Nina's Awakening Chapter One #darkbook

Inspired by True Real Life Events…

Nina Martin had a simple life, uncomplicated by the things that normally plagued her friends. But then terror struck and she found herself the unwilling plaything of a sexual deviant. She is forced to do many things she otherwise would have never considered, the most horrible of all being to take a deep long look at herself. What she sees scares the hell out of her, and those around her. Sex for her is quickly transformed from the mundane to a dangerous way of life. Under his control, she is forced to endure things that would have crushed most people, but somehow she managed to stay alive long enough to be rescued and return to a normal life.

Something dark is awakened inside of her, an unknown desire, an insatiable hunger for a master to use her for his pleasure. Her need for submission takes her down a winding path of pain and pleasure, as she comes to grips with her carnal lust, and her need to have it satisfied. Her captor awoke a sexual beast he hadn’t expected, and no one is prepared for Nina Martin.

Only life would never be normal again for Nina, because she came out of the ordeal with an unsettling knowledge that she had never been truly happy before. The deeply terrifying events she had endured had done something she hadn’t expected; they had awakened something dark inside of her, a lust that could only be satisfied under the protection of a black hood. She found that only in that darkness, could she truly be free from her inhibitions.

When Slade Morrow, the man who had held her captive is released from prison, Nina’s nightmare begins again, and she fears she will never be safe again. Her life, her future now relies on one man, the man she had once dismissed as unable to satisfy her longing, her former boyfriend Kane Marsilis.

Follow along with Nina as the darkness is awakened inside of her, and then as she searches for the one thing that has always eluded her, perfect sexual freedom.

WARNING: This book contains very disturbing situations, abduction, sexual content, anal play, breath play, spanking, dubious consent, bondage, minor BDSM, strong language, and graphic violence.

~~~

Chapter 1

Nina awoke in complete darkness, hearing nothing but the steady ticking of a clock somewhere on the wall above her head. Something was covering her eyes; she could feel it on the top of her cheeks, but when she reached for it, she found she could not move her arms. They were bound to the edges of the bed beside her with something that seemed to be tied under the bed. The floor perhaps, but she could not be sure.

What the fuck?

Her mind stumbled over itself, trying to make sense of the situation. She searched frantically for any clue of a memory which might tell her where she was, or how she got there. But she was drawing a blank. She remembered being at work, and then walking across the parking lot to her car, but that was it. She couldn’t even remember getting into the car. Everything after her shift at Wholesale Warehouse was completely gone. She tried to tell herself that her friends had to be playing a joke on her, and at any moment, they were all going to start laughing, unable to hold it in any longer. But a part of her knew she was in some sort of trouble.

Think, Goddamn it, Nina, think.

But the more she tried to remember, the further away the memories seemed to slip, leaving her in a more confused state than before. This was not a joke, at least not a funny one. Her friends had not hidden her car or pinned a note on her back inviting everyone to kick her. She was blindfolded and tied to a fucking bed, and it wasn’t funny at all.

To her right and behind her, she could make out just a hint of light, as if a window was there. It was barely detectable through whatever guarded her sight, but it was enough that she was quite certain it was daylight outside. Had she been here all night? She had no clue. Hell, as far as she knew, she could have been here for several nights. She felt herself begin to tremble as the enormity of uncertainty washed over her. As tears formed in the corner of her eyes and tried to fall, only to absorb into whatever was covering her eyes, a new startling realization came crashing into her newfound nightmare.

She was naked—completely fucking naked. A quick attempt to lift her legs added another unnoticed ingredient to the messy soup that was becoming her mind; her legs were bound tightly to the corners of the bed. Completely fucking naked.

“Oh, fuck me,” she said out loud, surprising herself with the slight amusement it brought to her.

If he hasn’t already, chances are he does indeed intend to fuck you.

Well, no shit. She wasn’t rich, so the idea of being held for ransom and then safely returned home was ludicrous, at best. She pulled at the restraints binding her ankles and wrists. Nothing, not even the slightest give. An old boyfriend, perhaps? An admirer? Probably not. No, that was not Nina’s luck. History suggested her luck in a situation like the one she now found herself would be a lot worse. It most likely involved some deranged, disease-infested troll; a 450-pound loser who decided to go to whatever lengths it took to get laid for the first time in his life, so he had grabbed her and she was most likely tied up in his mother’s basement right now.

Fuck you, indeed.

“Shut up,” she told herself, “just shut up.”

She tried to convince herself that her worst fears were merely panicky delusions, and though there was no way this situation was going to end well, it wouldn’t be as bad as she thought. Yeah, she was more than likely going to be fucked—probably more than once and possibly by more than one person—but maybe, just maybe, if she didn’t make too much of a fuss, he would let her go soon. Maybe was all she had, so she grasped it tightly with both bound hands and waited.

But she didn’t have to wait long because about the same time she was able to make the tears stop, she heard something. It sounded like a door opening in another room. The front door, maybe? There it was again, maybe. Maybe it was the police. Maybe she was going to be rescued before it went any further.

“Help!” she screamed. “Somebody help me!”

The door—she was completely convinced now it was, in fact, the front door—slammed shut. She heard footsteps pounding on the hardwood floors, the sound getting closer. It was the police; it had to be.

“I’m in here!”

Another door flew open, this one much closer and she knew it was the door to whatever room she was in.

“Help me,” she pleaded, barely getting out the hopeful whimper. But her hope quickly diminished as the most distinctive sound of duct tape being torn from a roll answered her. Seconds later, she felt the brush of fingers on her cheeks as a piece of the sticky restraint was placed over her mouth, taking away any further pleas for help, as well as any hope of rescue.

Fuck me, indeed.

“Shhh.”

Quiet, almost gentle; the simple command was all he said as he crossed the room and shut the door. Nina heard him cross the room and return to the bed. There was a slight pause before she felt the bed give, telling her that he had sat down beside her. She was not flipped onto the floor, so the 450-pound troll theory was gone…for now.

She heard what sounded like water dripping, or as though something had been pulled out of a container of water anyway. Then a gentle brush on her forehead as a wet rag wiped the sweat from her brow, then her face and neck.

“Try to relax,” he said as he returned the washcloth to the basin to refresh it with new cool water before placing it on her forehead and leaving it there.

It felt good on her skin, almost…

Welcomed? Were you really thinking welcomed?

Was that what she was thinking, welcomed? Oh shit, if not welcomed, she was definitely thinking appreciated. It had been a kind gesture, at least, and after the nightmares which had been racking her brain since awakening, it had in truth, been appreciated.

His voice was deep and calm, almost hypnotic. The succession of vowels and consonants, though English, added with the harmonic tone variations were soothing. His accent sounded almost Spanish, but it wasn’t. It was entrancing and—as bad as she wanted to admit it—beautiful. It was…

Welcomed?

No, Italian was what she was thinking.

She felt her own weight slightly shift again, as he stood from the bed and started across the floor to the side of the room on her left, opposite from the door on her right. She listened as best she could as he spoke again, but still found herself drifting into the mysterious world his accent suggested to be his origin. It was definitely foreign, for lack of a better word, though not overpoweringly strong.

“I was a bit disappointed by your crying out when I came in,” he said, still speaking quietly and evenly, seemingly without emotion, or at the least without anger. “So I am going to leave the tape for now, until I can find a suitable, more comfortable replacement. My hope that is you will not need it for long, but that will depend on you. Can you be good?”

Could she be good? Was he kidding? He had her tied to a bed in the middle of God only knew where, naked, completely fucking naked, and he was asking if she could be good? He was out of his goddamn mind.

So, you want the tape to stay over your mouth?

No, of course, she didn’t, but what in the hell was she supposed to do? Welcome this bullshit? Fuck that.

“Well,” he asked, “can you be good?”

Reluctantly, but not enjoying the tape, she nodded in agreement.

Apparently contented by her surrender to the silence he seemingly expected, he opened a drawer of a dresser and began rummaging inside. She had no idea what he was looking for, but her mind was coming up with many possibilities. It didn’t take long before he found what he was looking for and closed the drawer. Nina listened intently as he crossed the room again and stood beside the bed. She heard him slide what she assumed was a nightstand across the wooden floor toward her feet, stopping it close to her legs, before sitting once again on the side of the bed. She felt herself stiffen as she anticipated what would come next. No doubt, he was not about to read a selection from Robert Frost. No, Frost never wrote of the things she knew he intended now. His hand fell softly on her stomach, causing her to flinch slightly.

“Try to relax,” he repeated, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Yeah, okay.

He removed his hand from her skin and she heard something foreign, a whooshing sound coming from beside her. Was that an aerosol can? What the fuck? Again, she felt him touch her, this time lower, below her stomach, just above where she knew he was headed, that one place he had clearly brought her to this place to touch, to hurt, and to fuck.

She felt a cool wetness as he began rubbing something on her skin, on the hair above her most holy of holies, her secret spot, her…

Really, you’re tied to a bed, naked, with some guy rubbing Cool Whip or whatever between your legs and you can’t even call it your pussy?

Okay, she had to admit the word didn’t bother her as much as she wanted to think it did. Yes, he was rubbing whipped cream above her pussy, but it wasn’t whipped cream, she realized as she picked up the scent and realized with sudden wonderment what it was that he was rubbing on her, on her pussy. It was shaving cream. Was he going to shave her? He had gone through the trouble of kidnapping her and strapping her to a bed so that he could shave her? What the fuck?

Nina, you know perfectly well this is only the beginning, now don’t you?

She did know. She didn’t want to know it, but she did. She knew it all too well. She was not going home anytime soon, and of that, she was now quite certain. She allowed her mind to wander, as the water sloshed beside her. Then water ran across her skin as he lowered the razor. Gently, he began removing the triangle of hair from her skin, repeatedly rinsing the razor in the basin of water and returning it, dripping. Water slowly ran between her legs, making a trail beside each before slipping below her pussy and coming together where her ass cheeks touched. She had often thought of performing this procedure on herself—it was, after all, rather common—but she had been afraid of cutting something important, and quite frankly, she had felt self-conscious about it. But it wasn’t painful, she noticed as her mound was becoming smoother than it had ever been; it was almost pleasant, almost…

Welcomed?

Yes, welcomed.

The razor hit the basin with a light splash, sending several drops of cool water into the air and onto her side. He was finished. She had wandered into a daydream and had not realized it until she heard the splash. He removed the washcloth from her forehead and leaned in close to her face. She could smell his cologne, Drakkar, and she could feel his breath as he hovered slightly above her.

“You did well,” he whispered.

She felt a slight shift on the bed again as he repositioned his weight and leaned away from her face. Then, ever so lightly, more gently than any man had ever touched her before, she felt his finger on her skin, just below her pussy lips, where they joined together to form the opening to her soul. Slowly, torturously slowly, he slid it gently upward, barely grazing each side, and eventually gliding just over her clit.

Dear God!

Then his touch was gone and he got up from the bed. Leaning down toward her face again, he removed the duct tape from her mouth and walked across the room. She had not realized it, but she had been holding her breath, and only after she heard him leave the room and close the door, did she release it.

The smell of his cologne lingered in her nose and the wetness remained on her now cleanly shaven skin, but there was something else. She didn’t want to admit it, even to herself, but a wetness from another source was present as well. She had begun to enjoy that somehow, and it pained her to accept it. It wasn’t right, not even close. Hell, it was sexual assault to be perfectly blunt. But when he had said she did good, when he had let her know that he was pleased, a part of her had been wanting, no needing to hear it.

“Oh, Christ, where am I?”

***

The constant grinding of metal on metal had been annoying, but at least she knew she did not have to worry about him coming into the room and catching her, but then it stopped. She stopped moving and lay there quietly, listening. If he had heard her moving around from the other room, he would be in there quickly. It still surprised her that she hadn’t seen him sooner, but he was cooking; she could hear the pans rattling occasionally and even behind her locked door, she could smell bacon. Goddamn, it smelled good. She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten.

It had been pure torture as she had waited earlier, but she didn’t want to risk getting started and have him walk in at a bad time while she was trying to get free. That would be a shit storm she didn’t want to get caught out in.

And me without my umbrella.

Shut up.

She had waited until she had heard him making all the noise in the kitchen and had convinced herself that she might be able to get free in time to…well, to do something. If she could get free, she might be able to surprise him enough when he came in to get away. And once she was able to get the blindfold off, she might even be able to find something in the room which would pass as a weapon of some sort.

But when she heard the footsteps coming toward the door, she knew she was in trouble, but the point of no return had already been breached. She couldn’t stop, not now. She pulled feverishly at the restraints binding her hands, but they wouldn’t budge. With one leg loose, she was able to twist her body somewhat, allowing more leverage, so she pulled with everything she had against whatever held her remaining foot and thought she felt it giving. It hurt like hell, but she still held no doubt that she would feel much worse if she was unable to escape. Had she really allowed herself to see kindness in his voice the day before? Perhaps, but she still was not going to make the mistake of trusting her life to that moment of weakness.

When she heard the lock on the door release, she was at a most pivotal point, her hips twisted against the binding on her ankle and her hands grasping the edges of the bed. Goddammit, why hadn’t he tied her hands behind her head, to the headboard like a normal fucker. It would have allowed more leverage, as she could have pulled with her arms as well as her hips. But no, he had them tied beside her, and if anything, it was working against her as she tried to free her other foot.

She had first tried to free her hands but had found nothing remotely resembling any sort of success. Whatever held her was wrapped around her wrist in a way that when she pulled on it, it tightened, like a noose, or perhaps a slipknot. The way she saw it, her only hope had been to free her legs first, then she would be able to pull her feet up under her body, allowing her to possibly reach one of the restraints with her mouth. It didn’t feel like leather or metal, so her thinking was that it was a cloth of some sort. A secondary hope had been if she could get her feet free, perhaps she could get one of them between her hand and the place the restraint was tied. It would hurt like hell, might even break her wrist, but with enough leverage, she might be able to free a hand, and that meant everything; it meant freedom. She had to try; she had to get out of…

“What the fuck!”

She had forgotten the door in her hysterical attempt to free her other foot and never heard it open. She jumped when he shouted, but all she could do was continue her efforts. The way she saw it, she would never be allowed to get this close to freedom again, so it was now or never. She felt a sharp pain in her ankle and felt what she believed to be the restraint giving. She pulled harder, twisting her hips at the same time, jerking violently against what held her.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

This too went unanswered as she continued her struggle more ferociously than before. She had heard him, she knew he was already in the room, but she was not about to give up now, not so close to freedom. The wetness on her ankle told her she was bleeding, and this allowed even more hope to seep in as she reasoned it would help her efforts, making her ankle slide through more easily. So, she pulled harder. So focused were her efforts, she never heard him crossing the floor. Somewhere in her mind, she knew he had to be close by now, but nothing mattered but getting her foot free.

The glass shattered on the wall above her head and rained down her, mixed with something hot and wet. She froze as she realized he had thrown something at her, but her paralysis would not be permanent. When she felt his hands on her hip, pulling her fully to her back, she grabbed the momentum and used it, swinging her free foot blindly above her hip and connecting solidly on the side of what felt like his ribs.

“You fucking bitch,” he growled, stepping far enough away from her that her continued kicks found nothing but air. But she kicked just the same. If he got close enough, she wanted him to pay. But he had moved up the bed closer to her head and she was not even close to him as she continued to kick wildly.

He might have expected her to stop when he slapped her hard across the face, but it only infuriated her more, and she kicked harder still. A second slap was enough to snap her back to a more subdued state, causing the tears that had begun to flow out of anger to flow harder as pain was added to the mix. But she stopped kicking now, her efforts switched from escape to retreat, as she did the best she could to curl up in defense. She sobbed openly, too spent to struggle with any conviction, as he returned her foot to its formerly unmoving place and secured it tighter than before.

“What do you want from me?” she managed, though it was barely discernible through her weeping.

“What do I want?” His voice had lowered, and though she could hear he was trying to mask his anger, it was still there. “For starters, it would be nice if you would show just the slightest appreciation.”

“What?” she managed.

Had she heard him right? Appreciation? She was about to say more but was unable, as he shoved something forcefully into her mouth. She tried to turn her head, but he grabbed her hair tightly and forced the back of her head deep into the pillow below her, holding it in place. He swiftly removed some broken glass from her hair before trying to feed her again. Little was making its way into her mouth, but the force of his hand hitting her hurt like hell. She could feel her lips swelling and was completely convinced they were bleeding. She struggled to speak, to plead with him, but was unable to get any words out between the attacks.

“Here’s your fucking breakfast.”

His voice sounded strained and forced as he spoke, but he quit hitting her. She heard him walk toward the door and slam it shut as he left the room, leaving her there in the mess he had created with her breakfast. She managed to spit out most of what had found its way into her mouth, feeling the pain intensify on her lips. She was bleeding, perhaps badly, as she felt the warmth of the blood on her cheeks and chin. She sobbed loudly as the dawning realization she would probably die here on this bed gripped her mind tighter than the restraints on her wrists. Her anguish would soon be answered, as the door slammed hard against the wall and he entered the room again, crossing the room quickly and deliberately.

“Plea…”

But it was all she had managed before the tape hit her mouth tightly. She heard the familiar ripping sound more times than she could keep up with, as he repeatedly tore another piece from the roll and slammed it across her face wildly, covering food, hair and blood as well in a frenzied fury. Each piece came down harder and harder and she could hear his breathing become labored as he continued to ensure her silence. Every sob that escaped her mouth seemed to enrage him more, but she couldn’t keep them from crossing her injured lips. When he did finally stop, what seemed like an eternity later, she felt him sit beside her on the side of the bed.

“You will learn to appreciate what I am doing for you,” he said quietly, clearly out of breath. “But right now, I can’t even look at you.”

With that, he crossed the room and left again. She didn’t expect him to return anytime soon and she welcomed the loneliness. She was definitely in some serious trouble. Any doubt of that was now gone.

***

Her lips still stung like a motherfucker. The bastard had hit her hard, splitting both lips, but the bottom one had been worse than the top. Every time she adjusted her mouth to wet her lips or even to grimace in pain, she could feel it threatening to open up again. But what was worse, and even worse than the stinging on her upper cheek, was the need to urinate. She had to go worse than she could remember ever needing to go. What she’d give for a toilet was not worth mentioning, even to herself. She tested the restraints again, but it was no good. They were as tight as ever. The blood on her ankle she had once hoped would aid her in her escape had now dried, creating an opposite effect.

She had eventually swallowed the few morsels of breakfast that he’d shoved into her mouth and she hadn’t spit out before he had come in with the tape, but it had done little to quiet her hunger. What was worse, she could still smell the fucking bacon. Its scent filled the room, mocking her relentlessly. But even it paled in comparison to the pain of trying to hold her water. In all truth, she wasn’t sure why she was holding it at all. After all the son of a bitch had done to her, what she was certain he would eventually do to her, why should she give a flying fuck about his fucking sheets? The final straw was the bacon, the goddamn bacon. She could kill two birds with one stone, empty her bladder and cover the scent of that damn bacon. Why the fuck not? What was he going to do, hit her? She doubted she had felt the last of his anger anyway.

“I want to tell you something.”

She jumped when he spoke. She had no idea he had been in the room, or how long he had been there. She hadn’t heard the door, hadn’t felt the bed move, but she was quite certain he was sitting beside her.

Three birds, maybe you can piss on him at the same time.

Maybe, but the urge had been pushed out of her mind immediately when she realized he was back in the room. She started to answer him, but nothing came out but a mumble. “What" sounded more like “mmm” under the tape which covered her mouth. What was worse was that she felt her lip split again. He answered her as though he knew what she had meant, just the same.

“I did not want to hurt you earlier,” he said. His voice had returned to the even tone from before. “But you are going to have to learn. It might not be something you want to do, but you are no longer allowed to make those decisions.”

Well, no shit. If she had any choice at all, she sure as hell wouldn’t be here, not with this prick. She could think of a million other places she’d rather be, without even trying. He continued to speak without any indication that he knew what she was thinking or that she even had an opinion.

“I had first hoped this would go smoother, that you would recognize my kindness,” he said, “and that you would want to please me. You would have been rewarded quickly and to a much greater extent. But you don’t yet realize I am helping you, so we are going to do this in another way.”

He was helping her? Seriously? This guy was off his fucking rocker.

He continued.“From now on, I am going to lay out the rules for each and every moment. It will be give and take,” he said, rising from the bed. “Before, you were good, so I removed the tape. But you didn’t recognize the connection at all, did you?”

He paused for her to respond as if she could speak with the tape on her mouth. She had no idea where this was headed, what kind of sick twisted game he was playing, but she needed to hear his intentions. It might buy her some time, or even better, her life. So she nodded her head to indicate she had not recognized whatever connection he was talking about.

“So, from now on, I will tell you what I expect and what will happen if you comply,” he said, as she heard him moving something up from the table beside the bed. “I will also tell you what will happen if you choose not to comply. Do you understand this?”

Hell no, she didn’t understand, but she nodded her head just the same.

“Good. I am going to remove the tape now. You will not say a word unless I ask you a question, and then you will answer only with yes or no, as there will be no other options. Do you understand?”

Nina nodded.

“If you say so much as a word other than yes or no to my question, you will be punished more severely than you were this morning. Do you understand?”

Again, she nodded, though now she was beginning to wonder if there was any way this could be better than death.

“Do you want to know what the punishment will be?”

No, she didn’t want to hear it. She could imagine how bad it would be, given the indication it would be worse than before. She was still reeling from that. She moved her head from side to side slowly.

“Very well then,” he said, and she felt one of his hands on her cheek as he took hold of the edge of the mass of duct tape. Her lips screamed with the pain as the dried blood on her lips was pulled free along with the tape. She began to scream but managed to stop herself at the last possible second.

Worse than before, that’s what he said.

She didn’t want to imagine worse than before, so she held her breath as the last of the tape pulled at her hair before its touch was no longer felt on her lips. She almost wanted to thank him for removing the tape as she sucked in a deep breath, but thought better of it. There was silence for a moment, and then he spoke again.

“Would you like to go to the restroom and take a bath?” he asked.

For Christ’s sake, yes, she wanted to go pee. Hell, she needed to. And a bath? God, yes.

“Yes,” she managed weakly.

“Would you like something to drink?”

That was a bit tougher. She wanted to ask if she could get the drink after peeing, but was starting to get the hang of this to some degree. She still had no idea, not to mention a desire to find out where it would end, but she understood this first part.

“Yes.”

“Good. Let’s begin. To get all of this I am offering you, all you have to do is apologize for kicking me and making me spill the breakfast I had worked so hard to make for you.”

Apologize? To him? Fuck’s sake, was he serious? But she knew the answer. He wasn’t well, that was for sure, but she believed he was in fact serious.

“I’m sorry I kicked you,” she said.

“And…?”

“And for making you spill my breakfast.”

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

Fuck yes!

“No, it wasn’t,” she answered.

His footsteps sounded on the floor as he walked around the edge of the bed and Nina heard another door open on the opposite side of the room. The distinct sound of water beginning to fall from a faucet and hitting a porcelain tub could be heard, before the footsteps made their way back to the bed. He was going to untie her! Shit, she hadn’t thought of that. He was going to have to untie her in order for her to go to the restroom and take a bath.

But any hope caused by the realization soon faded as she felt him reach under her neck and place something there. It was thick and heavy, and while she could feel it had been softened where it touched her skin, she could also feel that its edges were tougher. As she heard metal touching metal, and then a light clicking sound, she realized it was a collar of some sort. So much for that idea.

“Sit up, please,” he said, as he guided one hand behind her shoulders and lifted. Then one by one, he untied her hands and then quickly attached them together in front of her waist. She felt the distinctive touch of metal on her chest and stomach as he connected her now handcuffed hands to a small chain that led to the collar on her neck.

“I am going to untie your feet now and lead you into the restroom,” he told her with that same flat tone, still trying to be Italian or Spanish or whatever the fuck it was. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

He did as he had told her, standing her up and leading her into the room where the water was still running. He gently turned her around, but before he allowed her to sit on the toilet, he placed something in her hand. It was light and soft—cloth, she reasoned—and closed her hand around it.

“This is a hood,” he told her. “I made it for you to replace the blindfold. I think it will be more comfortable. You will wait until you hear me close the door before removing the blindfold. Then you will do what you need to do in here. I will return in fifteen minutes. At that time, you will have done your business, bathed, and drained the tub. You will be sitting on the side of the tub with the hood on your head when I open this door. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

She needed time to think, and while she knew she didn’t have long—fifteen minutes to be exact, assuming he kept his word—it would have to be enough. When she heard the door close to her right, she quickly pulled the blindfold off and looked back in the direction of the other room. The light in the small bathroom was dim, but it still stung her eyes, causing her to shield them with one hand while the other still clung to what he had given her before he left. He was gone, and the door was closed. That actually surprised her, but she would soon know why he felt he could trust her with the door closed.

Aside from the toilet she felt on the back of her calves, the bathtub in front of her and a small sink were the extent of the contents in the room. No shelves, no medicine cabinet, just the basics. A washcloth hung on the side of the tub, which was about as full as it needed to be without overflowing once she submerged herself in it. She took the two small steps toward it and turned off the faucet before checking the temperature of the water. It was close enough, warm, but not hot. Normally, she would have preferred it a bit hotter, but nothing else was anywhere near normal right now, so it fit better than it should have. Besides, she reminded herself as she lowered to the toilet, any hotter and it would probably inflame her already injured lips and face when she did get about the business of bathing.

As she continued with what she could only speculate would be a world record for pissing, she took a closer look around the room. There had been shelves at one time, as well as a medicine cabinet above the sink, but they had been removed, most likely in preparation for this bullshit.

She could no longer hear the ticking of the clock in the other room, but she knew damn well it was still moving right along, and as much as she wanted out of this newfound hell, the clean water looked inviting. She needed a fucking wash badly. A second check that the water was close enough to a reasonable temperature and she allowed herself to slip into its embrace, letting the tears flow one more time.

Once in the water, she took the time to look at the cloth in her hand. It looked somewhat like a ski mask, only there were no holes to see through, just a perfectly round opening for her mouth.

“Shit,” she allowed herself to whisper as she inspected it closer.

There was a small metal cable running along the bottom edge, interweaved through brass eyelets every inch or so in the fabric. The cable ended with a loop on each end, too small to allow it to slip back inside the fabric, but clearly large enough for a lock to cinch it together. She ran her hand along her neck below the back of her head and quickly recognized a small lock on what she now knew was indeed a collar. No doubt the hood was designed to lock onto the collar. She would never be able to get it off by herself. She stretched the fabric between her hands, while noticing the pink stitching around the bottom edge and around the…

The blowjob hole?

Yeah, the blowjob hole. There was no deluding herself about that. It was designed specifically to allow this bastard room to shove his dick in her mouth. The fabric stretched some in her hands, but not much. Maybe, given enough time, she could stretch it out enough from the blowjob hole to allow vision, but she knew it was not something she would attempt now. A blowjob hole! Fuck’s sake.

What if she bit the fucker off, would he still think this was all a great idea? She almost allowed herself a brief smile, but the reality of her situation stopped it. Sure, he would be The Great Dickless Wonder for the rest of his life, but there was no doubt her life would be over.

She tossed the hood over the edge of the bathtub and began to clean herself. This was going to be pure hell, but she was not going to die in this bastard’s house. As the warm water washed away the filth she had accumulated of late, she made herself a promise, fueled by a surprising calmness and resolve she never knew was inside her. If the opportunity to escape presented itself, she would grab it with both hands, but if not, she was going to (fucking puke) stay alive. At least long enough to kill the sick fucker.

You know damn well what he is going to do to you.

She did, and he would pay for it, for fuck’s sake would he ever fucking pay for it, but she would have to be alive for that.