He doesn’t respond, merely gestures to the screen with his chin, silently ordering me to turn my attention back to the television.
The name disappears, and a scene appears with a man who looks to be in his early forties, graying hair with a scraggly beard that reminds me of barbed wire. The lens follows him to a bed where a girl who can’t be much older than my eighteen years is bound helpless.
She’s begging, crying, and pleading with him to let her go. The vibration between my legs intensifies and I’m lost in pleasurable confusion. My body is reacting to the stimulation, but my mind recoils at the scene on the television.
I can’t look away, and I can’t close my eyes. I’m bound so well with my head fastened to hooks on the wall that don’t allow me to move an inch. There’s something on my eye lids that allow me to blink, but I can’t keep them closed.
I’m assaulted by the scene before me of the old man thrusting himself inside the girl. There are feral grunts, screams of pain and when the lens zooms in, blood is dripping from where they’re connected.
My body gives in to the pleasure, my stomach convulses from the scene before me. I can’t stop my orgasm, and I can’t stop the puke that’s dripping from my chin. My mind feels almost fragmented, shattered and torn at the emotions racing through me.
The man who’s dressed in an immaculate suit continues to violate her, to torture her with his cock, his grip around her neck tightens as her choking intensifies, while he spits on her. It’s horrific to watch and I’m afraid to see what’s to follow. His large hand grips her tiny breast, tugging on the flesh harshly as if he’s trying to rip it off. Her cries echo in my ears, and his grunts fill the room.
It’s sick.
It’s vile.
And I can’t move away, turn away from the scene. The large silent man dressed in a white lab coat stalks closer, his hand holding an object dripping blood and when I finally take a good look I notice it’s a human heart. At least, that’s what I’ve seen pictures of in Biology class. My body is rigid with fear, my blood turning icy cold. What are they doing with that? My thoughts are erratic, fliting between fear and revulsion.
“She had so many pretty parts,” he sneers, pushing his hand holding the organ against my mouth as I try to fight him off. The screams still echo around me as he feeds me. With his other hand, I feel the pressure between my legs as he forces two thick fingers inside me. “You’ll be broken soon, just like her.”
I can’t close my mouth as he shoves it into me and I’m painted in the crimson liquid while the video plays and my body leaps over an edge I’ve been fighting but the assault on my clit is too much.
I’m drenched in red. My mouth, my shoulders as he grips me, ensuring I’m soaked in the metallic liquid.
“So pretty, little girl,” he
sneers.
My body locks and convulses as pleasure shoots through me. It’s not from the scene. It’s from the forced orgasm that I’ve been subjected to. But the vibration only intensifies. I cry out, begging for mercy, even though I know they’ll never offer it. I feel another release on the edge, it’s right there and the filthy words from the TV vibrate though me and I cry out in pleasure, in pain, in disgust.
Another notch on the vibrator is turned up and I’m wet. My clit is throbbing now, and I can’t stop the moan that slips from my lips. A third orgasm is close, I’m watching a girl get violated and all I can do is find release, pleasure watching pain.
The piece of filth steps back, admiring me shaking and shuddering wildly. My captor turns around and calls out to someone I can’t see.
“Get Drake in here, she needs to be cleaned up.”
“Why?” I whimper, attempting to spit the blood from my mouth.
He spins on his heel, glaring at me. “Because, little girl,” he says in a low menacing tone. “You’re going to bring me a lot of money. Every part of you.” His blue eyes glow with evil intent.
My body is rising to the edge. I’m standing on the precipice as the old man on screen pulls a blade from under the pillow and severs her head as the wand is turned to full pelt and I come harder than I’ve ever known a woman could.
My body is wracked with a sob, convulsions, and an orgasm that turns me inside out. My toes curl, I watch the head of a beautiful girl fall off the bed and the man find his own release in her now dead body.
When the door flies open, I’m crying. The white coated man steps back after turning off the vibrator that’s assaulted me for as long as the video had been repulsing me. He smirks at the newest member to the room.
“Get her cleaned up,” he orders, then leaves us, his footfalls disappearing into the darkness.
The screen is black, but the dim light that streams in from the room beyond offers me a glimmer to see who’s walked in. My tormentor. The blond boy with the blue eyes that remind me of an ocean. Drake.
“You’re weak,” he tells me. “He’ll toughen you up.” It’s a veiled threat and I wonder if he’s telling me that in warning, or if he’s disgusted at what I’ve just been through.
“Help me.”
He stills in his need to unchain me. “There’s no escape from the dungeon. You either conform, or you die.”
He continues to move swiftly and then I’m in his arms. When we enter the adjoining space, there’s a bed that he places me on. I’m shoved onto my stomach and once more bound to the metal poles on either end.