Warnings: Okay guys. I need to be clear here: THERE. ARE. WARNINGS. Please read these carefully, and if something on the list triggers you proceed with caution. If I have missed any kind of warning at all, PLEASE let me know kindly what I missed by sending me a DM; it is never my intention to hurt someone by leaving things out. That being said, the warnings are as follows: Dub-con, Non-con, Sexual Assault, Sodomy, Stockholm Syndrome, Kidnapping, Knife Play, and Mention of Rape and Oral Rape. Again, if I have missed anything, please let me know so that I can edit this list.
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I had to keep fighting.
The table is cold, and hard. My knees feel bruised from how long I’ve been trapped in that position, my wrists rubbed raw from twisting them in the metal shackles. My neck had the same treatment as my wrists; once again, I find myself manhandled into a position where I can’t move. I can feel my aching pussy, wet and throbbing, waiting for what was next.
I don’t want this.
Everything he’s doing to me, everything he’s already done, is like some horrible nightmare that I can’t escape from. He’s too large. Too strong. Too powerful. Something about him is intriguing; I can’t get the image of his scar out of my head. What happened to him to make him want to treat me like this? I’m afraid of him. My body betrays me, makes him think I want it.
But I don’t want this, do I?
I hear a click and once more the toy takes to it’s incessant buzzing, vibrating rapidly against my cervix. I can see his arm moving, can guess what he was doing to himself as he sits behind me in that leather chair, watching. My legs spasm and my folds milk the toy against my will, traitorously seeking release. I clamp my hands together, digging my nails into my palms repeatedly in the hopes of a distraction from the edge that is so near. He said he wouldn’t fuck me if I don’t come.
I hope he wasn’t lying.
The toy hits a higher frequency and a high-pitched moan escapes my lips; I can’t help it. The pleasure grows nearer and nearer, and I press my lips together, trying with all my might to push it away. I won’t do it.
I won’t scream for him.
He is angry, I know. By denying him my screams, denying him the fuck that he wants, I still hold some power, and I hold onto that as the vibrations reach that final level. I see something small fly through the air and clatter to the floor in front of me: it’s the remote to the toy. The vibrating isn’t going to stop this time. I whimper.
“You know, you really shouldn’t test me, pet,” I hear his voice, slithering menacingly into the air like a snake. Something wet traces my sensitive organs, and I try in vain to pull away from the offending touch. My wrists keep me still. Fingers plunge into my center, and he pushes the toy deeper still, placing further pressure on that spot that sends me into eternal bliss every time it’s stimulated.
Still I fight.
I can tell he’s impressed by me, how hard I fight him. It’s a game to him, a power play, a battle of wills. It’s why he’s spent the last six months torturing me daily. It’s a game that I know he will eventually win. But right now, I refuse to break. I hold on to the hope that one day, I will get free.
Something sharp pinches the skin on the backs of my thighs repeatedly, and I cry out. It’s painful. I realize it’s his teeth. He always has to mark me, as if I were a work of art that he’s creating, a brand new canvas with each new position. He brushes the marks softly with his fingers, and I tremble at the touch. My body once more betrays me. The fingers trail down to my clit, circling it the way he knows I like, and I can’t help myself. My hips press into the touch.
Because I want this.
His hands leave my body abruptly and he stands. I watch him tuck his impressive length back into his pants. How can this not be affecting him? He rounds the table and crouches in front of me, tangling his fingers in my hair as I gaze at his face. His hideously scarred, beautiful face.
“I’ll be back in a little while, pet. Hopefully by then you’ll have decided whether you’d prefer to be fucked by the toy, or my cock.”
His lips attack mine, leaving me gasping for air. Wait, he’s leaving? He walks away, kicking the remote out of his way as he heads for the door. All my resolve leaves me instantly.
“No wait, please. Don’t leave me here like this, turn it off. Please, turn it off; Daddy please!!”
I cringe at the use of the moniker he’d demanded. It’s humiliating, and I hate using it. But as the door closes behind him, the toy still buzzing, my thighs still quaking, my cunt still dripping, the thought of being left here like this for hours is too much. I begin to scream.
“NO! Daddy please, I want you to fuck me; I want your cock, please! Fuck me with your cock, Daddy, don’t leave me here! I want you Daddy, I want you, please! DADDY!!!”
I was broken.
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Trapped | Part One | Part Two | Part 2.1 | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | eviF traP | Part Six | Part Seven | Finale | Epilogue |
