Chapter Six
I thought I detected the vibration of the door closing behind him, but my world
was now different without my sense of hearing. I was left to explore my new
predicament as best I could, lying on the plastic-covered mattress. It did not
take me long to discover that while my new attitude was not as stringent as the
earlier position I had been in, it was imbued with subtleties I had not
appreciated.
I found out my first problem when I reflexively tried to straighten my legs,
only to feel the connecting rope suddenly tighten about my throat. I panicked
momentarily, but the knot was relatively loose and slipped out again as I pulled
my ankles in. The rope ran inside the triangle formed with my bound arms, and
even though I could get my hands up to my throat, to my head, my gag, my
blindfold and the muffs, the totality of the bindings on my fingers and hands
left me quite helpless. I was absolutely unable to do anything with my hands,
even though I could move them about. I was at once frustrated and upset. I
could not believe there was no play in my fingers, but they might as well have
been set in concrete, so effective was the tape binding them.
My next conclusion was why the padlocks were on the belt. It was nothing to do
with securing me. They were simply big and bulky enough to make it impossibly
uncomfortable to lie on my side for anything more than a few minutes. Lying on
my back was just about an impossibility anyway, given my neck-to-ankles
connection, but Ash was evidently Mr Methodical and liked to be certain his prey
was not about to find a weak link.
I tried to fiddle with the belts, but my hands were useless, and any other
attempts to expel the devices embedded inside me proved useless. I slumped on
my side, already feeling hot from my exertions. But my side proved
uncomfortable with the lock on my hip, so after much struggle I managed to get
on my knees, rather in the attitude of a Muslim at prayer. There was that
religious thing again! I wondered if there really was a God, or were these
similes just popping out of my brain to mock me? What sort of God would let
this happen to me, I asked myself, but met with no intelligible answer.
On my knees on the mattress I felt almost in control. I could squirm my way
around a little bit, for there was slackness in the ankle cuffs. I came across
the cables leading from the knot in the small of my back. They went to the foot
of the bed where they appeared to be tied to the steel frame before disappearing
off somewhere else in the room. They seemed to serve a dual purpose in
confining me to the bed and providing some sort of electrical connection. It
was this latter part that scared me, for I was not so stupid as to not expect
what was likely to happen.
But time passed, and nothing eventuated. I thought about the riddle that Ash
had posed, about computers and used car salesmen and ATM's. What else was
there? Furniture vans and real estate? No, I didn't get it. I began to get
warm as I thought about it, and realised he must have turned the heating up. I
tugged on the cables, trying to budge the one knotted in the small of my back or
the one tied to the bed, but without success. Even though I could touch the
knots on the bed frame with my taped hands, I could do nothing with them, other
than to beat against them in frustration.
It got warmer and I retired to my praying position, with my head just touching
the top of the bed frame at the foot of the bed. Sometime soon after that I
must have dozed, for I awoke with a start to the sound of my mobile phone
ringing. For a moment I was totally confused - confused by the familiar sound I
knew so well, and confused by the restrictions on my movement, then also my
speech and sight. I wondered where I was, then the awful reality came back to
me, and I realised the ringing I could hear was through the speakers inside the
ear protectors. As I came to my senses I also concluded that Ash must have
recorded the particular ring of my mobile. It was nothing special - not one of
those pretentious musical tunes people insist on using, but it was distinctive
and I knew it as my own. It was not a coincidence. The ringing stopped, and I
collected my thoughts.
So Ash had stolen my phone, no doubt when he was rifling through my house. The
thought of that at once annoyed and frightened me further - the knowledge that
my house was open to his whim, that he could come and go and take anything he
wanted. But it was more than this - it was the thought of him exploring through
my belongings and doing whatever he wanted there. Why this should have bothered
me so much, considering the situation I was in, I don't know. My mind was not
terribly logical at that moment.
My thoughts were interrupted by a sudden shock in my rectum that left me panting
noisily as I at first tried to straighten out then curled into a foetal position
on my side. It lasted only a fraction of a second but it was horribly painful,
sending my legs momentarily into spasm. The rope tightened on my neck briefly
before I could control my limbs enough to loosen it again. By that time I was
making moaning noises behind the tape, like the kind a little kid makes when it
is all out of tears and a lack of breath catches up with it - a kind of gasp,
pant and moan mixed into a succession of small grunts.
I trembled from the shock for several minutes. I did not know how often I was
going to get this treatment, nor did I know how long I could withstand it, nor
even whether I had a choice. The room became suddenly freezing, as though the
air conditioning had been turned way up, and I began to shake further, but this
time from the cold. The sweat soaking my nightshirt was damp and chill and my
keening beneath the tape was an unconscious reaction as I squirmed about trying
to stay warm. I was starting to appreciate the vulnerability of my position in
this dungeon, at the mercy of these technological torture devices.
Maybe fifteen minutes passed, and the temperature slowly came back to normal.
My exertions subsided and I was nearly ready to nod off again when the sound of
the mobile phone in my ears jarred me fully alert. I crouched on the mattress,
waiting for what might next happen, waiting for the terrible pain up my bottom.
The minutes ticked by.
When it came it seemed worse than before, possibly because I was waiting for it
and had amplified it in my own mind. I jerked and cried out beneath the tape
over my mouth, then I was on my side again, making pathetic noises to the world,
half numb with the shock and letting the tears flow beneath the thick padding
under the rubber helmet. After this the temperature resumed its upward cycle
and I lay there, letting the pounding of my heart and the blood throbbing in my
ears slowly subside as I began to sweat again. The satin clung to my body and I
could feel the plastic wet and slippery beneath me. How long would I have to
endure this, I wondered?
The next time the phone rang I was almost dozing again. I snapped awake with a
despairing moan and tried to steel myself for the shock. Several minutes
elapsed before I finally felt not the violent jolt of the plug up my rear
passage, but the subtle vibrations of the vibrator lodged in my pussy.
This was something I hadn't expected, and I had tried to push to the back of my
mind the thought that I could possibly expect an electrical shock in this
location. But this was totally unforeseen. The vibrations began at a low
frequency and hovered there for several minutes, then gradually began to
increase. Despite what I had experienced maybe fifteen minutes previously, I
began to become aroused by the insistent buzzing. I tried to squirm around to
make myself more accessible, then tried to get my taped hands down there to help
it along its way, but the fact that they were taped in a sticking out position
with the ankle/neck rope inside them, meant that I could not get my hands near
my crotch with any degree of satisfaction at all. I had no choice but to let
nature take its course.
The frequency built up steadily and my breathing began to come faster and more
raggedly as I let the vibrations do their thing. I found myself grinding my
hips, trying to bring myself to a climax, ignoring all the pain I had been
through up until that moment. Ignoring, too, any semblance of embarrassment or
dignity that I might have conceivably have retained. The abrupt halting of
these wonderful feelings, followed by another jolt in my bottom left me in a
confused welter of sensations of pain, despair and frustration. This man was
clearly skilled at reading women's reactions and needs. The sudden deprivation
of an anticipated orgasm left me in tears of vexation, never mind the pain of
the way it had ceased. Such was to be the pattern for my first full night of
captivity.
* * *
It doesn't take a lot of imagination to understand the fact that it was the
longest night of my life. The interminable cycle of electrical stimulation -
pain and pleasure - mixed with changes in temperature within the room left me
sleepless and exhausted, which was obviously the intention. In the back of my
mind I knew that if I ever survived what he intended for me, I would never again
be able to listen to this particular ringing of a mobile phone without reacting
by the resurrection of experiences that were being deeply instilled into my
psyche. The very act of linking my own phone with the pain/pleasure was
particularly insidious, I thought, and anyone who could be that devious was to
be feared, I knew.
I lost all concept of time - how long it was between jolts and buzzings I could
not tell, nor how many cycles I underwent. I sweated in the heat - perspiration
that froze as the temperature then plummeted and I shivered and tried to warm
myself. Sometimes I nearly dozed, but always to awaken with the ringing of the
phone. My ability to think clearly began to fade as exhaustion over took me. I
was living in a kind of limbo world of harsh sensory input that left me
whimpering and shaking uncontrollably. My world was dark and silent, the
silence broken only by the feared phone ringing and the sound of my own muffled
cries. So this was what it was like to go insane, a part of my mind told me...
* * *
Ash reappeared at some time - I have no idea when. My thought patterns were
making no sense. The tape holding the earmuffs was cut away and the protectors
were removed. The rope was untied from my neck and ankles and the latter were
released. Finally, for the first time, the tape was removed from my mouth and
the rubber helmet was pulled from my head.
Following the hours of darkness and silence, and considering my state of sleep
deprivation, it seemed as though I was overwhelmed by senses all at once. Now I
could head the squeak of the plastic on the bed, the shuffle of his shoes on the
concrete floor. My mouth was dry and my lips felt swollen and puffy. I could
smell the stale odour of perspiration on my body and knew I must look a total
wreck. For a while I just lay there, oblivious to the uncomfortable intrusion
of the padlock under my left side. I did not want to open my eyes, I just
wanted to sleep. I just wanted to be left alone. I would have given anything
for a few hours sleep. I finally opened my eyes to bright overhead lights and
finally looked at this person who had done these things to me.
He pulled my legs off the bed and forced me to sit up. I stared at him. He had
brown hair to below his ears and a neatly-trimmed beard and moustache. His face
was unlined such that it made his age hard to establish. He could have been
anywhere between late twenties to possibly forty. There was a possible grey
hair or two in the beard but nothing else to give a hint. His eyes were a kind
of steely grey colour and they scared me with their coldness. The thin lips
smiled at me, but there was no warmth in the expression.
He was tall and slim, dressed in jeans and a long sleeved shirt. Despite his
slender frame there was a feeling of strength that came out of it.
"Why are you doing this to me?" I croaked.
"I think you know very well, Jan. At least as far as the immediate future is
concerned. Did you solve the riddle I asked you to?"
"What?"
He shook me by the shoulders. "Come on, now, Jan. Pay attention. I asked you
what furniture vans, used car salesmen, computers, ATM's and real estate all had
in common. Well?"
"I don't know," I said tiredly. "Look, please let me go. What do you want with
me? You can't hold me to ransom - I'm not rich... I have no rich parents... I
don't understand why you're doing this..."
"Ah, but you will, Jan." His voice was suddenly enthusiastic, as though trying
to convert me to a new religion. "Shortly you'll understand everything. But
first you'll need to be inducted, as I call it. You will learn the answer to
the riddle. I'm sorry you couldn't manage it - I had expected a bit more
imagination from you. I told you what was going to happen to you, didn't I? It
was no joke, believe me."
"Please don't hurt me..." I said, the tears starting to flow freely for the
first time since I had had my sight restored. "I'll do anything you want,
really."
"Indeed you will, my dear, but it won't be just the words you're offering now.
The offer will be made with your whole body and soul. It will be made without
thinking, without looking for something in return, without a thought. It will
be instinctive, reactive, unconditional. That is why you must be made to suffer
first."
Something snapped in me at that moment. I don't know if it was fear or what,
but I swung my still taped arms at him sufficiently to knock him off balance
from where he squatted in front of me and lunged towards the door, only to be
brought up with a sudden jerk by the cord still attached to my waist. The
abrupt pull made me stagger and he caught me by the arm, hauling me roughly back
to the bed and throwing me face down.
"You see, Jan? You promise all manner of things, but beneath you're like any
woman - lying, conniving, plotting your own agenda." His voice was steely and
ruthless and scared the hell out of me. Amidst my tears I tried to turn and
face him but he was straddled across my body, pinning my secured wrists against
my chest underneath me. I squirmed and began screaming - nothing really
coherent save every foul invective I could think of. My mind was not thinking
clearly and it probably wasn't surprising when a red rubber ball on a strap was
worked into my mouth, stopping my abuse mid-stream. He buckled the leather
strap excruciatingly tightly behind my neck, locking my jaw in a wide-open
position with the rubber smothering my tongue and rendering my complaints into a
series of nasal moans.
"Not a smart move, Jan. This is why I have to punish you - to show you once and
for all who is in charge here - to leave you in absolutely no doubt."
My show of rebellion died as quickly as it had surfaced and I was sniffling and
snuffling into the gag in a most undignified manner. I tried to wipe my face
with the taped steeple that was my hands, but it was pretty ineffective. I
could only lie there as he pulled a spreader bar from under the bed and fastened
wide, heavy leather cuffs around my ankles which were locked to the bar. It
held my ankles perhaps 80 centimetres apart - not so extreme as to be
uncomfortable, just immobilising.
Then he was on me again and I saw the flash of steel in front of my face. The
sight of the wicked-looking knife made me plead and scream into the gag,
struggling uselessly against his weight. For a moment I thought he was going to
cut my throat when he pulled my head back by my plait. I let forth as loud a
wail as I could through my nose but it didn't amount to much. Then came the
tearing as the steel slid smoothly through the satin of my nightgown and a
minute later the last of the material was pulled away from my naked body.
He stayed sitting in the small of my back and made me put out my hands in front
of me. The knife took care of the tape around my hands, letting me again have
the freedom to wriggle my fingers. Then the rope too was removed from my
wrists, but only long enough for him to pull them behind me and bind them
palm-to-palm. Oh sure, I tried to struggle in that brief instant, but with his
weight on my back and my legs braced apart by the spreader bar I really couldn't
manage it. And the gag, too - this terrible ball that stretched my jaws and
stifled my tongue - had a psychological effect that I had not counted on when it
came to any form of resistance.
With me properly secured, I felt the locks removed from the hip positions on my
belt which still remained in place. Next to be removed were the cables trailing
from the implants from my rectum and pussy, followed by the invaders themselves
and the crotch and waist straps. The removal of the vibrator left me feeling
strangely empty, while with the butt plug I was warned to clench my cheeks
during the process. I did so desperately, petrified of disgracing myself and
bringing further punishment upon myself. He extracted the plug far from gently,
and the brief flash of pain made me close my eyes and groan beneath the ball in
my mouth.
Ash hauled me back on to my unsteady feet then made me kneel awkwardly on a rug,
finally lying me down on my back. This done, he dragged me across the concrete
floor to the middle of the room, my legs spread wide. I just lay there while he
loosed some sort of pulley from what I saw were many such attachments mounted on
the various exposed joists above.
It was my first chance to view my prison, and it scared me profoundly. The
walls were of grey concrete block save for the one entry door, while the exposed
joists were lined in between with what looked like plywood - presumably as some
sort of sound proofing. At intervals along various beams were big eyebolts or
pulleys with ropes through them, neatly tied off out of the way. I saw the bed,
with its iron frame bolted to the floor and plastic covered mattress. About a
metre and a half in front of the bed was the steel post to which I had been
previously secured, which obviously formed part of the house supports. To the
left of the bed was the toilet, then a shower in the corner. Momentarily the
thought of a shower gave me hope - of exactly what, I am not sure - maybe some
sort of easing of my restraints and the delivery of a minimal comforting
experience such as a hot shower. Then it dawned on me that it also meant a
long-term stay...Nearby was the chair to which I had first been secured, again
bolted to the floor.
I watched with a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach as my captor pulled
down a thin steel cable from a roof-mounted chain block. He attached a loose
chain to the ends of my spreader bar then locked the end of the cable to the
middle of the chain. I moaned in protest as he moved to the side of the room
and began to turn a handle attached to a winch. There was a rapid clicking
sound as the winch ratchet clacked over the toothed wheel and the cable began to
tighten, lifting the bar and my feet off the floor. I spluttered through the
gag but it made not the slightest difference to his focussed look as he watched
the lower half of my body rise off the floor. I bent at the waist, but the
raising continued and shortly I had only my shoulders and the back of my head in
contact with the ground.
At this point he stopped his winding and came to stand over me. I felt
intensely vulnerable - possibly more so than at any stage to date. Up until
that time I had at least had my nightshirt to cover my modesty. This was now
gone, along with inserts, straps, ropes and tape that had protected my private
parts. Now I was fully exposed, my legs secured wide apart.
He stood looking down at me for a few seconds, then stooped and grasped my plait
and pulled my head clear of the floor. I chewed the rubber ball, trying to grit
my teeth with the pain, but it was not as bad as I had expected. He pulled me
horizontally then spun me about the axis of my body so that suddenly I was
facing the floor, me head held by my plait only a hand span above the concrete.
He lowered me again and I found myself awkwardly positioned with my cheek
pressed against the cold floor while he fiddled with my bound wrists. All of a
sudden they, too, were going up in the air, almost straight above me. At once
the strain came on to my arms like a strappado, except that it was not quite so
acute an angle. Nevertheless it was taking part of my bodyweight and I mewed in
discomfort as the strain came on my arms and my head and shoulders were lifted
from the floor.
He continued to pull my arms upwards until I was about waist height off the
floor. I was now rapidly becoming really scared - terrified at my vulnerability
but also at the potential for something to break and for me to smash my head on
the concrete. I struggled the little I could and pleaded through the gag as my
body bent into a sort of suspended half-hogtie, half-strappado. Ash's response
was to grab my plait and complete the job, pulling my head back and securing my
hair to a further unseen rope hanging from above. He gave me a push so I swung
from side to side. I moaned in fear from beneath the gag.
He paced slowly around where I hung, as though studying my tautly strung body.
At one stage he stopped beside me and let his hand slide smoothly down the
inside of my thigh and rove through the patch of hair in my crotch. I struggled
the little I could, given my situation. His hand slid under my stomach and up
to where my breasts hung free beneath me, defenceless. I could not see him,
since he was outside my vision range forced on me by the way my head was held
fast. The fingers stroked my nipples and I felt them harden. I hated the way
they did that. He squeezed one, then the other between his finger tips, the
nails biting into them. I moaned and squirmed feebly. Then the fingers were
roving back below my waist.
"You're wet, you little slut!" he said. Surely it must have been the remains of
the lubricant. I could not believe it, nor could not make out the tone of his
voice. He was in front of me now, walking across to the cabinet screwed to the
wall. It had two doors and was the height of a person by about a metre wide.
He unlocked it and swung open the doors to display the contents.
"Nice little arsenal, don't you think, Jan?" Why did these people insist on
calling their tools an 'arsenal'? I wondered illogically. Then the truth of
what I was looking at hit home. There were all manner of whips, canes, leather
implements, dildoes, gags, harnesses, plugs, clips and so on hung up or piled on
the shelves within the cabinet. I rolled my eyes in fear as he selected a
whippy-looking riding crop - the kind with the little flap on the end. He bent
it through a hundred and eighty degrees and let it spring back before turning to
me with a cold look in his eyes. He walked purposefully across the floor before
disappearing beyond my peripheral vision. Then he stopped, as did my heart.
Time seemed to freeze for a moment before the first stroke fell across my right
buttock.
"Nnnnnmmmph!" I screamed into the ball filling my mouth. I squirmed and
struggled within my ropes but ended up merely swaying from side to side. Crack!
Across the left buttock! "Nnnnnnnnnph!" again. Three times more against each
cheek. I wailed in misery, my tongue trapped beneath the rubber. But this was
just the warm up - and that was just starting. The tip of the crop caught first
one nipple then the other, as I jerked and cried. Then he was between my legs,
massaging and probing in an action that suddenly stirred a multitude of
unexpected feelings. I tried to resist the warmth that began to spread when
abruptly the warmth turned to fire as the crop caught first my rear passage and
then squarely across my pussy.
I went berserk as best I could within my confines writhing and screaming
incoherently into the gag, jerking about like a puppet. This was the pattern
for the next half hour, at the end of which I hung limply, the sweat streaming
from my body, a high continuous keening coming from behind the rubber embedded
deeply in my mouth that silenced all coherent pleadings and cries for mercy.
* * *
I lost count of the floggings I received that day. I was hung by the wrists, by
the ankles or bent over a wide belt like a swing, my wrists chained to my
ankles. All the while I remained gagged, my muted pleading stifled by all
manner of devious mouth-filling devices. He used weights on my nipples and on
the lips of my pussy. I knew at that point I was going to die.
I thought the end would never come - either when every inch of my body had
received its final beating, or when loss of consciousness would finally overtake
me. The latter never happened, despite the agonies of the flesh I underwent.
He at last lowered me from my suspension of that moment and hauled me to the
shower. My gag was removed and I was left lying on the tiles in the glass box,
my aching wrists manacled behind me while cold water sluiced over my body.
Every pore seemed to cry out and I lay groaning and crying for a long time
before I realised her had left the room. With difficulty I staggered to my feet
and turned the water off before stumbling out of the shower. There was no towel
or anything else to dry myself against. I finally collapsed on the bed, all
cried out, but making a throaty keening sound that I was barely conscious of. I
closed my eyes and curled into a foetal position, wishing the nightmare would
end. I was trembling from the cold, the lack of sleep and lack of food. He had
made me drink several times during the torture session, but my body was starting
to retreat within itself as the temperature began to drop.
I couldn't stop shaking; my teeth chattered and I found that despite my
exhaustion I could not fall asleep. I had no idea if it was midday or midnight.
When he returned maybe an hour later with some bread and water I was still
trembling.
He sat me up on the bed. I cringed in fear from him. He held his face a hand
span in front of mine. I could smell the stale cigarettes on his breath as he
spoke. His voice was serious and intense.
"Do you now see what I have the power to do to you, Jan?" He was almost kindly
in his explanation, as though trying to get through to a pet that did not
comprehend what it had done wrong. "Do you understand that I can leave you
suspended day and night, or starve you until you faint with hunger? Well?"
"Y-yes s-sir," I stammered, petrified that another session was about to start.
"Good. Yes, very good. Do you think you have learned your lesson?"
"Y-yes sir."
"You will do anything I command, at the risk of another flogging like the one
you have had today?"
"Yes," I whispered.
"Are you prepared to answer some questions now?"
"Yes sir."
"Good. How many bank accounts do you have, Jan?"
"What?" I stared at him. The question had come out of left field. I had no
idea where he had been heading. My penalty for the response was a slap across
the side of the head that made my ears ring.
"How many bank accounts do you have?"
"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry please don't hit me again!" I cried, cowering
like a frightened animal. "I've got two - no, three..."
"Details?"
"Uh - a cheque account, a credit card one and a term deposit..."
"Very good, Jan." He smiled - an expression that stopped short of his eyes. "I
knew that. I've gone through your records. What I want is your PIN number.
What is it?"
"I - uh - 534496..." I gabbled without thinking. Not - given the time to react
logically - that I would have done anything else under the circumstances.
"Ex-cellent, Jan." He seemed genuinely pleased. He retrieved a notebook from
his back pocket and wrote the number down, while I hung my head and the tears
again rolled down my cheeks.
"Have you figured out the riddle yet Jan? Real estate and used cars and ATM's?
I am going to be kind to you just this once. I'm going to tell you the answer.
What all these things have in common is that they all relate to your
possessions. You remember we have discussed these things by email? You'll be
surprised how much I know about you. To cut a longer story short, what is going
to happen to you, my dear, is that you are going to disappear - to vanish. I am
going to sell off your house, your car, your furniture, all your possessions,
and to clean out your bank account. You will cease to exist as a person." He
paused, as the onus of what he was saying sank in. "You will have nothing
whatsoever in this world. No money, no clothes, no credit cards, no
identification. You will be certified dead and buried."
I felt a cold knot in the pit of my stomach and stared at him in disbelief.
"And you may even get to experience that as well. I just haven't decided
yet..."
* * *
