Chapter Four: Resistance
The next morning was cool and fresh dew had settled over everything.
Rose was huddled in a small ball at the back of the cage. She was asleep, but
shivering. Richard shrugged and sprayed her with the hose anyway. Rose came
instantly awake and shrieked as she was again assaulted by the cold jet of
water. Despite the chill in the air, the water was still colder than Rose's skin
was and she shivered more. She again tried to cover herself.
"No!" Richard said sternly. "Don't cover up. Let me wash some of that
grime off of you."
Reluctantly, Rose stood in the cage, as best as she could, and let
Richard wash her from head to toe. With no soap it wasn't like she was really
getting clean, but at least the surface dirt was coming off. When she was told
to do so, she turned around and he squirted the backs of her legs, in between
the crack of her ass and her back.
In a moment, Richard stopped the flow of water and approached the cage.
He hung the sprayer nozzle on the fencing of the cage by its handle. He had set
two items on the top of the cage earlier, before he started Rose's bath. Now, he
brought her attention to the two items, shaving cream in a can and a disposable
razor. He called her over and told her to take the items from him as he passed
them through the links of the fence.
Her hands shivering still, she took the shaving cream and the razor from
him and looked at him, her eyes were tired and she looked as if she wasn't sure
what to do with the items given to her.
"I want you to shave now, Rose." Richard said. "Be sure to shave your
legs, pits and pussy. I want you to look nice and clean for me."
Still shivering, she whimpered quietly and stood there as if she did not
understand the instructions given to her. Richard didn't want to see her shiver,
he wanted his orders followed.
"Come on, Rose, get to it." He said impatiently. "I haven't got all day.
We have things to do."
Her teeth chattering slightly, Rose squirted some of the shaving cream
into the palm of one of her hands. Setting the can of cream down, she rubbed her
hands together and lathered her armpits. She picked up the razor and shaved her
armpits clean. Once she was done with that, Richard rinsed her armpits and the
razor off with the hose. She picked up the cream again and lathered her pussy
and shaved it. Richard rinsed her and the razor again and the same steps were
repeated for her legs. When she was done, he had her pass the cream and razor
back through the fence to him.
He went to the spigot and turned off the water, then went into the cabin
and put the razor and shaving cream away. He had shaved his face earlier in the
morning and wouldn't need it for the rest of the day.
He went back outside to check on Rose and to pee. She was still standing
where she had been before. Her arms were clutched about her and she was
shivering still. He shrugged and walked past her to the outhouse. He relieved
himself and went back around to the cabin. As he was walking by the cage, Rose
stopped him.
"C-c-cold..." She stammered, water still dripping from her body and
hair.
"Yes, you look like you are freezing." Richard remarked
matter-of-factly.
"T-t-towel?" Rise asked through chattering teeth.
"Yes? What about it?" Richard asked, baiting her.
She whined again slightly. "M-may I p-please have a t-towel to d-dry
myself?"
Richard thought for a moment.
"Please?" She asked again.
"Alright." He said. "Since you asked so nicely, I'll get one for you."
"T-thank y-you." She said, still clutching at herself.
Richard went into the cabin and brought a clean towel out to Rose. He
let her out of the cage so she could dry herself. She was very careful not to
get the towel dirty from the ground. As soon as she was dry, she stopped
shivering. Truly, she was still cold, just not as much as when she was soaking
wet.
Richard leashed her and secured her to the railing of the porch while he
put her towel away. Rose looked around and noted that the sun had not yet even
crested the trees.
"What time is it?" She asked Richard as he came out of the cabin.
A quick glance at his watch confirmed that it was just after seven in
the morning. She asked why he was up so early and he responded that they had a
big day planned. Since this was the first she had heard of it, she was naturally
curious. She asked him about the details of their day, but he told her to hush
and that she would find out as it unfolded. Needless to say, that answer did
little to slake her curiosity or ease her anxiety.
Richard first went to the shed and brought out a huge stainless tell
pot. The thing was so big it looked like you could cook a human in it if you
wanted. He took the pot to the corner of the porch where Rose was tied and set
it at her feet. He turned the water spigot on and handed Rose the water hose and
told her to fill the pot nearly to the top.
As Rose began filling the pot, Richard started a fire in the fire pit
near where Rose was made to pee each time she went.
Shit, she thought. Why the hell did I have to think of that? She
realized how badly she needed to pee. She hadn't gone yet this morning, as her
early morning routine here wasn't terribly relaxing. Her bladder was telling her
now that it was perfectly relaxed and should be relived of its contents as soon
as possible. The water running into the pot probably wasn't helping matters any.
"Richard!" She called to him from the porch.
"Yes?" He called back as he added a couple of cut pieces of wood to the
fire that was already going.
"I have to go pee!" She called to him and then blushed deeply. That was
not supposed to come out so naturally. God damn it, she had only been here a
day! She was already slipping into some kind of naturally servile position to
him? Why? Why the fuck was she acting so damned calm about all of this shit?
Like, she should just take it into stride and not worry about a thing?
"Tough shit, Rose!" He called back to her, interrupting her thoughts.
"You didn't ask nicely and you are busy with a task already. I'll take you to
pee after you've filled the pot and when your attitude is better."
Oh really, mother fucker, she though to herself. You want that fucking
pot full? Fine. Here you go asshole. I'll fill it for you.
She squatted over the pot and pissed in it, her yellow stream of urine
mixing with the fresh, cold water in the pot. She felt so relieved and her
bladder instantly thanked her for the gratifying relief it felt.
Richard, on the other hand, was not amused. He had added the last log to
the fire and turned to go fetch the pot from Rose and saw her squatting over it
pissing away in the fresh, clean water inside. At first, his jaw actually
dropped. He was astonished that she had the nerve to pull something like that
off. He stood there, while she obliviously pissed in his bath water, quite
literally, and gaped.
However, the gaping didn't last very long and was soon replaced by
something resembling indignation and a whole load of anger and other itchy
little feelings. He raced across the yard to the porch. By the time she saw him
and noticed the anger in his eyes, it was too late.
He slapped her right off the pot while she was still pissing. A golden
line of urine was still streaming from her pussy and making a lovely arc as she
fell backward on the wooden porch. The uncontrolled line of piss spattered up
Richard's pant leg, right up the middle of his shirt and into his face, stinging
his eyes.
He moved to pick up the water hose, placing a boot firmly on Rose's
chest. He sprayed his face off lightly, washing the piss from his eyes. Rose was
clawing at his boot, trying to get his foot off of her chest. A large red
handprint was very evident on her cheek. He looked down at her when he was
finished washing her piss off his face and out of his eyes.
"What in the fuck were you doing?" He yelled at her.
"What the fuck did it look like, ass?" She shot back at him, refusing to
let him compromise her like he had done yesterday. "Now, get your fucking foot
off me!"
"What?" He asked incredulously.
"You fucking heard me!" She screamed at him as loud as she could. "I've
about had enough of this shit, Richard. Being treated like an animal for your
amusement, being fed from a dog dish, having to be naked around you all the
time, having to piss in a hole; I'm sick of it all. Who do you think you are?"
He bent down and slapped her again. "I think I am the person that is now
in charge of your entire life and how long or short it might be." He punctuated
several of the words with more hard slaps to her face.
She was crying underneath him, her face red from his slaps. She wouldn't
give up, though. She still fought to get out from underneath him. He would not
treat her like this! He would not, by god!
"I said get the fuck off me!" She said again slowly, through gritted
teeth.
He moved his foot up from her chest to her throat and pushed down. The
collar dug into her windpipe and again she fought for breath. Still, she tried
to fight back. She hit his kneecap for all she was worth. It just wasn't enough.
She was in a poor position and he was too strong and too heavy for her to fight
back properly.
"Now you listen to me, you little horse's ass." He sneered at her under
his foot. "You are my god damned property. Whether you breathe again is
completely up to me. You are about as insignificant to me as a piece of shit.
The only thing that appeals to me about you is the deep sense of loathing I have
when I look at you."
He grabbed her by the hair, removed his foot and pulled her roughly to
her feet. She took one deep gasp of air and then her head was plunged into the
cold, piss and water filled pot she had been squatting over previous to this
meeting of the minds. After a moment, he pulled her head up out of the water.
She gasped and choked on her diluted urine.
"Do you like that, Rose? Does it taste good to you? Get yourself a big
mouthful now." Richard said with anger and plunged her head back into the pot.
She was instantly submerged to her shoulders in water tasting of her own piss.
She flailed her arms and tried to hit him or kick out at him, but he was
right over her and not offering her any kind of target. Her mouth was full of
bitter-tasting water and she had her eyes squeezed shut. He pulled her up and
she instantly gagged. Her stomach retched and she knew she was going to puke.
There was nothing she could do about it.
As she threw up, Richard held her head over the pot. She didn't have
very much in her stomach, so she wasn't really able to throw up more than just
some bile. As soon as she seemed marginally in control of her facilities again,
Richard plunged her head back into the piss-stinking, bile-swirling water.
Nothing that Rose could possibly think of could be worse than this. This
was revolting. Having to gasp for air, having her head shoved into a pot of her
own piss and vomit. This was too fucking much. She just wanted to be left alone
so she could cry. Richard wasn't letting up, though. He was making her wait
longer and longer for each breath. Her own urine and vomit permeated into her
mouth and eyes and nose. All she could taste or smell was the foulness of it
all. Her eyes burned from it. She threw up three more times while he tortured
her and deprived her of air.
Soon, the water was completely foul and Rose stank of it all. Richard
threw her to the wood floor of the porch and hosed her off viciously, spraying
her with the full force available from the nozzle. He washed her face and head
off, then picked up the pot and carried it into the woods behind the cabin. He
emptied the contents on the ground and returned to the cabin. Rose was, of
course, nowhere to be seen.
"Oh god damn it!" Richard exclaimed. He looked down the dirt road
leading to the cabin. He saw her blonde head bobbing off over the next hill.
"Fucking moron."
He shook his head and got in the Blazer, going after her. He caught up
to her in a matter of moments, but when she noticed the vehicle coming toward
her, she darted into the woods. Richard stepped on the brakes hard and leapt out
of the Blazer and ran into the woods after her. He ran into the woods, but oddly
enough he didn't have to run very far, though. The stupid girl had untied the
leash and left it attached to the collar, rather than just unclipping it from
her collar. The handle of the leash had gotten caught on a small stump, it
seemed. To Rose, who was running full-speed into the woods, the effect was
stunning, literally. She was jerked swiftly and violently to the ground by the
throat. The violence by which she was pulled to the ground stunned her.
When Richard came upon her, she was still trying to clear her head and
unclip the leash from the collar. Richard pulled the handle of the leash free
from the stump and knelt over Rose's nearly helpless form. He pulled her arms
forcefully behind her back and tied her wrists together with the free end of the
leash. He dragged her to her feet by her hair then, in his rage, picked her
completely off of the ground by her hair and one thigh. He flung her out of the
wooded area and against the side of the vehicle. She bounced off with a shout
and a thud. The vehicle was, of course, unfazed.
As Richard came out of the woods, stalking toward Rose, she laid on the
ground crying. She looked up at him, her face dirty and streaked with tears.
"Please..." She begged him. "Please, Richard, just let me go. Please
don't do this to me anymore."
"Shut the fuck up, bitch." He said through clenched teeth. He opened the
back of the Blazer, picked her up and threw her in. He knew she wasn't hurt. He
had only tossed her four or five feet. Not hard enough or far enough to break
any bones or leave any permanent injuries.
He drove back to the cabin, pulling Rose from the back of the Blazer. He
dragged her by the ankle to the porch. He tied a loop of the leash to one of the
porch rails, the shortness of the remainder of the leash pulling her face right
against the wooden railing. Richard stalked to the shed and opened it. He
returned with a length of rope.
Unbeknownst to Rose, there were four sturdy J-hooks set into the beams
of the porch. Usually, they would hold two, two-seater porch swings. Richard
figured that one of them would hold Rose's weight. After all, she was
practically a twig anyway.
He climbed up on the railing and fed one end of the rope over one of the
J-hooks, the other end he tied firmly to Rose's ankles. He untied her leash from
the railing and hoisted her up by her ankles until her head was about three feet
off the floor of the porch. As the tension increased on her ankles, she cried
out, but Richard paid no attention to her and when he was satisfied with her
height, he tied the free end of the rope off to the porch railing. Thus she was
hung up side-down by the ankles with her hands still bound behind her by the
leash.
"You wanted it this way, Rose. Well, now you got it. You want to make
this more unpleasant than it has to be? That's just fine by me. I can play that
way, too." He seethed at her as she hung there, her ankles throbbing.
He went back to the pot and rinsed it out with the hose. He looked over
to the fire, but it had gone out already. It seemed that his bath would have to
wait until later. No matter, though, he had something else he could do first,
after this dumb, fucking cunt was disciplined for her many foolish acts this
morning. He stalked off to the small shed, opened the door and went inside.
When he came out of the shed, he was carrying a riding crop, the kind
used on horses to goad them into better speed. He walked to the porch and
without saying a word, sliced the crop down across the backs of Rose's thighs.
She screamed out and a thin red line came up on her skin almost immediately. He
didn't just stop at one stroke, though. He hit her with the stiff leather crop
over and over again as she dangled there, screaming. Soon, her thighs, calves,
ass, hips, back and belly were all covered in angry-looking red welts. Rose was
beyond sobbing and she had screamed herself hoarse. Now, she just hung there,
upside-down making sort of a rasping, moaning sound in her throat. The entire
lower half of her body throbbed and screamed at her at the slightest movement.
Rose thought he was finished with her when he turned the hose on her. He
sprayed off her legs, ass, and hips and back, the soothing, cooling water making
the welts feel immediately better. Richard had ideas other than her comfort and
soothing. He was only relieving her pain so she wouldn't pass out completely as
he continued.
After spraying her wounds with the hose, he took up the crop again and
went back to work on her already reddened flesh. Again and again he struck her
with the crop, covering her legs, hips, and ass with at least a hundred more red
marks. Rose found her voice again and she screamed. She screamed and screamed,
the torturous blows raining down on her like hot fire. She wriggled and
squirmed, trying in vain to cover some part of herself from the blows, but it
was fruitless.
Richard paused again while Rose hung there and made heavy sobbing noises
mixed with ragged weeping sounds. He took up the hose again and cooled her
wounds, but picked the crop back up and approached her with it a third time.
Rose saw him and screamed, "No! Please, no more! Please, don't hurt me
anymore!"
"Fuck you, Rose. You asked for this. Let this be a lesson to you. Don't
ever fucking run away again!" Richard said his breath heavy and hard.
That was all he said to her before resuming his barrage of pain on her.
Over and over the crop fell on Rose's naked, exposed skin. Over and over she
screamed, squealed and begged him to stop. By the time he was finished, though,
she couldn't scream, she couldn't squeal and she certainly couldn't beg. All she
could do was hang there and sob.
Richard let her down from the hook and literally dragged her by her hair
to the cage. He threw her inside and left her there. He got into the Blazer,
making sure he had his wallet with him, and drove off down the dirt road. Rose
lay in her cage and wept.
Rose was alone. She was now truly, completely alone. Since Richard had
left, she had nothing but herself and her cage and her pain. She looked at her
legs and saw that they were a crisscross of ugly red lines. They throbbed when
left alone and hurt to the touch. She tried to forget about her legs. She also
tried not to worry that Richard wasn't ever coming back.
It had been over an hour since Richard had left, she figured. She knew
he would be back, although the thought occurred to her that he had just left her
there to starve to death. She knew he really hadn't, but there was always the
doubt.
For the first little while, all she could focus on was her pain. He had
beaten her soundly. She couldn't move her legs for nearly a half an hour,
because they hurt too badly. Then the pain subsided somewhat and she was able to
pull herself to the back of that cage and curl up in a ball and cry.
He hadn't even fed her. He had just washed her and told her to fill his
pot and then when she had been bad he had whipped her and then left. Despite the
fact that she still ached from the beating, she was hungry. It was unusual,
though, for her to be hungry in the mornings. She almost never ate breakfast.
Truly, she almost was never up and about early enough to eat breakfast. She was
normally up about a half an hour before her first class and then she concerned
herself with getting dressed and made up, instead of eating. After all, she had
to look good for all of her friends and she didn't want to look like some
trailer park trash to the people she didn't know.
Now, she had time to think. No one was going to interrupt her and
nothing was going to disturb her train of thought, unfortunately. She didn't
want to think. She didn't like where her mind usually wandered when she started
thinking. She tried to fill up her time, either with friends or with activities,
to avoid having to listen to where her mind went when she really got to thinking
about things.
Rose was not a stupid girl by any means. She was smart; she just didn't
like to act like it. Smart girls were made fun of and were to be ridiculed. No
one wanted to be friends with the class nerd. That was how it had been when she
was in school and it probably would continue to be so until the end of time. No,
it was better to be pretty and act stupid than to be smart and an outcast.
Besides, it wasn't like she made poor grades or anything. Anyone that
looked would know she wasn't a dumb ass. She just didn't want to act like a nerd
and ruin her chances for real popularity. That seemed to work fine in high
school, but in college she noticed that things didn't seem to revolve around
popularity so much anymore. There weren't any 'cool' people and there weren't
any 'nerds' anymore. Everyone was just who they were. The only people with any
real status were the ones in fraternities and sororities; and even then things
still weren't a popularity contest.
Rose, much to her chagrin, was starting to think she had been immature
all this time. Was her life really all about her looks and her popularity? Until
this point it had been. What did she hope to accomplish by acting like that? She
begrudgingly admitted that she wanted the status and popularity and she wanted
to one day marry someone like her daddy. Then what, she asked herself. At that
point, she told herself to fuck off and she tried desperately not to think
anymore.
Why didn't she want to think about it, though? What was hiding in there,
in her mind, that seemed so distressing to her? She didn't want to answer that
question of herself. She pleaded with her brain to just shut up and stop
working, but it would not relent. It wanted answers and she had nothing better
to do than to give it to them. Was it not bad enough that Richard tortured her?
Did she also have to torture herself?
She loved her daddy very much. She even idolized him somewhat. To Rose,
he was the epitome of perfection. She didn't want to grow up to be like her
mother, though. She didn't want to be some useless cow that did nothing all day
long, but sip martinis next to the pool and ogle the pool boy. That was all her
mother ever did. That or she would shop all day long. Or she would spend an hour
and a half at the beauty salon getting her hair and nails done.
And how much time do you spend shopping, her brain asked her. How much
time do you spend at the salon having your hair and nails done, Rose? She cried
out for her brain to shut up. She didn't want to be like that. She didn't want
to be some stupid, useless cow woman. But, Rose, her brain said. Isn't that what
you have been doing? Haven't you been looking at college as a waste of time,
looking at the smart people as geeks and nerds, doing whatever it takes to fit
in and striving to maintain your popularity and status?
Yes, she admitted to herself. Yes, god damn it, that's what I have been
doing. Now shut up, please. I don't want to think about this anymore. Why not,
Rose, her brain teased. Are you starting to sound more and more like your mother
the longer you think about it?
"Shut up!" She screamed out at the top of her lungs, trying to make it
all go away.
Why had Richard left her here all alone? Why did he go away and leave
her with herself? She hated him, but she needed him. She hated to admit that to
herself, but she knew, deep down, that it was true. Out here, along and
isolated, she needed someone to keep her attention and to keep her from thinking
about all the things she never wanted to think about.
No, wait, she was his captive. He had kidnapped her from school and
taken her out here to torture her and abuse her. He had brought her out here to
show her what a horrible, ugly person she had been. Oh fuck, she thought. He has
been showing me what a fucking stupid, evil bitch I am. Except he had not been
showing her by whipping it into her or by making her pee in a hole, he had been
showing it to her by making her think and by making her realize how abnormal her
life had been.
How important was her popularity, really? How important was it to be
pretty and well-liked? What would that get her in the long run? She knew what it
would get her. It would get her a life like her mother's. It would get her a
life of sitting around all day watching the soap operas and drinking martinis.
It would get her a life of shopping and meeting her friends at the salon.
But, damn it, she yelled at herself. Isn't that what I should want? Her
brain was quick to respond to that one, of course. Is it what you want, Rose, it
asked? Do you want to live a useless life, by your standards? Do you want to be
measured by your popularity and by how pretty you are? Do you really want a boob
job and a face lift by the time you're forty?
Rose was suddenly very aware that she didn't really know what she wanted
anymore. How much had this little experience of hers changed her already?
Probably not as much as she figured it had, she realized. She knew that if she
was rescued right now and left to her own devices, she would return to her old
self in no time at all. Her daddy would buy her a nice, long cruise with lots of
massages and lots of suntan oil. She would wind up taking a year off from school
and daddy wouldn't even mind that she did. He would probably send her to Europe
where she could visit some of the world's finest health spas and get her head
back on straight. While she was on her cruise and poking about Europe, she could
shop at all the strange foreign ports and all the quaint little Swiss and
English shops.
She realized that the thought of being bought off by her father and
using money to make her problems go away didn't really appeal to her right now.
She didn't know if she would ever feel the same after this. Somehow she doubted
that her problems would be solved with money anymore. Not after all that had
happened to her since she had been here. She knew what it was to hurt and to
feel anguish and to be really sad. She didn't know until now that you can't make
those problems go away by buying them a flashy bandage; even if the bandage was
a quaint European one.
What was she supposed to do now? She had been kidnapped by an obviously
disturbed man that didn't have any qualms whatsoever about hurting her. She knew
she had to resist him, even though she really didn't want to anymore. The last
beating she had received, coupled with this dreadful time of being alone and
left to think for herself had seen to that. What the fuck was that all about
anyway? She felt like she had been here forever, even though it had only been
for two days. She was confused, sure, but she was also wondering what in the
hell was going on in her head. Had she really been so self-involved that she
couldn't see what was going on in her own life or in that of her family's?
She felt the answer to that particular question was obvious. Of course
she had been oblivious to everything going on around her. Wasn't that what
Richard was trying to tell her? That she was a self-centered bitch with no
regard for anyone or anything. She hated to admit it, but it was really starting
to look like he was right.
She could not just accept that as truth, though. There was something
nagging at her brain that said that she was better than him, that she belonged
on her upper-class pedestal and he belonged on his middle class step below her.
That was the basic premise by which she had lived her whole life, after all. A
couple of days of torture and thought couldn't change that so quickly. After
all, that was the way she was raised. Her family had the money, the influence,
the power that others didn't. She was supposed to be better than most people,
wasn't she? Wasn't that really supposed to be her lot in life?
If it was, then why was it now starting to feel all wrong to her?
Richard's words were starting to get through to her, yes, even though
his methods were completely unacceptable. Still, if he had used conventional
methods, would she have even thought about what she was thinking about right
now? Face it, Rose, she thought. Had you been committed to an institution, you
would have faked your way through it and thought of all the wonderful presents
daddy would have bought you once you got out, just like you're doing right now
with your college. Because, let's face it, Rose, if it wasn't for the fact that
you were going to get to spend a month in Europe, you damn sure wouldn't be
going to class everyday, would you? Fuck no, Rose, you would be off at the mall
or a beach somewhere, shopping or soaking up some rays.
Fuck that, some supposedly rational part of her mind screamed at her.
Isn't that what you're supposed to be doing? Lying in the sun somewhere, rubbing
suntan oil on yourself and driving all the poor boys nuts with your sexy body?
Shouldn't you be out at the mall spending all the money your daddy can give you?
Shouldn't you be buying all the latest clothes and purses and accessories? Isn't
that what you are meant to be doing right now? You are a member of the elite of
society, Rose. You have to maintain the appropriate image, learn the appropriate
things to say, wear the appropriate clothes, laugh at the appropriate jokes and
find the appropriate man to marry. Once you get yourself a husband, then you can
relax and live like you have always wanted. You can live off of his money,
because he will be perfectly happy to support you like a good husband should.
You can take some of his money and jet off to Milan anytime you want and watch
the fashion shows. You can use his money to buy yourself a new car every year
like your mother does. After all, your perfect husband will support you and
won't mind a bit that you spend his money so freely, as long as you look good
and play your part right.
At least he won't make you piss in a hole in the ground. He won't whip
you with his belt when you piss him off. He won't call you piggy when you dirty
yourself in the garden. Not that you would actually dirty yourself in the
garden. Not you, Rose, you would hire a gardener to dirty himself for you. Then
you could sit out by the pool and watch your tanned, muscular gardener mow the
lawn or trim the hedges just like your mother does. Doesn't that sound nice?
Well, Rose, she asked herself. Doesn't it sound nice?
