Midnight

The basement floor was cool beneath her feet, a stained concrete slab with scattered area rugs. Hannah stood up, then got a good look at her surroundings for the first time. She stood at the west wall, the bed pushed up against an outcropping with a closed door. To the south was a couch covered in thin blankets in front of a fold-out table with a modestly sized TV on it. Hannah turned her head to the east, a sick feeling washing over her when she saw the high-backed leather chair Logan had watched her from the night before. Instead of a side table, a huge trunk sat beside it, still covered in beer bottles and padlocked in front. To the north was a wooden staircase vanishing upwards, and a refrigerator shoved into the corner with another fold-out table. The outline of a door beneath the stairs was barely visible, and a thick steel pole stretched from floor to ceiling in the middle of the room.

A brief feeling of excitement washed over Hannah, and she immediately headed for the staircase. It was slow going with her limbs so sore, and she found new meaning to the term walk of shame as she hobbled forward. Inevitably semen started to dribble out between her thighs as she walked, but she could see a door at the top of the stairs as she neared it. Would it be locked or could she just escape right here and now? Hannah's pace quickened, and then something yanked her ankle back hard.

She looked back with a fright, and her heart dropped to see nobody there -- but a long metal chain stretching from her foot to a metal ring anchored in concrete, just below the bed. A thick but simple chain wrapped tight around Hannah's ankle with a padlock dangling off of it. The door at the top of the stairs loomed there, so close, but impossible to reach. A sigh passed through Hannah's lips and she turned back to see what she could access with the slack of the chain... the pole that led to nowhere, Logan's chair, the door behind the bed, and the refrigerator right in front of her.

Hannah considered a moment, and opted to try for the door before anything else. She crept quietly, unsure of how long she had before someone might come looking. She found the door was unlocked and peeked inside, only to see a setup both familiar and disheartening. Hannah found a light switch by the door and flicked it on. Light flooded into the small bathroom, tidy with only the essentials laying around. A stall shower stood opposite the toilet, both looking clean. A dirty mirror hung over the sink, illuminated by the row of light bulbs above it. Mostly Hannah was disappointed, but who even knew how long she'd been without a bathroom. First things first, she thought, sitting on the toilet to relieve her bladder.

Something about a bathroom makes people feel safe, and with nobody around inside of a quiet bathroom, Hannah reflected for a moment. How fucking stupid of her; a couple of guys with a puppy and she just got into their car. She was so angry with herself for that, she might as well have gotten into a white van on the promise of candy. Her boyfriend, Marcel, was such an idiot Hannah couldn't be sure he'd even notice if she didn't come home. How long would it be before anyone even tried to find her? Hannah sighed deeply, staring into the empty shower across from the toilet. Her thoughts shifted to the men; Chris with his stupid accent and charming, talkative demeanor. Logan apparently more the strong silent type, possibly smarter than his friend.

What a couple of psychopathic assholes, she thought. It was hard to get past that. Did they have STDs? They came inside of her... so many times. What the hell was she going to do? She couldn't bare the thought of being pregnant, much less by a couple of backwards rapists. Hannah finished urinating, but took quite some time and a lot of toilet paper wiping up after. So much fluid oozing out of her and running down her legs, it was a miracle it didn't clog the toilet. Nope, it flushed effortlessly -- and pretty loud.

Hannah grimaced at her lapse in judgment, cursing her blind muscle impulse to flush a toilet when she was done with it. Her fears were realized instantly when the floorboards creaked overhead, and a pair of heavy footsteps started to thump at a slow pace from one end of the room to the other. There was a long pause, and Hannah tip-toed back into the main basement room. There really wasn't anything she could see that would be useful, if she even had a plan at all. The footsteps overhead resumed, then she heard the door at the top of the stairs open. Without much time to think, Hannah ran to the bedside table and opened the drawer. It was filled with different straps and ropes, leather of all kinds that she could hardly make sense of. Tossed on-top was the permanent marker they had used to tally her thigh; Hannah picked the marker up and clenched it in her fist, then turned around in time to see Chris crashing down the stairs clumsily. Hannah folded one arm over her breasts in a feeble attempt at modesty, while her right hand brandished the marker pen as though it were a knife or some kind of real threat.

"We'hell! Good-mornin' to you too darlin'." Chris called from across the room as he reached the bottom step, eyeing Hannah's vicious little expression and hand poised to strike with all of her Sharpie fury. He was carrying a plastic-wrapped cardboard box under one arm, and a large jug of water hanging from his hand. Hannah said nothing at first, merely watched him cautiously as he strolled across the room, opened the refrigerator and deposited the box and jug of water inside.

"Hey, uh, anyone ever call ya 'Muffin' before?" Chris asked facetiously and closed the fridge, turning towards Hannah. "'Cause they say ya are what'cha eat, ya know." Chris slapped the top of the refrigerator like he was about to start spouting off details of its specifications. "Hope ya like blueberry." He added with a smirk, then scratched at his stubbly face before starting to walk towards Hannah. "I thought we was past all'a this." Chris said, amused.

He looked a little neater than usual, his hair was still wet from a shower and hadn't had the chance to get messy yet. Hannah watched Chris getting closer and closer, backing up in turn until the chain pulled taut on her ankle. Her pulse raced and she held the marker pen up high. Hannah wondered if it was really possible to stab someone with a marker pen.

"People will be looking for me." Hannah declared, trying to sound tough but emerging as tragic and timid instead.

"Maybe," Said Chris, closing the distance between them at a nonchalant pace. "But they'd be lookin' out by your car no doubt. Mmmhm, jes' another poor outta' towner that underestimated the Oregon wilderness. Prob'ly do some sweeps out there for a couple weeks, then they'll give up an' say its a damn shame." Chris predicted with a little too much accuracy for coincidence.

Silence fell for a moment. "Why are you doing this to me?" Hannah muttered with a heavy voice.

"Why do ya think." Chris asked rhetorically, a cocked eyebrow and leering scan of Hannah's body answering what she needed to know. He stopped right in front of her, hands on his hips as he glanced to the permanent marker Hannah brandished at him. "Now, ya gonna put that down or ya gonna make me punch ya right in the fuckin' face?"

Hannah considered a moment, but she knew that Chris would make good on his promise. She didn't like her chances in a hand-to-hand scuffle with the lean, strong man. With a defeated expression on her face, she slowly lowered the marker pen, then let it fall to the ground. Chris stepped forward and slid his fingers through her hair, cupped her cheek. "That's better." He assured her tenderly, but only as a ruse. His hand suddenly snapped forward a cracked a harsh, powerful slap across Hannah's face. Her head jerked to one side and she staggered in shock for a moment, a biting pain radiating from one cheek.

She heard Chris' voice as he yelled, "You don't fuckin' do that, ya hear girl? You try an' take a swipe at me, you think it's cute to get all brave, you gonna pay the damn price." Hannah was stunned by the sudden violence and swing in temperament, but it wasn't over. One of Chris' strong sinewy hands grabbed Hannah by the throat as he admonished her. His other hand produced a large black folding knife from his pocket, swinging it outwards to show her the four-inch blade.

"I want to make somethin' real fuckin' clear right now." Chris ranted while he held the knife close to Hannah's face. "You ever try an' hurt one of us, I'm gonna shove this here knife right up in ya pussy, and I'm just gonna start turnin'." Chris hissed, then demonstrated his threat by slowly rotating the knife into a wide circle. Hannah stared on with rapt attention. "Then... I'll slit your damn throat and bury you in the back yard." Chris fumed with his face only a few inches from Hannah's. The color left her face at some point while she listened to his' threats, watched his eyes. Mostly because she believed him. "Understand?" He asked to make his point abundantly clear. Hannah nodded slowly, her shimmering oaken eyes fearful and vulnerable. "Now I came down here to get ya all cleaned up. But after this kinda welcome girl, well, guess it'll have to wait. Now get on your fuckin' knees." Chris barked forcefully.

Confusion and trepidaton settled over Hannah's face at first, but Chris didn't like the delay. "Get on your FUCKIN' knees!" he bellowed again. Hannah stared at him, frightened and powerless, then swallowed hard and dropped down onto her knees. He slid his hand over the top of her head and muttered, "That's better." before his hand fount the front of his jeans and pulled the zipper down. Hannah could have guessed this was coming, but she didn't imagine it would be so soon. Tears welled in her eyes, obscuring her sight of the thick fleshy organ sliding through the opening of Chris' pants. A moment later, the hand on her head was tugging, and Hannah's mouth engulfed his rubbery cock. He grew hard enough to push to the back of her throat in an instant. Chris sighed with delight, and the room fell silent again, all except for the rhythmic, dutiful suckling sounds.

It was difficult to think with Chris' zipper gently tapping her chin, but Hannah had to wonder why she didn't fight back more. Isn't that she was supposed to do? Instead, there she was resting on her knees, staring up at this man she should be fighting for freedom, sucking his dick because he told her to. She could have been more passive, even, but her mouth opened when he pulled her face forward. Her tongue slowly massaged up and down his veiny, throbbing shaft. She bobbed her head and sucked softly, gagging a little when he pulled her forward too much and slid into her throat. She couldn't call that fighting back. Hell, she couldn't even call it holding back, really.

Chris steadily pumped his hips, shoving his cock into her mouth, but Hannah rested her hands on his powerful thighs to slow him down. She dragged her soft pouty lips up and down the rigid length of his shaft and swirled her tongue languidly in a clockwise motion around his crown, ignoring the pre-cum drooling down her throat. She could barely pause to catch her breath, but Hannah didn't have to wait long. Within five minutes, she was watching Chris' head tilt back as he groaned deeply with pleasure, feeling his fingers dig into her hair and his cock pulsating in her mouth.

She winced a little as the salty taste of his cum gushed across her tongue, followed by a series of smaller little explosions that expelled the last of his seed in ropes towards the back of her throat. "Swallow." Chris instructed, and Hannah once more obeyed, closing her eyes for a moment as she loudly gulped down the mouthfuls of semen. The rough grip on her hair slowly yielded and Chris slid his wet phallus from Hannah's lips, tucking himself right back into his pants and then zipping up. Hannah remained on the floor, her eyes downcast.

"Ah you're a good girl. Doin' just fine." Chris insisted as he grabbed his groin and rubbed it, seemingly satisfied. Hannah didn't feel 'fine' at all; her knees hurt, but she didn't bother getting up off the floor. It briefly occurred to her that she was marginally less hungry after swallowing Chris' cum, which made her shudder in a bewildered mix of emotion. A towel suddenly landed in Hannah's lap, catching her attention and drawing her eyes towards Chris. He was walking across the room whistling to himself, Hannah could have screamed at how cheerful he sounded after casually raping her mouth. "Alright there sugar, got everythin' you need. You go and get yourself cleaned up." Chris dictated from across the room, then Hannah heard footsteps ascending the stairs.

"You're leaving?!" She cried out incredulously.

"Yup, gotta job to get to ya know." Chris answered nonchalantly with a wink.

"No- you have to let me out of here!"

"Nope!"

"LET ME OUT OF HERE!" Hannah screamed suddenly, surprising even herself.

Chris didn't even pause, just kept walking up the stairs until he reached the door. "Nahhh." He said humorously, then slammed it shut.

Hannah remained on the floor for a time, weeping for herself and mourning her circumstances. Some amount of that was warranted, even if she knew she should have been devising some sort of plan, this was a cruel adjustment from her daily pumpkin spice latte. After stilling her dismal heart, Hannah wiped her eyes, took a deep breath and stood back up. She looked at the towel in her hand and headed into the bathroom. Everywhere Hannah walked, the rustling of the chain on the concrete floor and area rugs followed her. The door to the bathroom wouldn't completely close because of it. She turned the shower knob on and listened to the soothing sound, watching the water fall until it began to steam. She stepped inside; it was a little hotter than she normally tolerated, but this time she liked it. Hannah drew the curtain, then planted her palms against the shower wall.

Beneath the steady stream of the shower's font, Hannah felt more than aches, pains and bruises. She stood directly beneath the shower head and closed her eyes. She hated this; she hated being a victim. Never her, she swore -- how stupid. Drenched in an infinite deluge of sweltering hot water and drawing lungfuls of steamy air, Hannah always believed she did some of her best thinking in the shower. Hannah pretended she was caught in a balmy tempest. A tropical storm that might carry her with it, and within the squalls of its waters wash away the hurt that she knew could never be undone. She imagined a curtain of summer rain, and when she pushed her face through she emerged pure on the other side. She imagined she could be reborn, exist beyond a cliché of battered woman. She envisioned life, instead of death. Hannah remained in the shower for a long time; even past when the water ran cold.

FOUR

The muskiness of the basement didn't bother Hannah, a lingering cedar scent actually made it kind of pleasant. It reminded her of used bookstores and some gift shops. Everything had gone quiet again, and Hannah reasoned that she could hear a fair amount; she could hear Chris walk back out, turn on his car and leave after he used her, but nothing since. Hannah had dried off her body and shaken out her wet hair, leaving soggy limp curls clinging to her back. She wore the large white towel wrapped around her body and bemoaned the lack of skin care products, but had to remind herself there were bigger problems presently. She could find nothing but benign household items in the bathroom, but fared a little better with the refrigerator.

Inside the box deposited by Chris earlier she found muffins, the bulk kind about the size of a grapefruit with a fraction of the nutritional value. Hannah was so starved, she couldn't complain. She sat on the side of her bed, picking at the last third of her muffin and staring at the chain wrapped around her ankle, wondering if it would be possible to slide it off. Hannah took a swig from the jug of water perched on the bedside table. The water and muffin had helped a lot to rejuvenate her. She stared at the partially-emptied jug for a moment, before a thought occurred to her. Hannah crossed her chained foot over her knee and looked at it. Tugging on the chain, she could see it was tight, but there was still some slack. She poured a little bit of cold water over her foot, pointed her toes, then started to tug.

The chain's give wasn't much, but after several minutes of tugging, pulling and sliding back and forth, Hannah was starting to make some ground. It was starting to hurt, dimpling into the other side and constricting hard into the ankle bones to try and make it over the heel. Hannah stopped suddenly when the sound of an approaching engine roared up, louder than the other, like a diesel truck. The sound ceased in front of the house, and Hannah started getting to work again, this time in an urgent panic. She heard the door open and a leaden pair of boots start to pound across the floor, the planks creaking under the weight. Logan's deep voice came out immediately from upstairs, growling, "No, I fucking tried that one. God damn it, I told you they weren't going to take him back." Logan bellowed with a sigh, then took a long pause. "Yeah, I took care of the car. No. I don't know. Guess we'll figure something out. Yeah. Later." Logan added shortly after, then stopped talking. Hannah guessed that he was on the phone, but not what it was about. Her mind was elsewhere.

The wrestling of the chain back and forth was either going to break her foot, or it was going to slip free over the hump of her heel; Hannah was determined to make one or the other happen. She was getting closer now, biting her lip with effort, knowing she had little time. The thunderous footfalls crossed over her head and made for the stairs. Each step narrowed Hannah's window of opportunity. She pressed her foot down flat against the mattress and pulled the chain desperately. The door opened at the top of the stairs, footsteps booming down towards the basement. Hannah grunted and finally, forcibly pushed the chain over her heel, and then slid the loop off of her foot entirely.

She shot up to her feet the instant she was free, but the footsteps stopped again. Hannah turned to see Logan standing at the bottom of the stairs, dressed in his work jacket and striking an imposing figure between her and the exit. Two sets of plastic grocery bags hung from each of Logan's hands, but upon seeing what Hannah was doing, he dropped them carelessly to the ground with a clamor of plastic and metal. She clutched her towel to herself and started to slowly retreat into the room. Logan followed, but she tried to keep her distance.

"Didn't really think this through did you?" Logan asked with a small grin on his lips and a chuckle under his breath. Hannah didn't answer. "Hannah. You're being a very bad girl." Logan started in on her, his voice especially firm and authoritative. The admonishment aroused a peculiar feeling in Hannah, like a guilty child.

"Fuck you." Hannah snapped back, unsure of any two words that better conveyed her sentiments.

Time was running short for Hannah to make a decision as Logan closed in on her, lest she end up cornered. She could just give up, that would make him less mad... but she'd just wind up on her knees with a dick in her mouth again. She was quick, he was big, it was a slim chance but the best she'd gotten. Hannah bolted to the left just as Logan lunged to grab her. He caught the corner of her towel, tugging her backwards, but she let her hand off it and it slid right off of her naked body. Hannah ran for the stairs, Logan angrily tossing the towel to the side and cursing as he came after her with long, powerful strides. But she was ahead; her bare feet were carrying her up the stairs two at a time and she could see the painted white door at the top, not even fully closed! Hannah glimpsed freedom, she could almost even taste it! She was half-way up the staircase when the steps suddenly flew up to meet her, planting her face-down into the wooden edges. Though she was lucky to hit her shoulder first, Hannah groaned with pain as she looked down to see what happened.