As he fucked my ass, his hands were pawing over my entire body, pulling and clawing at my tits, groping at my pubic hair, inserting into my cunt. And like the last fuck he suddenly stopped and got off he bed.
I knew what was going to happen, I knew the minute he fucked my ass. I knew without fail that he was going to cum in my mouth, again, and I knew I could not stop him. Yes, that’s what he did.
He pushed his cock into my mouth, and I started to suck him, and lick his cock. I was beyond caring. I knew there was probably pieces of shit on his cock, and fuck knows how many other germs, but I knew he would hurt me badly if I refused, or tried to hurt him, so I let him fuck my mouth. He was fucking my mouth with his (ass covered) cock, and I was trying as hard as possible not to get hurt any further.
I felt him shudder, and his hot seed hit the roof of my mouth. He kept his cock in my mouth and I continued sucking him. I tasted his seed, and anything else on his cock, and I swallowed it all.
Even when he went flaccid, he kept his cock in my mouth, and simulated fucking me. Then, predictably, he pissed in my mouth. I nearly gagged, but he stopped and started again, and again, I swallowed most of it. I no longer cared. Let him use me as a toilet, I didn’t care. Fuck, let him shit on me – why not? I was beyond caring. As long as I could walk away from this eventually, then I could put up with anything he did!
When he finally finished pissing he stood and staggered away from me. I closed my eyes and sobbed. I ‘felt’ him watching me, and slowly I stopped sobbing. I opened my eyes to see him standing there, stroking his cock, and pulling his own nipples.
“Peter likes you,” he said, as he turned and left, leaving the door open.
I howled. I needed to piss now, and more. I was so ashamed. If I soiled myself what would he do, and I knew I couldn’t hold it in indefinitely. My mouth tasted like a sewer. My hair was matted from his cum, and piss. My pubic area stung, and was matted and dried juices were caked over my cunt and ass. My whole body screamed in agony, especially my tits.
He came back in immediately, carrying a cardboard box. What now, I silently shrieked. He put the box on the bed between my open legs, so I couldn’t see what was in it. He took two plastic clothes pegs from the box, and quickly and painfully clipped one to each of my nipples. More pain, and I couldn’t help screaming. They weren’t normal plastic clothes pegs, but smaller, with tighter springs, and I could feel them bite into my nipples..
Then he removed a large dildo, at least 10 inches long and over 2 inches thick. I just groaned, and closed my eyes for the assault that I knew was imminent. He placed the dildo between my legs, knob facing my cunt, and went back to his box. He took out a large knife. Oh Fuck, I screamed again, and he put that on the bed next to the dildo. Next out of the box was a tube of lubricant. Then more small clothes pegs, some tape, and . . .
Finally he took out a large “unity type” candle, easily three inches across, and he looked at me calmly.
I screamed, and then fainted!
* * * * *
The last thing I remembered before the water hit me was the 3 inch unity candle.
Did I fall faint again? What happened? I didn’t have time to think. The water jolted me awake!
I got soaked head to foot with a powerful jet of freezing cold water. My face, my hair, my body, my cunt, everything was soaked! I started screaming all over again, and now I was lying on a wet mattress.
I was freezing cold, and in total pain. The water had stung at the welts on my body caused by the belt, and his hands. My face and neck were stinging, and my body wanted to revolt. My hands were still tied tightly, and I pulled and pulled to get some sort of release.
Nothing I did seemed to work, but wait . . . I thought I felt some ‘give’ in my restraints?
“Slow down,” I said to myself. “Don’t get excited. It might be your mind playing tricks.” But try as I might, I couldn’t get over the idea that I might have loosened the bindings. Somehow?
I lay back in the total darkness, shivering uncontrollably, as the cold water, and the cold mattress seeped into my body. “Take you time,” I heard myself say, out loud this time, the fucker could hear me all he wanted too, I decided.
I pulled my hands again. YES, YES, OH YES, sweet Jesus, yes, I felt the binds definitely start to slip. I wasn’t imagining it, this time. I now had nearly 6 inches more movement, in my right arm. How? Why?
The water? Did the water jet somehow loosen the binds? I never did look at how, or what, bound my hands. I never gave it any thought, and now I was silently cursing myself for not taking notice. I knew there was only one way to get out of this mess, and I knew exactly who was gonna help me. ME. There was no one else around, and if I didn’t gather my inner strength, then I was going to end up like the . . . “others”.
I tried to keep my mind from thinking about the “others”, but my mind was running on stress. Did he have others? How many? What happened to them? Did he really kill, maim, or both?
I took a deep breath. My ribs hurt, but I ignored it. I tried the ropes again. Yes, they slackened more. Why? I don’t know, and frankly my dear, as someone once said, I didn’t give a damn. I was more worried the prick might come back, and I was equally worried how much of the ropes I could undo, before he came back. I knew it was inevitable that he would come back, but when.
I didn’t have a clue how long I had been in this room, and I didn’t know what time it was, but I knew from my stomach pains, that I was desperately hungry, so I was figuring at least 10 hours or so. That meant it was now around, or after, midnight. Had he left me and gone to bed? Was he listening at the door?
Was it just my imagination, or were the ropes loosening? I tried my left arm, and yes, it also gave more slack. Did the water have anything to do with this? I didn’t care, and in total darkness, concentrated more on trying to release myself, than worrying about why it was possible.
A noise! What was that? Oh fuck. I sat holding my breath for what seemed like hours, listening to my heart bang away. Nothing, I let out my breath. Phew.
Back to the ropes. Were the ropes slipping in their knots? Did the water have something to do with this? “Come on,” I told myself, “Stop worrying and don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
I kept manipulating the ropes, and finally I had over 12 inches of slack in my right arm, and nearly as much with my left arm. I could actually touch my head. Thank you God, I sincerely said, for the first time in many a year.
Another noise, and I started to cry. No, no, no. Oh god, no, please. I am so close. But I couldn’t hear anymore.
“Stop!” I told myself firmly. “Girl, you aren’t going anywhere unless you stop panicking.”
Was I actually talking to myself out loud? For all I knew I was. The room was so deathly silent, that I didn’t know if I was listening to my mind, or my voice. If it was my voice, it sounded different, but if it was my mind, did I really know how the ‘voice’ in my mind sounded?
If I could just get the ropes looser by another 6 inches each, I might be able to work on the knots with my fingers. Slowly, ever so slowly, I kept pulling, but it was no use. Whatever had caused the ropes to slacken had stopped. Or had it?
I paused for another breath, and tried to think hard. If I knew why the ropes slackened off, I would be half way to solving the dilemma, but I was in total darkness, and unless I could get my hands to touch each ropes, it wouldn’t matter.
What a minute! I already had over 12, maybe even 15 inches of slack, in both arms. What if I tried my legs, what if the ropes holding my legs gave me some slack too, and then if I could scoot my butt up the bed, and get my hands closer to the top ropes? Why didn’t I think of that earlier?
I must have been at the ropes for hours, and the prick hadn’t returned. Was he asleep for the night? Since I had been here, he seemed to have come to me frequently, and it must have been at least two hours since he last came, if not more. Maybe he was asleep for the night. I remembered the isolation of his house. Was I in some sort of room in the basement, and he knew I couldn’t get out, and that no one could find me, would he be so relaxed as to leave me overnight?
I started to move my legs, and immediately I did, my cunt ached.
[Yes I told you, I call it my cunt. My word. Ok, yes he called me a cunt too, but he also called me a lot worse too. If he chooses to use that word as an offensive insult, then let him. To me, my cunt is, and always will be, my prized possession. Just because some jerk abuses the use of my special word, I can’t stop him, nor care to either.]
I stopped, breathed deep, and tried again. I pulled slowly on my left leg, feeling every muscle scream at me. Yes, I felt some give. Oh fuck, yes. Slowly, I pulled my leg some more, ignoring all of the screaming aches coming straight up my legs.
The rope did give, maybe 3 or 4 inches, but it did give. I pulled again, this time on my right leg. Yes, I felt some give there too. Slowly, now, I told myself, don’t rush.
In the total darkness, it felt like hours, but was probably only minutes, before I was able to swing both legs across an arc of at least 12 inches. I cried in relief. I sobbed and cried for many minutes.
I was exhausted. I ached all over my body. My throat hurt every time I swallowed (like I had sandpaper instead of skin down there), and my head was banging, but I didn’t give up.
I stopped crying finally, and then took my time, but did manage to finally move my ass up the soaking wet, freezing cold, mattress. I maybe managed to move it 8 or 10 inches, but as I stretched my fingers, I knew it was enough. I could touch my left hand, and the ropes there, with my right. Fucking hell, I laughed.
The hard part was next. In the total darkness, frightened to death that the asshole would return any time now, using my right hand, I started feeling for the knots on my left wrist. I found them, oh god, I found them.
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