The Citadel Ch. 02: The Watchtower

Chapter 2 - A Night at the Watchtower

© 2018 By Pitch Black

Edited by Dannysuling (dannysuling.deviantart.com)

Left all alone, a wave of hopelessness rose like a dark tide in her mind. Overcome by desperation, her chest felt as if it were crushed by a heavy boulder. Even though the surrounding darkness had rendered her visual senses completely useless, she was still aware of the oppressing tightness of the small cell space around her. But for the discomfort that made her tormented body ache more and more, she would have become overwhelmed by a dismal feeling of misery and dread that hammered unceasingly against the wall of her sanity. At first the pain had mostly radiated from her drawn-back shoulders, but it had spread out and increased with every minute she was subjected to this most uncomfortable bondage. The early ache had turned into stinging jolts of pain that coursed like pinpricks through her fettered arms and feet and set each and every one of her nerves on fire.

The tight grip of the noose around her neck made her situation even worse. Forced into the hogtie and lying on her belly, the only possible way to escape the strangling hold on her breath was to arch her back and lift her neck high enough from the ground. But without any other support available, her limbs inevitably got tired and started to tremble and quiver from the exertion to draw herself up. Although she tried to stifle this ever-growing strain for as long as possible, it was only a matter of time when the strength finally left her drained muscles and her breasts sagged limply back to the ground.

As soon as this happened her neck was pulled back by the taut rope slung around it. She choked as the rough hemp rope pressed tight against her windpipe and her chest was wracked by convulsive coughs. It took some time before her body stilled and she could brace herself to raise her body for another round.

The continuous cycle that exposed her to recurring kinds of malicious torture chipped relentlessly all of her endurance away and strained her body and nerves to the bitter end. Each fatiguing struggle to keep her body up in the air failed at some point, once the waning strength of her muscles was used up. The subsequent collapse caused her chest to drop exhaustedly to the ground and unleashed the ensuing strangulating attack on her throat. Despite the coldness that seeped chillingly out of the muggy stone walls, her skin was coated in sweat, and small drops trickled from her forehead down over her cheeks towards the ground. Subject to the repetitive attacks on her respiration, her breathing had become heavy and wheezed through her open mouth and flared nostrils.

Inside the small room, the ragged panting accompanying her struggle reverberated from the surrounding stone walls. Shrouded in darkness, it was impossible to keep track of the passing time. There was a faint sound of water dripping down somewhere from the walls of her narrow cell. Yet she was so occupied with her fight against the unyielding bonds that she couldn't muster the attention to use the noise for something trifling like tracking the elapsed time.

Desperately she thought about how to escape that dreadful torment; otherwise she would have gone mad or even suffocated before the end of the night. The constant struggle didn't leave her mind much room to develop a detailed plan. She simply tried to belly-crawl nearer to the wall to get more release from the treacherous sling around her throat. Feverishly she used every ounce of sufficient strength to shift her body into the presumed direction. Flexing every one of her available muscles, she was able to slide a short distance forward, a little at a time, before she had to give in and wait until she had gathered enough power to continue on.

The oppressive darkness didn't allow her to recognize how much progress her endeavor had made. A growing feeling of fatigue accompanied her feeble crawl towards salvation. With each rocking move the tight ropes chafed the skin around her wrists and ankles, causing a sore and burning sensation. The stinging jolts of pain that were brought on by the hogtie tormented her whole body as well and increased with every feeble attempt to draw herself like a snail towards the wall.

She thought she had labored on for hours, when finally her chin touched a rough stone in front of her. Her final remnant of power was spent for her last move forward. Exhausted, her head fell forward with a flounce. Her hair flowed sweepingly around her face while some tresses still stuck to her sweat-covered forehead. She could feel tears mingle with the sweat covering her skin, as a hot feeling of relief rose like an all-engulfing wave from her chest up to her throat. Although she was still trussed up helplessly and without any hope of escape, she could rest her head against an outcrop in the stone wall without any further threat of getting strangled.

Her elation didn't last for long. The nagging pain in her fettered limbs urged her on to find some relief from the gruesome predicament her captors had subjected her to. But her feeble wiggling and stretching was all in vain: the torturous bonds that compelled her arms and feet together wouldn't yield. Her tears started to flow once again, but this time they were driven by a growing sense of hopelessness and despair. At first she cried out softly, every single sob accompanied by a whining sound pressed out between her pursed lips. When the full weight of her frustration set in and overwhelmed her wrought-up feelings, she burst into a flood of tears. The salty liquid streamed like a flood over her cheeks and down onto her breasts, spilling onto the remnants of her bodice.

When she felt the dampness soak into the tucker beneath her outer garment she tried to stifle her sobbing. As her tears dried slowly, a leaden tiredness settled over her body. Her swollen eyelids felt like they were weighed down by heavy stones. Wrought up by her dismal emotions, she wasn't able to fight anymore and cried herself into sleep.

But relief wouldn't come that easily. Although her body craved for a sound sleep she soon woke with a start. Was it the pain in her unnaturally stretched out shoulders that had faded during her short sleep a bit, yet still added to her discomfort? Or had she heard a scary sound out of one of the corners of her tiny cell? Wide-eyed, she craned her neck and tried to penetrate the impervious darkness in search for a possible intruder. But although she thought she had recognized a short flashing of animal eyes, nothing further happened. She shifted uncomfortably, but there wasn't much room to gain or opportunity to change into another posture. At least a bout of fatigue made her limbs heavy and closed her eyes once again shut.

The fitful sleep that followed was a jumble of exhausted periods of unconsciousness, altered with shreds of dreams, struggles against her fetters, and intervals of being kept awake from the pain in her aching body. Sometimes they blended all together, plunging her into a semi-conscious netherworld that felt like a dismal, silt-filled swamp that sucked her into its murky depths, drowning her beneath its festering surface.

Her imagination started to overwhelm her struggling mind and crept slowly into her dreams, transforming them more and more into nightmarish experiences. Once she thought she was pulled down into abysmal depths of inky black water to be never seen again. To her horror, her body didn't react to her desperate commands to swim towards the surface, but instead felt entwined by unyielding bonds that made her sink deeper and deeper like a heavy stone. In her dream she thought that the increasing pressure of the surrounding water pressed even the smallest ounce of air out of her heaving chest. Gasping for air she woke abruptly with a coughing fit while the muscles of her arms and feet spasmed in the aftermath of her struggle against the ropes that held them tight in their relentless grasp.

Still overcome by the terrors of her latest nightmare, she stared wide-eyed into the surrounding night. She felt chilly from the cold sheen of sweat that covered her whole body due to her futile struggle against the rigid hogtie. It had partially soaked into her clothing, making her feeling dirty and soiled. She desperately wanted for sleep to return, but feared what her frail mind would conjure up next to torment her dreams.

The distant and almost inaudible chime from a clock tower somewhere up above the dungeon caused a shiver to run down her spine. Just midnight, yet she felt already utterly spent and wasted! How would she endure the coming hours until dawn? she asked herself with growing frustration.

To make matters worse, she recognized the start of a soft pressure that was building up in her bladder and indicated her growing need to pee. Her prone position added more to this urgent feeling, but she was too afraid to roll on her side. Away from the stone wall her head would lose its support, and she would have to suffer again from the strangling noose around her neck. She tried to shift back and forth to get some release from the pressure, but there was not much she could do to quell the growing discomfort besides tensing up the muscles in her nether region and squeezing her thighs firmly together.

Eventually, her growing exhaustion led her once again into the realm of sleep. Although she returned to the engulfing waters and black depths of the drowning sea there was now another theme that occupied her dreams more and more. This one led her on a desperate search for a place to relieve herself. But once she found a toilet or a place behind a bush or tree, someone appeared and stepped purposely into sight of her hiding place. Mostly it was one or sometimes all of her captors, who came for her from all sides. Wicked grins on their lips and cruel ropes in their hands, they tried to encircle her, ready to ensnare and truss her up helplessly.

The following return to reality found her bladder bulging. A burning ache spread out from her urethra and made her muscles quiver. Crampy spasms jerked through her thighs, and she had to gather all of her strength to ride out the seizure. Her resistance to give in to the temptation of letting go dwindled with every following minute of the maddening pressure emanating from her cursed bladder. But she wouldn't allow her captors the triumph of finding her in the morning like a toddler ready to be swaddled after fouling herself, and so she continued fighting through the sensation. After a seeming endless period the pain receded to some extent, and she could allow the muscles around her belly to relax somewhat, at least enough that she could let her mind drift away into the blessed blankness of sleep....

"...Annie! Annie, where are you?" her mother called from the door of her little farm, "Come back, girl, time to eat!"

She had spent most of the morning running through the open woodland beside the river and over the flowering meadows, listening to the vernal wind rustling the freshly sprouted leaves, the humming of the bees and the excited chirps of the busy birds. The lace-trimmed hem of her light summer dress flowed around her ankles, grazing every one of her playful steps. She basked in the feeling of happiness and freedom only a girl could feel, as the gentle spring air allowed her to leave the oppressing tightness of the small farmstead for the first time after winter. Freed from the need to stay inside the dusky house, she stretched every one of her muscles, springing and dancing like a graceful fawn through the newly awakened nature.

"Look, Mother, what I've found!" she exclaimed, when she arrived at the door waving a bouquet of carefully collected flowers.

"Oh, Annie, what have you done?" her mother called out, and threw her hands up in despair when she entered the sun-drenched kitchen. "Can't you be careful? Such a big girl and you still soil yourself!"

"No, I didn't do anything! All is fine!" she answered, while her gaze dropped down over her belly towards her feet.

Her eyes widened in disbelief when she discovered the big blotch of soaked cloth beneath her belly. Her piddle had drenched the whole front of her dress and trickled in small rivulets over the hem and down her bare feet to the ground. With horror she watched as her toes were engulfed by a growing puddle of yellow liquid that spread out on the floor. It didn't stop growing, fuelled by a constant torrent that surged down along the inside of her wet calves. A desperate wail built up in her throat as the foul-smelling liquid covered the entire kitchen floor, but before she was able to let it out a thriving darkness pressed in from all sides and threw her out of the dream....

...Caught in the aftermath of this disturbing experience, her awakening mind muddled and confused, the vivid scene still occupied her memory. How much she would have loved to leave her current misery and linger in that joyous moment of her youth? Save for that last disgraceful event, which she was sure had never happened in her childhood.

Her current situation hadn't changed much, of course. All the terrible pain in her trussed up body was still there. Yet her intuition told her that something was amiss. She inhaled sharply in bewilderment when she noticed that the ache in her bladder had completely dissipated. Instead, a warm and soft feeling had replaced it, spreading out from her pussy all over her nether region and down her thighs.

An uneasy feeling rose from her stomach when she realized that she had completely emptied herself in her sleep, and the warm sensation derived from her soaked-through underskirt. The soft cloth had absorbed the complete contents of her emptied bladder, and now felt suddenly drenched and filthy against her skin.

It must have happened some time ago, because already a pungent odor rose up from her damp clothes and pricked her nose. The thought off all the grime and muck she had been dragged through during her ordeal had already made her writhe with disgust throughout the past day. But now her already filthy clothing had been furthermore soiled by her lack of attention to hold herself back. The soggy touch of her pee-soaked skirts felt so repugnant and humiliating that she loathed wearing them anymore. All she wanted that moment was to tear them away from her skin, even if she had to walk naked from that moment on.

A ragged cry of dismay escaped her throat and she started to fight with renewed strength against her bonds. Her whole body trashed and jerked with the aim to free herself from her loathsome fetters. She felt like a dirty pig wallowing in the reeking puddle of its own filth and piss. As before, the tight cords around her arms and feet gave no sign of weakening, and her frantic struggles left her soon emptied and exhausted. One last hard jerk on her tightly bound wrists and then her anger died away, to be replaced by a feeling of self-pity and shame about her pathetic situation that wedged like a cruel lump in her throat.

The rest of the night was as insufferable as the previous hours. She alternated between the waking world and nightmarish experiences that blurred and overlapped, so that she was more and more unable to discern between them. Her clothes didn't seem to dry up much. The repulsive sodden touch of her pee was slowly intensified by the moisture that seeped down the muggy stone walls. The dampness seemed to increase during the early morning hours, and was soaked up by her clothes towards her skin to make her bones chilly and cold....

...A sudden rattling from the padlock on her cell door jolted her out of her sleep. She must have dozed off uninterrupted for quite some time, because the pitch-black darkness in her cell had been replaced by a murky greyness, which filtered through some hidden duct that seemed to lead from the surface down into her cell. Still, it was long before dawn, because everything was quiet and calm and no disturbing noises could be heard from the streets above. She tried to blink the sleep out of her eyes, as the door opened and the dim light of an oil lamp illuminated her surroundings.

"You look like you had a hell of a night," Scarface remarked dryly as he stepped into the cell. When he observed her stern face he continued. "On the other hand...you will ache for spending a night like this, once Sir Malcolm had his way with you. Let's get you up and on his way to him."

"I don't care for your Sir whatsoever. You can shove him right up your stinky asshole!" she snapped at him. "Dunno what the blazes he ever wants from me. I never met him a single time and...no, I don't want to see him ever. I bet he's as much a pain in the neck as his ugly henchmen!"

"Tsk...tsk...tsk...." Scarface wagged his head. "What foul language from such a pretty bird. And who gives a shit about what a randy whore has to say? By all means, screwing around the whole town will be over for good once he is through with you."

"I'd like to see him try." she answered him more boldly than she actually felt, and then added sarcastically, "What will he do? Show me his wrinkled manhood so that I will voluntarily become a nun?"

"Still cheeky as hell? We'll see how long you can keep that stiff upper lip...oh yes, we will see soon." he cut her short and finished their talk.

Without lingering further, he began to fumble with the knots of her bonds and untied the rope between her arms and feet to release her out of the hogtie. The opportunity to stretch her feet out after all those gruesome hours was like heaven to her. Her body sagged forward until her chest touched the cold stone floor. Yet she was happy when the strain left her aching shoulders and she could return them to a more natural position. Scarface didn't wait for long; he untied the leash from the iron ring and signaled to her to get up and out of the cell.

After the cruel bondage that had lasted for an entire night, her limbs were still beyond her control. Although she tried hard to get on her knees, the unusable muscles twitched and spasmed erratically without following any of her brain's commands. Eager to get her up, Scarface bent down and tried to get a good grip on her sluggish legs.

"Come on, you clumsy bitch," he growled while he hauled her on her stomach out of the cell. "Get on your feet!"

When she was still unable to straighten herself, he grabbed her by the collar, and then her body was pulled up like a ragbag. At once she felt her wobbly legs begin to buckle beneath her. She had to lean against his hulking body, else she would have fallen down straightaway. Giving her only a moment of rest, he seized one of her elbows and led her across the room. Her shuffling steps were extremely short, not only due to her still-hobbled feet, but also because her protesting muscles wouldn't allow her a faster pace.

They paused in front of a worn out table and when she looked down she recognized a platter containing assorted leftovers. Scarface must have brought it with him and dumped it here before he opened her cell. Most of them were disgusting-filthy bread crusts, gnawed off bones, and some slushy remnants of a pie.

"Your breakfast," Scarface grinned and nodded towards the table. "You shouldn't say that we don't treat our prisoners well enough."

She hadn't felt hungry during the night, but the sight of food, even as gruesome as the remnants before her, made her stomach rumble. She wiggled her arms, still bound behind her back.

"And how should I eat?" she asked him snappishly. "Could you untie me at least?"

"Nah, I'm sure you will find a way," he retorted and didn't made a move to help her.

So she had to kneel in front of the table and take whatever was available with her teeth and gnaw it off. After finishing the meal her face and mouth was smeared with grease and fat, but there was no towel or any other possibility to wipe it clean. At least the pangs in her stomach weren't that strong anymore, and she felt somewhat sated when she struggled up to stand on still unsteady feet.