Chapter 4: Swallowed by Shadows

Time ebbed and flowed, and Libby went in and out of fitful sleep. It was impossible to tell how long she’d been down here. Hours? Days? Longer?

The sound of rushing water jolted her from the grip of a nightmare. She’d been suspended above a vat of boiling tar, the bones of the damned bubbling up from the roiling surface.

She pushed herself to her feet. A deluge was raining from a spigot in the ceiling that she hadn’t noticed until now, draining into a grate in the center of the floor. She stumbled forward, half-falling into the cascade, the water hot and unthawing her frozen muscles. She opened her mouth to drink her fill, to let it saturate her dehydrated cells, only to instantly spit it out. The water was salty and had a high mineral content, as if it had come from an aquifer deep under layers of ancient shale and stone.

Just after Galen had left, she’d removed the offensive plug and discarded it in a far corner of the room. She felt foolish when she decided to retrieve it and rinse it off, but she had no way of knowing if she’d be subjected to use it again. At least it wouldn’t be dirty if she had to reinsert it.

The water cut off just as she started to feel warm again. She didn’t feel clean, not by a long shot, and she was still thirsty, but at least she’d been able to cleanse her mouth and scrub the grime from her body.

Hours, or perhaps two or three days later, the occupant of the cell across had started calling out to her. Libby had known that whatever they were, they had to be the lowest of the low, as evidenced from their sudden emission when she’d been forced to swallow Galen’s cum. Only ... she couldn’t pass up an opportunity to gather information. Painfully aware of how clueless she was, she knew her continued ignorance would only serve to get her killed in a place like this.

The vile thing had tried to lure her towards the bars. It had come close to grabbing her with a long, sinuous appendage that she hadn’t seen snaking towards her until the very last moment. She’d had to dive out of the way, scraping up her knees and the heels of her palms in the process. The boneless arm had thrashed against her bars, knocking over the sconce in the hallway. The flame had instantly guttered out, plunging the cell and the corridor outside into complete darkness.

A tapping sound brought her back from the edge of what she was sure was the beginning of insanity, a place where her dark thoughts had spiraled into a twisted knot.

If her all-consuming thirst was any gauge, she’d already been down here for days. Without the light from the corridor, Libby was completely blind, and the mental map of her cell was her only guide. The sound had come from a portion of the rock wall near the front of her cell, and she crept towards it, using her hands to navigate. The tapping grew louder and more insistent as she came closer. She extended both hands, searching for the wall. Her fingers made contact with the gritty, cold surface.

But then the back of her hand brushed over something hot, the direct contact of heat like a burn against her skin, and she jerked away. When nothing jumped out to attach her, her fingers found it again, and whatever it was twitched. She knew this couldn’t be her neighbor’s appendage, it was on the wrong side of the cell, for one. Her fingers traced the spot on the wall. It was then that she knew with the sharpest clarity she’d had in as long as she could remember what this was. She was kneeling in front of the square four by four opening in the wall.

“Hungry?” came a raspy, muffled voice from the other side. She’d jumped the moment they’d spoken, unable to dredge up a reply. “Make me spill, little whore, and my cum is yours.”

Her hunger, though gnawing and constant, paled in comparison to her thirst. Every swallow was agony, every breath scraped like sandpaper through her desert-dry throat. The faint tang of blood from her cracked lips mixed with the mineral taste of the undrinkable water she’d tried to consume. It left her mouth tacky, yet somehow still painfully dry.

Any hesitation she thought she would have, any resistance she thought she would put up in this moment, disintegrated and scattered to dust. Perhaps she would look back and wish she’d put up more of a fight, but the mind could only hold out so long before the body’s demands overtook rationale.

She dropped to her knees, wrapped both hands around the wide shaft, and buried it into her mouth. No light emanated from the other side, but she knew this wasn’t Galen’s cock, nor did she think it was Fenrow’s, either. It was big, but she could fit most of it in her mouth, if only barely.

Unable to make use of her eyes, she could only describe what she felt with her hands and her mouth. The tip was conical and covered in thin, pliant bristles that tangled with her tongue. She’d jerked back the first time, a shudder of disgust rolling down her spine. But she was beyond desperate and near-mad for an ounce of moisture, and her reluctance was woefully short lived. Wrapping her lips around it once more, she worked it as best she could. The underside was deeply ridged, the top covered in a bulbous protrusion that made it difficult for her to maneuver around.

At first, it was hard getting started. Her mouth was dry, and it was impossible to encourage her saliva to coat her lips. But as she laved his tip, he shot a few jets into her mouth, and the thick substance coated the inside of her cheeks. It wasn’t as hot as Galen’s precum, but it was just as complex. It foamed around her lips as she worked him, the robust flavor tart and only slightly astringent.

Without warning, the throbbing length swelled in her mouth and liberally sprayed her throat with cum, each powerful spurt a foul balm for her raging thirst. She drank him greedily, the first taste of something substantial in a days, maybe more.

Once her visitor retracted himself and left, she blindly felt her way back to the corner, covered herself with the coverlet, and let her thoughts fade to white noise.

The next cock would not arrive for a very long time. When it did, it was accompanied by that tapping sound once again. She crawled across the room on her hands and knees, exhaustion not letting her expend more energy than strictly necessary.

She whimpered as the first drop of precum landed on her tongue, pressing her body as close to the wall as she could possibly get. It wasn’t the same cock, though she hadn’t expected it to be. Her captors wouldn’t be satisfied with only partially debasing her. They wanted to humiliate her, and what better way to do it than forcing her to take sustenance from any male they saw fit?

The owner of this cock liked to tease her, liked to pull back so that she had to extend her tongue through the hole and beg him to come back. When he grunted his release, he chose to step further back and come into the opening, forcing Libby to catch each spurt and lap it up from the gritty stone.