Did You Think I'd Forgotten? Ch. 01

With a groan, she opened her eyes, but it was still dark. Something was covering her face, obscuring her vision and making it hard to breathe. A soft fabric, sleek and stretchy, she found as she twisted her head side to side. Immediately, regret set in. The motion caused a wave of pain and nausea, and she vaguely recalled being talked into one more drink by a new co-worker at happy hour the night before. Slowly, she tried to take stock of the situation.

"Did I pass out in bed and wrap my sheets around my head?... No, these aren't my sheets. Oh, God, did I hook up with someone? Am I taking the hungover walk of shame from who knows where? Christ, Karen, you are a mess."

These thoughts were replaced by a more pressing concern as a voice cut through the haze.

"Sir, I think it's waking up," a woman said, a clinical detachment in her tone that triggered a cold trickle of fear down Karen's spine. Then a jolt of recognition. This was the co-worker, whose name she couldn't recall. The new hire who kept suggesting more and more elaborate cocktails to her as the night rolled on. The one who said they should get one last drink as the others began winding down and heading out the door. The one who offered to walk with her to the corner to meet her Uber.

As the pieces fell into place, the hangover (was it just a hangover?) was pushed aside by adrenaline. Senses that had been slow to the scene began a cascade of information on her surroundings and condition. Some kind of hood over her head, arms and legs not pins-and-needles from sleeping on them, but restrained by leather cuffs. The thin mattress under her was definitely not her own, and the chill she felt was amplified by her utter lack of clothing. She tried to lift her head toward the voice (Maggie? Melody? Something with an M..., she searched her foggy memory in vain), and a new item joined the list. Something around her neck, keeping her down on the mattress. A clinking sound told her there was a chain involved.

The soft, low thump of heavy boots from somewhere behind her drew Karen's attention from the restraints. "Help, please! I don't know what's happening," she hoarsely cried, as the boots came to a halt. There was no reply, but a rough hand slid from her hips up her belly and to her chest. Her nipples, stiff from the cold and over-sensitive from both the nudity and the adrenaline, suddenly bloomed to white-hot pain as fingers twisted them, focusing her attention on the presence looming over her. Even deprived of sight by this hood, she was aware of him.

"Quiet. No one here is helping you, bitch. So keep your mouth shut until you're told we need it open." A soft laugh came from whatever-her-name-was as the man let go with a final, rough pinch.

Resisting the urge to argue, to demand an explanation, Karen held her tongue and waited, her body tensing with fear and anticipation. There had to be a reason, a way out, but this was not going to be the moment. Enduring and surviving was what she needed.

"Girl, you're sure it's this one? We can't keep dropping them in the woods if you're wrong."

"Sir, I'm certain. I saw the birthmark on its ass on the bathroom camera we put in."

CRACK! A slapping of hard flesh on flesh and a whimpering filled Karen's ears like a gunshot.               "Damn it, girl. Don't fucking talk. It can hear us."

A mumbled apology followed, and Karen soon felt both their bodies over her. His hands gripped her knees, forcing them apart, as her hands pushed Karen's shoulders down, pinning her in place and exposing her. His calloused finger traced a line up her thigh, following the curve of tensed muscle into her center. In spite of herself, the thought crossed Karen's mind that if she'd known someone would be this close to her pussy, she probably would have trimmed up a bit. Several sexless weeks had killed the motivation to shave, and her bush was well grown in.

His hands continued roaming over her, taking in her shape and examining her curves. A single finger traced a circle around her asshole, pushing a little, testing her. She was stuck in her head, unable to process enough to fight back, and willing her body not to respond or betray her. The inspection continued as he worked up her torso, squeezing her breasts roughly and pinching her nipples again, not as hard, but enough to spring them back to attention. She felt the weight of his body as he leaned over her, his hips against hers, though he had the advantage of clothing. She could feel his hardness, smell his sweat, and the awareness of her vulnerability would have been arousing if she wasn't being held prisoner by strangers.

Not strangers, her inner monologue corrected. That was definitely Something-With_an-M from work. And hadn't she looked familiar to begin with?

Before this thread could be picked up, she was pulled back to the hard reality of her situation. His hand grasped her chin, turning her face up to him and pulling the hood up past her mouth.

"Open up, now," he demanded. She considered resisting for a moment, and thought better of it when his other hand closed around her neck. "Easy way or hard way, your choice. You won't get many more of those."

She hesitated, her body unwilling to cooperate. The softer hand of his accomplice closed over her nose, cutting off her air while balling up her shoulder-length hair in the other and yanking hard, pulling Karen's head back and restricting her breath. Desperate for air, she finally opened her mouth with a gasp and his finger hooked into her cheek.

"I feel teeth and you'll find out how bad it can get. Nod if you understand." Karen meekly nodded, surrendering to what felt inevitable. She willed her muscles to relax, hoping a docile approach would end this with her still mostly intact. He ran a finger along her gums and tongue, and Karen had a brief taste of herself from his probing digit. A shiver of revulsion passed through her, she'd never been a fan of that particular flavor. Unlike some of her friends from college, she'd never had the drunken lesbian fling or urge to experiment in the dorms. He must have noticed the reaction, as he let go of her throat and forced a finger into her. He thrust it deep, then jammed his finger back into her mouth. Karen felt her female tormentor lean into her, whispering in her ear.

"Taste that bitch cunt, lick it off him. Get him cleaned up." Karen gave a tentative lick, sucking his finger in, fighting to ignore the taste filling her mouth. She must have done a satisfactory job, as a moment later both her captors had eased back and his weight was no longer pinning her down. Her shoulders ached from being held down, and her pussy was sore from the rough fingering. So why was it getting wet, the voice in her head wondered. She pushed the thought away, waiting for the next degradation.

Karen could hear them whispering, but too low for details. Suddenly, he was at her side, holding a rag to her face, and everything went black again.

*********************

She woke with a start, head pounding from whatever they'd used to knock her out. A quick check told her she was still wearing the hood, and her wrists were bound. The collar around her neck was still there, and she could feel a chain hanging from it. No idea where the other end went until she stood up and tried to move. More urgently, a pressure in her belly told her some time had passed and she needed to pee. She struggled to her knees, groping about to determine her surroundings. A few feet to either side and she felt the pull at her neck from the chain. So, there was that. Chained to a wall, maybe? Reaching up, she grasped the chain and followed it to the concrete wall where it was mounted, and pulled herself to her feet. Shuffling, she felt with her bare feet to walk the available space. A closet, possibly a cage? The walls were just beyond the reach of her bound hands without the collar digging in and choking her. The floor had a drain in the center, but she felt no showerhead or pipes on the walls. She heard footsteps and froze, trying in vain to cover her nakedness with her hands still clipped together in the leather cuffs. Her bladder grew more insistent as she stopped moving around, demanding relief, and she tried to push the need away until she could ask the approaching person to let her go at least to take care of her needs. The steps halted in front of her and she waited anxiously for whatever was about to happen.

"You're awake. Good, we can begin with some ground rules." It was the man from last night, his voice flat, cold, and hard. There was no concern or emotion in his tone, no regard for having taken her captive and keeping her prisoner.

"Please," she interrupted him. "I don't know why I'm here, I haven't seen your faces, I don't know who you are. Please let me go, I won't tell anyone, I'll just go home."

"You are home. This is your life now. Get used to it. Anything else before we begin? I won't tolerate any gurther interruptions."

"Please, I need a bathroom. I have to pee. I'm not going to be able to wait much longer. Can I go to the bathrooom? You can keep the hood on, I won't look at anyone or anything. Please, I'm desperate!"

As she begged, her legs were trembling from trying to hold it. She was shifting her weight side to side, hands on her belly. Tears were forming in her eyes behind the hood. Her captor was silent, watching her suffer.

"No," he finally answered. You go nowhere until you learn the rules and your place. Get it over with, I'll wait for you.

The realization of what he meant hit her, sending a cold wave through her. He intended for this to happen, wanted her to piss herself like a caged animal. She was losing the battle, and warm drops began to run down her thighs. She was embarrassed, blushing unseen. He must have seen it, as he laughed coldly.

"Just let it out, you'll be much more attentive once you're done, girl. I don't have all day."

After a moment of hestiation, she accepted her defeat. It wouldn't be any worse than the outhouses when she'd gone camping in college. She shuffled backward, feeling with her feet for the drain she'd felt earlier. Finding it, she began to squat down when his voice broke the silence.

"On your feet, girl. Spread your legs, hands over you head. You get privacy and decency when you earn it. Right now, you're livestock to me."

Awkwardly, she assumed the position as instructed. As badly as she needed to go, it was difficult to let it happen when she was standing posed like a mannequin. She willed herself to relax, to just overcome her decades of conditioning and wet herself. Slowly, the tension in her belly eased, and she felt a hot stream running down her legs. Seconds felt like minutes as she stood there, piss gushing out of her, splashing her bare feet and coating her legs. She could feel his eyes on her throughout; she felt exposed and humiliated. She was nearly panting by the time she ran dry, from the effort of holding it and finally letting go. Finished, she stayed with her arms over her head and waited for him to speak again.

When he did speak, the embarassing display she'd just been through was unaddressed. He moved past it as though it happened every day. Maybe it did, she thought. Maybe this is business as usual for this guy.

"Ground rules, girl. First, understand this is not a game, nor are these suggestions. You have effectively disappeared from the face of the earth, you have no name, you have no leverage to make demands. Until it is seen fit to release you, you obey. Understood?" He paused as she nodded her head slightly.

"Speak up, girl. Use your words. I have tools to encourage you should that prove a challenge." At this, she felt something blunt jab into her chest, poking her left breast. She jumped back from the pain, and was shocked at how quickly a hand reached out, grabbed her long hair hanging under the hood and pulled her back up close to him. He dragged her down to her knees, pushing her into the puddle at her feet.

"Do you understand? Yes, Sir, will suffice."

"Yes... yes, Sir," she slowly whispered, just barely audible.

"Good. Maybe you can learn to obey. And to do other things. Second, your training begins this afternoon. You will comply with orders, and do as told. Fighting makes it much worse, and the training will continue after punishment anyway. Still following?"

"Yes, Sir."

"You'll be taken for inspection shortly. I'm going to take off your hood before I leave, and you are going to thank me for it.I don't care if you see my face, you won't have anyone to cry to anyway." She heard a zipper being pulled down, and as the hood was roughly pulled off of her head, she was face to face not with her captor, but with his thick, erect cock. She fought the urge to pull back, seeing the heavy stick that she assumed had jabbed her in the tit hanging loosely in his hand. The bulb overhead was bright enough to keep her from seeing his face in the shadows, especially after all that time in the dark, and she was terrified to look him in the eye, regardless. Taking it that this was her opportunity to show gratitude for removing the hood, she leaned forward and took him in her mouth. Recalling her ex's enthusiasm for gagging her on his cock, she tried to wrap a hand around the base of him but he caught her wrist.

"None of that, girl. You take it all, and if I feel a tooth, you'll lose it." He grabbed a handful of her hair and forced his way to the back of her throat, using her mouth to jerk off. She choked for a second, sputtering and drooling as he fucked her mouth. His grunts told her she must be doing what he wanted, and he kept her head rocking back and forth on his length for several minutes. She endured this use, and concerning thoughts crossed her mind. Why are my nipples hard? Why am I getting wet? My own body is betraying me! She pushed these thoughts aside and tried to ignore the growing arousal that was traitorously assailing her.

His pace quickened as he neared his climax, and soon he was filling her mouth with thick, hot cum. She had a brief thought of spitting it out or pulling back to take it on her face or chest, but he held her tightly to his hips.

"You'll be swallowing anytime you do this unless told otherwise. It's rude to spit." He pulled her hair again, tilting her head back so she was looking up at his shadowed face. She choked down his load, staring up into the lights and not sure what his expression was as he waited to see her do it. She opened her mouth, showing it empty, and he let her go. She slumped to the floor, used and filthy, waiting for the next degradation.

Without another word, he turned and walked out the door, leaving her alone with his cum on her breath and a humiliatingly wet cunt between her legs. Someone would be coming to take her to be inspected soon, and she wondered if he would need to be thanked as well.