Tumbling Into Darkness

Tumbling Into Darkness

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Her stories were dark, twisted fantasies, shared with a group of friends online, until one person decided to make them a reality.

Summary

Her stories were dark, twisted fantasies, shared with a group of friends online, until one person decided to make them a reality.

Chapter1 (v.1) - The Basement

Author Chapter Note

Stripped of all clothing and volition, her training begins.

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: October 04, 2016

Reads: 7692

Comments: 3

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Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: October 04, 2016

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Be careful what you wish for whore.

Her eyes flew open. Pain shot through her arms and shoulders and she wailed behind the gag, shocked she’d fallen asleep at all. She had no idea how long she been strung up, but her muscles couldn’t take much more. Once again she tried to work at the cord around her wrists, but it was impossible. They were tied to a bar above her head, pulled to where only her toes were on the ground. Blindfolded and gagged, she had no idea where she was.

Be careful what you wish for whore. He’d whispered that in her ear as she lost consciousness. Tall and incredibly strong, he’d pinned her arms to her sides effortlessly. She wasn’t weak, but she couldn’t budge as he pressed the chloroform soaked rag to her face. She’d held her breath for as long as possible, but the need for air won. When she finally inhaled he’d laughed.

Be careful what you wish for whore.

A heavy footstep reverberated through the room and she jerked. The second traveled up her spine and she held back the whimper, more terrified than she’d ever been in her life. This was the third time he’d come, the first two, he’d stood over her for what felt like an eternity then left without a word.

She could feel him and she could smell him. Earthy, outdoorsy, she picked out pine and even hay. She focused on those scents, telling herself any information she could glean would help her escape. She heard a strange noise and then he grabbed her shirt. She tried to stay calm, but the next sound almost unhinged her. Tearing, or more precisely cutting. He was cutting her shirt off with a knife. Every article of clothing was cut away, leaving her naked and defenseless. Tears soaked her blindfold and she waited for the pain. The blindfold was removed, and the man standing over just made her close eyes and shake her head, praying to wake up from the nightmare.

He removed her gag and said, “Look at me.”

Forcing her eyes open, she bit back the pleas that built up in her throat. Coldly looking her over, her captor brushed her hair back, and then gently wiped the tears from her face. Wearing all black, from the ski mask to the combat boots, he dwarfed her. He raised the knife, a switchblade, and she shook her head again, unable to make a sound. His eyes shifted briefly to a camera sitting on a tripod, and then he closed the blade and placed it on a metal rolling table behind him.

A pool of light lit up their section of a fairly large and pristine looking basement, with multiple areas set up for bdsm.

Oh my god. I’m in one of my stories.

He turned around holding a cane and circled her. “What are you?”

“What?” she breathed. “I don’t-”

He whacked her ass and she gasped, the pain traveling up her back to her shoulders. He stood just to the side, practically touching her. “What are you?” he asked flatly.

Fear raced through her and she racked her brain trying to come up with the right answer. Pain erupted along the back of her thighs and she cried out.

“Respond!”

“I don’t know what you want!”

Shaking his head he caned her even harder. She screamed, trying to remember every term she’d ever read from stories such as these; but she couldn’t, she wouldn’t call herself any of them. He didn’t raise his voice, he asked the same question, and unsatisfied with the answer he caned her, and then he did it again and then again. All her strength and pride deserted her, she called herself every derogatory term she could think of. He caned her each time, repeating the question. She screamed that she was a worthless cunt, and he caned her. She begged him to tell her what he wanted to hear and broke down sobbing.

He crossed his arms, shaking his head. “Tears will get you nothing.” Whacking the back of her thighs he said, “What are you?”

“Whatever you say I am!” she cried hoarsely, trying to swallow back the tears.

“And who am I?” he asked, tapping the cane against the palm of his hand.

“Master,” she said. All that mattered was making the pain stop. Breathing rapidly, she felt a surge of hope as he lowered the cane to his side.

“It can learn,” he said. “So the question now is can it unlearn?”

It. He was stripping her of her humanity. She knew how this worked, step by step, she’d written it. But only a select few people ever read those stories, and none of them knew who she really was, or so she’d believed. She searched his eyes, wondering if it was one of them, or if it was the master himself forcing her over the line she’d wavered on for almost a year.

“You want to improve yourself don’t you whore?” he asked silkily.

“Yes master,” she whispered, imagining what he meant.

“Good girl,” he said smiling approvingly. “We’re going to peel away the feminazi bullshit you’ve wrapped yourself in, layer by layer. No more confusion or anger over patriarchy and power. Only one of us has the power. Can you tell me who that is?”

“You master,” she managed to say without gritting her teeth. He nodded and before she could stop herself she said, “Will I ever…” He raised his eyebrows waiting and she forced the tears from her voice. “Ever go home?”

“That depends entirely on how committed you are to improving yourself. Are you committed?”

“Yes,” she breathed. The cane hit her hip and the pain reverberated in her bones. “Yes master!” she cried.

He grabbed her jaw and stared into her eyes. “I know how whores like you operate. You pay lip service without meaning a word.”

When she tried to shake her head he squeezed her jaw painfully.  Switching his grip to her hair, he yanked it back. His hard eyes took on a devious glint and he slid the cane up the inside of her leg. Holding her gaze with his own, he teased her between the legs. She pressed her lips together and he smiled. He rubbed the cane between her folds, watching her reaction closely. Shifting the cane slightly he pressed it against her and arousal flooded her limbs. He pressed harder and she gasped, feeling the wetness spreading as her body invited more. Laughing, he stopped and put the cane on the table. She was breathing hard, horrified that her body betrayed her so easily.

He grabbed a chain next to the table and lowered her to her knees. Standing over her, he ran his hand through her hair and pulled it back. When he started undoing his belt she closed her eyes. The sound of his zipper sent waves of anxiety and fear coursing through her, but she didn’t cry or beg. She knew it would do her no good.

“Open your eyes!”

Opening her eyes she was immediately confronted with his cock.

“Truth time.” Letting her go he smiled. “Take it all in, every inch, and I’ll believe you’re committed.”

She almost cried. There was no way she could take him all in.

“You know what? I’ll even do you one better. Take in every inch and you can leave.” She looked at him and he nodded. “I am a man of my word.”

She closed her eyes and he clenched her hair so tight her scalp hurt. “Keep your eyes focused on the only way to earn your freedom. You have one shot to leave tonight, otherwise you’re going to have to earn your freedom the long, hard way.” Grinning he slapped her cheek with his cock. “No pun intended.”

Pretend he’s someone else. Wishing she could close her eyes, she opened her mouth. The moment her lips touched him she recoiled. Grabbing her head with both hands, he shoved himself into her mouth. Instantly she gagged and tried to jerk free.

“I’m only trying to help you succeed whore,” he said, and clenching her hair, thrust himself deeper down her throat. The gagging increased and she thought she might throw up.

He had the same thought. “If you throw up, you’ll eat it.” 

She struggled, but he only tightened his grip on her hair and pumped fervently, his pleasure evident in every grunting exhale.

It’s about power, she told herself, trying to disassociate from the act itself. Degrading you by turning your mouth into a hole for him to fuck asserts his power, and strips you of yours. Hold on. She kept repeating that to herself as his cock filled her mouth, smacking the back of her throat harder and harder.

“You've got to take in more whore or you’re not going anywhere,” he said, shoving more of himself into her.

She could barely breathe, and her eyes started watering as darkness crept in around the edges.

“Swallow!” he barked.

His heavy breathing and groans were all she heard as semen shot down her throat. She tried to swallow it all, but some ran out the side of her mouth and down her chin. Shoving himself in deeper, making her eyes pop out of his head, he pulled out. Her body was wracked by horrendous coughing, and she barely managed to stop herself from vomiting.

“Look at me!” She shifted her gaze upward and he smiled. “You failed. I own you.” When the coughing finally subsided, he ran the head of his cock along the semen on her chin. “You’re a blow up doll with a pulse,” he said huskily. Rubbing cum on her lips he smiled. “Fuck doll. My fuck doll.”

He jerked her head back and she said, “Yes master.”

“What are you?” he demanded.

“A fuck doll,” she breathed.

“What!” he roared, clenching her hair so fiercely she thought he might rip it from her head.

“Master’s fuck doll!”

“Clean up your mess fuck doll.”

Cum dripped from the head of his cock onto her lip. It was his mess not hers, but she couldn’t say that. It would only lead to pain. His eyes flashed with anger and she rolled her tongue around his cock, licking him clean. The urge to vomit came roaring back, and she breathed shallowly.

“What do you say?” he demanded.

“Thank you master,” she replied instantly, knowing what he wanted to hear.

“For what?” he asked, almost pleasantly.

“For using your fuck doll.” She hated herself and she hated him, but she had to survive in order to find a way to escape.

“Tastes good doesn’t it?” he said smiling.

“Fuck doll loves the taste of her master’s cum,” she said, cringing within.

“Well then!” he chuckled, releasing her hair. Grabbing her torn underwear, he wiped off the little bit left on her chin and shoved it in her mouth. A noise of dismay welled up from her before she could stop it and he grabbed her chin. “You weren’t lying to me were you fuck doll?”

She shook her head, trying to ignore the flavors on her tongue. Pulling off his belt, he wrapped it around her head, shoving the gag further into her mouth. He secured the belt so tightly her lips were forced apart, and she whimpered in pain. Smiling again, he patted the top of her head and grabbed a burlap sack off the floor. The glee in his eyes was the last thing she saw before the world darkened. The smell of potatoes filled her nostrils as she listened to his footsteps retreat up the stairs. A moment later the blackness was complete.

 


© Copyright 2017 Lucinda Paige. All rights reserved.

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