the life and musings of a kinky slut

1.13.17 Loss Of Control

~ a nightmare from my fucked up subconscious ~

[trigger warning for a depiction of kidnapping and rape]

I woke up cold, in a cave, wet, with sand on my extremities and my face. I wore a ripped long nightshirt and nothing else. I was dazed, disoriented, and confused.

My hands were cuffed and attached to a cable that was bolted to the wall. I guessed it was late afternoon from the bit of Sun seeping in. Waves brought water in up to my feet. It was the chill from what I guessed was the ocean that woke me up.

I tried pulling at the cable, but it would not budge from the rock. I couldn’t grind the cable loose with my teeth; it was made of metal, and the effort would only harm me. I panicked for a moment, fear rising.

And then they came in.

I didn’t know who had taken me, didn’t know how I’d gotten to this place. But as they filed in one-by-one, I began to remember the party, the booze, and the people I had trusted.

To my left was water and sand and rock. To my right, out of my reach, was a metal wall, a metal floor, and a metal door. When they entered, my dread only grew.

She was his slave by choice. She flitted about like some twisted fairy in a nighttime tale. He was her master by consent, standing stoically as she pranced about. Their friend eyed me up and down. He was followed by two more women I didn’t recognize. They both wore freakish grins. The group stared at me. I curled up into a ball, hugging my knees to my chest. I wanted to shield myself from their gazes, and from what I knew was coming.

“You’re ours now,” their friend said.

He approached, grabbed my arm, and unlocked the cuffs.

“And you’re mine first.”

I felt like I was going to collapse, and vomit, and die inside.

He dragged me through the metal door, down a hall, and into a small room. There was a large dirty sink on one side, a well-used washer/dryer combo opposite, and an old toilet in front of me.

“Clean up if you want.”

He didn’t bother closing the door behind him. He stared at me while he pulled down his pants. My guts twisted as I began to cry.

He turned me around, pushed me over the toilet, pulled my shirt up, and began to hurt me. He smeared blood and excrement from his dick onto my face, and laughed as I wailed uncontrollably.

And then I woke up.

Categorised as: Terror | Writing

Comments are disabled on this post

Comments are closed.