Iniquity

(*This story is meant for adults only. If you are not over the age of 18, or are not over the legal age in your area of residence, please stop reading this. This story contains adult-only content; none of the people portrayed in this story are real. This is entirely a work of fiction.*)

 

Iniquity: Chapter 3: Part 1

 

I shifted to my side on the damp bed, trying to bury my head under my hands. I could see someone approaching me in the distance; he was naked and had a huge hard on. For some reason I couldn't run, he walked up to me grimly and then disappeared, replaced by someone behind me. I could sense him behind me, but I couldn't turn around. He was so close to me, so close...

 

I woke up suddenly, sitting up in bed. I was covered in sweat; the bed felt uncomfortably damp. I shook my head, trying to erase the images from my dream. Keeping my eyes closed, I explored my body with my hands.

 

My body had the familiar sticky feeling I usually felt in the morning. My thighs felt tender, and I gently ran my hand up my thigh, outlining my pussy with my finger. It was slightly swollen; it felt exactly like what had happened to it.

 

I moved my hand up, accidentally brushing my clit with my finger. I shivered slightly, enjoying the sensation. My head still felt foggy in the morning, and I moved my hand back down to my crotch, almost against my will.

 

It felt so good, gently rubbing my clit. Lost in the sensation, I started slowly fucking myself with my index finger, my thumb still rubbing against my clit. I moaned softly, fucking myself faster, still with one finger.

 

I rolled onto my belly, sticking my ass into the air, trying to get into a more comfortable position, with my hand still fucking my pussy.

 

I slid another finger in, fucking faster, now loudly moaning, and just swept up in the feelings. I could feel my secretions dripping off my hand and onto the bed; but I was beyond caring. I was close... so close, just a little faster, I thought to myself.

 

The feelings were so strong I didn't notice the door open. I was just on the point of cumming, a gentle orgasm beginning to course through me. It came to an abrupt end when I felt myself falling off the bed, and landing on the ground near the bed, I opened my eyes for the first time.

 

“Jesus, you looked like you were masturbating to save your life there,” a male voice said from the opposite side of the bed. Looking up, slightly disoriented, I saw a man with long hair and blue eyes grinning mischievously. He was holding a leather lead in one hand, following it with my eyes I saw it disappear behind the bed.

 

“Now get over here,” he motioned, pointing next to him. I scrambled to my feet, rushing to do what he said. I asked myself as I almost ran towards him, “why was I listening to him?”

 

When I came around the bed, I could see the figure of a beautiful woman, on her hands and knees, a leash extending from her collar into the guy’s hand. Looking at the longhaired guy again, I remembered his name from the day before; someone had called him Jason.

 

Jason dropped the leash he was holding and stepped on it cruelly close to his captive’s neck, forcing her head to come within inches of the ground in an uncomfortable squatting position. Her black hair fell around her head, obscuring her face.

 

He reached towards me with both hands, pushing down on my shoulders. I fell onto my knees a little heavily, looking up at him. He seemed very... in control. Satisfied with my new position, he motioned toward his foot stepping on the leash.

 

“This is Monica,” he said mockingly. “Monica, say hi to Jess,” he continued looking at her head still inches from the ground. She mumbled something inaudibly, looking at the ground.

 

He didn't seem to mind her reluctant response, breezily continuing his little introduction.

 

“Say hi to Monica,” he said to me. I whispered a “hi”, unable to take my eyes off Monica's figure. Jason seemed genuinely amused by our shy greetings, smiling broadly.

 

He bent down and pulled up on the leash, forcing Monica to her knees, her head high to adjust to his pull on her leash. She initially pulled her hands up to her neck, but then pulled them behind her back reluctantly.

 

“So, Monica, tell Jess your name,” Jason said playfully, looking at her. She looked up at me, her eyes red from tears.

 

“I'm slut Monica,” she said in a well-rehearsed voice, and Jason clapped enthusiastically, relaxing his grip on her leash. She looked down again, blushing.

 

“It took me about 2 solid days to get her to say that,” he pointed out for my benefit, petting her on the head. He looked like he was showing off a new trick that he had just taught his pet; it was grotesque.

 

“So, Jess, want to tell Monica your name?” He asked, suddenly more serious. I could sense that I was expected to do more than just say my name; he was listening expectantly.

 

“I… I'm slut Jessica...?” I said, hoping I had said the right words. I clearly had, because he laughed raucously, clapping his hands. “You're a fast learner,” he said to me. His praise made me feel much better inside, oddly.

 

Still swinging his arms around madly, he suddenly pushed Monica in the chest. She fell back, her hands behind her, groping for the ground. In the last second, with a cruel smile on his face, he held the leash taught as her head was feet from the ground. There was an odd snapping sound, her head was violently pushed forward, her hands jerking behind her, still looking for the ground.

 

He held her like that, suspended by the neck, for several seconds, watching her. She was making a strange guttural sound, her face turning red and her hands jerking behind her slightly. Apparently satisfied, Jason released the leash and she fell onto her back with a thud.

 

I was staring at her; my eyes round with shock. She pulled her legs up and began massaging her neck. I noticed her shaved slit between her legs; it had odd red marks around it.

 

Jason broke my reverie by walking around me and opening a door at the foot of the bed I hadn't noticed before. Motioning for me to look after him, he switched on the lights.

 

“There’s a shower in here,” he said, his voice echoing from inside the bathroom. “Clean yourself up a bit, my brothers showing up today” he said, still inside the bathroom. “Oh and shave your cunt while you're in here, there’s a razor on the sink.”

 

“You learn a helluva lot faster than that dumb slut,” he said now out of the room, leaning against the doorjamb, looking out at Monica.

 

When Monica heard her voice she froze, her hands on her neck. Then she slowly continued massaging her neck, almost hesitantly. This seemed to infuriate Jason; I saw a muscle twitch in his jaw.

 

He strode over to Monica, and lifted her up with one hand effortlessly. He pushed her towards the bed; she staggered back and landed with her back to the bed, leaning against it. When she saw him advancing towards her, unzipping his fly as he went, she stood up quickly, trying to run away.

 

When Jason saw her stand up he reached forward and threw her back onto the bed, pulling his cock out of his pants. When she saw him standing between her legs, the fight went out of her. She let her head fall back on the bed and closed her eyes tightly.

 

He guided his cock into her cunt, slamming it up to the hilt on one thrust. Monica yelled out in pain, her head rolling from side to side. Jason showed no mercy; he just shoved himself into her brutally. Monica was crying loudly now, her head bouncing from side to side with each thrust.

 

Jason had incredibly stamina; he continued for over 5 minutes at the same pace. After some time Monica could no longer scream or cry, she just gasped each time her body bounced forward, her eyes glazed over slightly.

 

Slowing down, Jason grunted, and pulled out of her, cumming all over her body. He spurted on her face, breast; some even landed on the bed. Her head had come to a rest on its side facing me. I saw some cum land in her eye, but strangely, she didn't blink or move any more; she must have passed out. Her face transfixed me; her glassy eyes looking up into her head.

 

Jason zipped his pants back on and looked at me viciously. “What the fuck are you doing here, get into the shower,” he yelled. I turned around and ran into bathroom, scared of what he might do. “And clean this bitch up,” he yelled, slamming the door behind him.

 

I got into the shower, still seeing Monica’s rape in my mind. The shower was surprisingly clean; I had expected a mildew-covered nasty old tub, it pleasantly surprised me. I washed myself absently; my mind riveted on Monica.

 

I didn't really understand why Jason hated her. She was physically perfect, her face was cute, even with teary eyes. Jason's obviously didn't hate her because of her looks; on the other hand maybe he hated her because she was too... perfect? I wondered if I would be good enough for him, was he going to abuse me the way he abused Monica?

 

I stayed in the shower for a long time, reluctant to get out. I was scared of what might happen if I left the shower and re-entered the unpredictable world I had been forced into. Delaying my exit until I felt that I could find no excuse to stay in any longer, I stepped out, dripping wet, looking for a towel.

 

Remarkably, there was a towel hanging near the shower and I toweled myself dry. I looked around the relatively bare room; noticing the razor on the sink. I remembered Jason telling me to shave myself, so I reluctantly took the razor and sat down on the floor, reaching for the shaving cream.

 

I felt silly, reaching between my legs again and again. I kept looking up towards the door, hoping no one would walk in on me doing this. I hurriedly finished and touched my now smooth slit. The sensation was different, more intense. I remembered the embarrassing start to the day, when Jason had walked in on me masturbating. I slid a finger into my pussy, shuddering slightly.

 

I quickly pulled out again, this wasn't right. Standing up, I walked out of the bathroom. Monica was no longer on the bed, but I didn't have to look far to see her.

 

She was slumped on the ground, her head at an uncomfortable angle, resting against the side of the bed. I walked toward her, very conscious of my nakedness. I bent down next to her; she turned away to avoid looking at me. I could still see cum splattered over her body, she had clearly made no effort to wipe it off. Reaching over, I wiped some cum out of her face.

 

“Go away,” she said in a shaky voice, vaguely blocking my hand and turning away. I didn't want to leave her alone; she seemed hurt and sad. I stayed near her, watching her.

 

“Just leave me alone,” she said again, and unsteadily got to her feet. She limped into the bathroom; the sound of water breaking the awkward silence. She was obviously cleaning herself, I felt relieved that I wouldn't have to force her to.

 

I looked around the bare room; the only real piece of furniture was the large bed. Looking at it closely, I noticed a small glob of cum on it. Partly out of curiosity, and partly because Jason probably wouldn't like it if I didn't clean up, I scooped it up on my finger. I nervously looked towards the bathroom, I could still hear the sound of running water.

 

Very slowly, I dipped my cum-covered finger towards my mouth, and touched it, just barely, to my tongue. It was salty at first, but then a nasty taste filled my mouth. I spit, more to register disgust than to really expel my saliva. Looking up suddenly, I noticed Monica standing in the doorway, looking at me.

 

I blushed; she had obviously seen me lick the cum. What would she think of me, I worried. She turned her head away from me and ignored me, walking toward the opposite side of the room.

 

I hurriedly walked to the sink, cleaning my hand under the running water. I was still a bit shaken, I had never intended to be seen trying the cum. Why had I even tried, it I wondered. It was nasty; Monica now thought I was some sluty bimbo.

 

I walked out of the room and spotted Monica in the corner of the room, her knees drawn up to her chest. She had her hands folded on her knees, her head resting on her forearms. I walked towards her; it didn't seem right for me to ignore her, we were in this together after all.

 

Sitting against the wall next to her, I leaned back and looked around the room, suddenly fascinated by the ceiling. The silence could not have been heavier. I must have opened my mouth at least 3 times to say something, only to stop myself in the last second.

 

“How did you get here?” Monica asked. I was relieved that she had broken the silence, but unsure of what to say. How did I get here, I asked myself.

 

“I, um, I...” What could I say? That I had been dragged of the street, after some stupid idea I hadn't even liked in the first place? I was relieved to hear Monica talking again; she sounded like she needed someone to talk to, so I listened.

 

“I used to be a 'security consultant' for some dickhead named Gavin,” she said tonelessly. “We were supposed to 'protect' something, but all we did was bully people around.” She took a deep breath and continued,  “there was this one guy; he just broke down in front of us, crying. We had threatened to kill his wife and only daughter unless he cooperated with us...”

 

She stopped, swallowed, and continued, “After that, I complained to Gavin. Threatened him, made a scene. Said it was illegal, said I'd turn him in to the cops. He just listened quietly, and the next day some of his goons picked me up and threw me in here...” she stopped, looking at me for the first time.

 

“I... you did the right thing?” I offered hopefully.

 

“Great, look where it got me,” she responded, tugging at her leash miserably. I could tell she really hated this, that she would do anything to get out of here.

 

“Look, its not so bad... is it?” I said, trying to make her feel better. She looked back, her face suddenly angry.

 

“Yeah, its great for a slut like you. Bet you can't get enough of Jason's cock, can you.” She retorted, and suddenly got up, walking into the bathroom. That was unfair, I thought, I hadn't meant it to sound that way. I was only trying to make her feel better...

 

The door opened again and Jason came in, another man walking in with him. The other guy looked remarkably like Jason, only he didn't have long hair or the goatee. The most disturbing thing about his appearance were his small blue eyes. He looked at me briefly, making me shudder; I was relieved when he broke his gaze to take a drink out of his beer.

 

Jason looked at me, then looked around the rest of the room, looking for Monica. Shaking his head, he went into the bathroom, coming out a second later holding a yelping Monica by the leash. Jason was as angry as ever, throwing her on to the ground, cursing.

 

I wasn't sure what to do, still sitting against the far wall.

 

“Jess, Monica, meet Jim,” Jason said with an exaggerated wave. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his boot pressing down on the side of Monica's face, forcing her onto the ground. Jim ignored him, staring at me.

 

“So, how’s it going over at your place,” Jason asked his brother, poking Monica's prone body with his other foot.

 

“Heh, I've been having a lot of fun with one of mine,” he said slowly, drunkenly. “Some idiot said hooking her up to anti-psychotics was fun -”

“You what!” responded Jason, laughing hard. He clearly pressed down too hard on Monica's head, making her scream. He ignored her. “What the fuck are you messing around with anti-psychotics for?”

 

“I told you, this shrink said-”

 

“You're seeing a shrink now?” Jason asked again, laughing loudly. He pushed Monica onto her back with his other foot, her head still pinned under his foot. “You really need it badly, I can tell.”

 

“Shut up, asshole. I'm not seeing a shrink; I hired one of Gavin's morons to screw around with her. It's supposed to have a funny effect,” he added, as if defending his idea.

 

“Real clever, real clever,” Jason said. He shifted his weight on the bed, now forcing one of his feet into Monica's mouth, the other pressing down on her chest. “Why do you always do this screwball shit to your chicks; didn't you sterilize one of them?”

 

Jim laughed a little. “That was a special case. You see, I couldn't figure out if she was bi or not, so I just settled the question once and for all and made her neutral. It was a really good idea,” he said again, drinking from his beer.

 

“Wow, ok, ok, too much information. So what are you doing with her now?” he asked again, absent-mindedly molesting Monica with his feet.

 

“Gavin's little friend said he wanted to try out some new method of torture on her,” he answered happily. “It's like called 'self-', uh, 'self-something'” he finished lamely.

 

“Mmhmm... Great idea, as usual,” said Jason looking around the room vaguely. “Why aren't you watching it, isn't that what you usually do?”

 

“C'mon, I wanted to see your new ones. Mine never last long anyway,” he said, laughing a little.

 

“Man, you're really weirded out.” He now had one leg on Monica's neck, the other poking her crotch. There was a kind of nasty silence, punctured by the sound of Jason stepping on Monica.

 

“I broke her nose, too,” said Jim finally, breaking the silence.

 

“...What?” said Jason sharply, looking up surprised. “Just when I thought you could get no weirder...”

 

“Let me show you,” said Jim, walking towards Monica. He walked towards Monica, fishing something out of his pocket.

 

“Hey, hey, don't break her nose,” said Jason, for the first time a little concerned.

 

“I'm not going to break her nose,” said Jim, distracted with something in his hand. He took her arm, holding it up to his face. Monica couldn't see what he was doing; her face still covered by Jason's foot. Jim was concentrating, holding something up to Monica's wrist.

 

Monica suddenly screamed, thrashing violently under Jason's foot. Jason looked down, watching her squirming under him. He seemed to debate within himself, then let her go; she looked like she would hurt herself if he kept her down any longer.

 

She crawled off quickly, holding her wrist in her hand. Blood was pouring down, out of her wrist, covering her hand and spilling onto the floor. I was staring at her, my eyes wide with shock. I wasn't the only one; Jason was also looking at her, the same shocked look on his face.

 

“What... dude, what the fuck did you do to her?” asked Jason, looking between Jim and Monica, now sobbing hysterically onto the floor. Her hand was covered in blood now; there was a pool of it on the ground. She looked like she was dying or something; it was awful.

 

Everyone just stared at Monica's bleeding hand for a few minutes. Monica was desperately holding her hand over her wound, trying to stop the blood.

 

Jim was looking at her, laughing to himself quietly. He pulled a rag out of his pocket and advanced towards Monica again. She didn't see him until he grabbed her bloody hand, then she pulled away, desperately trying to get herself free of him.

 

Uncharacteristically, Jim held her hand steady, displaying no real effort in holding her hand straight. He took his rag, and wiped away all the blood from the area right where he had cut her wrist. Finished, he held it up for Jason to see.

 

There was a nasty looking red mark, extending horizontally across her wrist. Oddly enough, there was no blood coming from it. He even squeezed it with his hand, causing Monica to start whining in pain; still, no blood came out of it.

 

“How the hell did it stop bleeding,” asked Jason, still confused. “I thought something like that bleeded out on you... isn't it like the most popular way to kill yourself?”

 

Jim was smiling smugly, dumping Monica's hand down and walking back towards his former spot. “When you cut the vein like that, it bleeds like crazy for a couple seconds, then stops on its own. The vein sinks into the hand; stops bleeding.” He was drinking from his beer again, relaxed.

 

“So... how do you kill yourself by cutting your wrist then... if it stops bleeding?” asked Jason, really interested in his discussion with Jim, ignoring Monica. She was staring at her wrist, blindly, no longer sobbing loudly, tears still flowing out of her eyes.

 

“You don't. Cutting your wrist is the dumbest way to kill yourself because you freaking can't,” answered Jim, laughing a little. “Here, watch this again.” He walked toward Monica again, and taking her other hand, dragged her towards Jason.

 

“Watch,” he took his bloody knife out and slowly began drawing it across her other wrist. Monica was struggling violently; she seemed crazed with pain and fear. The knife was making a nasty squishy sound as it opened her wrist.

 

Blood immediately began pouring down her other hand and Monica gave up; just sitting on the ground, her bleeding hand watched by the two brothers. They stared at it intelligently for a few seconds, then burst out laughing.

 

“How the hell are you supposed to see it stop bleeding,” asked Jason, throwing her hand down. “There’s enough blood to keep a whole family of vampires happy.”

 

Jim was giggling like a little kid, wiping his bloody hands on the rag he used to wipe Monica's other hand. They continued talking, but I wasn't listening anymore. It was sick; what they had done to Monica. She slowly crawled back against the wall, her eyes wide and staring, no longer capable of crying.

 

I wanted to cry for her, she looked so... hurt. I gasped suddenly; her body looked different, she was facing the ground; it looked like she had something in her mouth. A second later she threw up on the ground, her face pale and facing down, swaying slightly.

 

Jason looked up, he saw Monica facing the ground, some spit still coming out of mouth. He had real concern in his eyes now; he was staring at her pale face strangely.

 

Jim noticed Jason wasn't listening to him anymore, so he got up, leaving his empty beer bottle on the ground. Walking towards the door, he whistled loudly, and walked out.

 

Jason walked towards Monica, gently lifting her by her left hand. Monica, as soon as she felt him pull up, immediately shot to her feet, her right hand clutching her collar. No doubt she was used to getting yanked up by the collar.

 

He gently led her forward, by the hand. She let him lead her for a few steps; then her knees buckled and she fell forward screaming. Jason looked confused, still holding her by the wrist. She tried to stand up again, the wrist held by Jason bent at an unnatural angle, she was clearly struggling to take the pressure off her wrist.

 

Once Jason figured out what was wrong, he dropped her wrist. Monica fell on her side, holding her left wrist in her other hand, keeping it bent, whimpering slightly. Jason looked at her, a little annoyed now.

 

“It's not broken,” he pointed out, bending down and straightening her wrist. She let out a little scream again as her wrist was extended fully, pushing herself away from Jason. He looked even more annoyed; he didn't seem to be able to spend 10 seconds without hurting her accidentally.

 

Suddenly reaching down, he picked her up and gently laid her out on the bed. She just lay still on her back, not moving. Jason watched her for a second, then walked towards me briskly. I breathed quickly, filled with dread, anticipating at what he would do to me.

 

He roughly pulled me up by my collar, almost yanking my head off. I could understand Monica's quick reaction when he had taken her by the hand; I could barely breathe with the way he was holding my collar.

 

Guiding me towards the foot of the bed, he forced me into a kneeling position, my head inches from Monica's shaved slit.

“Do a good job,” he hissed at me, and pushed my head forward slightly. I panicked for a second; this was too nasty. I had never done something like this before; I was not bisexual. I felt a sting on my ass, Jason slapped me viciously, telling me to get started.

 

I moved my head closer, poking my tongue out experimentally, probing her. The smell was overpowering; the taste on my tongue was nasty. I gently slid my tongue over her cunt once, then pulled back, looking back up at Jason questioningly.

 

He looked back at me angrily. Grabbing my hair with one hand, he literally shoved my head onto her cunt, rubbing my face against it. Monica moaned loudly, her breathing coming out in small gasps now. Jason kept shoving my head against her; not noticing that Monica's head suddenly fell to its side, no longer moving.

 

He looked up, letting go of my hair. Seeing Monica's head on its side, he rushed up to her and picked up her head with his hands, gently. She was breathing slower now, her eyes closed. She had obviously passed out.

 

I backed away from her slowly, unsure of how Jason would react. He dropped her head back, ignoring it bounce and come to a rest on its side. He advanced towards me angrily, his face a mask of fury.

 

He backhanded me in the face, breaking the skin on my lip, throwing me onto my back. I screamed out, but he didn't care at all, slapping me in the face violently, venting his frustration on me. A few seconds later he let go of me, pacing around the room angrily.

 

Noticing Jim's empty beer on the ground brought back his anger in a flash; seizing it with one hand he brought it crashing down on my head; the glass falling to pieces around my head.

 

His angry face froze in my mind as I slowly collapsed backwards, everything painfully fading away.

 

Iniquity: Chapter 3: Part 2

 

I woke up quickly, opening my eyes. I shut them just as fast; there was a bright light focused directly on my face. That was stupid, what kind of idiot would point a lamp at my head, I thought.

 

Keeping my eyes closed this time, I tried to sit up, but couldn't. Not good. I tried to move my head; even that wouldn't budge. Moving my hands and feet had as much of an effect. Absolutely none.

 

Ok, I thought to myself, don't panic. I tried to lift my head slowly, this time I felt some band around my forehead, holding it in place. At least I wasn't paralyzed, I thought glumly.

 

With nothing else to do but lie still on the gurney, I thought back to what had happened before. Jim reading his little speech, the guy raping me, the injection... oh shit, the injection. I hyperventilated, suddenly convinced I had become stupid. The freaking anti-psychotic was making me retarded I thought, convinced that I was no longer intelligent.

 

I shuddered slightly; I suddenly acted the way I thought an anti-psychotic would act on me. My legs started shaking, my hands were vibrating, on their own now. The gurney I was on swayed a little.

 

The light over my head suddenly went off and I opened my eyes. I saw a plastic bag with clear liquid in it, a tube coming out of it, going into my hand. Even more disturbing was the creepy guy looking down at me; all I could see were his eyes.

 

“You need to calm down, Kate. Take a deep breath, relax,” he said slowly, calmly. By now I couldn't; my hands almost had a life of their own, shaking. He didn't seem to mind, disappearing from my limited view for a second.

 

He returned as quickly as he had disappeared, holding a needle to the base of my neck. Pushing down on it, I felt a sharp pain as he injected me with something. Seconds later, I felt my hands relax, no longer twitching. It was like a pendulum, swinging down, but over swinging on the other side. I could no longer move any part of my body, my mind felt sluggish and more than a little numb.

 

“I'm here to help you, Kate. I'm here to help you help yourself,” he continued.

 

“Help me with what,” I said, my voice drawling stupidly. I could barely move my tongue.

 

“Why do you think you're here?” he asked, ignoring my answer.

 

“The little whats-his-face... Gav-” I started to say, but he talked right over me.

 

“No. You're here because of you, and you alone. You brought yourself here. You disrespected Jim, You tried to kill Kelly, YOU tried to fix the case!” His voice rose at the end, like he was working himself into a fury.

 

“I didn't... no...” I answered vaguely. I had done all those things, but...

 

“Like I said, I'm here to help you,” he said again, the calmness back in his voice. He brushed my face with a peculiar smelling dry wipe; I closed my eyes as he moved his hand over my face. I couldn't do anything to stop him, strapped to the gurney and barely able to move.

 

“This will help you understand,” he said again, and pushed a plastic tube between my teeth. The next second my body exploded in pain, I bit down on the plastic tube in my mouth, my teeth hurting as I pushed down hard.

 

“Try to breathe, slowly,” he said over the ringing in my ears. The pain was intense; I closed my eyes, my head shaking slowly. The tube in my mouth was hollow, my breath coming out of it with a whistling sound. My hands were clenched into fists, also shaking slightly.

 

This continued for far longer than I imagined possible, the ringing in my ears reaching new heights, my mind totally blank. After what seemed like hours, but in reality was only several minutes, the pain stopped and I fell back against the gurney, utterly exhausted.

 

I spit out the little plastic mouth guard, my mind still reeling from the pain. I wouldn't open my eyes, my brain was barely functioning. Everything seemed to be rushing at me, the ringing in my ears continuing well after the pain stopped.

 

“You made the wrong choices. You got yourself here. You need to admit your problem.” The clear voice said again. I could feel someone hovering over me, but I didn't open my eyes. I shook my head a little; how could this be my fault?

 

“I'm only trying to help,” he said again, putting the mouth guard back into my mouth. Smiling to himself, he pushed a button I could just barely see from where I was lying, and the pain hit me again.

 

I instantly closed my eyes and bit down on the mouth guard. I was making a monotone moaning sound, in addition to the harsh whistle coming from the end of the gag. Stop, I pleaded silently. Stop this, I can't take it any more...

 

As if in answer to my thoughts, the pain stopped and I opened my eyes quickly. He was still sitting exactly where he had been before, still smiling. I looked up at him, pleading with my eyes. I hated this helpless feeling, knowing he could make me suffer with a touch of his finger, on a whim.

 

“Don't think I'm the one calling the shots here,” he said. He seemed to know what I was thinking, answering my thoughts. “If it hadn't been for you, you wouldn't even be here. Do you realize that now? Do you see that your idiocy is what brought you here?” He was looking at me intently, his face unreadable, but clearly enjoying himself.

 

“Well, too bad. I thought you would have learned your lesson by now.” Looking down, almost as if regretting what he was about to do, he pushed the button.

 

I anticipated the pain this time, but that didn't make it any better. The same howling in my ears, the same struggle to breathe; I couldn't get used to it. I'll do anything for you, I thought to myself. Anything, just stop this, don't hurt me...

 

“I know you would probably do anything for me now,” his voice filling my ears as soon as the pain stopped, again. “And, although that isn't really the point, you can do something for me.”

 

I was hanging on to every word, hoping for some small amount of pity; when he said I could do something for him, I was suddenly filled with dread, instead of happiness. I had no doubt that whatever he wanted me to do would be no better than what he was doing to me now. He stood up, leaving my limited range of vision. All I could see was the button, the little black button that had caused me all this pain, and it didn't even look menacing.

 

I felt something between my legs, and then his voice floated towards me, sounding slightly different from this angle. “I want you to piss now, let everything out.”

 

With no second thoughts, I did exactly as I was told. I let it all out, just like he told me to. It was humiliating, knowing he was watching something I would only do in private; but also because I had so willingly followed his orders. Some small part of me thought this was disgusting, vile. I only had to look back at the button to remind myself why I was doing this.

 

The flow trickled to a drip, then stopped altogether. He wiped my pussy, making me blush in shame. His head came back into my view, but I averted my eyes. I couldn't look at him, it was too degrading.

 

“As I said, that was a little side-show,” he said again, his chair creaking as he made himself comfortable. “And I'm not convinced that you really believe this is all your fault.” As he said that I almost cried, preparing myself for the pain again.

 

“But, since I think you need some more convincing, I think you should push the button,” he said, getting up and taking the little remote off the table, sliding it under my hand. I pulled my fingers back as far as the restraint would allow, I didn't want to accidentally touch it.

 

I could see his logic; either I pushed it, showing him that I really thought this was my entire fault, or, I didn't push it, and he assumed I wasn't convinced yet. It was a lose-lose situation, I couldn't get myself out of this. I had to push the button, I told myself. It was the better of the two options; at least he would think I had learned my lesson.

 

I started crying, unable to hit the button. I had to do it, everything will be better if I do. And yet, I... couldn't. My hand refused to move down, refused to go anywhere near the little button. I didn't want to push the button, but I had to, I had to...

 

“Mmm, you obviously don't think this is your fault... you want to blame someone else, maybe blame me?” His voice echoed oddly as he walked closer towards me. I could now see him standing over me, his hands covered by latex gloves. Looking down on me, he stretched his hand out, caressing my face with an amused expression. “How sad, you're crying now,” his voice betraying no pity. He brushed my nose lightly, his hands roaming over my face. “Oh look, someone broke your nose,” he said laughing slightly. “Let me guess, that was all the evil boogeyman's fault too, wasn't it?” It was, I thought to myself, that had been none of my fault...

 

He suddenly reached down and grabbed a nipple in each hand, pulling on them sharply. He caught me completely by surprise; I bit down on the mouth guard in shock, my hand making a fist purely reflexively. As my fingers closed, I brushed the button with my hand. I panicked completely now, my hand was pressing the button down, but I didn't feel any different.

 

“I forgot to tell you, it activates when you release the button -” he said, too late. I had already jerked my hand up, the pain now overwhelming me. I surrendered myself completely to the pain, no longer fighting it. It was all my fault; I had put myself in this place, I had screwed up. It was all my fault.

 

As I wallowed in self pity, I felt my mind burrow into itself, like I was withdrawing deep into my head, hiding inside a shell I had created. I was watching myself now, like I was no longer a part of my body. As I imagined what I must look like, lying on the gurney, desperately breathing through the little tube stuck between my teeth, I felt my mind wander...

~*~

 

I drifted to the time when I was 19, still in college. Everything had been so easy back then, even though at the time I thought it could not have been worse. It was May, the week before our finals. Everyone was studying hard, trying desperately to make up for all times they had skipped class.

 

It was past 3 in the morning; I was sleeping with my head against the table. We had been studying here all night, and by now everyone had either left, or fallen asleep.

 

I lifted my head off the table, staring bleakly around the room. Max, my then boyfriend, was sleeping next to me. We were in a rather mild teenage relationship, only together for the school year.

 

He grunted and woke up, looking at me through half-closed eyes.

 

“Hey Kate...” he said sleepily, pushing his chair away from the table and leaning back.

 

I smiled, pushing away the psyche textbook I had been sleeping on. “You ready for this final?” I asked, sitting up and smoothing my shirt.

 

“What? ...Oh, yea, definitely,” he said, looking at me a little strangely. I laughed; he had never been serious about his classes. “My pen, where’s my pen?” he asked suddenly, looking around.

 

He had this stupid little plastic pen with a chewed out cap. He was obsessed with either twirling it in his fingers, usually dropping it. Even though he must have dropped it everywhere, he still chewed on it. It was nasty, but he would go absolutely nuts if he didn't have his pen.

 

Standing up, he looked around the room, fully awake and concerned. To him, there was nothing more important than his pen. I looked around and noticed the pen at the base of my chair, on the opposite side from where he was sitting.

 

“It's here, next to my chair,” I called out, still sleepy. “I'm not touching it; you get it yourself if you want it,” I added, and leaned back in my chair.

 

He laughed a little, then got up slowly, walking towards my chair. Looking over my chair, he saw it lying on the floor on the other side of me.

 

“C'mon, get the pen for me,” he said lazily. I giggled, still leaning back in my chair.

 

Shaking his head, he reached over me, trying to get his pen. He overbalanced, and fell onto my knees, still groping for the pen. I laughed, watching him squirming over my knees.

 

Finally getting his pen, he stuffed it in his pocket and then just lay there, sprawled over my lap. I laughed a little, pushing him off.

 

Straightening up, he pulled a leg over to the other side, now straddling my lap, looking at me. This was a little less funny, I was starting to feel that it had gone too far, but I didn't say anything, I just looked up at him, a little scared for the first time.

 

“Max, stop this is-” he cut me off with a kiss, forcing his tongue into my mouth. I pushed against him a little weakly, not sure what to do.

 

He continued his wet kiss, breathing harder now. I returned the kiss, a little, hoping he would leave things at that. As soon as he felt me returning the kiss, he went completely off his handle, his arms groping me all over.

 

A single tear rolled down my cheek as he continued groping me, his mouth still clamped over mine. His hands inevitably found their way to the top of my skirt; pulling away all the material covering my crotch.

 

Unzipping his fly, now no longer kissing me, he guided the head of his cock against me, pushing in slowly. His mouth was right next to mine, breathing heavily, his eyes staring off to the side.

 

It only lasted a few seconds; he came soon after he started. When he finished, he fell asleep over me, his cock still inside me.

 

I waited for several seconds, scared that he might suddenly wake up. After some time I could hear him snoring, his body still slumped over me. Slowly, carefully, I began to slide out from under him, hoping he wouldn't wake up.

 

I made it out; leaving him slumped over the chair I was in. Hurriedly pulling my skirt up, I ran out of the room and into my dorm, crying harder now.

 

After that night I wouldn't talk to him anymore; I would ignore him when he tried to talk to me. He stopped trying soon, and I stopped seeing him after he apparently gave up.

 

A month later he overdosed on heroin...

 

~*~

 

 

 

...Things slowly came back in focus as I woke up, looking around. The room was dark now and I couldn't see anything. My head was on its side; someone must have released the strap on my forehead. I remembered the dream I had, remembering Max.

 

“I love you, Max,” I whispered out loud. “Please come back.” He wouldn't come back; he couldn't. After he OD'ed, he fell into a coma for several weeks.

 

When he woke up he was mentally retarded, unable to do anything on his own. I visited him, once, in the hospital. It was horrible; he couldn't recognize me, he couldn't talk. He just sat in his wheelchair, staring at the wall stupidly. He ignored me completely, even when I sat directly in front of him, trying to look at his face. I left less than a minute later, horrified by what I had seen.

 

The door opened loudly, upsetting my thoughts as light streamed in. I tried to think back to where I was, what I was doing here; my brain felt like a snow globe, my thoughts still settling down after someone shook it.

 

Someone walked next to me and without a word began to remove all the straps holding me down on the gurney. Still a little confused, I thought it was Max coming to save me. Even as I thought it was him, I realized the stupidity of what I was thinking. For starters, this guy was black.

 

As he unbuckled the last of the straps, I tried moving my hand slowly. It felt stiff, really difficult to move. I could almost feel my joints creaking like rusty machinery.

 

He picked me up and set me down on my feet, still supporting me. I gasped as the blood began to flow through my legs again. Why did it have to hurt, I thought, why couldn't something be easy for once. I didn't even feel like I was standing, I just felt a muted pain as I put my weight on my legs.

 

Realizing that I couldn't walk anytime soon, the guard picked me up again, and walked out the door. I was still trying to settle my mind, put myself back together. A short while later the guard put me back down in front of a familiar door, opened it, and walked me in.

 

Kelly was sitting in the same corner she usually sat in, the same dumb deer-in-the-headlights look. Setting me down, the guard went back to the door and slammed it without a backward glance.

 

I could vaguely remember feeling angry with Kelly for something, but I felt nothing but curiosity towards her now. She was looking at me wearily, she obviously hadn't forgotten the time I tried to choke her. I figured that if I wanted her to tell me anything, I would have to apologize to her first.

 

“Hi,” I began in a friendly voice. I did want to scare her anymore than she already was.

 

“W-What?” Her head whipped around, looking at me with round eyes.

 

“Look, Kelly, I'm sorry,” I said, trying to smile.

 

“It's ok,” she mumbled, looking down again.

 

Silence pervaded for a couple minutes, both of us a little embarrassed.

 

“How did you... get here?” asked Kelly quietly, looking at me earnestly. I was no small amount surprised to hear her break the silence.

 

“It was my fault, I made some bad choices. I… well, yeah it was my fault” I responded without hesitation, barely thinking about her question. “How did you get here?”

 

Kelly just stared at me strangely for a few seconds, her old dumb expression back.

 

“What did they do to you?” she asked suddenly, still watching me.

 

I thought back to the little office, Jim ranting about something... I couldn't remember what he had said. Then, nothing... only something to do with Max, oddly enough. I looked back at Kelly, she didn't seem to expect a reply.

 

“I'm fine,” I assured her warmly, not dwelling on the unpleasant memories.

 

Kelly just continued to stare at me as we sat in an uncomfortable