Lea's Capture

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Time was both lurching and creeping forward, pressing down on Lea like a slow vice. She could feel it in her clenched throat, her slippery palms, the raised hairs of her forearms. She had an hour to do something - anything. She had never felt so much like an animal, trapped and utterly subject to the whims of a captor she knew next to nothing about.

If only she had headed home an hour earlier. If only... No. She could feel the tears welling behind her eyes. It wouldn't do any good to dwell on it.

She closed her eyes and tried to find the strong part of herself; the part that could collect the rest of the shattered pieces and draw them together into something useful.

But she found only the fear.

What did she have? A mattress. A plate. A glass containing about a cup of water. Three feet of chain and a padlock securing one end to some exposed piping - and the other to her wrist. A blanket. Her clothing. If she could MacGyver that ensemble into a reasonable escape plan, she'd deserve a goddamn medal.

She could break the plate or the glass, hope for a decently-sized shard, and try to kill the man who had brought her to this barren concrete cell. But if he didn't have the padlock key on him, she would die here.

If she wanted that, she could just use the glass on herself. But that was the fear talking - the fear that he might be planning to do something even worse to her. She pushed it away before it could consume her.

Maybe she could talk her way out of this. If he took her to the bathroom, maybe he would make a mistake. Maybe she could get out of this.

Shit. She really did have to pee.

*****

"Hello, dove."

She looked straight at him this time, trying to memorize his chiseled features. High cheekbones, prominent jaw, straight nose, eyes like polished jade. Medium-length chocolate hair, immaculately groomed. Attractive. Terrifying.

"I need to use the bathroom," she said. She had told herself to not sound too confident, but she shouldn't have worried - she stammered, barely managing to get the words out.

"...Sir," she added haphazardly. Damn it.

"Good girl. I knew you would learn quickly." His voice was his usual hypnotic lull. He withdrew a key from his pocket and approached her, leaning over her to insert the key into the padlock and remove her chain from the wall. He held the chain and padlock in one hand and pocketed the key with the other.

"Let's go, my dear."

She stood slowly. She felt like a dog on a leash. She half-expected him to tell her to heel.

He led her out of the door and into a short concrete hall, lit considerably more brightly than her little room. He took her to the next door, opened it, and gestured for her to enter. The bathroom was clean, but sparse - a toilet, a towel rack with black towels, a very basic sink, and a shower stall with no curtain. Her captor calmly attached the chain to the rack with the padlock and turned to run his finger through her hair. She shivered involuntarily.

"You'll get used to my touch, pet. I'll be outside."

He left, but didn't close the door behind him.

"Please," Lea said. "I'll be good. Please, just... I would be so grateful for the privacy, Sir." Her eyes were pleading. His face softened further and he smiled slightly as he closed the door, leaving it open by half an inch.

Was he watching through the crack? She couldn't tell.

She unbuckled her belt and slid her shorts down, sat on the toilet, and began to urinate. She exhaled. There was no going back if she did what she was planning to do, but what choice did she have?

Lea finished and wiped herself. She stood, pulling her clothing back into position and fastening her belt.

Now or never.

She stood by the faucet and turned the water on, turning away from the door to pull the broken glass from where she'd hidden it inside her bra. It was wrapped carefully in the panties she'd removed earlier. When she'd broken the glass, she'd stashed the other pieces under the mattress and prayed that he would forget to check for its presence. So far, so good.

"I'm finished," she said.

As he opened the door and approached her, she lunged for him. She went for his neck; a smaller target than his chest, but she figured she'd have a better chance if she didn't need to puncture his clothing.

He dodged, and she missed - skimming the side of his neck, but failing to deliver anything resembling a mortal blow. She lunged for him again, but the chain pulled taut before she could reach him.

Fuck.

She pulled back and held her shard of glass threateningly in front of her. "Don't come near me!"

The man was bleeding a little, but not nearly enough.

"You're going to wish you hadn't done that," he said, his voice cold and calm. "I can get a cane and beat you until you drop that, or you can put it down now and spare yourself some grief."

She paused. The tears began to flow. She had failed, and now... what was he going to do?

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please don't kill me. Please!" She bent down and set the glass on the floor behind her. Tears poured over her cheeks as she stood.

He grabbed her wrist roughly, jerking her forward and away from the glass - her only hope for escape. He removed the padlock and yanked her by the chain, guiding her out through the door and further down the hall.

"I didn't want to do this," he said, voice like ice. "But I need to make sure you never - EVER - do anything like this again." Seeing her horrified reaction, he added, "I'm not going to kill you, pet, but you won't soon forget your punishment."

The room at the corner was dark. He led her inside, keeping his eyes trained on her. When the fluorescent lights flickered on, Lea gasped. The room looked like a terrifying cross between a BDSM dungeon and an emergency room. The nearest wall was covered in whips, switches, floggers, and other assorted implements of pain. The furthest was covered by a large glass cabinet containing what appeared to be a variety of medical supplies - syringes, IV tubing, and dozens of tiny phials of fluid among them. A large metallic table with leather restraints consumed much of the remaining space.

"You can either get on the table, or I can put you there," her captor said.

Before she even knew what she was doing, Lea tried to run. This room had awakened some sort of primal horror that she couldn't even begin to understand.

Her captor didn't hesitate to grab her before she could even reach the length of her chain. He held her close to his body, and it was clear solely from the tactile experience that she wasn't anywhere near strong enough to escape him. She tucked her head under his chin and began to sob, hoping her vulnerability would grant her some small degree of mercy.

He picked her up and laid her atop the table with ease, her belly down and backside up. He quickly removed her clothing. She didn't struggle against the violation; she knew that whatever was coming would be far worse. Her nipples hardened against the cold metal beneath her, and she shivered - partially from the chill and partially from the fear.

Her captor fastened the restraints around her free wrist and ankles before removing the shackle attaching her to her chain and tightening the final cuff.

"Heptapeptide one," he began, "is a component of platypus venom. It causes immediate, intense, long-lasting pain. At the concentration I'm going to give you, the effects will last somewhere between twelve and twenty-four hours." He removed a syringe and phial from the cabinet and began to prepare the injection. Lea was shaking as he moved behind her and out of view.

A minute or two passed - and then she experienced the most excruciated pain she had ever felt, spreading from the base of her ass and up into her lower back.

It was as though she had been stung by hundreds of hornets as once. She screamed, begging for it to stop, but she could barely hear herself. She compulsively struggled against her restraints, but there was no give.

"I know. It hurts. It's not over," he said quietly.

Next came the lash. Red-hot pain sliced across her back. She briefly lost consciousness - just in time to feel the second crack of the lash. And the third. By the time the fourth landed, she had managed to cry out and promise anything, anything at all, to make the pain stop. The fifth plunged her into the dark once again. When she awoke, her face was covered in tears and saliva. Her captor deftly delivered another five blows as she shrieked and begged.

"Will you ever try to escape or harm me again?" he asked.

"NO! Never! Never, never, never, never..." she bellowed in response.

"And what have you learned?" he added.

"To be good. I'll be so good, Sir. I promise. Please, I'll do anything. Please."

"I'm going to give you a mild topical analgesic, now. It won't help with the venom, but it'll relieve some of the pain from the whipping."

"Thank you, sir," she said. She meant it.

The light pressure of the damp cloth against her fresh wounds made her cry out again, but a gentle relief soon spread over her skin.

"This is how you'll thank me," his voice returned, warmer than before. She felt his fingers between her legs, gently probing her dry genitals. He spread the lips of her pussy with his fingertips and began to slowly circle her entrance. Then the touch briefly ceased, and she heard his pants and belt fall to the ground. When his fingers returned, they were loaded with something wet and cool. He was lubricating her in preparation for what she had previously hoped was the worst thing that would happen to her in captivity.

She didn't care. The pain was still intense and ever-present. At this point, she would have sold her firstborn child to prevent it from continuing.

And then she felt his hardness pressing against her cunt.

"Try to relax," he cooed.

And then his erection slowly pressed inside her, filling her. He held still for a moment, allowing her body to adjust to the size of his substantial cock. He tenderly rubbed her hips with his fingers, and then gripped them gently. He began to thrust, taking all of her with each firm movement. Her body started to respond, loosening its tension and growing wet. She spread her knees further, hoping this offering would buy her more relief from the pain. He leaned forward and kissed the small of her back, and then continued thrusting the length of his cock into her now-dripping pussy.

His speed increased. He was fucking her hard, now, filling every inch her warm flesh had to offer. She heard him grunt softly as his body shuddered and a wave of hot, sticky ejaculate shot into her. And then another. She winced, and prayed he hadn't noticed.

He slowly withdrew, leaving a thick knot of cum slowly dripping from her vulva.

"Good girl," he said. "And now it's your turn." She heard the familiar whirring of a small device, and then felt the vibrator pressed just below her clit. Two fingers entered her, filling her once again as the pressure slowly built within her. She felt her body clenching against his fingertips. She writhed and moaned, fighting the pleasure. She didn't want to give this man her orgasm. But within a few minutes, it came. She shook slightly as her body betrayed her.

He walked around to her face and gently touched his cum-drenched fingers to her lips.

"Open," he commanded. "Clean them."

She obeyed, tasting his cum and her juices on his soft fingers. She lapped up the fluids until nothing remained.

"What do we say?" he inquired.

"Thank you, Sir," she responded. She was shocked by how automatically those words came. She didn't mean them, but they were easy to say nonetheless.

He removed her restraints and led her back to the bathroom, supporting her body as they walked. The venom remaining in her system delivered a sharp shock of pain with each step. He turned on the shower and gently cleaned the wounds left by the whipping, massaging the surrounding skin as he silently worked. He shut the water off and carefully pressed a towel through her hair and over every inch of her body until she was more or less dry.

He led her back to her cell, still unshackled. Presumably he didn't expect another escape attempt. She didn't even have the strength or the will left to try.

He laid her tenderly down upon the mattress, belly down. He left her for a moment, and then he returned with more of the topical pain medication he had previously applied. After another treatment, some fraction of her remaining pain began to subside. She still felt as though she had been hit by a bus filled with Africanized bees.

"I'm going to give you something to help you sleep. You'll feel better if you take it." He produced two pills and a cup of water - this one plastic - and offered it to her. She took them, truly thankful for the opportunity to be freed from the agony. He spread her blanket over her and sat by her side, running his fingers over her damp hair.

He stayed with her for the better part of an hour, speaking softly to her and tenderly kissing her forehead as she gradually drifted off.

*****

When she awoke, she found that much of the pain had been replaced with a much more tolerable soreness. The wounds from her lashing ached, but she no longer felt the crippling agony of the platypus venom. She found another plastic cup of water and a paper plate loaded with heaps of orange pasta at her bedside.

Macaroni and cheese was her comfort food. She wondered how he had known.

She ate ravenously. After lifting the plate, she had noticed a note left beneath. She didn't bother to read it until she had eaten her fill.

It read:

"Lea - I know this has been a frightening experience for you. I know you are wondering why you are here and what is going to happen to you. I can understand why you attempted to leave by whatever means you believed necessary. I hope you know why I had to punish you. If you behave, I promise that the rest of your stay here will be much more comfortable. I have no intentions to hurt you further, assuming you are willing to follow my rules. Be a good girl. I care deeply for you."

It was signed with an intelligible scribble of a signature.

Lea would be a good girl. And then, somehow, she would find a way out of this.