I walked naked down the bare corridor, my feet echoing as they slapped on the cold hard floor. The old hag led the way at a snails pace, the weary years telling on her ancient bones. Why I followed so passively was really astounding given that I was naked and anyone could see.
At the end of the corridor we turned right, down a darker and shorter corridor. The old hag looked back once to make sure I was still there, although my footfalls should have told if I were not. We reached a set of stone stairs and I was mildly taken aback at the realisation that I had been kept underground all this time. The thought quickly passed as we mounted the steps, one by one until at last we reached the top. She opened the door with a heavy key where a thin man stood holding a cup.
He looked me up and down showing only slight interest in my nudity. He spoke quickly to the woman in a language I didn't understand. She replied, jerking her head at me. He stepped forward and jabbed a finger into the soft yielding flesh of my breast without hurting me. Oddly enough I didn't seem concerned by the affront. His hand ran down to my buttock and gently squeezed while I stood impassively. He spoke to the woman again briefly. He pushed the cup he was holding to my lips and I drank the sweet honey flavoured syrup greedily.
The cup was retrieved and he gave it to the old hag as he took my arm.
"Follow me." He told me in heavily accented English.
I walked beside him, our pace slightly quicker than that the old hag could have managed as we travelled a brighter corridor. Ahead of me I could see people hurrying. Rushing out of doorways into the corridor and hastening away from me, through a double set of doors directly ahead. And was that food I could smell? Food, a vague recollection, I hadn't eaten in three whole days; my stomach must have shrunken to the size of a walnut.
We merged with the flowing mass of bodies. Nobody seemed to mind my nakedness as they hurried by, it was almost as if I didn't exist, and maybe I didn't. The small dark suited man held the door open for me and I passed through. Everywhere I looked there were people sitting at tables, eyes turned to look at me, elbows nudging, point me out as I walked beside the man, passing between them, seeing their heads turn to follow me. So I did exist after all!
I was taken to a very large table where eight men were seated, four on both sides and a woman sat at the head. They looked at me greedily, their eyes flowing over every contour of my being: my breasts, my thighs, my secret place, especially my secret place. I was standing at the foot of the table not looking at any one of them, seemingly untroubled by their gaze while the small man in the suit laid out a roll of fabric on the table, the end hung loose by about three foot, leaving about the same measure on the table.
"Turn around." The suit told me.
I turned my back to the table and heard what I took to be some appreciate comments. The small man took my arms in his and stepped me backwards, guiding me to the table and then gently lowering me down until the base of my buttocks rested on the fabric.
"Lie back." He told me.
I am sure I must have presented a remarkable view to those sitting closest in front of me as I meekly swung myself back, pivoting on my hips to lay my back on the table. Suddenly the cloth moved, and I was pulled across the table by the men seated around me, each grasping the cloth as I moved along and pulling me further on.
They started jabbering in whatever alien language they spoke as I came to rest in the middle of the table. Fingers pawed at me, particularly my breasts and thighs. I felt my legs opening as hands took my ankles and spread them wide. Inquisitive fingers plied the central crease between my thighs open and I felt someone pry my clitoris out, extending it out between his finger and thumb for everyone to see. They were laughing as they talked excitedly, one of them even stood to lean over my head to examine my stretched clitoris.
I lay back staring at the ceiling, slightly puzzled by my lack of resistance. Something cold and metallic entered me, down below. It was smooth and narrow to start with, rapidly increasing in girth. It was removed and I heard chuckles of amusement, but paid little interest as the same thing happened again, only moving rapidly in and out of me before it was removed — was someone fucking me?
Two Days Ago.
I woke on a hard floor, cold and confused. My mouth felt dry and kind of leathery. Slowly I pulled myself up to sit on the cold tiles. Where was I? The room was bare and featureless, just cold light coloured tiles on the floor and walls, and an off-white ceiling with a single naked bulb. There was a small hole in the middle of the ceiling where a heavy metal chain and hook hung down, well beyond my reach. No window, just a rusty looking vent high in one corner, and a door. I stood up and walked bare foot across the room to the door. Why were my feet bare — where were my shoes? The door was locked solidly and I noted the eyehole fitted in it. I banged on the door with the flat of my hand.
"Hello?" I called out.
Silence greeted me. I tried again and again, to no avail. I paced the room trying to work things out, was I in a prison cell, had I done something wrong? I heard a noise outside and rushed to the door, slamming my hand hard on it.
"Can anyone hear me?" I cried.
Oh thank God!
I stood back from the door, suddenly afraid, my fingers raised to my chest, twisting together to form a knot. A key inserted on the other side, echoing around my small cell. I bit my lip nervously, my heart thumping madly in my chest. The door swung open.
"You awake." His tone was abrupt — a statement, not a question, an obvious one at that.
"Yes." I replied timidly.
"You not sick?"
"No — I..."
"Good. You come wiv me." His accent was heavy, one I couldn't place, and he was obviously foreign, a nationality I couldn't even begin to guess at.
"Where are we going?"
I followed him out into a bare corridor I didn't recognise. Single bulbs poorly lit the narrow corridor and I noticed we passed several doors similar to the one leading into my cell, all of them closed and silent.
"Where am I?" I asked pensively.
"You want pee-pee?"
"No. I just want to know where I am?"
"Slow — my iglish not so good."
"Where... am... I?"
"Secret place. You come wiv me."
He took me to a room where a dark skinned, obese man sat behind a desk. He looked up and the two of them conversed in a strange language. I looked at the can of diet coke wistfully, beside it was a plate of half-finished food. I would settle for either, but a drink, what I wouldn't give for a drink. The large man got up and rounded his desk. He looked at me hard and then spoke to the other man.
"He say you must take off you cloves now."
My eyes widened. I shook my head, tears already beginning to fill in my eyes.
"Dat is not good. He will beat you bad — very bad."
"Why... ? Why... does... he... want... me... to... take... my... clothes... off?
"No. He not want to fuck-fuck you, just look."
The obese man spoke quickly to the smaller man. He became agitated, looking at me impatiently.
"You must take off you cloves now. Not every clove, just dis and dis..." He tugged on my blouse and my skirt. "Udderwise he beat you bad. He not fuck-fuck you!"
Nervously I undid my blouse and peeled it off, trying to avoid the gaze of either man as I set it down on the desk and set about removing my skirt. I stood before them shamefully, not knowing where to look. The fat man spoke, I watched the small man expecting a translation. None came. The fat man walked around me, his eyes looking me up and down, inspecting me from every angle.
He extended a podgy hand and I flinched as it closed about my arm. He squeezed, not unkindly and spoke to the smaller man. He continued round me, his hand running around my thigh and gently squeezing my leg with his fingers. His warm hand lay flat on my tummy as he spoke.
"He say you push you belly out, like dis..." He suddenly thrust his hips forward and pressed out with his stomach.
I did as he suggested, pushing my stomach against the hand pressed to me. He resisted and nodded his head as he removed his hand and spoke to the interpreter.
"He no fuck-fuck you — he say you take off dis now." He pointed at my bra.
"I don't want to."
"He beat you bad — very bad. He not fuck-fuck you."
My apprehension grew as I uncovered my breasts and showed myself, stepping back when the fat man pushed a finger into my right breast. His hand closed over my left breast and gently compressed, before his finger toyed with my nipple. He spoke again, removing his hand.
"He say you very good. You good girl. You put dat back on now — he happy."
I quickly replaced my bra while the two of them talked. When there was a moments lull in the conversation, I jumped straight in. "Will he tell me where I am?"
They spoke briefly. The fat man smiled as he looked at me.
"He say it better you don't know."
"What is going to happen to me?"
"He say it better you don't know."
"Can I have a drink and something to eat please?"
"Yes. We go now. I bring you drink."
I grabbed my clothes, throwing them back on as I followed the small man out of the room and down the corridor. We stopped at what appeared to be a store room and he gave me three blankets and a bucket.
"For sleep and pee-pee." He told me.
We returned to my cell and he closed the door, leaving me with my new possessions. In my frustration, I threw the plastic bucket across the room. It bounced harmlessly off the wall and I vented my anger on the blankets, hurling them after the bucket.
He returned about an hour later with a mug, as good as I could guess an hour anyway. I was sitting on the pile of blankets with my back to the wall and stood up when the door opened.
"Can I have something to eat?" I asked, accepting the mug and sniffing it suspiciously. I raised it to my lips. It smelt and tasted of weak honey and had the texture of thin syrup. It tasted good, I liked it.
"Dis is food. Very good for you."
"What is it?"
"Good for you."
I gave up, drinking half the mug in one go. He stood, hand poised to take the mug.
"When can I go home?"
"Very soon — you good girl."
"What time is it?"
"Time for sleep. Lady come, you baff, you sleep."
Baff? Bath! I could have a bath — but why?
I drained the mug and watched him leave. Time stood still. Sleep drifted over me.
I woke with a start, the key echoing around my cell. The door opened. This time there was two of them. An old woman dressed almost entirely in black, with a shawl draped across her shoulders. The shawl had definitely seen better days. Behind her stood a powerful looking man in a smart suit, someone I might have mistaken for a doorman. He looked dark skinned, possibly Asian, it was difficult to tell with him standing in the door. The woman shuffled in, bearing a mug which she handed to me. I drank. It was more of the honey flavoured syrup.
She chuckled to me, waving me to follow as she moved back toward the door. At the door the guard held out his hands. A pair of handcuffs extended toward me. The old woman nodded her head and I let him put the handcuffs on me. We walked back down the corridor in the same direction as before, at the end, instead of turning left to the room with the fat man, we turned right and I was led a short way further before following the old woman into a crude and basic looking bathroom.
The guard waited outside after removing my handcuffs. The old woman closed the door on him. It didn't lock. She wheezed as she leaned down and put the plug in the bath. She gestured with both hands that I should undress and then turned away to fill the tub with water. I saw the toilet and took the opportunity before removing my skirt.
I stepped in the bath and lowered myself down into the warm water. The old woman closed the lid on the toilet and lowered herself down waving at the soap. I tried to make conversation as I soaped myself down. She obviously didn't understand a word I spoke. Her only response was to sit there, nodding her head and chuckling at me.
My bath over, the old woman gave me her shawl to dry off with. I looked at it in surprise and she grinned a toothless smile at me, nodding her head. I dried off and handed her the shawl back before dressing. The guard was still outside, he fitted the handcuffs and I was led back down the corridor.
Passing one of the cells I heard a strange panting noise coming from within. I looked at the closed door and hurried quickly on by. We arrived at my cell and I was ushered inside, the door closed, leaving me still trapped in the cuffs. I called after them, yelling through the door that they had forgotten my handcuffs. It did no good.
A while later, not long, but I didn't know how long, my eyes were drawn to a whirling sound above me. I looked up to see the chain and hook slide smoothly down to a little above head height. The door opened and the old woman walked in with yet another mug of honey syrup. I didn't complain, my stomach growled with hunger. Glancing at the hook, I took the mug from her and drank. As she retrieved the mug from me I waved the handcuffs at her. She grinned and nodded her head.
The old woman walked out and my guard walked smartly in as the old woman stood peering in, partially concealed by the doorframe. He grabbed my hands and raised them over my head. With little effort he had my handcuffs in the hook. I tried to struggle against him as the hook started to rise, but I was no match for his strength. The hook stopped, trapping me on my feet in the middle of the room with my arms stretched above my head.
The old woman entered carrying a bag and a stool and the guard left, returning moments later with a pole that was maybe four feet long. As he stooped to my feet I realised what it was and started lashing out with my feet, shrieking my head off at the same time. Ignoring my protests he turned his body into my legs and grasped one ankle firmly. I pummelled him desperately with one foot. My best efforts seemed to have no effect as he closed a cuff around my tightly held leg.
I swung back with my free foot and he deftly caught it on its return, grasping it firm as he shoved hard on the pole fixed to my other leg, knocking me off balance as my leg swung out wide from under me and I hung freely in the air, my arms straining under my weight. The remaining cuff was attached to my ankle and my legs were held firmly apart. There could be only one reason for fixing a woman's legs like that, to provide access for rape, and I reacted the only way I could... I screamed.
The guard walked out and I felt the chain lower a few inches as he watched from the doorway. My feet barely rested on the cold tiled floor. The old woman approached me, setting her stool down in front of me and the guard closed the door, leaving us alone. I stared down at her as she sat herself on the stool and opened her bag. From it she withdrew what I could only describe as a stainless steel dildo, but there were strange grooves running down from the head. The grooves ran deeper as they travelled about halfway down the shaft, where instead of stopping they appeared to disappear inside the casing.
Next the old woman removed a clear plastic beaker which she set on the floor between her feet before retrieving a long plastic tube, one end of which she inserted in the base of the stainless steel device. My eyes widened in disbelief as the dawning reality crept into my mind. Stretched upright there was nothing I could do to prevent her raising the front of my skirt and fixing it the waist of my panties out of her way. Her gnarled fingers hooked my gusset aside and, without any form of lubrication, pushed the appliance up to my pussy.
"No! You fucking hag!" I screeched at her as I felt the conical tip gently vibrating as she ran it expertly around my pussy lips, pressing inwards to tease my clit.
She took her time, looking up at me as she played it around my pussy leisurely. I didn't want this and tried to fight it, but there was no denying my bodies betrayal as she began to work the thing inside me. I began to relax, feeling my will to resist ebb away with every stroke.
I could hear a low moaning and realised it was the sound of my own voice echoing around the room as she worked the length of it inside me. My pussy lips gripped the dildo greedily as I tried to rock my hips to greet it. The battle to resist was lost. Now I only wanted release, a release that was being denied me as she slowly continued to pump the vibrating dildo in and out of me, drawing the ecstasy of climax further away.
I was wet beyond belief as it continued to tease me. I begged her to finish me. My whole body concentrated on that small moment of orgasmic glory that would be mine if only she would do it properly and finish me off. My arms stretched as much as they could endure and I rocked my pelvis with what little movement I could afford until a shuddering climax took me.
Still the old hag continued to torture me. The vibrating increased and her gnarled hand started pumping the dildo deeper inside me, filling me as it plunged harder and faster toward a second climax. My thighs tensed, trying to hold that thing inside me as my arms strained and my chest wheezed. I cried out as my body shook and a second climax overwhelmed me.
Hanging limp and exhausted, I watched as she picked up the container off the floor and examined the contents. She chuckled, nodding her head. She offered the vibrator to my lips, I turned my head away in disgust, even more sickened as I saw her slide it between her own lips. She dropped her things back in her bag, unhitched my skirt so it fell back round my thighs and hobbled off back to the door, carrying the vessel as though it were a delicate treasure.