The Dice

A kidnapped girl is used for waste disposal.

All the usual disclaimers. Over 18s only. This is imagination, not based on reality.

The Dice.

2.

It was a heavy cube of bone, large enough that we could only dare to imagine from which unfortunate creature it had been taken. The spots were of onyx, deepest black contrasting with the polished white. It filled his fist as he tapped it against the mahogany of the desktop, thinking how it could so easily be a weapon, with its mass and edges.

“A spur for ideas, as it was once a spur for else,” he said. His companion looked up.

“Oh yes, you’re full of ideas,” the other man said, dropping his gaze back to the book he was reading with the dim glow of the bulb lamp beside him.

The room was dark, and the oily smoke of their cigarettes curled about to further obscure them. The walls were of mahogany also, and there were strips of ivory set in geometric patterns in the corners, and solely this for decoration. The only furniture was the big desk and soft leather chair for him, stool and reading table for his companion who sat next to the door. All was in the dark brown of the valuable wood.

He tapped the big dice against the desk top once more, and then laid it carefully to rest with the single point, a cruel staring eye, uppermost.

The other man looked up again. “You’re excited,” he said, a hint of maybe surprise or derision in his tone.

This brought only a soft laugh.

The phone beeped.

He pressed the speaker button and a voice said just one word: “Ready.” They both stood and left, the dice waiting with its single dark eye.

It would be a while yet before the pain from the large safety pin piercing both her lower lip and tongue would begin to drag her from the intense hallucination she was experiencing. Without the large bright blue pin, the tranquilizer which gifted this intense dream may also have caused her tongue to flop down her throat, suffocating her. A slim trail of blood had caked between the out pushed tongue and her bottom lip.

Her body and mind were existing in different planes. Her body was folded up in a small dark box, yet her mind was racing across time and space, her spirit free to soar. This was a very powerful experience for her, and she was in a mix of ecstatic freedom and profound confusion.

Her skin was pearly white, her hair a yellow blonde. Her body was firm, small and fit; naked. She was very sexy. Her breasts were small but full, and the nipples, large and pink, were upturned at a sharp angle, giving her bust the testament to her youth, for she was just seventeen years old.

Her knees were pressed just below her chin, strapped together by large cable ties, and her arms were trapped behind her and bound the same. She hadn’t moved for over 12 hours, this being the main effect of the drug, and her limbs would be as stiff as her mind would be befuddled once the brilliant effects began to dim.

The box continued its long journey, jouncing about and rattling with outside movement. The strip of caked blood fell to the floor of the container, joining a large patch of dried saliva. In her mind, time was travelling backwards at a skew, and she was reinventing memories of her last few months before this dream had begun. Some of these memories would forever be altered, their truth lost; but this was the least of her worries.

Eventually, the box was dropped, moved again and resettled. The movement brought not the slightest of wakefulness from her. She lay still, trapped, a lone captive. Doomed.

They arrived at the small gate. It was obscured by overgrowth, and there was no sign of recent passage. The big land cruiser crunched on the stony lane, large front fender nosing up against the decrepit wooden fencing. The big machine growled and nudged through the posts, and then moved onto the somewhat hidden trail beyond. From there it opened up its throat and burst forward to the secluded farm beyond.

A light rain began to fall as they climbed out of the vehicle. Two men and a woman. The sky was grey and the last of the light would soon be failing. The drive from the city had been a long one, and they all stretched before walking towards the largest building. Its large steel door was pinioned with a similarly chunky chain; both of these looked new and alien against the crumbling stonework of the old building. The woman, her face and body obscured by the large coat she wore, showed a key, and then opened the big lock. The three went inside.

It was a matter of minutes to move the box into the back of the vehicle; it was light and they were strong. The woman left a small fire in the building, to erase everything, and they were soon on their way again.

“Drive fast,” the leader said, “See if you can wake her up.” And so his companion floored the accelerator when they reached a decent road.

It was late evening the box was finally laid to rest in the large lobby of his home. It was a large brightly lit room, dominated by the large entry doors and double staircase at the rear. There was seating for about twenty people, couches in the corners and a fully equipped bar in the back corner. The owner of the house sat with the woman on a plush leather sofa, while the big man set about the box with a long thin cane. The captive still wasn’t awake, and now it was time to play.

She stirred at the booming sound resounding through her tiny world, a first switch flicked in the darkness of her dreams. The pain from the pin then finally began to reach her besieged mind, and more alertness began to reach her. The beatings on the box grew clearer to her mind, and the pain sharper. She realised that she had a body, and was not just a flitting spirit. Her body was cramped and it was this pain that really kicked her back towards the surface. She groaned, a bubble of snot bursting on her upper lip.

The banging turned to a scraping, and then a creak as the lid of the box was pried upon. Then bright searing light smashed into her closed eyelids, pushing the dream to the back and igniting reality. The pain hit her fully as the box finally collapsed, she tried to scream as the man lifted her from the wreckage and her muscles finally stretched. The pin prevented a scream but it tore her lip, bringing automatic beads of tears to her clenched eyes.

The man controlled her easily with a large hand gripping the back of her neck, and then he began to slap her naked bottom.

“Do you like her, John?” He asked.

The man stood. He was smiling.

“She is perfect,” he said, “let’s chain her up.”

       She was back in the dream for a while, but the pain was constant and kept her half-grounded like a fish out of water. They moved her to the playroom under the lobby, the woman carrying the man’s drink as he carried her over his shoulder. She groaned when she was moved, and showed enough life to ensure recovery, but it wasn’t until the cable ties were cut away that she was finally caught in this terrible reality.

Screams were impossible, so all she managed was a spastic sobbing; the pain as her limbs were stretched out was so enormous. He chained her in a standing spread-eagle in the middle of the large underground chamber. John and the woman took another sofa as the other man set about the captive. The woman had a camera now, and filmed everything, lingering on the small trolley of tools beside the new slave.

“Good evening, my dear, nod if you can hear me,” John said from his comfortable seat. The girl was shaking in her steel bondage, the chains rattling soundlessly. Her arms were held up and sideways, tightly chained to loops in the ceiling, and her legs similarly to loops in the floor. There was ample space around her in the large rock-walled room. Her mind was still very fuggy, so she heard the words but didn’t understand them.

The man standing beside her slapped her hard across the face, and her new master repeated himself. She nodded - a simple up down movement only - followed by a muffled gasp at the pain of even that.

“You have been kidnapped for use as a slave. We understand that this is completely against your will,” he took a short sip of his brandy. The girl continued to shake.

“Do you understand me?”

She nodded again, no gasp this time. Her body was limp now, and he could see the effect his words were having on her. Her spirit was being ground.

“There is no hope of escape or release. We are going to use you for our fun until we decide to kill you. You will never see any of your family or friends again. Your life as it was is ended.”

The woman stood, panned the camera around the room, and got close-ups of the girl first, then her handler, then the master as he continued his cruel monologue.

“My house has been extensively designed for my purposes. I have large grounds and many building built with my predilections in mind. More importantly for you, the plumbing and waste system here is pretty much unique. There is a steel waste tank beneath us, set into the actual bedrock, and it is here that you are going to be placed. Open your eyes.”

She did so, blinking at even the shallow light levels in here. She was calm, another desirable effect of the massive dose of the tranquiliser she had been given. Her eyes were dejected, terror was within them but it couldn’t yet extend itself into her tortured body.

The woman focussed the camera on the girl, the bright beam of its light hurting her eyes, but she struggled to keep them open.

“The tank collects all the waste from the estate, including all toilets, kitchens and the stables. It is somewhat separated by gravity before it enters your little home by two outlets. There is one no other outlet, except for a plastic tube into which your catheters will empty. Thus, as you will come to appreciate, the only way for household waste to exit into the sewers is through you.”

The handler showed her a large doubler catheter, with a large hose that he proceeded to slide into her anus. She tried to scream again, but was of course unable to. When he had finished, he wiped the snot and saliva away from her face roughly and rubbed in on her quivering breasts instead, then he bent again to cruelly slide the urinal catheter into her bladder. This time she did scream, tearing the pin from her lip. Blood splattered from her torn lip, and her shakes finally became one with her pain. The catheters terminated in a single inch-wide tube, which hung behind her like a snaking tail. 

“You are truly beautiful, my dear,” her torturer said. The woman was taking single frames now, the flash a stutter of brilliant light which blinded her in its strobes.

They waited for her to calm down, which took a few minutes, watching her intently, greedily all the while. Blood was a slick across her chin from the wound, the pin invisible inside her mouth now where her tongue, like a frightened animal, had dragged it in its hiding.

“Piercings please, Richard,” her owner said, eventually.

The man before showed her a large punching tool before quickly gripping her right nipple with his thumb and finger, and then punching a hole through it. Blood welled from the wound, around the steel eye of the grommet which had been permanently placed in her flesh. He ignored her shrieks of pain and thrashing in the chains. He did her other nipple, each earlobe and then crouched again to put three holes through each of her pussy lips, and a final one – the most painful experience of her life to date - through her clitoris. The little bud was permanently stretched into a circle by the overlarge invasion; blood dripped sadly.

John resumed his speech shortly this time, and mostly for the camera as the girl was too lost in her trauma to hear him.

“These piercings will serve to hold you in place in your new home, and secure the exit tube in position.” The lower two labia piercings were padlocked over the tube stretching her labia, small steel padlock scraping painfully within the steels eyes of the grommets in her flesh.

Loops of chain were padlocked to her nipples, ears, clitoris and the remaining two labia grommets. The chains, bright stainless steel, glimmered in the glow from the camera, dancing with her trembles. Now her neck was collared by a large band of steel. It constricted her neck as the man closed it about her neck, pulling her head up by the hair to stretch her enough for the wide, heavy device. It was padlocked at the back, snug and tight.

She began to panic with the constriction of her airway by the tight steel collar, but she quickly found that as long as she kept her chin held high, she could breathe with a little more ease. Her mind was coming fully back now, but it was dominated by the terror and utter abjection of her situation. Tears were constant, and her body shook uncontrolled in the bondage, the pain a myriad fires about her punished body.

“Also, your teeth and tongue will be removed and this feeding tube put in place.”

The handler flourished a short, wide, stainless steel tube before her panicked eyes, and then a large pair of pliers.

“It is not my intention that you be able to chew your, ahem, food, and the ability to taste is not something you should desire at this point.”

The handler towered over her, gripped her nose and brought the pliers to her mouth. She kept her mouth clenched closed of course, but soon lack of air allowed him to get his hand in and wrench her jaws open. The woman came in close as the torturer extracted the girl’s teeth one by one, dropping them to the floor where they clinked to the flag stones of this horrible place.

She bucked as much as she was able, but only to release a fraction of the pain rather than in any attempt to fight. The chains hanging from her flew as she thrashed and shrieked, her blood splashing across his face and everywhere. Her mind tried to descend into oblivion, and for a moment was successful, but the next extraction would rouse her again and she would renew the fevered screams. Her owner, seated and relaxed, smiled on.

When her teeth were gone, he clamped the pliers around her tongue, and then used a scalpel to severe it at the base. This last caused her to pass out fully, and he was able to push the steel tube gag into her gore-streaked mouth and easily padlock its chains to the grommets in her earlobes.

“You’re an artist,” John said.

Richard did a curtsy for the camera, the woman sitting again.

It took a couple of buckets of freezing water to wake her, and this washed some of the blood away too. She shivered and bucked in her entrapment, retching at the massive intrusion in her broken mouth, eyes flicking in panic and absolute terror. The three of them chuckled and the handler proceeded to fill more buckets of the freezing water before dashing them over her.

“I trust you can still hear me,” her owner said from the sofa after a while. The other man sat down and the woman stood instead. They exchanged the camera. The girl didn’t respond.

“Next, my friend here is going to finish your preparations for your little holiday. She will shortly sew up your eyes, as it is pitch black in the waste cell anyway and there’s no need for you to waste energy looking for food. She will also sew little plugs into your nostrils to ensure you make full use of your new mouthpiece.”

The woman proceeded with her task, obviously enjoying her role.

“I want you to be thankful for keeping your eyes, as it would be much easier to simply pop them,” the woman whispered to the girl as she brandished a large needle and a ball of steel wire. The task took only a few minutes, the girl grunting hollowly through the tube-gag rather than screaming now. Next, the woman took a shearing tool and deftly shaved the girl’s head, her long golden locks sticking to the blood, snot and sweat on the girl’s dripping body.

The woman finished by using a soldering iron to melt the ends of her steel stitches closed, and then as an apparent afterthought she used the red hot tool to burn the girl’s eyelashes away. Screams and an insane thrashing of agony overcame the new slave toy. The woman clearly enjoyed it and now started pushing the glowing tip of the tool to the girl’s eyebrows and burning them away also.

“Okay, enough, let’s finish it before I need to sleep,” John said.

The other man stood again and picked up two steel ball mitts which he quickly closed about the girl’s wrists, then a larger pair for her feet, and she was fully prepared for her horrific new life. Unable to stand, she rocked back and forth in the chains, her damaged yet sexy little body still quivering in pain and terror.

“Now listen to me.” She made no response, so the woman beat her harshly across the back and buttocks with a thin cane that had been clipped to a rack of similar tools on one wall.

“When I speak, you listen,” John said after the woman had finished maybe fifty strokes. The girl was fully broken by the intense beating it seemed, breaths rushing in and out speckled with blood. But the next time he said it, she nodded.

“I have a dice, and I will roll it every six months. When your number comes up, we will dig you out of your little home and see what we have. It’s possible that you will then be released if you are still alive.” It was clear from his smile that this was a lie, but of course the girl couldn’t see, only them, and the camera. “Remember that you will have to eat and drink so as not to drown in the tank.”

She was a pale dripping mess in the chains, and dejection flowed from her in waves, Defeat. Doom.

Richard unhooked the chains of her wrists and she collapsed to the hard floor. He clipped a further chain to the heavy collar and simply dragged her away towards the rear of the large chamber, where a small steel door was set. She slid in the steel balls on her hands on feet, but she had too little strength to hold her tortured body from the rough flagstones of the dungeon playroom, and breathing became her sole focus, not even the dragging of the chains across the floor behind her was fierce enough to overcome the fear of suffocation as he pulled her quickly, leaving a trail of her blood, spit and tears behind her. The woman followed them, but John just sat with a small rueful smile on his face.

She was dragged down a narrow tunnel. The incline was steep and the darkness all consuming, only the woman following with the camera giving light to her handler’s progress. He reached a steel hatch, dropped the girl’s leash in order to use both hands to turn the heavy wheel, and then dragged her through the narrow opening. Here, deep beneath the large house, dark, cold and silent, was her new home, the four foot by four foot tank. It was a struggle to drag her in the tight space, but he was strong and she was small.

Once she was on all fours in the cramped waste container, her chains padlocked to rings in the walls before, beside and behind her, holding her in position, Richard lifted the heavy steel lid and used a drill to secure the screws.

He banged the steel side once with his fist, setting a reverberation throughout the steel, then he crawled out of the narrow space, back to where the woman was waiting, a rough cave cut from the rock, and made his way back up the steep slope to the door. On the way back he found the tap to change the route of the house’s waste system, so that now the girl could start filling her belly.

Soon, they were seated together in the lobby bar area again.

“How long do you think she will survive?” the woman asked, talking over the top of her brandy. The warm glow of her pleasure was in her eyes.

“Ha ha,” John said, saying the words rather than laughing. “Now I must use the toilet, take a shower and go to bed,” he said.

If you liked this story, please visit my blog and check the offers out to make a few pennies for a struggling author.

http://brightsidesun.blogspot.com/

Best Wishes. Anyone want part 3?