The Dungeon

Sarah awoke in a dark dimly lit room, the lone source of light was a dull and flickering bulb hanging from above. The small room could be no more than fifteen feet wide. The old wooden stairs set into the left wall, the cold stone all around. The room was bare except for the lumpy mattress she sat up on. Sarah began to rouse and as she did so, an old and tattered blanket fell from her body..

She inspected herself, examining for any bruises or damage, but found herself in perfectly fine condition. She was a slender woman of thirty. Her long brown hair she normally held in a ponytail lay loose just past her shoulders. Her skin was still soft, albeit covered in some dirt and she had chipped one of her crimson nails. She still wore her professional attire but her shoes, as she noticed now, were off to the side of the mattress.

She paused for a moment to listen, to take in the noises of her surroundings, but she heard nothing. Wherever she was, wherever this basement resided, there was no one around for her to hear. Sarah expected there to be chains, something to hold her in place, to keep her a prisoner to the mattress she lay on; yet all she saw now were the metal anchor points embedded deeply into the wall where one could be chained. Why wasn't she? Her mind raced trying to make sense of her situation and the more she thought of it, the more she realized she had been kidnapped and the more the panic and fear began to set in. She could feel her heart racing in her chest, beads of sweat forming along her hairline. Was this a panic attack? Her eyes widened as she looked around in a hurry; her mind processing the empty room until it settled on the old plain wooden door atop the wooden stairs.

Before she could think, she raced up the creaky stairs reaching desperately for the knob of the door. As she reached it, a realization came to her. It would be locked. Of course it would. Who would kidnap and trap someone in a basement and leave the door unlocked? As her reality began to set in, her hope began to fade and her mind continued to race; yet her hand still reached for the knob, obeying its original directive to twist in futility. The knob turned and the wooden door flung away from her.

As the door flew open at alarming speed, her eyes were met with a burning and blinding sensation. As they swiftly adjusted to the brighter lighting of this room, Sarah was met with the most peculiar of sights. This room was of similar size to the previous but the walls were draped in plastic tarp, as though out of a gory horror movie. Across from her she locked eyes with an older man who sat still on an old wooden chair. As she took in his visage her eyes darted to look behind him where only a foot behind was the frame and image of a door, obscured by the opaque nature of the tarp backdrop behind the man.

The man leaned slightly forward in the old wooden chair. He wasn't slim, but he wasn't heavy either; nor was he muscled as one might expect. His raven hair was combed to the side and the black beard on his face was trimmed and well kept. He wore a black shirt, black jeans, and a pair of dark heavy looking boots. On any other day she may have found him attractive and handsome, but tonight he stood between her and her survival and that made him a threat.

In the moment, Sarah's brain also took in her surroundings and what she saw caused her to pause. Any surprise she may have had over her captor, gone in her hesitation. On the left wall were all manner of toys and sexual instruments of varying sizes and colors that hung from different pegs that protruded from the wall. On the right wall hung a heavy set of steel chains that were bolted to the wall at varying distances, enough to entrap someone by their wrists and ankles. A few feet from the right wall, closer to the center, hung a steel ring from a hard point in the ceiling.

Her pause gave enough time for the eerie man to stand. He was at least a half a foot taller than her average height of five feet and four inches. Strangely, the man did not move. Sarah had waited long enough, and she felt her instincts to fight rising with her. Seizing the feeling of her beating heart and the adrenaline coursing through her, Sarah rushed the man with animalistic instinct and prowess; years of evolution honed into a moment as she darted towards him.

It happened quicker than she realized it would, yet in some strange way as if she was watching a movie in slow motion. As she reached the tall man, she went to hit him over the side of the head with her hands, instinct guiding her to his temple, but he caught her wrist. His strong grip held her wrist as she tried to pull away instinctively before he released her a moment later. Sarah stepped back, fear beginning to bubble inside her, the knowing feeling of being overpowered aching through her muscles. She ran for the wall to the left, picking up the biggest toy she could find in the second she had; life depending on it. She settled on a large and somewhat strange shaped dildo; two feet long with a cup at the base. The near solid silicone, phallus shaped toy meant for pleasure, was hefty and sturdy and Sarah grabbed it near the head like a weapon; feeling the molded veins pressed against her now shaking hands. She rushed at the man again.

She had a brilliant idea. She would swing for the man's head and as he went to dodge or grab the large dildo she would strike him at the weakest of places every man carries; his balls. Surely this would crumble any man and she could escape. As she planned, Sarah swung for his head and as if she had foreseen the encounter the man dodged. Perfect! She went for a kick right to the groin but she had failed to account for the man using her own swinging momentum to now get behind her. In a brief flash, the man was now behind her, pinning her arms at her side in a burly bear hug. Sarah flung her head back hoping to strike the man in the face with the base of her skull, but nothing connected. She stamped her feet against his, but he seemed to feel nothing of her strikes against his boots. She was losing, and she was in danger.

The fear began to surge in her more than before. This was it. She had missed her moment to escape and now was clutched in a tight squeeze. She could feel her heart racing, her lungs aching for more oxygen, and her brain racing quicker as more panic began to set in. Yet, for all her heightened state, a calm and grounding voice came from behind her. It was that of the man's and it was firm, unyielding. "Wait a second." "Calm down." "Breathe slower." He was trying to calm her. Of course he was. He meant to kill her. He meant her mortal danger and she would fight him. Surely that's what he meant, but what if it wasn't? She had attacked him without giving him a moment to explain. Why wouldn't she? Sarah had woken up in a creepy basement. Though, she hadn't been chained, she remembered. The door wasn't even locked. Maybe he really didn't mean her any harm she thought, momentarily weakening in his arms.

As the thoughts raced within her, Sarah calmed herself but did not yield entirely, keeping herself alert. A moment later the man's voice came again, just as strong and firm as before. "My name's Mark. I'm gonna let you go if you agree not to swing that thing at me." Sarah nodded and the man's frightfully tight arm lock slacked and she was able to pull herself forward and away from him; turning swiftly to face him but keeping the large phallic member firm in her hands between them both.

Mark put his arms up in front of him, gesturing for peace and that he was unarmed. Though he didn't seem it initially, those arms of his were enough of a threat and Sarah found herself examining the man in a new light for a second.

"Where are we and what's going on?" shouted Sarah, surprised by the volume of her request and by the tears she could now feel beginning to slide down her face. It seems her emotions had caught up with her and she felt them overwhelming her. "Who are you? Why am I in this creepy dungeon?" she demanded.

"It's okay." said Mark in his usual calm voice, gesturing with his arms placatingly; yet Sarah did not relent or lower her guard. "Where am I?" Sarah shouted again as she swung the long dildo menacingly. Unphased Mark said "You're in my workshop. I brought you here after I purchased you. It's understandable not to remember. They do use some heavy drugs to sedate the new ones." Confused by his words Sarah looked around, unsure of what to do or what he meant. As she processed what he said, Mark took a slow step forward, alerting Sarah and forcing her to take a step back to keep the distance between them but she quickly found herself with the wall at her back.

"I need you to put that down, now." he said slowly and assuredly. She would not comply, how could she. "If you don't put that down, I'm going to make you and it's not going to be pleasant." She felt rebelling bubbling within her and Sarah knew that if he took another step towards her, she was going to swing and fight for herself. Her hair would fly freely in the air as she valiantly and wildly swung, punched, clawed, and bit at the man in her defense. When she did not put down the heavy weapon, the man simply reached into his right pocket and Sarah felt herself crumpling to her knees.

It was a strange sensation. Like a sharp jolt of pain rising from her abdomen and coursing through her. Stretching out to her fingers and her toes, forcing her muscles to cry out in pain and clench. It was sudden and sharp, but not unknown to her. It was the feeling of being electrocuted. Something within her was generating this current but she didn't know from where, only that it was excruciatingly painful. Just as quick as it arrived it stopped and Sarah found herself on her knees, the man confidently unmoving during her incapacitation.

She glared up at him, not with fear but with anger and hatred. It was now that she realized she had dropped the large insertable and opted to clench her abdominal area during the electrocution. As that realization faded another came. She felt a puddle beneath her. The shock to her system must have released her bodily function and urine now pooled beneath her onto the opaque tarp. As she looked up from the puddle to meet Mark's eyes with seething hatred, Mark was already on the other side of the room grabbing towels from a rack that hid behind the door she had entered from.

Mark walked back to Sara, still on her knees, and she instinctively reached out a hand for the towel. To her surprise, Mark used the tower to dab his forehead and the back of his neck before tossing it to the side of the room, leaving Sarah stunned. Sternly, Mark said, "Behave and you'll be treated well. Misbehave, and purchased property such as yourself shall have no benefits; you've already lost your rights." As the last words exited his lips, Sarah rushed at him in a final desperate frenzy but before her hands could reach Mark's throat there was another debilitating jolt of pain and she crumpled.

Though the jolt had stopped, she sat there for a moment. Then another. Processing. Coming to terms with what was transpiring. As the waves of emotions came, the adrenaline subsiding, the lethargy building in her muscles, Sarah began to sob. She lowered her head as the emotions flowed forth from her, unable to stop the tears or the shaking. A brief moment later and the thick black boots Mark wore were in front of her, blocking her gaze to the tarp below. She looked up and in Mark's outstretched hand was a white towel.

She didn't know what to do. Part of her wanted to grab it and throw it. Most of her wanted to use the towel to strangle the man. She grabbed it and used it to dry her eyes and wipe her face. As she went to stand, Mark gently placed his left hand on her left shoulder and as if by some invisible force, she found herself sinking back to her knees. There, she waited for a moment.

"The towel." Mark said plainly and reached out a hand. Sarah handed it to him and he threw it to the other side of the room. "Open." he said. The order confused her. She had read plenty of erotic fiction in her life, seen many videos, but there was no way she would be placing anything in her mouth or unzipping any part of the mans clothing. Whatever he placed in her mouth would be lost to him to the clenching power of her jaw. Yet he revealed from his left pocket a small vial.

Mark squatted in front of Sarah and she could now clearly see the size and body difference between them. He unscrewed the lid before removing it along with the dropper embedded into the lid with his right hand. He held the vial with his left hand before her eyes so she could read the label. In bold letters the manufactured bottles label said the word Butrinol and in a small font, the subtext read "Vitamin and recovery". There was more fine print and instructions that wrapped along the side of the bottle but it was too small for Sarah to make out. "Open." came the command once more, followed coldy and unflinchingly by "I will not say it again."

Not knowing what else she could do, Sarah opened her mouth weakly. "Lift your tongue." said Mark, and Sarah did as she was told. Still trying to conceive some way to rebel, someway to fight, but arriving at futile attempts each time. She would have to wait. Wait for the perfect moment to catch the man off guard and escape.

"Don't swallow or it'll burn your throat. Keep it under your tongue and keep your mouth open." came Mark's dry voice as he released the liquid held within the dropper under Sarah's tongue. She expected it to burn, to taste like iron or some other acrid medicinal taste. Yet it tasted sweet, like honey with a hint of ginger. She held the liquid under her tongue for what seemed like an absurdly long time before Mark spoke again, commanding her to swallow; already having capped and put away the bottle.

Mark stood as Sarah looked at him for guidance, not knowing what to do. "You wet yourself but you have behaved. You may remove your clothes and clean yourself." he said as he walked towards the rack behind the door that held the towels and returned with a clean tower and a box of wet wipes; placing them on the floor in front of her.

Nervous and stuttering at first, Sarah spoke "I'm...I'm not undressing in front of you." As Mark closed the door to the basement and went to sit at the wooden chair he had originally sat at when she first entered the room. "Suit yourself." he said dryly.

After a few minutes of contemplation, Sarah stood and walked carefully towards a corner of the room, furthest she could get from Mark but keeping him in view the entire time; he did not move. Sarah began to carefully take off her work skirt and Mark watched from his chair in front of the wooden door that led to safety. She felt violated and humiliated; yet she felt a warmth begin to grow inside her. Subtle at first, like embers, yet beginning to burn. As she wiped and cleaned herself, she locked eyes with Mark for a moment and felt herself turn away quickly as her cheeks began to flush. Sure it had been a while since she had been with someone, but this was her captor. The man who said he had bought her, like some sort of livestock. Her eyes wandered to the toys at the wall next to her. She began to look them over from her current spot in the corner. She felt herself lick her lips before coming to grips with herself. Of course she was curious, she thought. Why wouldn't she be, but this wasn't the time for that. She needed to escape. She was in danger and this man would hurt her.

She turned to Mark and asked "What now?". Sternly yet with a hint of enthusiasm for the first time, Mark spoke. "Now we begin."

His words scared her. She didn't know what he meant. Already overloaded, her mind began to wander. Mark did not move from the chair but she could see his eyes staring intently at her; a power behind them she thought. Sarah looked at the toys on the wall, the chains, the hard point. There was so much stimuli and concern that she didn't know what to do. Would she be shocked again if she disobeyed? When could she escape? What if it felt good? All questions that raced through her mind before she could answer the previous.

Mark stood and confidently made his way towards Sarah. Boots crinkling the tarp beneath his heavy footfalls. She tried to back away but in her previous search for safety and privacy she had put herself in a corner and now he was upon her. She had tried to fight and failed and now she found herself frozen. Her body trembled. Her eyes darted around, looking for anything that would give her an idea of what to do. She was afraid and before she could think, his lips were pressed against hers.

It was sudden and unexpected. She expected him to grab her by the hair. To push her against the wall. To punch her. Something, but not a kiss. In a way it disarmed her further and she felt it. She felt that slight burning sensation grow hotter. His lips were rough, his beard scratched her face, and she found herself giving into the enticing touch of his flesh. It had been a while since she had kissed a man. She was a successful woman and most men were intimidated by her. Yet, this man took what he wanted from her and as their lips parted she felt herself pull towards him, seeking for his lips to linger for a moment longer.

She looked up into his eyes, mind exhausted from the dangers of the past hour, and she now noticed their brown amber color. Her mind dazed and entranced by his eyes, she did not notice as he brought his right hand up to her throat. "I will not harm you." he said confidently; his words like a whisper as his hand tightened upon the arteries of her neck. She reached for his forearm with both her hands and they found their mark, but there was no strength behind her actions. She stared deeply into his eyes, his rough hand upon her throat, squeezing and preventing the blood to her brain. Sarah didn't know what to do. Struggle felt futile. Fighting felt pointless. Maybe it would be easier this way? Maybe she should just let go; it would certainly be an escape. Her vision began to darken and part of her accepted it. Suddenly, light came rushing back to her vision. She was still in front of Mark, but she had slumped a little against the corner of the walls. His hand had loosened its grip and his brown eyes still stared down at her. "I will not harm you." he said once again sternly and Sarah found herself nodding and repeating the words in her mind; dazed. She felt vulnerable and pliable to his touch, yet excited like she hadn't been in a long time. He hadn't hurt her. He brought her a towel and some wipes, she thought. He had kissed her passionately. Then she remembered he had shocked her. Said he had bought her, and the fiery feeling of rebellion began to grow in her once again.

As if reading her mind or sensing her thoughts, Mark firmly grabbed her by the hair and brought her in for another passionate kiss. Sarah struggled this time and found herself clawing against his skin with her red nails, but he did not relent or cease. Over the next moment, her weak-willed attempts to fight him off turned into her wrapping her arms around his head and pulling him in closer. Something had changed. She felt it and, more importantly, he felt it.

The fiery feeling of rebellion she had experienced felt more like the craving that had been welling up within her since she had come to the corner to clean herself. Since she had taken that honey and ginger liquid into her mouth. That must have been it. It must have been the thing he gave her.

As their lips parted once more, the air felt different. It felt heavier. She looked at Mark's face and examined the curve of his neck, the shoulder muscles, and the intensity of his stare. That's when she noticed his lips curl slightly into a mischievous grin; and she felt fear once again, but this time a mix of excitement to go along with it.