Hamner's Cellar

Ch. 2: The Flood

A voice could be heard over the intercom.

“Doctor Hamner, please report to surgery. Docter Hamner, please report to surgery.”

It always sounded so cold and calcuting, Phil Hamner thought. This hospital could use some cheer. Lord knows everybody in this white prison could use a little bit of that every now and then.

“Hey doc, you’ve got 15 minutes,” his PA shouted across the hall.

“Will do, Amir. Just give me a sec to scrub down.”

Hamner thoroughly lathered up his hands and arms up to his elbows with soap and proceeded to rinse them with water. The water was warm, and tiny streams of water following an invisible path would exit as an unspectacular waterfall off his elbow. Only one more surgery to go, and he was free to go home. It had been too long of a day.

The man quickly busied himself with cleaning her up. The room they were in wasn’t fancy, but it was not old. It was several feet underground, and resembled a common basement or cellar. The only light source that lit the room was from a single light bulb at the very center of the room’s ceiling. The cellar was built only a few years back, and had a drainage system to protect the room from filling up with excess groundwater, as in the case with floods. He knew things would get messy, and before he brought the girl here he had found a way to bring a high pressure hose into the room. He did not want to leave any stains. Now was as good a time as any to put this hose to the test.

The man pointed in the direction of the drainage grating on the edge of the floor and opened the water’s current. The water sprayed forth in a horizontal, flat stream of water and from its point of contact with the metal grating emanated a loud clanging sound as the pressure of the water beat unrelentingly against it. Curious as to how much the water pressure would feel, he casually angled the furious stream of water from the drainage area to his foot. Almost immediately at the point of contact he yelped, only slightly, not so much from the pain but from the surprise. His foot had immediately numbed up as the water hit it, and from his foot reverberated a sharp pain, as if multiple needles were constantly puncturing his skin. He smiled to himself. It had hurt quite a bit more than he had imagined The man’s heart paced faster as he turned his attention to the girl tied on the bed still covered in her own disgusting bodily fluids.

He walked up to the side of the girl, whose eyes had desperately tried to avoid him.

“Please let me go,” she cried. “Why are you doing this? Why are you hurting me?” Questions even he did not know how to answer.

“Please stop. Please stop,” She begged him. He almost felt sorry for this creature. As if he could stop. He couldn’t. He couldn’t stop. He knew if others knew of what he was doing they would think he was a monster. If only they knew why he had to do this. If only they understood.

Immediately the man began to feel sorry for himself. They would never understand, he told himself. Anger had replaced his self-pity. He would show them. He would punish them for their inability to accept him, to understand him.

“Shh…,” the man said gently to the girl. “Don’t cry. You poor creature. You could never understand why I need to do this. You are only a vessel of redemption. You…you are paying for the sins of an entire society. Your innocence is masked only by your ignorance, and this ignorance everyone is guilty of possessing. No more questions, girl. Do not ask me for mercy or pity for there will be none given. ”

“B-b-b-but please, I didn’t do anything! I didn’t do-“

Immediately a cold blast of water struck the right side of her ribs. The force of the stream of liquid pressed ruthlessly into her skin and elicited a cry of agony from the girl. The stream of water began to sweep across the upper part of her chest, and methodically, the man maneuvered the hose so that it swept back and forth, back and forth across her thin torso. He moved down and swept across her breasts, enjoying her squirm each time the water pinned against her nipples, an area he held the pressured stream against for several seconds. The girl felt as if her breasts were being punctured by an unrelenting army of nails. The pain was overwhelming. He then aimed at her right armpit, only a few feet away, and enjoyed the collateral embodied by the thin rays of water splashing from her armpit back into his body. The girl reacted to the pain under her arm by turning her face to the right, pressing it against her shoulder. The man smiled and flicked the stream of water from her armpit to her face, an act that resulted in her quickly jerking her head to her left and choking at the water that had entered her mouth and nostrils.

He repeated the same to the other side of her torso, and when he was satisfied the girl was as clean from the chest up as possible, he moved on to her stomach. He started at her breastplate and moved slowly down, savoring the figure of the girl, desperately trying to curl up into a ball, but held back by the restraints. She clenched her abdominal muscles, and lifted her head up, her face contorted in pain. The man flicked the hose in the direction of her face, and again, her head was forced towards the opposite direction, choking and coughing, but away from the threat of water. Satisfied with his work, the man began cleaning the girl’s lower legs, slender and creamy white. But as he moved up toward her pubic region, he began to get excited. He sprayed her spread things with the water, and moved up slowly along her left inner thigh.

And then without warning he aimed the water directly at her lewdly exposed crotch. The girl shrieked in terror as her genitals felt like they were being ripped apart by sheer mechanical force. The pain intensified as the man inched the head of the water hose closer and closer to her vagina, purposefully aiming at her clitoris.

And just like that, he turned the water off. He stepped back a little and observed the young girl, who was spewing water and coughing, maybe from the pain, or maybe from residual water in her lungs—he didn’t know. Suddenly, he had an idea. He smiled as he moved towards the girl, clenching the hose head with his hand. With his other hand he pushed apart her vaginal lips, whose opening had caused a little bit of blood once stymied by the closed entrance to flow slowly once more. The girl cried in shock at the reopening of the wounds at the entrance of her vagina, no doubt torn from her initial rape. The man then put the tip of the hose head into the entrance of her vagina, which required a bit of force to get in. The girl once again flinched, and her body twitched periodically as he forced the tip of the hose further and further into her channel.

She began to cry, and right on cue. The man turned the hose on , and almost immediately his face was blasted with a stream of water, gushing from her vagina. Scream after scream echoed from the girl’s lungs as the man unleashed a stream of high pressure water into her vagina. Because the water exited the hose with such force into her cavity, and because it had nowhere to go once it smashed into her cervix, it rushed back out into the man’s face in a steady, but not painful stream of water. The color was initially pinkish red, diluted from the blood once covering the walls of her vagina. But very quickly the water that came out became clear. The pain she experienced, however, was no less. The water caused such great pain that the girl, while screaming, began to convulse. She thrust her hips forward and backward, and from side to side, but she could not escape the feeling that the inner walls of her vagina were being peeled away, a pain almost impossible to imagine. The man would turn the water on, then off. On, then off. And each time the girl’s body would become taut and convulse after a few seconds of the torture. After almost an hour of this repetition, the girl’s responses become less and less violent, and the man become more and more bored. Eventually her body became limp, and seemingly lifeless, like a rag-doll. He removed the hose from her vagina, which, much to his delight was devoid of the blood and urine it had once been covered in. He observed her body, which was no longer covered in a creamy white complexion. Her body was now splotched with pink, and somewhat swollen in areas he had spent more time “washing”—her breasts, her inner thighs, and even her vaginal lips were a bit puffy. He would let the girl rest for a while, while he prepared for their next activity.