The First Day of the Rest of Your Life

The First Day of the Rest of Your Life (part 2)

With no clock or watches, it was impossible to tell at what hour breakfast was slipped under their door. The sound of the small inner door being opened and closed awakened them. Yes, it was real. It had not been a nightmare. They were still here.

       Next to the door were two small bowls of oatmeal and two glasses of orange juice. John moved his wife into a sitting position. John lifted his own stiff body from the mattress and picked up breakfast and split the bowls and glasses between them. Their ordeal had in actuality made them quite hungry. The oatmeal was a little on the cold side, but tasted good. The juice was sweet and cool and refreshing. They ate in silence on the bed, their sides touching. When they were done, they instinctively placed the food next to the door.

       Now, the first major discomfort of their cell became apparent to them. With no sink, there was no morning ritual of tooth brushing, washing, and shaving to look forward to. In a few short hours, they already felt dirty and sticky.

       “I’m sorry,” Marsha said sadly. “I must really stink.”

       “That’s okay, sweetie,” John said. “I can’t smell any better.”

       “My teeth feel fuzzy,” Marsha complained.

       “Mine, too”

       After a few moments of silence, Marsha spoke. “John, I really have to pee, bad.”

       “Then go ahead. I’ll be okay.”

       “But I don’t think I can, not like this, not with someone here.”

       It was true. In all of their years of marriage, John could not recall a time when either of them had used the toilet in front of each other.

       “Sweetie, it’ll be okay. I love you.”

       Marsha resignedly walked her sore body the few steps to the metal bucket. For a few moments she just stared at, trying to figure out how she would fit herself over it. Then, turning her back to her husband, she gently squatted her body over the pail and after a few moments, let loose a stream of water. It echoed loudly against the metal pail, which, John felt certain, their captors had chosen just for the fact that it was so loud.

       After cleaning herself with a wad of toilet paper, it was John’s turn. He moved the bucket into the corner and, standing with his back to Marsha, urinated into it. He shut his eyes, not wanting to see the pail’s contents. He dabbed the tip of his penis with a sheet of toilet paper, and threw it into the pail, then moved the receptacle by the old food bowls by the door.

       In a short while, the small door opened and a man’s hand removed the bowls, glasses, and pail. After a brief time, the door opened again and the pail, now clean, was replaced.

       And, with no real interruptions, this routine continued day after day. Of course, as they days passed, they felt dirtier and stickier. On the morning of the second day, which they assumed was morning because a breakfast of cold cereal in milk was served. Marsha quietly made an announcement.

       “John, I’ve really got to go.”

       “That’s okay, go ahead.”

       “No, you don’t understand. This time I have to poop.”

       Both of them knew this moment would come and had dreaded it. This was a deeply private act which would now be stripped of all dignity, not to mention its noisome aftermath.

       “It’s okay. It’s not the last time we’ll have to.”

       As she did last time, Marsha silently made her way over to the empty pail and moved it as far from the bed as would be possible and squatted over it. It took a while, but eventually the sounds of nature were clear in the tiny room. As she relieved herself, John heard Marsha’s body let loose a quiet sob. Soon, the smell of her waste was added to the odors of their unbrushed teeth and undeodorized armpits. It was terribly unpleasant.

       Hours passed before the offensive pail was removed. The couple wished for fresh air and a hot shower, but none would be forthcoming.

       Although the couple was spared further bodily torments at the hands of their captors, their captors nonetheless cruel new ways of tormenting them. If their lack of running water and proper toilet facilities were not enough, special foods were introduced to their diet to create varying degrees of gastric distress. Beans were added to induce the inevitable bloating and gas. High fiber cereals were served to keep the slop pail full. When they were feeling especially wicked, their captors would lace the food with a little castor oil. This last measure would keep the two captives taking turns on the pail until their bottoms were marked with the metal rim of the pail and the odor of their waste was overwhelming.

       Their days were reduced to sitting on the mattress, waiting for the next meal to come, and trying to live with the dirt and filth of their surroundings. John, although he logically knew otherwise, was surprised that his wife could smell so bad. The sensual fragrance of Marsha’s perfume, the sweet smell of her breath, were replaced by the grungy smells of life. Sometimes each of them would sit there, stunned, unable to believe their misfortune. Whenever their complaints escalated to loud protest, their captors would tame them by threatening to withhold food or by extending their captivity.

       Finally, just when they thought they would lose their minds from the endless boredom and tedium of their existence as caged naked animals, they heard the sound of key entering a lock. Judging by the cycle of three daily meals, they had languished in their cell for five days, and now the door was finally being opened. Their captors were there, Karen with her gun, Dave and his scarred face. The captors had smeared a mentholated gel under their own nostrils to mask the smell of their captives and the filthy cell.

       John and Marsha were ordered to leave the room. Surprisingly, the air in the main part of the cellar which had seemed so damp and musty when they were first captured and tortured now seemed refreshing to them. The thought that they would soon leave through the cellar door into the fresh air seemed almost a miracle.

       The outside air was cool and clear. Suddenly, they felt terribly naked when made to walk outside, but they could see that their captors had told them the truth: they were miles from any other human being. No one was there to witness their humiliation except their captors. This was the first John and Marsha had seen them out of their driver’s uniforms. Dave dressed simply in heavy denim pants, boots, and a light flannel shirt. Karen was dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt which greatly outlined her ample bosom.        

       “Welcome to the world again,” Karen mocked. “I hope you enjoyed your time away.”

       “You people are monsters,” Marsha stated angrily. “Animals are treated better.”

       “Yes, that’s probably true,” Karen agreed. “But right now, animals are little bit higher on the food chain than a couple of filthy, smelly lawyers. Luckily for you, though, The Company is going to be coming for you soon, so we have to make you a little more presentable. Just think of it, what you’ve dreamed of for days. Nice clean water, sweet-smelling soap. But, like anything around here, there’s a catch.”

       Marsha and John had lost the will to fight and accepted Karen’s words without protest.

       “No, you’re going to have to earn it. You’re going to give us a little show to repay us for our generosity,” Karen laughed. “A little sex show. You see, we like nothing more than watching a cute couple like you fuck. And with the shape you’re in, that’s going to be really nasty.”

       “Please,” John protested. “We’ll do what you want. Just let us clean up first.”

       “Nothing doing,” Karen replied. “Why don’t we start with a little kissing. Tongues.”

       The couple approached each other, horrified at the prospect of tasting each other’s dirty mouths. The sight of Karen’s pistol motivated them and soon their mouths were locked together. The smell of several days’ morning breath made both of them gag at first, but they kept at it. The feel of each other’s naked bodies felt good, even under these circumstances. They were compelled to make out for what seemed like many minutes.

       “Lick his nipples. You had better entertain us.”

       Marsha lowered her head to John’s chest and kissed his nipples, which soon stiffened to tight little buds. She made circles around them with her tongue, then licked them with the flat of her tongue. To his own embarrassment, John could feel his cock stiffen while his captors looked on. He cursed his own body. Even with the filth, the gun pointed at them, and the uncertainty of their situation, he could feel the first signs of being turned on.

       “Suck her tits.”

       John lowered his head to Marsha’s breasts. In the sunlight, he was surprised to see that all of the bruises of the first night had faded from her pale skin. Her chest smelled strongly of sweat, but it still felt good to have her in his mouth. She was so round, so soft. He never grew tired of the way her nipples would wrinkle as his saliva dried upon them and her nipples would rise up as if begging for more attention.

       “Eat her, and you better make her come. And she better not be faking it, because I’ll know.”

       Marsha lay on her back on the dry grass and he lowered himself to her crotch. He had never smelled a woman who smelled so strong. Her crotch was a blend of sweat, her piss, her natural lubrication, not to mention the heady scent which drifted up from her asshole. But somehow, the smell was so animalistic that it was simultaneously repulsive and arousing. Doing his best to shut out his audience, John buried his face into her loins, licking the insides of her thighs, then running his tongue rhythmically up and down her labia, and finally thrusting his tongue in and out of her pussy as if it were a small cock.

       Marsha cursed her body’s own stupidity as it grew excited as they were forced to humiliate themselves in this cruel show. As John’s tongue found a satisfying rhythm on her clitoris, she felt an orgasm begin to build as a small shudder deep within her belly. In spite of herself, her hips began to move rhythmically against his face. A moan spontaneously escaped her mouth as she came.

       “Looks like she liked that way too much,” Karen laughed. “Suck his dick.”

       John rolled over onto his back. Marsha gently bit his right nipple, then slowly kissed her way down to his penis. It didn’t smell good, yet something about the odor turned her on. She held it gently in her right hand and planted small kisses up and down his shaft. She could hear a small moan come from his mouth. As she carefully tugged his foreskin up and down in a steady rhythm, she used her tongue to gently explore the head of his penis. She couldn’t believe she was being forced to perform this intensely private act for her captors’ amusement, but she knew she must, for their own safety, do a good job.

       Keeping up the slow and steady rhythm with her hand and the gentle licking with her tongue, John’s cock was now very stiff and red. Finally, with a grunt, he came into her open mouth.

       “Very, very nice,” Karen approved. “I think The Company will be very pleased with you two. I think you fuck in front of other people like pros. You’re sure you haven’t done this before?”

       “Like pros,” Dave repeated.

       At long last, the soap and water were provided. But as John and Marsha suspected, there would be strings attached. First, they were made to remove their glasses. Then, under threat of the gun, the couple was suspended by heavy ropes secured to their ankles from the branch of an old tree in the back of the house. Upside down and helpless, their naked bodies were blasted with cold water from a garden hose, the shock of which made both of them scream.

Then Karen scrubbed their bodies with the combination of a rough pumice soap and a stiff-bristled bath brush. No parts of their bodies were spared this harsh scrubbing. In fact, Karen seemed to spend extra time on those parts she thought would hurt the most: the soles of their feet, their nipples, their armpits, their stomachs, and their genitals. Thick layers of grime and sweat were washed from their bodies as they screamed and groaned.

Moving down to their heads, the tops of which hung about a foot from the ground, Karen used a sweet-smelling baby shampoo to scrub each of their hair. Karen couldn’t help smiling as she looked into their upside down faces, both a deep red with the blood that rushed to their heads.

She toweled them dry, then Dave approached them menacingly with a straight razor.

“Time for your shaving,” he laughed. Marsha looked up at her legs and saw that they had sprouted a crop of light brown hair in the days since the party and their capture. Dave slathered her legs with a soothing foam then proceeded to shave her legs with the sharp razor. For all his burliness and intimidating demeanor, Dave, Marsha found, was surprisingly gentle with her as he shaved her legs and stubbly armpits. Next, John’s five-day-old beard was shaved until his cheeks were smooth to the touch. Dave was gentle with him too; there was very little blood.

Once they were released, the couple were given back their glasses and allowed a few moments to get over the dizziness of being held upside-down for many minutes. Again, Dave’s knife was displayed as an incentive to keep them from escaping, as Karen toweled their hair dry, and then brushed it. Finally, a pail of water, a couple of new toothbrushes, and toothpaste were brought over, and John and Marsha were allowed to clean their teeth and mouths by themselves. They were grateful because they had only imagined the indignities a forced tooth brushing might entail.

To dry their bodies, the captives were staked out spread-eagled on the grass in the warm sun. The sun and air felt good on their freshly cleaned bodies, but their taught limbs quickly became uncomfortable as there was no way to shift their bodies to relieve the pressure the ropes made upon their joints.

John reached out a finger and found that he could just barely touch the side of Marsha’s outstretched hand. It was just a little contact, but it felt satisfying to those whose bodies had been subject to so many torments and indignities over the past few days.

“How are you doing, John?” Marsha asked.

“I ache a little, but I think I’m okay,” he answered.

“I love you.”

“I know”

“I wish I could hold you now.”

“I’m sure you will. Soon. They can’t leave us like this forever.”

John’s thought was true. It has hard to tell how long they had been bound on the grass, but eventually they heard the sound of what sounded like a truck. First it was very far away and then it seemed to get closer and closer. This must be The Company, whatever that was, coming for them. Undoubtedly, a new group of torments and tormenters awaited them. The thought that strangers would soon see them, bound nude on the grass, filled them with dread. But it seemed like their own dignity was something from another time, another life that was ages ago.

They heard a truck park and a door slam, and then a new voice: a man’s. They were able to overhear some snippets of conversation: where is the couple…money transferred into your account by midnight…any injuries or freak outs. Karen and Dave’s demeanor changed greatly. They were subservient, and their tone respectful to this man.

Soon a new face, a woman’s, appeared over them. She looked like a rugged, outdoorsy type. Her ruddy cheeks were freckled and she wore her long hair in a ponytail. The laugh lines on her face indicated that she was in her late 30s at least. She was wearing what appeared to be a uniform: olive green pants, a short-sleeved light blue shirt, and a navy blue necktie. She smiled and looked at them almost maternally.

“How are you two doing?” she asked, as if finding two naked people staked out on the ground was the most normal thing in the world.

“Help us, please,” Marsha begged.

“Sorry, honey, but I can’t do that,” the uniformed woman replied. “It’s my job to get you to The Center. I know, sometimes these first line Abductors can be a little uncouth. This is only their second assignment, so I’d expect they’re a little rough.”

“They locked us up,” John confessed. “There was no water, no toilet. They fed us worse than dogs. And then they made us humiliate ourselves for their pleasure.”

“Sounds pretty much par for the course,” the woman replied, shaking her head. “If not a little rough. Here, I’ve got something to give you.”

She reached into a bag which hung across her shoulder and took out what seemed like two wristbands.

“These are GPS devices,” she explained. “I’m going to lock one on each of your ankles. They don’t hurt and they can’t hurt you. But if you try to get away, we’ll be able to find you very quickly. And what happens to you then,” she added, her face becoming suddenly firmer, “Is not the favorite part of my job.”

“You coming Amanda?” called a man’s voice, most likely the driver of the truck. John and Marsha looked up to see an attractive young man in his mid-20s with dirty- blond curly hair. He wore the same uniform that the woman called Amanda wore, and seemed to take no particular notice of the naked captives bound helplessly at his feet. It seemed as if he did this all the time.

“I’m just slapping the bracelets on these two, Curt,” she replied. She slid the cuffs around each of their ankles and then snapped them shut. Addressing the two captives, she said, “Now that shouldn’t be too tight. Don’t try taking them off because we’ll find out right away. You don’t want that to happen. Now, let’s untie you two.”

Amanda took a knife from her shirt pocket and cut the ropes away. Although free, it was immediately hard to move their stiff limbs.

“Now, when you’re ready, I want you to follow us to the truck,” Amanda instructed. “Please do not try running away because I’d hate to have to hurt you. There’s really no way for you to get away anyhow.”

“Can’t we please have our clothes back,” Marsha pleaded.

“No, honey,” Amanda answered. “Company policy is that all Actors are to be kept naked throughout their transport and tenure. Don’t feel embarrassed around Curt and me. We see lots of Actors all the time. And you’ll soon get used to it. Just think, no more fitting rooms or clothes that make you look too fat.”

Marsha could not immediately share Amanda’s enthusiasm.

Once they were able, John and Marsha were helped to their feet and ushered to the front of the house where are large truck was parked. Actually, the truck was a large touring bus, except all of the windows except the drivers’ were blacked out. As they walked, the captives – Actors, as they were now called -- passed the cellar door which was the original portal to their imprisonment. Looking up, they saw the faces of their captors staring at them through the windows. Don’t spend all of that money in one place, John thought. If they were like any other losers who suddenly come into a lot of money, they’d blow it fast on stupid things.

“Almost there, guys,” Amanda said, pleasantly, as if she were leading them on a tour of her garden.

A hydraulic platform, the sort used to raise and lower wheelchairs, was fastened to the back of the truck. It was lowered and John and Marsha were loaded onto it, Amanda at their side.

“Now, once we get up, I’m going to unlock the door,” Amanda instructed. “Then I want you to go in quietly without asking any questions. It’ll be a long trip to get where we’re going, so do your best to make yourself comfortable.”

As the ramp reached the door, John turned around and faced the afternoon sun. It felt warm on his face. Somehow he felt it would be the last time he would feel its rays for a while as he and his spouse began the next stage of their captivity as Actors, whatever that meant. The door was unlocked – more keys and locks – and Amanda pointed the way inside, giving each of them a warm, sisterly pat on their naked shoulders.

They stumbled in and the door quickly closed, and their eyes slowly adjusted to their surprising new surroundings.