Trapped: Her Love Story

by Shannon Youngblood

  “Four hundred and forty-four thousand, four hundred and forty-four,” I said, counting the last one.

  It seemed too good to be true. Could the number really be that cohesive, that symmetrical? Part of my brain said yes. Preston had the severe obsessive compulsive disorder, and the symmetry in the figures would be alluring, but part of me, shook its head vehemently telling me I was wrong, yet again. There was no way I would get a number that rounded.

  With no time left, I sprinted to the bathroom and applied lotion, in lieu of a shower. I had bathed this morning, so I knew I didn’t smell, but on the off-chance Preston hadn’t watched me over the past nine hours, I didn’t want him to know I had missed one of his rules.

  Click, Click, Click.

  Red Light.

  My time was up. It was now or never, and I was going to have to face another punishment.

  Somberly, I walked over to a different looking glass room. Physically, it remained the same, nothing changing, nothing moved. But in my head, the room that had been so ugly for me had transformed into something beautiful last night, only to be morphed into something viler than ever before. The bed sheets had been replaced with new ones, but the vision of me cumming all over Preston and Paxton in that exact bed, brought on a fresh batch of humiliation and anger.

  As if to taunt me further, in my waiting position on the floor by the bed was a pillow, probably the same pillow that had cradled my knees last night as I took both Preston and Paxton’s cocks into my mouth.

  Picking it up and throwing it at the head of the bed, I kneeled down and got into position.

  You’re such an idiot. Why didn’t you count? Why did you let yourself fall apart? This punishment is your own fault, I mentally berated myself. I was right. I knew my expectations, and like a petulant child I had let my anger get in the way, and now I was about to pay the price.

  The door opened and closed, and Preston’s feet slapped their way across the floor. I knew my shoulders were slumped in defeat, and my posture was atrocious, but all I could think about was getting through the night with my mental stability still intact. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to say the same thing about my body.

  Kneeling down, I kissed his feet, and raised back up, waiting for him to step closer so he could fuck my throat, as was the routine he’d set in place. When minutes passed with no movement, fear gripped my heart yet again.

  “Are you too good for my rules, slave?” Preston’s eerie and flat, toned question crept from his mouth to my eardrums.

  “No, Master,” I whispered.

  “Did I not reward you well enough last night, slave?”

  “You did, Master,” I choked, the tears starting earlier in tonight's punishment.

  “And yet you felt the need to disrespect me, my rules, and my generosity?”

  His steely voice sent shivers down my spine. This wasn’t normal Preston. I expected yelling, rage, and violence. This was the opposite, and this terrified me far worse than the anger.

  “I’m sorry, Master. I’m so sor—”

  “I don’t want to hear your apologies, cunt. I want to hear you beg. I want to hear you beg me to stop, beg for your life, and beg for death.”

  I may not have been able to see it, but I could hear the smile with every word he spoke.

  When he stepped closer to me, I reached my hands out to his zipper only to be smacked away.

  “Do you think I want your filthy hands touching my cock? Do you think I want that disgusting mouth anywhere near me?”

  Bending down and tilting my chin up to look him directly in the eyes, Preston whispered, “You’re nothing more than a disgusting whore, who I should just gut and leave for the wolves to find.”

  I wished he would have.

  Grabbing me by the throat, Preston hauled me to my feet and marched me over to the bathroom. He yanked open the shower door and turned on the water, before throwing me in and stepping through behind me. Preston retreated to the back of the stall out of reach of the jets.

  I stood there as twelve shower heads blasted me with icy cold water before the heat kicked in. I tried scooting away from the scalding heat pummeling me, but the only place I could go that would put me out of range of the hot water was by Preston. I didn’t make it very far as Preston shoved at me, making me stand underneath the liquid lava spray.

  “The only way to clean a dirty fucking whore is a nice hot shower. Now, say thank you to me for allowing you to shower before we get started.”

  “Thank you, Master,” I whimpered, the scorching heat from the water bouncing off my skin making it almost impossible to talk. My teeth chattered, and my body rebelled, but I was rooted to the spot.

  “I can’t fucking hear you, Slut!”

  “Thank you, Master,” I screamed, letting the pain and defeat, conquer my voice, as I dropped to my knees.

  My skin was red, raw, as the heat from the showerheads bit at my skin with every drop. The faster I could get my cleaning done, the faster I could get out of the new hell I’d found myself in. Finding the will I needed, I stood up and opened my eyes.

  Reaching in the direction of my shampoo, I found it missing, along with my conditioner and body wash. How could I complete a shower without them?

  Turning around, I faced Preston and saw my supplies sitting next to him on the seated bench.

  “Looking for something, slave?”

  “Can I please have the shampoo, Master?” I asked, reaching my hand out.

  “Once you’ve earned it,” he sneered, smiling. “Get down on your fucking knees.”

  Kneeling down, I placed my knees on the hot tiles and fought through the pain.

  “Crawl to me,” he commanded.

  With care and precision, I didn’t know I could possess in this much pain, I made my way over to him, and out of the direct spray of jets. Immediate goosebumps popped up on my skin as the cold, humid air touched my over sensitive flesh.

  Once in front of him, I watched as he unfastened the button on his wet jeans and lowered the zipper, his cock springing free before he rustled his pants to the ground and kicked them off.

  “You’re going to suck this, slave. You’re going to suck my cock into the back of your throat, and you’re going to make me cum. Then, and only then will I give you what you need.”

  I could do this. I had done it so many times in the past, this would be easy. Sitting up, I reached for his cock, but again he slapped my hand away. Although I shouldn’t have, I looked up at him, confusion etched on my face.

  “You think I would make it that simple? You think you can break my fucking rules and get away with only a blow job?

  Standing up, he grabbed me by my hair, making me fall to my back, my legs sprawled out in front of me. Dragging me back to the water by only a tight clump of strands, he threw me back under the spray, and I cried out from the shock.

  I watched as he grabbed a shower head down and aimed it at my face. Scalding water pounded my cheeks, my forehead, and my lips, and I couldn’t breathe. Thankfully, he only kept it there for a few brief moments before finally pulling it away.

  “It’s not over yet, slut.”

  Straddling my head, facing my feet there was no warning as his cock nudged past my lips and rammed itself down my throat. With my head pinned to the floor by Preston’s body, there was nowhere for me to go. My nose was constricted, shoved between the cheeks of Preston’s ass as he lifted up on his knees, pulling out of my throat before sitting back down again. Almost every opportunity to breathe was stolen as he pounded into my throat, over and over again. I felt my knees come up, threatening involuntarily to buck him off, as my lungs raged inside of me, begging for oxygen.

  When I thought I would pass out, and my vision turned cloudy, Preston pulled out of me and sat on his knees. I drew in a breath and coughed at the sudden fullness to my lungs.

  “Ready for round two?” He asked.

  I couldn’t respond. I could barely breathe.

  Sitting back down on my face, I was instan
tly confused as his cock pressed against my chin.

  “Stick out your tongue.”

  Complying with his demand, I stuck out my tongue, and Preston ground his ass onto my mouth.

  “Lick it. Slave. If you want to live in filth, and refuse to shower, you can eat garbage too.”

  Just as before, Preston bounced up and down as I licked his tight hole, in between rounds of gagging. This was a new form of torture, one that didn’t involve whips and chains, but instead was covered in humiliation and pure mind fuckery, At least this time I could breathe.

  Continuing his motions, Preston leaned down my body, his chest pressing into my breasts. I didn’t know what he was doing until I felt him part my folds.

  “If you bite me, I will kill you,” he growled.

  Intense searing pain flowed over me, as a fluent of boiling water punched at my exposed sex. I screamed out, my hips trying to vault Preston off of me. For just a moment the water ceased, but only long enough for him to slap my swollen pussy lips before spreading them again.

  “Now lick, bitch.”

  Sticking my tongue back out I mauled his asshole with my tongue, focusing every ounce of energy on my task and not the blinding pain mutilating my clit. The faster he came; the faster I could get out from under him.

  I knew he was close, as his hips ground my face, his cock wedging between my breasts as he drove back and forth. Reaching my hand around and praying he didn’t punish me further for it, I latched onto his cock and started pumping my fist to speed him to the finish line.

  With no warning, Preston’s fist entered me so fast, I bit my tongue to keep from biting Preston and furthering his assault.

  “Don’t fucking stop, slave. Eat my asshole, while I fuck this lovely cunt.”

  I felt his cock harden and his cum splatter all over my stomach, but it didn’t stop him from fucking me with his entire hand, mercilessly. Much as I hated the way he was treating me, I hated the way my body reacted, spearing me towards a climax I didn’t want to enjoy.

  “Go ahead and cum, it’s the only pleasure you’ll find today.”

  With permission, I lit up like a Christmas tree, my nerve endings shooting intense pleasure throughout my body, my legs quaking as he continued thrusting. I was crying again, but not from the pain. This time I cried over my lack of self-control. I had let this man give me one of the best orgasms of my life, and I hadn’t fought it. I had just let it happen.

  He pulled out of me and stood up. Walking back to the bench, he threw the containers of shampoo, conditioner and body wash at me.

  “Ten minutes, and then the real fun begins,” he told me, exiting the glass stall.

  Curling into a ball, I let my tears flow for two of my ten minutes. I had to quickly build my wall back up, before Preston, inevitably knocked it back down.

  Chapter 12

  Steeling myself, I walked back into the room, my hair still dripping and my skin still feeling the effects from the searing shower. I was still red all over my body, but there was no lasting or permanently visible damage left behind.

  Looking around, Preston was nowhere, and at one point I may have been delusional or naive in thinking my punishment was already over, but now, I knew better.

  Click, Click, Click.

  Red Light.

  We were starting over. As if the last hour hadn’t actually happened. I felt my body try to shut down, but I refused to let it. I would take my punishment and do better next time. I hoped.

  Kneeling down into position, I winced as the rawness coating my knees touched the cold ground of the floor. A calming breath put me back into the correct mindset, and when Preston walked in, I was ready for him.

  He’d changed into a new pair of dry jeans, and to him, this was the start of the night. I heard him set something down on a table near us, but I didn’t dare look up. I’d find out what it was soon enough.

  When he was within distance, I bent over and kissed his feet again, for the second time that night and just like every assignment, Preston fucked my throat while I tried to hold onto my dignity. Only this time, there was no lunch in my stomach to come back up, and because he’d already come once, it took him twice as long to finish.

  “How many, slave?” Came his usual question.

  “Four hundred and forty-four thousand, four hundred and forty-four,” I knew in the pit of my stomach, I was wrong.

  “Can’t bathe and can’t count. What a fucking pity. Luckily, I brought enough toys to account for your piss poor math abilities. The correct answer was Four hundred and forty-four thousand, four hundred and fifty-six. How many were you off by?”

  Twelve. That fucking number again. If it hadn’t been for Preston’s OCD, I’d almost think he was lying to taunt me with that figure. Most people hated the number thirteen, I hated twelve.

  I didn’t even see his fist coming as it connected with the side of my temple, sending me flying towards the bed and stars to circle my vision yet again.

  “When I ask you a fucking question, cunt, I expect a damn answer. Now how fucking many!” He raged.

  “Twelve,” I croaked, woozily getting back into position.

  “Get on the bed, on your knees, face flat against the mattress. Now!”

  Scrambling up, I stumbled, the force of his blow giving me vertigo, but quickly righted myself in fear of the retribution. Climbing up on the bed, I pulled my knees to my chest, and pressed my face into the mattress, letting the sheets collect more of my sorrow.

  “Hands to your side.”

  Resting them close to my knees, I waited as he wrapped the rope around each arm, connecting it to each leg. The wiry strands dug into my flesh, but I didn’t cry out. I couldn’t. Remaining conscious was my sole focus.

  Taking it one step further, Preston took long lengths of the rope and tied it to my bindings before running it to the floor on either side of the bed and pulling it tightly around the rings in the floor. I was immobile, except for my head, and my toes.

  “Are you wet for me, slut?” He asked before sticking a single finger into my cunt and pulling it out to smear over my ass. “It looks as if you’re enjoying being exposed to me. Well, that won’t last long, will it?” He asked.

  I listened intently as he headed over to grab his package from the table and walk around to my face. A bowl overflowing with water was shoved under my gaze.

  “Do you know what these are? These are called fingers. They are the long, finger looking pieces that grow from a ginger plant. Want to know what they do?” He asked, placing the half-skinned finger back in the water bowl.

  I didn’t want to know. I really didn’t.

  “Yes, Master,” I whispered.

  “Yes, you do, you good little slut, and you’ll find out soon enough.”

  Taking the bowl out of my field of vision, I felt Preston behind me.

  “I would suggest you refrain from clenching down, I hear it makes it much, much worse.”

  Tensing, involuntarily, something cool pushed past my folds, burrowing deep inside of my abused cunt. It was small and felt like one of the fingers from the bowl.

  This was my punishment? A piece of root inside of me? Something told me, there would be more. I didn’t know how right I would be.

  I felt as Preston took another piece and slid it between my cheeks before pushing it into my asshole. Another finger, another piece of confusion.

  “We’ll start with two and see how you do. It’s a pity they don’t last longer.”

  What was he talking about? What didn’t last longer?

  It started slow, just a slight increase in temperature, radiating from the foreign objects buried inside of me, but quickly, I saw Preston’s end game. Within a few more moments, I felt as if there were two pieces of hot molten lava stuck inside of my holes, burning its way through my flesh, and eating me from the inside out.

  “This is called figging, and it’s a particular favorite of mine. The ginger releases juices that, from what I’ve heard, are quite unpleasant when sho
ved in your pussy and your ass. It seems as if this might affect you just a little more because of our shower escapades, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Right now, I would agree to anything the man asked me, as long as it involved taking out the evil plants in both of my holes.

  “Remember what I said, no clenching.”

  As soon as he reminded me, my body involuntarily did the opposite, making me wish I had listened. As soon as my muscles clamped down, the pain became tenfold making me scream. Excruciating couldn’t even come close to describing what was happening to me, as my mind tried desperately to shut down and block out everything around me. Never again would I not count. Never again would I disobey.

  “Yes, yes, scream! Scream louder.”

  As if trying to make me propel louder, he came around to the front and showed me the piece of bamboo before he wielded it against my ass. Clenching again, started a vicious new cycle of searing heat, but as he mentioned, it didn’t last long, and suddenly the pain from the ginger was gone, replaced only with the sting coursing across my ass.

  “Two down, slut. Ten more to go.”

  “Fuck.”

  Preston got his wish that night. I begged, pleaded and bargained with him to put me out of my misery, and finally kill me. He laughed, hitting me harder, shoving the new pieces farther in. Half way through the ginger, a numbness fell over me, and I no longer made a sound as he continued beating me with a stick, and the ginger flamed away at my insides. I was giving up, and he knew it, I just wish he would have let me.

  “It’s not over yet, slut. We’re just starting to have some fun,” Preston laughed, throwing the bamboo stick aside and leaving my body to fetch a new horror.

  Once he was back in my sights, a fresh piece of rope wrapped around his hand, the current set of ginger was just starting to wear off, and my insides were starting to cool.

  Lifting my head off the mattress, he put my hair up into a high ponytail before wrapping the rope around it and standing on the bed to fasten it to the ceiling, as tight as he could. By the angle of my head, I knew what was coming. Next, I just didn’t care. He could fuck my mouth and my throat from here to eternity, and I didn’t think I’d ever care again.