Isolation, Surrender

Isolation, Surrender

Caution: This could be the most disturbing thing I have written so far.

The top of the tank was opened. I could feel the light. Then I felt the water draining out.

How long had it been? A day? Two days? A week? The Sadist had said it would be a week. Had it been that long?

A week. Who could believe it? A week in this dark metal tank they'd put me in. I was lifted down into it, completely naked. My arms were pinned behind me by unforgiving straps above my elbows. My ankles and wrists were shackled in manacles attached to cables along the sides of the tank. A cable was attached to the back of the collar around my neck. My bottle-blonde hair that just about came down to my shoulders was tied back and attached to a cable as well. Solid black opaque goggles were fitted over my eyes. They kept me blind, and kept the water out of my eyes. A breathing tube was strapped around my nose. A decidedly phallic nozzle was pushed into my mouth and strapped around my head to keep it in place. Sensor pads were attached on my arms and legs to monitor my vitals. Than the tank was filled with water, and the door at the top was closed, sealing me in this watery casket. It was airtight. If something went wrong, it would have been my coffin.

I was floating in this sealed aquarium from hell, kept in place by my shackles. Liquid nutrient and water flowed through the nozzle down my throat at certain times. It freaked me out at first, and I almost choked to death. But pretty soon I got the hang of it. It was suck or die, so I sucked. The nutrient didn't taste especially good, but I knew it must have been good for me, because I was surviving. There was no way to control my piss or shit. I would find myself floating in my own waste. A few times a day, the water would drain out completely, leaving me hanging painfully from my shackles. I would be sprayed by what must have been soap and cleansing water, and then the tank would fill back up. It was actually a relief to be floating again, after hanging from the shackles. At least the temperature was kept just warm enough to be bearable.

This was the sum total of my existence. Just water, and darkness, broken up by feeding, pissing, shitting and sleep. I must have slept so much, but after awhile I had trouble distinguishing between sleep and wakefulness while I was floating. I can't even tell you about the dreams I was having. Awful, weird, hallucinogenic dreams, of a sort I never would have been able to imagine.

Oh, and breathing too. I was always breathing. I could hear and feel my body breathing like I never had before. The air was at a constant flow through my nose plug and the nozzle in my mouth, when the water and nutrients weren't running down my throat.

How long would I be stuck like this? Was I even alive anymore? Could anyone survive this? How long again? Oh, right. The Sadist said a week. But hadn't it been much more than that? Had it even been a day yet?

When The Sadist had his subordinates lower me into the tank, he said one thing to me: "You will ask to serve me." That would never happen of course. But now I'd been in this tank for a solid week.

As the water flowed out, hard, strong hands gripped my body, keeping me in place. It hurt. The nose plug was removed first. Than the nozzle was pulled out of my mouth. It had been like having a huge lifelike dildo stuck in your mouth. I had found myself caressing it with my tongue the way one would with a dick, and sucking on it when the nutrients and water flowed. My jaw ached so much as it was pulled out. It was as if my mouth had reformed around it, and it had become a part of my body.

I felt the various cables and shackles being undone next. The goggles keeping me in the dark were still in place as I was then lifted out of the tank. It felt like the hands of four or five subordinates doing the work. I was placed on my feet on the floor, but of course I wouldn't have been able to stand up. I could feel subordinates holding me up, as others got to work massaging my muscles. Pinpricks of pain cascaded up and down my body as the feeling came back in my limbs. I did not cry out in pain, or say a thing. I didn't want to risk what could happen if I spoke out of turn.

My body was still soaking wet. There wasn't the least bit of effort to towel me dry. When I could finally stand on my own, the goggles were removed. It took a good few minutes for my eyes to get used to the light enough to see again. Gradually, blurry blobs coalesced into a single subordinate standing in front of me, looking me in the eye. He was a cold, cruel specimen from this side of the world. The side I'd learned I didn't belong to. He spoke a single word, and a leash was attached to my collar. He motioned and turned to walk. I was pulled after him. My arms and wrists were still pinned back behind me, so I had to be careful not to fall as I was dragged behind him.

There was the subordinate in charge leading the way, the subordinate pulling me, and two subordinates in back of me. They seemed almost para-military in their formation. I was dragged through dark, stone corridors, then up quite a few stone steps, until we reached another level, went down another corridor, and entered a room.

This was more like a bedroom. Well, a bedroom crossed with a dungeon. I was led a few steps inside, and then we stopped....to watch.

The Sadist was inside. My captor. The one in charge here. The Master.

The bald, muscled man with a few tattoos strategically placed stood facing me, but took no notice of me. In front of him were two naked women with their backs to me. They were strapped to a rack that kept then bent over as if on their hands and knees, level with The Sadist's waist, with their heads tilted up. Their limbs were confined by black leather straps from their ankles up to their shoulders. The only things to break up the black leather were the shiny jeweled butt plugs sticking out of their asses. Their heads were encased in solid black leather hoods that covered everything from their neck up, except for nose-holes and their mouths. Since the hoods covered their eyes, they were also experiencing a sense of sensory deprivation. Their mouths were held open by O-rings. Straight pole-like handles protruded from the tops of their hoods. The Sadist was completely naked. From my vantage point, I could see him thrusting his torso into one of the women. He was face-fucking her, while holding onto her hood-handle. It wasn't a blowjob, it wasn't getting his cock sucked, it was fucking a face. He grunted as he put his full body into it, thrusting as hard and deep as he could. I could hear her gagging with each thrust, as his cock went as deeply into her throat as he could get it. The angle of her head gave his cock a straight path down her throat. She was strapped to that rack tightly enough that he didn't even have to hold her by her handle. That was probably for his benefit, to help him pull his body into her...and to make her feel used.

The women were covered in welts and bruises. They glistened in sweat. They were new arrivals like me, who had endured a week of "training" at the hands of this sadist. The training must have been effective, judging by the one girl's efforts to take that cock without retching all over it.

That's right, I said girl.

These were my daughters. Not that it was easy to recognize them, but I did. My 20-yr-old has a tattoo of a butterfly on her left ankle, and there it was. That meant it was my 18-yr-old who was gagging on that cock right now. Was this her first one? Maybe, but not her first time with it, judging by her performance. She was learning fast.

The Sadist took his time fucking my daughter's mouth methodically. The air stunk of the combined sweat of The Sadist and my two daughters. I felt my skin and hair drying in the drafty air while we listened to his grunts and my daughters gagging...

...And their breathing. The Sadist alternated deep guttural grunts as he pushed in to my daughter's throat followed by a sharp intake of breath as he pulled out. Meanwhile, my daughter had to breath strategically in order to take in air and accommodate that cock as well. The effect was hypnotic. I'm sure I was in an altered state from my week of hydro-isolation, which probably helped to lull me to the rhythms of The Sadist and his fucking.

In.

Out.

Grunt.

Breathe.

In.

Out.

Grunt.

Breathe.

In.

Out.

His breathing started to get heavier. It compressed the rhythm, and then broke it entirely as he started pounding her like a jackhammer. He was getting close. This was it. My poor daughter was making noises like severely muffled squealing while he went for it, and then...

He let out a mighty "Arrrrghhhh" as he pushed in as far as he could and held it there, holding on tight to the handle of her hood. He was ejaculating down her throat. I could hear her gagging and see her body straining against her bonds as she struggled to get it all down without choking. The Sadist didn't care. All he cared about was his reward for his effort right now.

Time seemed to stand still for all of us as we fixated on The Sadist's moment of release. I flashed back to how we got here. We'd been on a cruise. It probably would have been the last with the whole family, with my one daughter off to University now, and my other one about to start. We'd taken a shuttle-boat from the cruise ship into a coastal city for sightseeing and shopping. On the way back, we'd been stopped and boarded by pirates. They didn't say anything, just flashed their guns. Hoods were placed over the women's heads, and then I felt the zip-tie go around my wrists. At least I never heard any shots fired, so hopefully nobody was killed right then and there. But maybe we should have been.

We were herded onto the pirates boat, and were on the choppy sea for hours. I have no idea where we were taken. Not a clue what country this is. We were herded once we reached land, and then finally ended up in a room. Our hoods were removed. It was a windowless chamber of blackened stone, like all the other rooms I'd seen so far. It felt ancient. The Sadist stood above his henchmen, or subordinates. He looked at my daughters, trying to shrink away from his gaze, ran his thick hands through their hair, examined their jaws. When he got to me, I didn't shrink away. I looked him squarely in the eye.

"A week in the tank" he said to his subordinate without looking away from me. I was led away as The Sadist stroked my older daughter's cheek.

In the room with the tank, I was stripped roughly. My clothes were cut and torn from me, and then I was lifted and lowered in the tank. As the finishing touches to my confinement were concluded, and the tank started to fill up with water, I sensed him near me. He had a distinctive scent. He spoke softly in my ear.

"When I ask what you want, you will say you want to serve."

I hadn't fully understood that. But that was a week ago.

The Sadist took his time just standing there, leaning against my daughter, depleted, breathing heavily, waiting for his strength to return. The wait was agonizing, just watching this. Finally, he pulled his cock out of her mouth and pushed off her. A subordinate wiped his cock clean with a damp rag, while he drained a glass of water. Then he turned to regard me. It was the first time he'd even noticed our presence in the room. The Sadist, stark naked, bald, muscled, with his damp cock hanging out, strode over to us. He stood inches in front of me, reached out, and touched me for the first time, gripping the back of my neck.

"What do you want?"

"I want to serve."

It's all I had been thinking about during that week in the tank. My mind would wander, but always come back to this moment. There was only one answer. Any other, and I knew where I'd be put back, and I wouldn't have been able to handle that again. So this was the answer.

He regarded me for a moment, looking me deeply in the eyes. This time I looked away a little after meeting his gaze.

"I will spend a week training you," he said. "You will be trained with the whip, the cane, the crop, my belt, and my bare hands. You will learn your training well."

He gave me a moment to try and absorb this, and then continued. He caressed my damp shoulder-length bottle-blonde hair, which was in who-knows-what kind of shape after a week in that tank.

"After that, we shave you...everywhere. Then the piercings and the rings: Your nose, your nipples, your clit...your tongue. Then we'll brand you to properly identify you as my property. Now, get down on your knees and lick your Master's feet."

I was 44 years old. A married mother of two daughters in college, with a house in the suburbs, and those few extra pounds one's 40's always bring on. I was looking forward to being a grandmother. I belonged to tennis and riding clubs, women's associations, University alumni chapters....

I bent down without even thinking about it. I got down on my knees, and bent over with my arms still bound behind my back. It seemed nearly impossible, especially with the week I'd had, but I got my face all the way down to his feet, and stuck out my tongue.

Then I licked my Master's feet.