My name is Raelynn Price. I'm 22 years old. My breasts are generous in size, my hair long and scarlet, and my skin pale...just like my Irish ancestors. Maybe that's why they often call me 'the Irish bitch'.
My entire world is a wooden cell. It's about 16 feet long and 5 feet wide. The ceiling is too low for me to even stand up in. How long I've been here since my kidnapping, I wish I could say. I remember my graduation ceremony, and then going to a party. I remember downing a drink from a solo cup, not knowing what was in it, not even caring as dozens of other students from my class celebrated alongside me. That night we were all ready to throw our inhibitions to the wind. After the party, that's where my memory turns into one big blur.
And then I woke up here, in this wooden cell, naked and alone.
They've kept me naked and trapped here ever since. There are two small compartments that open and shut only when my captors wish it. Through one they give me trays of food and toiletries. Through the other they take the trays of trash I return to them. There is a crude toilet in the floor, a ceramic bowl which flushes automatically. There's a cramped shower in one corner with a lowered, separate patch of flooring - just porcelain tiles and a grate-covered drain. Lastly there's my 'bed' if that's even the right word for it. It's a mattress, nothing more. No blankets, just a thin sheet which they let me hand through the compartment once a day, returning me a fresh one.
This is it. This is my world.
I imagine Mom and Dad and Nancy are all worried sick or heartbroken. I wonder if the police are still looking for me. How many weeks or months has it been? I don't know. I just don't know, and that eats away at me.
Without sunlight there is only one thing that anchors me to any sort of routine. There is one thing that I do know to expect. This 'morning' it begins like any other. I wake up to hear a pounding on the other side of the wall.
"Wake up, bitch. You've got a customer."
Near one side of my prison there is a round hole. Ever since my captivity began, my captors have made one thing clear. I will not continue to receive food unless I keep providing my 'services,' and my services involve one primary purpose.
Sucking and fucking cock.
Whenever a cock appears, thrust through that hole, it is understood that I must lick it. I must suck it. I must take it into my mouth and pleasure it. That is the rule that matters more than any other.
Now, on this 'morning,' I crawl toward the hole. I see the cock sticking through it. The man's cock is long, hard, and throbbing with a latticework of veins. After sucking as many cocks as I have, I have started to see each cock almost individually. I've started to detect the slightest differences from one cock to the next.
"Start sucking me, whore. What're you waiting for?" I know everything I do is being recorded, so I know that the men I pleasure can see me despite the wall between us. I look calmly at this man's penis, with its elongated excitement. I see the slight change of coloration near the tip of his cock. This is a new cock which I have never pleasured before. I take it into my mouth, slurping on it with deep, deep pulls. My tongue cradles the underside, caressing as I pump back and forth, back and forth. My hand reaches between my legs, playing with my clit. The other hand I use to fondle my own breasts. The customers seem to like that.
I can hear catcalls and jeers from the other side of the wall. The man, whoever he is, has many friends with him. I can hear their vile talk through the sound system wired into the walls.
"That redhead slut likes your cock. Look at her feel up her big tits while she sucks you, man."
"When do I get my turn?" another eager voice interrupts.
"Shut up. Let Chalmers have his fun. He's the man of honor tonight." Chalmers. Finally a name. Usually I don't get a name. My three main captors, whoever they are, have never told me theirs. I know them only by their voices.
As I'm sucking Chalmers now, I slurp loudly. I impale my mouth, my lips pressed in a tightened seal around his shaft, until his entire cock is enclosed. I suck him harder than ever, nearly gagging. I hear him groaning on the other side. My fingers pick up the pace as I finger my own clitoris for my anonymous audience's sadistic viewing pleasure. I hear more whistles, more catcalls. I know that the men, whoever the bastards may be, are certainly appreciating the 'show.'
The oddest part of all this is the arousal starting to churn in my veins. The lust that starts to warm my pussy as I suck, feeling slickness along my fingertips. It's hard to explain, except to say this: When you've been isolated for as long as I have, when you just crave human contact, any contact, then it makes a girl do strange things. I pretend that this Chalmers is someone who cares about me, and that I care about him. I pretend he's my boyfriend. I suck his cock lovingly. I move back and forth along his rigid manhood, slurping and sucking fervently because it is the only human contact I have...
Because, crazy as it sounds, after all this time, even the sadistic jeers and catcalls I get from giving the men this 'show' is the only human feedback I get. This cock-sucking is literally the only way I can affect the 'world' around me, this reduced miniaturized world which is now my prison.
"Uhhh!! You're doing very good, red-haired cunt. Now turn around and show me that wet pussy."
I pull up off of his cock. His dick-slime dribbles down my bottom lip. Gooey strands of his pre-cum ooze down my chin. I lick my chops and turn around. They must have a large screen to view my nakedness on, because I hear appreciative whistles now. My gaping slit is wide open to my 'customer' and his posse. I slowly back up until the tip of Chalmers' cock is barely pressed to my sex.
"Ahh. This bitch is such a tease. Get my cock inside you. Impale that pussy!" Chalmers growls. I obey instantly. I gasp at the feeling of his cock - well-lubricated thanks to my enthusiastic sucking - when it embeds itself deep in my snatch. I begin moving. I shove my hips backward, groaning as I hear his grunts of approval.
"Such a tight little pussy. Keep fucking me, bitch. Just like that. You want to earn your dinner, right? You earn it, then. Fuck me with that tight little pussy, redhead. You'll get quite a reward."
I already know what 'reward' the bastard is talking about. From his frantic grunts, I can tell it will come sooner than he wants it to. I keep slamming my cunt backward, engulfing his penis. It feels slicker and slicker, covered with his juices and my own. I reach one hand between my legs, stroking my clit as I ram my pussy back to fuck myself on his cock. I do all the work while he just stands there, moaning with the build-up of pleasure.
Then I feel it, his cock seizing up inside me.
