This is the fifth installment in the continuing story of Tina Featherstone's struggle against the criminal gang who have abducted her with the intention of selling her on into the sex trade. If you have not already done so, I suggest that you read the first four chapters before continuing further.
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Tina was on her own when she finally came round, with only the empty eye of the camera to keep her company, capturing and recording every twitch of her body. It watched as she rolled over, dived for the toilet and retched violently into the bowl. The pain in her throat confirmed her fears that the nightmare of the previous evening had been no dream. Almost instinctively her hand reached down between her legs. Her labial lips were swollen and sore, her pubic hairs still sticky with the combined seed of the five men who'd assaulted her throughout the previous night.
"Bastards," she hissed as the memories flooded back to her. She scowled up at the nearest camera and swore again, "fuckin' bastards."
Upstairs in the control room the three men watching on the monitor grinned at each other.
"She remembers that bit anyway," said one, while another began singing the old Streisand number, "Mem'ries..." They watched as her hands reached up and fumbled at her neck. The collar she found there seemed to surprise her, and she stepped across to the mirror, staring at it in disbelief. It took her twenty seconds or so to unbuckle it and hurl it through the door out into the main room. Stepping into the shower, she reached out and turned on the water before turning her back on the spray. For the best part of a minute she stood there, her back hunched up as the water ran cold, shocking her into some kind of wakefulness. Once the water had warmed up, Tina could begin washing the strings of dried cum from her body and out of her tangled hair. The latter task was by far the most difficult.
Hurriedly she scrubbed herself down. Already nervous that she'd slept too long, she dreaded the thought that her sixty second warning would come before she was ready for them. She remembered only too well the look on the bearded one's face as he warned her that any punishment would be severe. It could hardly be any more severe than the treatment they'd already dished out to her, but that look in his eyes made her unwilling to take the chance. He wanted her to fail, that much was clear. The bastard didn't need an excuse to punish her, he wanted to cause her pain and suffering. What she didn't yet know was why. The shower was as thorough as she could make it in the time she allowed herself. Filling her mouth with water, she tried to wash the bitter metallic taste out of her mouth. The aftermath of all the come she'd been forced to swallow.
Understandably nervous, she realised from the moment she'd woken that there was no certain way of knowing how long she'd been asleep. It was a deliberate policy on their part. With no clocks or watches in the rooms, the girls had no way of telling day from night. They would have to make themselves available for sex at any time, literally at a moment's notice.
Eveything she could possibly need had been provided for her. The flannel, toothbrush, soap and shampoo were all new, still in their wrappings, and Tina did her best with them. Drying and tidying her hair and scrubbing her teeth thoroughly in an effort to rid herself of the foul taste that lingered in her mouth. It would be days before she'd grow accustomed to that taste. A last tidying up, a quick glance in the mirror and she headed for the kitchen. Despite everything she was hungry and needed to know whether there was anything to eat or drink in there.
Of course, they'd been watching her all the time. Upstairs the older man leaned forward, flicked the switch on the control panel and spoke into the microphone.
"Morning Tina," he said, "glad to see you're up and about again. It's time for us to come downstairs and fuck you again sweetheart. You remember the rules don't you. You've got sixty seconds to reach the rug, and don't forget to smile. I hope that tight little twat of yours is nice and moist, we can hardly wait to try it out again."
The three men watched with amusement as she hesitated halfway across the room before scuttling back to the rug. The older one waited until she was down on her knees before flicking the switch again.
"Haven't you forgetten something pet?" He murmured.
Her hands flew straight for her throat. 'Damn, she'd forgotten the collar. Where was the fucking collar?' Scrambling to her feet she looked around in panic. It was on the far side of the room, hard up against the wall. Quickly she swept it up in one hand and ran back to the rug, looping it round her neck and trying to fasten it as she went.
Upstairs two of the men had already moved towards the door. The older one turned off the mike and scowled at the retreating figures. He wasn't happy with the arrangements.
"Don't know why we can't all have a bit of her," he grumbled, "she can cope with three of us easy."
"You know the orders as well as I do," said the thin one. "You'll get your turn with her in the next few days. For the moment your job is to make sure we've got some decent photographs to put on the website."
The older man shrugged, he knew it was true. All of them would take get a turn with the girl in the coming week or so, but the knowledge did little to ease his growing frustration. After all, the girls were being kept in his cellar, it was only right he should be allowed extra time with them and he wanted that time now. The photos weren't his only responsibility tonight. His main job was to keep a close eye on Henson, watch how he interreacted with the captive and report back any suspicions. Despite the hold they had over him, Henson was still very much an unknown factor.
Tina barely had time to fasten the collar round her neck before the door swung open and her two visitors stepped into the room. As they walked towards her, she slipped her hands behind her back and smiled up at them. It was the last thing she felt like doing but they'd made it clear that rules are rules, and the punishments for breaking any of them was going to be severe.
It was almost a relief when she saw there were only two of them this time. Two she might be able be able to cope with. It was a bigger relief still when she realised the bearded man wasn't one of the two. She remembered both of them from before. The dark one had been the first to kiss her; tall and well built he seemed quieter than the others.
His companion was the one she called snake, an evil little shit of a man with the longest cock of any of them. Long maybe, but it lacked the sheer bulk to make it a truly fearsome weapon. That's where his name came from. That long thing reaching up from his thighs and swaying from side to side, like a flagpole in a high wind, or a cobra reacting to a snake charmer's flute.
