Dark Days (Written Pictures #2)

by H. A. Kotys

  CHAPTER VII – Watered Down

  The unexpected slap to her ass tore through her dreams like a category five tornado, ripping apart her blissfully blanketed slumber, to catapult Raven awake. Her eyes shot open only to be stung. Where the sheen of white silken sheets should have been was the refracted light from the overhead sun. The slithering over her arms was liquid not silk and as she gulped in air it was tainted with the stench of rubber and heavy with salt rather than the subtle fragrances she had expected.

  An avalanche of sensory input buried her confused brain which raced to properly place her. Something pulled at her body and Raven looked down to see the tide retiring, twisting her around. But it didn’t drag her away, impaled as she was on a sinister hardness that she had thought was male. The reality now registered as the nerve endings in her branded ass sang around it. This wasn’t him, wasn’t Immelmann, she was outside and it was already hot.

  Raven’s mind raced to answer a thousand questions that simultaneously exploded. A dozen ‘whats?’ A score of ‘hows?’ A myriad of ‘whys?’ But before she could pick her priority, the tearing off of her facemask had seawater flooding her lungs with her first exposed breath.

  Raven panicked. Normally well-marshalled survival instincts fled in her time of direst need. The saltwater already stung her eyes as they darted first left then right, to orientate herself. She held her breath. Buy time. Gather senses. Try to think.

  A vague body shape up to her right had her clawing for it but as she reached, her shoulder screamed a reminder of her earlier injury and she had no choice but to drop her arm back down.

  Up! Up to the surface; of course it was so simple and wasn’t far but her muddled mind lacked its usual crisp focus. Still, Raven had enough presence to know up was safer so with an urgent kick against a sandy floor she felt herself rise, the thick dildo onto which she had been impaled slithering from her.

  With a jarring pain to her breasts though, her ascent was abruptly halted and snapping her head down Raven saw that the rings through her pierced nipples were attached to a chain which ran into the murk below. If she panicked before, now she panicked doubly so and drew in more seawater as she gasped to the shock.

  She had to find a way, any way, to survive. The thought flashed to kick and to hell with the consequences to her nipples but she was loathe to. The delay of that internal debate only increased her peril. Even if she did now it would take time. Her enduring existence was already no longer hers to ensure. Terror. She was already lost but before she could think further, the life-giving mask was clamped back on to her face to allow her air.

  Through the newly fogged faceplate, she could see the fuzzy outline of the man that permitted her to breathe. This place was a man’s world, a brutal world and a thought hit home; she was entirely dependent on men. Raven had barely made the connection before the mask was again wrenched away. Her panic renewed, any thoughts beyond survival destroyed.

  == ~ ==

  It was one of those warm twenty-five degree days that made the world seem such a pleasant place and as he relaxed on the whitewashed pier in the shade of a parasol, Alexei sipped his precisely chilled champagne. It was a beautiful day indeed and the glistening calm of the Caspian Sea belied the struggle for life that bubbled and frothed just a foot or so below the surface.

  This one was a fighter, he liked that. That would prolong his entertainment and perhaps even hold his interest. There was a pure pleasure to be had in seeing the American woman claw for survival and torture her own body in the process. She would make a fine toy. He would unleash the monsters that lurked hungrily in the dark recesses of his creativity and show it off to his world. With the merest lifting of his finger, he permitted her another breath.

  == ~ ==

  The second replacement of the mask was the last Raven was allowed and much as she stretched and tugged at the chains attached to her nipple rings, the heavyset man ensured he remained a half step beyond her clawing reach, moving the mask to encourage her forward, inflicting more discomfort on herself with each kick of her legs.

  The saltwater burned her eyes but Raven could see enough to register where he was now pointing. It was obvious what she had to do to win her next breath. The choice was stark; impale herself and live, resist and die. Degradation or death was a bleak choice, though in reality there was no choice at all. Raven twisted and kicked, raising her body until she could clutch the shaft and guided herself back down onto the mounted phallus, winning her reward of air with the replacement of the mask.

  Her next breath was her focus now. Raven knew it would not be long before the mask was again tugged out of her grasping hands and so she gulped, and as she did, she had no way of noticing a second man behind her ratchet the chain to her nipples just that little bit shorter.

  When the inevitable removal of the mask came again, Raven had secured a minimalist victory, managing to fill her lungs for the first time since the ordeal exploded upon her sleeping mind. With the mask held not far above her, she paused, unsure of what they were wanting until the urgency to draw another breath made up her mind and she kicked for the mask.

  The shot of pain in both her nipples as they stretched was instantaneous. She immediately sunk back only to impale herself deeper than ever, lungs already starting to squeeze. She grabbed for the mask. A finger jabbed at her injured shoulder, her only reward. There were two men here, two men she was dependent on. Raven allowed her arms to float back to her side.

  Again a choice; it was becoming a sickening theme. Pain is life, yes she already got that, thank you very much. After all, she had used such tactics herself to try to break Katarina down. There was only ever one real choice though. This time Raven braced herself before kicking again strongly to reach the mask, gaining her objective and finding it clamped against her face by a large hand, allowing her another breath as she fought the pain in her nipples that scolded her and urged her to settle back down.

  Even with her penchant for the more painful derivatives of pleasure, Raven couldn’t cope with the stretching of her nipples for long and stilling her legs she allowed herself to settle back on the phallus from which she had never properly escaped. It was just what they wanted.

  Screwing up her eyes, Raven focussed her inner strength, trying to ignore the pulse of protest from her nipples and a ping of arousal in her loins. The latter was the start of what she feared would be betrayal by her body as she slid back down, fully impaling herself on the thickly veined phallus.

  She understood this game now. A power trip. Pure. Simple. She knew them. After all she had been on plenty. What they wanted was clear. Maybe they should get more than a sadistic kick out of it though. She would show off her body, display more than just their authority. Give them a thrill. They were imposing a process on her and she would impose her body right back in their faces. She would use that against them in time. For that though she first needed to have them thinking with their dicks.

  And so, with a grunt of determination, Raven kicked again, straining to reach the mask and winning a breath just as she feared she couldn’t stretch any more. Kicking to hold herself there she looked through the faceplate to the closest man, parting her lips unnecessarily to help draw in air.

  The next time Raven allowed her blink to lengthen. Perhaps it might hint at the growing feelings she needed to show. She could last no more than five kicks this time but it was enough to fill aching lungs.

  Eyes were watching her, observing her slender form as she struggled to hold herself up against the mask. They would want to see more though and gulping her lungs full, Raven allowed herself to sink back and fully impale herself once again, reaching her hand down between her legs to imply her eagerness for it to settle deep.

  Training. It was the one thing that sunk into her mind as the remorseless cycle of self-induced pain and pleasure continued. Kick, pain, breathe; still, sink, filled. The lack of oxygen made it difficult to think properly but Raven focussed on the act, lengthening her legs in the kick as best sh
e could, shimmying her shoulders to ensure her breasts shook. Neither act was really necessary but they were to her - she understood the potential value she might squeeze from male approval later.

  Over and over Raven cycled until her body started to shudder with more than just exertion. The time she could brave the tugging on her nipples was reducing and with it her ability to win precious air. That lack of oxygen only seemed to fire other needs and sinking back this time pleasure started to pulse.

  Up, up again. Gasp what she could then down, fully down. Her inner muscles squeezed an embrace around the fat intruder. It was almost automatic now. She wanted it to continue. Her display was no longer faked. She needed it to continue yet as her sex throbbed and her base desires welled, an unseen needle pressed an injection into her neck.

  The sedative acted quickly. The thought crossed her mind that maybe they had already seen enough. Raven kicked once but didn’t kick again. Her legs were heavy, her arms leaden. Drifting back down onto the outsize cock she slipped into a drug-induced sleep. The life-giving mask was fixed securely to her face while the other man took up the slack from the chain to her nipples before leaving her impaled and submerged. A third man sipped champagne above the surface as he watched.

  CHAPTER VIII – Hung Out To Dry

  While evening sprawled lazily across the horizon, the breeze helped the ebb and flow of the tide to gently swing the suspended figure back and forth. Hung by the wrists from the jib at the end of the pier, it was clad all in black except for the torn segments revealing areas normally the first to be covered.

  Breasts, ass and crotch were all exposed to the final licks of sunlight and the woman that called herself Raven barely stirred as the waves lapped insistently at the wounds on her toes. Her ballet boots had long gone, leaving just the raw evidence of the nettles and grit that had been trapped inside, the product of Mela’s mischievously devious mind. With toes dipping into the tidal reach at the surge of each wave, it wasn’t long before curious mouths of fish nibbled, tickling her awake.

  Back and forth, back and forth; it was almost soporific as she was gently moved by forces far stronger than her. Even in that half-conscious state, Raven’s first awareness was of the periodic pulls on her damaged shoulder, her hanging body moved this way then that by the motion of a relentless tide.

  ‘Beyond her control,’ the voice in her head affirmed. It was the day’s underlined theme, rendered in italics, emphasised in bold. If she had already learnt a lesson then the lesson was that these people didn’t do anything by halves. Alexei’s reputation was bang on the money.

  “Beautiful sunset, no?” Raven’s shuffling thoughts were interrupted by a deeply accented male voice to her right, jolting her out of her swaying stupor. With effort she turned her head, following the voice. Peering through a shroud of matted black hair she could see tanned and muscular legs freely moving back and forth beside her, synchronised to her own enforced swing.

  “Nothing like Caspian sunset,” Alexei continued. Raven forced her head higher up garish Bermudas, registering his chiselled torso. He was a man that looked after himself, no doubt a necessity in an environment where only the strongest flourish.

  Her eyes continued, taking in a scar on his jawline, probably evidence of a challenge that failed. When she finally met his gaze the ice within it contrasted with the gentle warmth of the setting sun and the deceptively playful swinging of his legs.

  She knew what was expected. She didn’t want to but instincts told her that this was no time for defiance. Forcing words from her lips that betrayed her true spirit, Raven spoke in a cracked whisper, “Yes Master.” The words almost burned as harshly as the sun but she pressed her eyes further downward to a more respectful and expected point of focus, her sharp mind clicking into life even if her body felt half dead.

  Raven knew instinctively that stretched so, the curvaceous athleticism of her body would be displayed to its full potential. She had expected triumphal laughter at her words and she had chosen them precisely with a thought to disarm. No more than a grunt was returned, his response clearly communicating where real power lay. It struck home more surely than any graphic display. “Don’t toy with Alexei, Yankee. You say Master soon enough for real.”

  Her body had always been a potent weapon. Stretched there in flattering black latex with her tits and ass hanging out provocatively she should have left eyes and pants bulging.

  “Da. Good meat,” he continued as if sensing the jumble of thoughts in Raven’s head. It was a phrase that cleaved straight through any muddle. With just three simple words, she was totally disarmed, her value spoken. “Fish at least enjoy.”

  Alexei smiled, turning to Raven. “Western poet said water everywhere, no drink.” Alexei was clearly a man of education, even if that education hadn’t extended far into conversational English.

  “Focus on water, Yankee.” Alexei swept a thick arm wide to introduce the sea they both already saw. “When you cut down, you do anything to drink.”

  Raven looked out into the endless azure. ‘Water, water everywhere.’ She recalled the rest of the quotation but feared finishing her thought, preferring to leave that safely with the Ancient Mariner. Instead, she looked out into the blue distance as seconds merged with minutes and a new layer of deeper fatigue started to crawl over her.

  As her head lolled lower, Raven didn’t register the withdrawal of the dangling legs from her side. “Night, night, Yankee,” Alexei offered with a lightness of mood that belayed his threat. Raven scarcely noticed his heavy step on the boards as he withdrew to more comfortable surroundings.

  And so Raven swung gently back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Her only companions were the stabs in her injured shoulder as the tidal flow clutched at her feet, pushing and pulling, pushing and pulling.

  She was alone. All alone, save for the fears that churned in her head. Eyes heavy, she slipped slowly into sleep, her last image was that of the glistening calm of the sea that stretched to the smudge of an orange sunset. There was beauty but there was emptiness and Raven carried that symbolism into her dreams.

  CHAPTER IX – Down Down

  The throb of the motor boat that roused the swaying woman was an unwelcome start to what would be the longest of days. There had been no dreams to comfort her. Well, no good dreams anyway. The sun was already up and Raven could feel it baking her taught body through the slats in the pier. She raised her head. That was more effort than usual. She could only watch as the fishermen pointed and argued in a language she couldn’t understand.

  It was a brief distraction that wouldn’t last long. The motor was gunned and the boat lurched away, the boat’s crew deciding that this was one damsel in distress not to be rescued. It was Alexei’s place. Everyone knew of it and most had heard the rumours of what happened when people got too close. It wasn’t wise to delve too deeply into his affairs. That could cost you at best a kneecap, at worst your life.

  Raven watched as the boat sped away to new fishing grounds with less potential complications, the wake rocking her with new vigour, reminding her of the strain on her shoulder. The sun was hot and she was relieved that it had yet to clear the pier and bathe her in its full heat. Ten? Ten thirty at the latest perhaps? Raven could only guess. All she knew for sure was that her shoulder hurt like hell and that her spirit hurt even more.

  The creeping thirst was the thing that really concerned her though. It already permeated into every thought. She hadn’t had a drink since when? Back in the manor with breakfast? No. She had had some water when looking out over the grounds. When was that? One and a half days? Two? So hard to tell. Who knew how long the journey had been really. Perhaps they had given her something after the injection too, who knows? She was thirsty as fuck though and that was enough to be worried.

  So much had happened; so much had changed. It could well be another life. The saltwater had parched her and again the line from The Ancient Mariner taunted in repetition. She felt like a desiccated husk of the woman she
had been such a short time before.

  In another life she always loved to live fast, and drive fast. She had often driven Immelmann’s precious sports cars to their limit just for the thrill. This burning rubber though wasn’t the type she liked and the smell of it mixed with salt and sweat was a noxious addition to her torment.

  Morning crept into afternoon and afternoon dragged on for eternity. Raven found herself increasingly focussed on the heat. She needed some respite, any respite. Even a passing cloud would be welcome. The sun prickled her exposed breasts – even if she was taken down now they would still be tender for days.

  It would affect her more than physically. She had read up on how such things could, seeking to learn how to administer that special notch of additional edge to sap defences beyond the caress of a crop. She remembered how she had been persuaded by Amber to stake Katarina out in the sun after her workouts too – stretched not dissimilarly to how she was now. Karma can be such a bitch.