#captivity.

[watersmoothstones]

captor who lays me out and ties me up in front of several cameras so he can set up a multi-angle livestream as he stretches my cunt out around the wide end of a baseball bat

[wonderful-whump]

whumpee gets caught in a 'time bubble' of sorts; what may be mere days for whumpee's team to find them could be months or years whumpee spends being tortured

[watersmoothstones]

waking slow and groggy and still a bit drugged to a dozen hands gripping and groping and grabbing my very naked body.

it takes a moment to realize that i’m restrained, wrists and ankles cuffed, that i’m lying on a cold, metal table, that the hands are gloved with nitrile or latex, and the grabbing is actually prodding and poking and probing, measurements called out, pens scratching to write down numbers and observations. the fingers in my mouth are counting my teeth and checking them for major defects. the hand at my throat is measuring the circumference, and then the length, mapping out my arteries and trachea. the hands in most places are accompanied by instruments, whether tapes or rulers or calipers or blood pressure cuffs or whatever it is they’ve forced dry into my cunt to see what it can take without any preparation.

there’s an iv in my arm that i don’t notice until somebody begins measuring my palm and fingers, twisting me this way and that to make it easier on themself. pens scratch against paper as notes are taken, measurements recorded, observations dictated.

when they’re done, they leave all at once, the blinding lights blinking out into utter darkness, but for the tiny red lights on the cameras in all corners of the room, silence in their wake, but for the drip drip drip of the iv bag.

[watersmoothstones]

Thinking about a captor who only ever wants to eat me out. He doesn’t touch me for any other reason — never beats me or puts his dick anywhere near my holes. He just keeps me naked, drugged, and available to him. The food he gives me is chosen to alter my taste as he desires.

By a week or two in, he spread me out over every possible surface in his house, bent me over to eat me out from behind, tied me up in difficult positions so he can hear me scream as I come. And that’s all he asks of me: to let myself react. He’s taken such good care of me, and he doesn’t hurt me like others might, doesn’t fuck me for his own pleasure, or lend me out to his friends. He just wants to taste my pleasure, to hear it and feel it and see it.

He’s angry when I don’t come, and even though I cry and apologize, he leaves me alone in my crate for days. Then he’s all soft and sorry and he eats me out a dozen times in five hours.

Sometimes he uses his fingers or toys, but always tongue. Always his mouth on me. And he films it every time. Takes pictures before and after, too. My pussy lips red and swollen dripping with his saliva and my arousal.  

Very occasionally, he sits me down in the corner of a room as he takes out the pictures, plays the videos on a massive flatscreen, and jerks himself off. “This is what you do to me,” he says as he comes again and again to the sounds and the images. I’m so wet by the time he’s done and he lays me out on top of the photographs, spreads my legs, grabs a camera, a makes me come on his tongue once more. 

[watersmoothstones]

captor who films my face as he violates me, records my voice as he makes me cum and cry, and posts it all online with my missing persons poster as the thumbnail and the tag #.proofoflife

[watersmoothstones]

a conquered princess tied naked and kneeling next to the throne of her enemy, legs spread wide, arms anchored to the floor behind her, torn shreds of her kingdom’s standard stuffed into her mouth and pussy, trying desperately to keep her back straight and proud, to keep her tears from falling down her cheeks

[watersmoothstones]

thinking about a captor who trains the word “no” out of my vocabulary. he pretends he’s really big on consent, but it’s actually compliance he’s after, because he’s clearly not averse to coercion. like, i’ve already traded away my clothes for soft blankets in my cage; i take all my meals kneeling by his chair and fed by his hand; i “agreed” to the cameras in the bathroom anytime i clean or relieve myself. but he’s adamant that he won’t fuck me as long as i say “no.” 

he reminds me of this after he’s done spanking my cunt for an hour for spilling food from his fingers, and he begs to be allowed to fuck my swollen pussy, but i shake my head and scream the word until my throat goes hoarse. and he doesn’t. 

i wake up the next morning with a shock collar around my neck. it doesn’t take very long to figure out what triggers it. and it’s not just the word “no,” though that’s clearly the most important target. it’s also anything that might indicate a negation. i think for a while that day that it must be him triggering it, so i wait until i’m alone in my cage at night, but the shocks still rip through me when i whisper “no” to myself. 

it takes a month, or maybe two or three or ten, it’s hard to track the passage of time when my days are filled with electricity and pain. but the pain tapers off. i deny him less and less, still holding on to the one last shred of my pride.

until one day, he stands before me, remote in hand. he caresses the shock collar, and asks to fuck me. and i don’t say no. i don’t shake my head. i don’t even move. just stare blankly at the wall over his shoulder. 

a smile crawls over his face and he says, “well that’s not a no,” and splits me open on his cock.