Chapter 2

She looked almost peaceful, lying naked in her restraints. Her face betrayed the reality though; even in repose she wore her fear like a mask.

It was time for me to make the mask permanent.

I began to tighten her restraints, which woke her of course. I ignored her demands, her pleas, her cries, her begging – they were music to my ears and I enjoyed the song as I worked.

Once she was tightly stretched out on the table, though, I deigned to answer one question.

"Shhh, shhh," I said, coming close to her face. "You want to know who I am?"

"Y-yes."

I'm Alfred, Alfred Connor." In her eyes, the delicious fear increased. "Yes, your ex-husband Johnny Connor's father."

I'm sure she had more questions, but once I put the towel over her mouth and nose, holding it tight behind her head, her words became babble.

When I poured the water onto her face, soaking the towel, she was far too busy fighting the feeling of drowning to try to speak.

I hadn't bothered to wear clothing, it was going to be a messy morning – it became so almost immediately.

Urine and feces sprayed from her body, covering the sheet she'd slept on the night before, spreading onto the floor and surprisingly to me, I didn't find the odors offensive. They certainly weren't pleasant by any stretch of the imagination, but all in all, not hard to bear at all. I was sure I'd smell much worse before too much longer.

As she gagged and choked, a sound quite different than those Christie had made the night before with my cock filling her throat with jism, I considered the benefits of book knowledge versus real-world experience. It wouldn't break my heart if the cunt died right there that moment – plans for disposing of her body had been the very first thing I'd worked out – but I didn't want her torment to end that easily, that cheaply.

I stopped pouring the water and whipped the towel off her face with a flourish.

As she spluttered and spat, coughing up the water from her lungs I waited patiently, until her sounds of distress died down to an occasional throaty 'huff'.

"Welcome to the rest of your life, Natalie. I'm sure you've watched enough television to be familiar with that old cliché – if your kidnappers let you see their faces, they're never going to let you live?"

I leaned down over her face.

"Get a good long look at me, cunt. Memorize my fucking face – every pore, every hair. It may be today, it may be tomorrow, it may be one year from now or twenty, but you're going to die by my hand. You're never getting out of this alive and nothing you can do, nothing you can say, will change that."

I'd thought it unlikely that she had any piss left in her, but she proved me wrong.

She started to try to speak, but I put the towel over her face, clenched my fist behind her head to tighten it, and began to slowly pour the rest of the water onto the towel.

As her gagging and coughing began again, I continued in a much louder voice.

"Now, that doesn't mean we won't have lots of fun together, cunt. But there are rules and the primary rule is you are NOT to speak unless I ask you a question, or instruct you otherwise."

I stopped, but left the towel on her face.

"Out of water, let me go get some more."

Panicked sounds of sheer terror, interspersed with ejecting the water from her lungs as best she could, came from under the towel as I went to the wall and filled the pitcher from the industrial strength kitchen sprayer than hung from the ceiling.

While I was there I used the sprayer to wash the shit and piss on the floor into the drain.

"You know, Natalie, the sounds I hear coming from under that towel – some people might think they were speech, that you were trying to talk to me, in direct violation of Rule Number One."

Her vocalizations stopped, while the delicious hacking sounds continued.

"Good, you can be taught. I seem to remember Johnny telling me about the 'cancer' you say doctors found in your lungs – the cancer that curiously went into a miraculous remission after you'd sucked up enough sympathy from your stupid friends."

I walked back to the table and placed the pitcher down on the floor.

"Did your cancer hurt nearly as bad as our little water-boarding playtime? Did it hurt as bad as this?"

I slapped her left tit like I was trying to knock it off her chest. My hand stung, and I resolved not to do something like that again – such tasks being the reason man developed tools – but I was free-forming for the moment and had been caught unprepared.

The red and swollen imprint of my hand upon her flesh was lovely.

"I believe I asked you a question," I said as I took the towel off her face.

"No..." she gasped, "Idin'tevenhavecancerandnothing'severhurtlike-"

"Shut up, you cheap gutter cunt," I snarled. "Yes or no answers unless instructed otherwise."

Wisely, she stopped speaking.

"Now then, I'm good with either spending another thirty minutes or so watching you damn near drown, or cleaning you up and raping you. Which would you prefer?"

Her sobs didn't provide a coherent answer – I looked at the clock on the wall and waited for two minutes.

"Cunt, you have one minute to get your pathetic shit together and give me an answer or I'm going to choose a third, much more unpleasant option from my little bag of tricks – it'll probably involve power tools and your flesh."

She muttered something too softly for me to understand, I took the wet towel and slapped her across the face with it.

"Louder, cunt! If I can't understand you, you are disobeying me!"

"Rape me."

I brought the towel down across her face again, harder.

"Rule Number Two, cunt – my name is 'Sir'. It's short, sweet, and to the point, so perhaps a stupid cunt like you can remember it and use it properly. It will precede or follow anything you say to me and if I'm angry with you," I slapped her crying face again with the towel, "like I am now, you'd be wise to begin and end everything you say to me with it."

She lay on the table sobbing, so I brought the towel down on her breasts.

"Do you understand me?"

"Sir ... yes sir..."

"Now then, trailer trash, rape or water?"

"Sir ... rape me ... sir."

I cleared the area and then carefully took her off the table, fastening her manacles to hooks hanging from the ceiling, attaching the restraints on her ankles to eyebolts in the floor. After adjusting the temperature of the water coming through the sprayer, I turned it on her and listened to her cries of shock. She tried to dance away from the hot spray, but at best she could twist back and forth in her shackles to no good effect while I sluiced the filth from her body. In the interests of efficiency, I lowered the pressure when I cleaned her cunt and ass – I saw no good in driving shit further up into her body. I washed her coldly, clinically – it was becoming evident to me that I was going to have to fatten the little whore up more than I'd thought at first to make my time with her more enjoyable, and I distracted myself with thoughts on how to accomplish that.

When I was through, I left her hanging and retrieved an enema bag. I knew from Johnny that she was disgusted by the very thought of anal sex, so that was where I would start.

As I inserted the head of the tube into her bottom, she began to beg me – 'not that, anything but that' in an annoying non-stop stream of words.

I slapped her face.

"Anything, you stupid cunt? Anything? How about another session with the towel, hmm? Would that be better? Or there's a power drill I've been dying to try on flesh, does that sound better?"

I got right in her face and lowered my voice.

"You're going to have to start redefining your world-view, cunt! I think about just the emotional damage you inflicted on my son and my temper gets short – real short – not to mention the debt you left him with. Hell, that ended up being over a hundred-and-thirty thousand dollars worth that I had to make good on so none of the fuckheads you did business with broke his legs – or worse. All that, plus a hell of a lot more, is hanging over your head twenty-four-seven, so you better start thinking in terms of how not to piss me off. If I want to bring a goddamn German Shepherd in and have him fuck your ass from sunup to sundown, I will. If I want to work my fist up your ass and start ramming my way into your colon I will. You belong to me in a way no one has been owned in this country since 1863 and I hold the power of life and death over your ignorant ass ... and the power of pain as well."

I stood back up.

"Now ask me nicely, cunt. Ask me nicely to rape you in your ass."

"Sir ... please sir ... please rape me ... in my ass, please, sir."

"Good ... keep this up and we'll have a long and beautiful relationship with each other."

The tears were running down her face as I continued to administer her first enema.

When the soapy mixture was all inside her, I ordered her to gyrate as if she was playing with a hula hoop. She didn't understand the reference so I guided her with my hands until she got the general idea.

"Rule Number Three, a really important one – if you try to harm me, or try to escape, you will pay for it with body parts. How much you forfeit depends on how much you piss me off. And, even if you do manage to incapacitate or kill me, the door won't open without my voiceprint. These rooms are soundproof so if you do take me out, you'll die of starvation. No one knows you're here, no one knows where 'here' is, you're going to be my guest for the rest of your life. How long you live is entirely up to you."