Everlong

                         - Everlong -

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Don't rape people in real life,

don't kidnap them and don't stick needles into them against their

will.

She's lying on a bed, naked, arms and legs spread. Coils of rope bind

her hands and wrists to the posts of the bed. It is warm, almost hot

in this windowless cellar, lit by countless candles of red and white

on the floor, on shelves on the wall. Her body is stretched, her firm

breasts riding high, her skin golden in the candle light, glistening

with a fine sheen of sweat. She might even be comfortable, still dazed

from the drug, if she weren't starting to be so scared and

confused. She had woken out of her drugged sleep just a while ago, no

memory of how she got here, or where she was. She had tried to scream

as she become aware of her situation. Of him, above her.

He's also naked, lying between her legs, hard but not inside her, his

face suspended above hers. He's not hideous or deformed, a monster or

demon, nor does he have to be, to terrify her in this place, this

situation. His strong hand had firmly clamped her mouth shut, stifling

her first scream. His hand had not been brutal, simply enough strength

in it to quiet her. His other hand held ready to strike her, had made

the consequences of further screams clear.

She had tried to say something, when he let go of her. Still dazed

from the drug, trying to think of something that would help

her. Inquiring into the where, the what, the who. His hand had again

grasped her jaw, then, silencing her. For a short moment resting his

weight on her jaw, hurting her, he had slapped her face with his other

hand, hard. Took his hand away from her mouth, bringing his index

finger to his lips, commanding silence.

He lifts himself up now, kneels between her thighs. His hands move

along the side of her stomach, upward. He feels her breath start to

flutter as he caresses her, moving over her ribs, slowly moves his

hands down again, his thumbs on her belly. He follows the curves of

her hips, along her stretched, spread legs. Only his fingertips

touching her, he moves over her thighs, towards her pussy.

She starts squirming as much as her bondage allows, starts to say "No"

and is silenced by his look.

His fingers move over her hips, upwards again, not touching her pussy.

She feels his hands on her, caressing her body, softly meeting the

underside of her breasts, over her legs, on her thighs again, still

avoiding her pussy.

He lowers himself down towards her then, his body on hers for a

moment, trapping his hardness between them. Reaches down beside the

bed and comes up again, an ice cube between his fingers.

She sucks in breath, the first icy water drops falling on her

skin. The cold ice meets her belly, she arches her back, straining

against the ropes. Raising her head, watches as he trails the ice over

her lower body, melting from her body's heat, drawing clear, cold

trails of moisture on her hot, sweat glistening skin. The ice melts

away, and for a moment it's just his fingers, moist and cold,

caressing her skin.

He leans down, his body on hers again, warming her ever so briefly,

comes up with another ice cube. Trails the ice up between her breasts

and looks into her eyes, as he draws slow circles over one breast.

She inhales again, involuntarily pushing her chest towards him. With

the ice melting away, his cold fingers pass over her hardening

nipple. She's breathing heavily now, her eyes closed, her chest rising

and falling, as he leans down again, coming up with another ice

cube. He takes his time on her breast, the ice melting on her nipple

again. Despite the warmth of the room, she's shivering now, as he

repeats his slow, almost-fucking motion, fetching ice cube after ice

cube, melting away on her body, her nipples firm.

She freezes, as she feels not an ice cube but the tip of a needle over

her breast, stops her exhaled breath and for a long moment, everything

is still.

"Remember to breath", he whispers to her then, the needle now pressing

ever so slightly onto her nipple, making a slight indention. Slowly,

carefully she begins to inhale, pushing her nipple against the

needle. Following her rising motion, he raises the needle ever so

slightly too slow, making her rising breath increase the needle's

pressure. Following the downward motion of her slowly exhaled breath,

he keeps the pressure of the needle steady. Entirely focused on his

task, he lets the needle push ever deeper onto her nipple with each of

her breaths, without breaking her skin.

She's calm now, just breathing, looking up at the rough ceiling, the

patterns the candlelight makes with the uneven plaster, shadows

dancing and weaving. The drug's fading grip still strong enough to

provide a base on which her slow, deep breaths build a trance. Her

nipple is starting to throb in pain under the needle's point, the ever

increasing pain merging into her trance.

He senses this of her, knows she's deeply gone. keeps the needle firm,

when she next draws breath, increasing the pressure that last fraction

needed to finally break her skin.

She cries out as the needle slides into her nipple. In a sudden moment

of clarity, her irrational hope that he would not, would let her go

before that, is gone from her like a flock of startled birds. She has

the measure of him, now, knows that, despite the pain, the needle was

only a symbol, mimicry and foreplay to her rape. She starts to pull

against her ropes again, begs him, "please, no!" as her tears begin to

flow.

He grabs her needle tipped breast with a sure hand, flicks the needle

with a finger, stops her struggle. Looking into her eyes he holds her

with his gaze. He has another needle in his hand.

She didn't see him pick it up, holds still, looks at him through her

tears. Sees him hold the needle over her unharmed nipple, pushing down

gently, just like he did with the first. "Breath in", he tells

her. Waits for her reaction. She defies him, taking only the

shallowest of breaths, down her belly, not moving her chest.

He raises himself up, straddles her stomach and prevents her shallow

breaths with his weight, the needle on her nipple again, "Breath!"

She closes her eyes, holds her breath, seeking the only escape left

her, passing out into unconsciousness. Even this is taken from her, as

she feels the first needle pushed deeper into her breast. "Breath",

she hears him repeat.  Feels the head of the needle already stuck into

her nipple being moved around in small circles, sliding further in,

tearing flesh. She starts moaning from the pain, her tears flowing

more rapidly. Against her mounting panic, she starts to carefully,

deliberately, draw breath, pushing herself against the needle again.

His hand leaves the first needle alone, halfway in her breast now,

begins the ritual again with the second. She's fully awake now, feels

the throbbing pain in her one breast, feels her other breast's nipple

start to hurt with each breath she forces herself to take. The pain

from the second needle building, she starts to lose herself in a

trance of a different kind. Adrenaline replacing the artificial drug

in her system, her body pushes her awareness away from the pain.

She cries out as the second needle penetrates her skin, sticks out

from her nipple, but her slow, deep breathing doesn't stop, even as

she cries out again and again, until she's helped him push five

needles into her nipples.

Keeping the sixth needle he is sinking into her steady with one hand,

he reaches behind him with the other. Starts to softly caress the lips

between her thighs, plays with them.

She does not notice his fingers for a long while, even when he pushes

two of them inside her. Her eyes are closed, her mind focused on her

breathing, on keeping away from the pain he's causing her. Her body,

free from the supervision of her consciousness, reacts to his fingers

on its own, adds her juices to the moisture of her sweat, running down

her body. The needle he's guiding into her is already almost through

her skin, when an involuntary moan of pleasure escapes her lips.

He chooses this moment to push the sixth needle into her, traps both

her nipples between his fingers and squeezes them.

The pain pulls her out of her trance, eyes wide open, truly petrified

with fear, now, despite all he's already done to her. She knows that

now he will take her. She starts her struggles again, despite the pain

of the needles in her bouncing breasts, of the rope hurting her wrists

and ankles. She starts to plead with him, knowing it without use.

He slaps her, grabs her nipples again, flicks the needles with his

fingers, turns her pleading into sobs and more tears. He raises

himself of her belly, positions himself between her thighs. Pushes her

legs further apart with his, the rope binding her stretched taunt,

holding her still, powerless against his entry. He guides his hard

cock to the entrance of her moist pussy, looks into her tear stained

face, waits.

She stops even trying to struggle. Her muscles no longer tense, he

relaxes the pressure against her thighs. She knows what he wants of

her now. As with the needles, she must take an active part in her own

abuse. Her legs are free enough now, from her fight against her ropes,

to allow her to move herself onto him. Again she finds herself in a

moment of absolute stillness, as she looks into his eyes, measuring

her strength against his will to hurt her. She doesn't move, with him

still poised to enter her, unable to will herself to do this thing.

He moves instead, reaches beside the bed again, shows her a box of

needles, places it on her body, between her already needle-adorned

breasts, waits. His hard cock pressing against her pussy again, she

slowly pulls herself onto him with her legs, as far as the ropes on

her wrists allow. He stops her, looks into her eyes, makes sure that

she knows she has lost. He takes the end of one of the needles in her

nipples between his fingers, not taking his eyes of hers.

She pulls herself up with her wrists again, and he gently pulls on the

needle, almost taking it out of her nipple, waits for her again as

she's almost off him, holding herself there.

He looks at the box of needles, at her breasts, into her eyes.

She pulls herself onto him again, fears he would push the needle in

again with her motion, yet he pulls it out completely and throws it

way. Fucking him this way, pulling herself on and off him with the

ropes holding her to the bed, he rids her of her needles, drops them

to the floor.

He takes the box of needles away as well, starts adding his own

movement to her rape. Lowers himself to kiss her neck, softly

caressing her breasts.

She doesn't dare stop trying to fuck him back as he takes her,

increases his rhythm. Her tears have stopped as she moves mechanically

against his thrusts, ignoring the pain in her her ankles and wrists,

her breasts. Even when he takes his hands away from them and only

thrusts into her again and again, her breasts hurt, bouncing with his

thrusts.

Only when he climaxes inside her and just lies on her for a moment,

the tears come again. Not from the pain in her muscles, between her

legs, nor from his weight flattening her hurting breasts against her,

but from the realization of what just happened to her, what he did and

made her do to herself.

He raises himself off her with a content sigh, kisses her cheek, tries

to kiss her lips, but she looks away from him, holds her head to the

side. Against her expectation to be hurt again, he moves off the bed

completely, takes a box of black and gold from behind some of the

candles, brings it over to the her. He opens the box, takes out a

small piece of paper. Firmly grabs her head, forces her to look at

him. He holds the paper in front of her mouth, finally pries her mouth

open when she refuses him and slips the paper under her tongue, holds

her mouth shut.

The drug takes hold of her again and she drifts off into the long forgetful

sleep the drug will give her.

He watches her a moment longer, then unties her. Putting the box back

in its place on the way, he walks through a door behind the bed, comes

back with salves and toiletries, cleans her body, and tends to her

nipples and the sores from the ropes, checks her pulse. Picking her

up, cradling her in his arms, he carries her through the door, down a

corridor and lays her sleeping form onto a cot in her cell.