli on the other. Her other dish held water. Sarah thought better than to use her hands. She knew that would get her punished, so instead she used her arms to hold the dish still while she tried to eat without making too much of a mess, but eventually she gave up on that and focused simply on eating the food, because she was ravenous.

In fact, she was having such a good time enjoying her meal that she didn't notice her kidnapper walking around behind her, until he was kneeling and spreading her cheeks apart. "Wha..." she tried to say with her mouth full, as she felt a cold hard pressure against her asshole.

"This is for your own good," he said, forcing the lubed-up plug into her tight little sphincter. "Tomorrow I'm going to rape your tight little ass, and as much as I enjoy hurting you, I don't want internal bleeding to cut our fun short if I get too rough." His voice was eerily calm, she thought, as he said the most horrific things to her.

"But..." She started.

"But nothing, bitch. Do you want to eat, or do you want to fight me and lose again?" he said, standing back up.

Sarah opened her mouth and closed it again more than once before turning her attention back to her food. It had hurt when he forced it inside her, but now it just felt ... weird. She hated that she couldn't rip the thing out right now, but she had higher priorities. Food first, everything else later. She could rip it out and throw it away when he was gone.

Her tormentor walked around to her left, snapping a couple pictures of her eating off the floor like a broken bitch with a plug in her ass, and then waited. When his captive had practically licked the bowl clean, he took out a wet wipe and cleaned her face, before taking the dishes and heading upstairs.

"Goodnight bitch," he called out as he climbed the stairs, "I hope you find some way to entertain yourself the rest of the evening." Sarah's only response was to glare at him, but she knew that for once he was exactly right, and her face burned with shame at the thought that tonight she wouldn't be able to keep her hands off herself.