The next few days passed slowly, boredom sought me out, but I refused to sit and do nothing. My body was tired, sore, and bruised; the piercings were sore and I often caught myself on the chains doing everyday things, but I refused to sit and just think over the past couple days.
The little house I was in seemed like a guest cabin, two bedrooms, a tiny cellar, a small kitchen with a two person table, and a sitting room with a comfortable couch, arm chair, and a large wall covered in books. Normally I wasn't much of a reader, but since there wasn't a television or gaming system, and they weren't stupid enough to leave me a computer, it was all I really had. Unfortunately the book couldn't hold my attention, and I instead sought out something to keep me active. I found some baking soda in the fridge, along with some fresh fruits, vegetables, and lunch meats, and decided to work on cleaning the little house a bit. I made a paste with the baking soda, it took me a while to get it quite right, but I followed the directions on the box and finally got it. With a rag I found under the sink and some paper towels I took to cleaning the walls of dust and cobwebs. I used a damp rag to wipe down the windows, taking note that they were heavy glass with mesh wire. I tried opening the windows, but they had them jammed so that I could only raise them a couple of inches. The door was locked and there was no phone.
After investigating every room in the house while cleaning to keep my mind busy, I finally decided to check out the basement. The tiny cellar was lined with shelves that were mostly empty. A few canning jars here and there held abandoned goods I wouldn't dare to try, but not wanting to return upstairs to that daunting wall of books for entertainment I started to clear away the cobwebs and placed the jars on the ground.
It was cooler down here, a little musty; I guessed the walls were dirt behind the shelves. As I
cleaned the shelf unit farthest from the stairs I felt it shift. At first I thought I had imagined it, but found that it moved easily aside when I applied my weight against it. Behind the shelf was a small passageway that was lined with wooden planks and tiny light bulbs. As soon as I stepped into the pathway the bulbs flickered to life. I was startled at first and regretted my reaction as I brought my hands to rest over my beating heart and caught the thin chain that pulled at the sore rings in my nipples.
Blowing soft air over the sore piercings like my mom used to do when I scraped my knees when trying new gymnastic tricks, I felt like crying. There was no way they would leave a way out like this, so it had to lead somewhere. I was curious, but scared. Instead of continuing down the path I backed away and pushed the shelf back into place. I wasn't going to be one of those horror movie bimbos that just ran headlong into the unknown without any way of protecting herself.
I climbed back up the stairs with my rag and bowl of baking soda paste. After I cleaned out the bowl and rinsed out the rag I made myself a lettuce wrap with sliced apples, tomatoes, and turkey. I didn't like American cheese so I just added a little Dijon mustard to the wrap and sat by the window to enjoy my meal in the sun. The breeze was chilly coming in through the window, but it felt real. This whole situation seemed like a strange kind of dream, who ever thought they might be kidnapped, raped, abused, and in some part of their freakish mind actually like it?
I couldn't help but replay the last 30 hours of my life. I had left school, gotten my chores done when Brandon had arrived with a lame attempt at gaining my interest, telling me he was my tutor tonight, okay whatever, I hadn't even cared. Halfway through my homework Terrance had showed up trying to talk me into coming to his party tonight, but I knew that he just wanted the chance to get me alone, so I told him I couldn't that I was busy. He'd argued that I never spent time with him anymore, why were we even dating, the usual guy crap. I told him the only reason I was dating him was because he needed a better image since he was Basketball captain and the school couldn't have some lame nerd being the face of the team. I swear he almost started crying when he left, I didn't care; I had guys all over me. I could have any guy in the school that I wanted.
That seemed so petty now. I remember coming back, so upset that he would come to my door complaining about our relationship like he had any right, and without thinking gulped down my water bottle. It took a minute to realize the strange flavor to the water, and notice that it was a little cloudy. I couldn't believe I had been so careless. My mom had warned me about this sort of thing.
I remember trying to wake up but couldn't keep my eyes open, and then everything was a blur. A girl helped me up, said she was taking me to the doctor so I tried hard to help her, then I remember being slapped hard with something. This brought me out of my fog a little, but I still couldn't manage any strength or a coherent thought. Brandon's face had appeared, I thought it was a dream since he was the last face I recall seeing, but it hadn't been. He'd forced his cock into my mouth, used things on my body that created feelings I had never experienced, and then preceded to rape me. I remember the word training, and had pondered that for a short while before sleep overcame me again.
Waking hours later seemed like an extension of the nightmare. I shamed myself by begging for release before the end, and the guys that had used me treated me like last week's whore. I felt so dirty, but had no way helping myself.
Then was the horrible episode with my gym teacher Mr. Mehan and his son Tyler. I never liked Tyler; he always seemed like a creeper, and my gym teacher? Eww, he was so old, it was even worse that he knew who I was and had refused to help me! Morgan came by each night after that and applied an anti-biotic ointment to the sphincter muscle so the small tear didn't get infected as it healed. Morgan was also allowed to man-handle me at will. It was supposed to be another part of my training. Training? To be a whore? This is so not how I imagined my life turning out. The sad thing was, when Morgan arrived last night I had just stepped out of the bath and had laid down in the fading sunlight as I dried.
He'd entered so quietly I had jumped when he'd started speaking. He'd asked me if I was still sore, and told me to stay still as he applied the anti-biotic cream to my nipples and my ass. He applied a lightly perfumed lotion to my entire body, which turned me on incredibly fast. His warm hands started kneading my rear gently, not wanting to pull at the aching muscle, and moved down my legs. It was a slow and sensual massage and he applied pressure to all the right places. I groaned as he worked the knots out of my calf muscles and feet before straddling my waist and rubbing the pain from my shoulders and back. I had fallen under his seductive spell by the time he turned me onto my back and gently kneaded his way up my thighs to my belly, gently massaging the soft tissue of my breasts and aching arms. He rubbed the ointment on my wrists and ankles where I'd been tied up for so long.
I had asked him then why he treated me so kindly when I was obviously taken to be abused for sex. He chuckled softly and gently touched the hoop in my right nipple, "You were taken for use as a hardcore bondage submissive, but the body can only handle so much at one time, especially when starting out, and Brandon doesn't want you hurt, not really."
I was a little shocked but kept the thought to myself. Morgan began his gentle massage again and I closed my eyes enjoying his strong hands working out all the little sore spots. It left me vulnerable though, since I wasn't prepared for him when he pulled my thighs apart and began to lick, kiss and nibble on my lower lips. I yelped again in surprise, but he used one well toned arm to keep me pinned as he feasted on my tender flesh. He suckled on my clit until it was a hard nub standing out from the little fleshy hood that protected it. He lifted one leg over his broad shoulder and drove his tongue into my wet entrance. I moaned quietly, my hand digging into his hair as my hips lifted to receive his attention.
Maybe I was a whore, when Morgan was touching me I was putty in his hands. He spent nearly twenty minutes just licking my pussy, sucking my clit, and bringing me to a slow climax. When my body started to calm from the tremors he rose above me, his lightly tanned skin bared to my eyes, and carefully brought his cock to the welcoming wetness at my core.
I raked my nails down his chest and gripped his forearms as he thrust into me. I was ready and I wanted this. This man turned me on, lit me up, and shattered me with his tenderness. If this was part of my training I didn't know how, but I wanted this. Unlike the first time I lay with just him the orgasm was spectacular. The others I'd experienced were so overwhelming, like a balloon bursting, that I hadn't had the energy to enjoy the gentler one, but now I was so content with the gentle touch, the kindness, and the shuddering orgasm left me feeling almost happy.
