Chapter 30
Roni
When I was first dragged into this dank dungeon, a group of grimy men dragged me, kicking and screaming, into a nearby stall.
Like the kind made for a horse. Four sets of grubby hands held my wrists and ankles, while another ripped my clothes off my body.
They tossed them, along with my shoes, bra and panties, into a pile in the center of the squared floor.
Then they added my purse and phone. I didn’t understand why at first. But then another man I hadn’t seen at first, poured a cup of some chemical on my things, and torched them.
Someone forced a rubber gag into my mouth while I watched the only traces of me burn. I can’t really explain why I started crying right then. It was just stuff. And the horrible shit hadn’t even started.
When the flames subsided, they made me watch while they pulled what looked like a thick balance beam, like the ones you see in the Olympics, into the center of the stall. Only at the far end there was bar attached with a wooden box which had a circular cut out on the side facing me.
The tacky-skinned men hoisted me from the ground and positioned me over the beam, face down.
They lowered me until it was perfectly wedged between my breasts.
I couldn’t see them, but the men at my feet pulled my legs toward the ground briefly, and then pressed my ankles together, forcing my whole body to hug awkwardly smooth wood. And that’s when I freaked the fuck out.
I thrashed and screamed into the gag as my hands were quickly bound with hefty rope beneath me, and then wrapped over my back and re-tied beneath me.
I tried to kick and flail, but my legs wouldn’t budge.
They too had been roped together. I pushed harder to cry out, bringing everything I had from deep in my chest, but all that came out was muffled bubbles of snot and saliva.
It was useless. I was a pig on a spit waiting to be roasted.
That’s when they stuffed my head into the box with the hole and I knew things were far worse than even I had feared.
I don’t know what the men tied around my neck, but it stole the only flecks of light I could see.
The inside of my skull’s new cage was dark, damp and disgusting.
It smelled of puke and desperation, and I knew I wasn’t its first inhabitant.
SMACK!
Something lashed across my back, and I felt myself shout in agony.
Only my sounds were muffled, and my spit dripped down my chin and pooled on the wood beneath my face.
The pressure of the beam pressing into my chest and between my legs slowly pushed through my body and into my back, making it hard to resist.
“Shut the fuck up!” a man’s voice howled.
SMACK! SMACK!
Searing misery flared across my skin, and again my body crunched around the post I unwillingly embraced.
“The more you fight, the more it’ll hurt, whore.”
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
I could feel the rivers flowing from my eyes.
I don’t know how long they whipped and mocked me. Time was irrelevant. I lost the energy to react. If not for my tethers, I’d have been a sack of meat on the floor.
“She’s all set to get fucked” one of them hollered. Then things went silent for a while, and I think I nodded off from the physical exhaustion. Until whatever they were preparing was ready.
“Don’t use that one. It’s too small,” one of them complained, though I didn’t know what about.
“Okay, okay,” someone answered, and then there were unrecognizable sounds. Clicking and clasping, and maybe the grinding of wheels on the dirty ground. But that wasn’t concerning to me.
It was the sudden force between my thighs which made my eyes shoot wide in distress. They were shoving something girthy between my legs, right against my vagina. Well, I wish it was only against it. Whatever the object was, it was soft yet rigid, and they struggled to fit it between my lips.
The friction was dry and hot, and I really fucking hated it.
I didn’t want to be raped. But if they insisted on going through with whatever this was, the least they could have done was squirted some lube on the fucking thing.
But no. They rammed some phallus inside me, then stepped away.
Having my ankles tied beneath the beam didn’t help with the access, but this thing was no doubt big.
Again, I tried to scream for them to stop, and again I choked on the gag in my mouth. Bile rose in my esophagus as I cried, thinking of my mom. Of anything other than the hell I was about to endure.
Their makeshift dick pushed deeper, then slowly withdrew.
Not entirely, but enough I could take a breath before it plunged, still dry and coarse, into me.
It repeated its motion, and through the gurgling and bawling I heard a mechanical noise, like a robotic pump, firing in unison with the thing fucking me raw.
I tried to choke down the vomit that tried to spray from my throat, but it was impossible without the full use of my jaw to close my mouth.
I was getting fucked, slow and steady by a machine, while acidic goop and chunks sprayed out around the rubber ball, where it splattered against the insides of the box my head was in. Some of it ricocheted and got in my eyes and hair.
My skin burned with the lack of lubrication at first. Every entry and withdrawal chafed my insides raw.
But as the machine continued its unrelenting violation, my body reacted and became aroused.
My fear was accompanied by the shame I found to keep it company as I uncontrollably came on the robot cock.
“More,” a man’s voice commanded as my orgasm subsided.
“Up to twenty-five percent,” someone replied, and the thing began thrusting harder and faster into me.
There was nothing I could do but lay there and take it. Over and over. Until I came again and again, with them ratcheting up the power after each climax.
I don’t remember anything after sixty percent.
This was my punishment. My training. Day after day.
Until I learned to do as they said. To shut my mouth.
Unless told to fill it with a cock. Without question.
And they tested me. Repeatedly. Every employee there filled my holes while I silently took it.
And if I made so much as a peep in protest, we started back at the beginning.
Eventually, a different man, a well-dressed man in white mask, decided I was “ready to join the auction.”
Tonight will be my second go. My next chance to get away.
They don't tell you much before they let you make a run for it.
We have to figure it out for ourselves, but we don't spend time with the other girls together.
We're all kept independent, separated, in darkness.
We can't even talk when we’re put into our stalls.
Just strapped to the beam and stuffed into the void.
But, I can't think about that now. Just like I can't think about all the mistakes I made last time.
I can't think about how, when the cage door opened, I took off with no sense of direction.
I'm not the greatest runner. I never have been.
My hunter was very quick. Clearly, I picked wrong because he was on me in no time.
The man in the white mask. The one who auctioned me off.
He outbid everyone, as if he was trying to prove something to his clientele.
He let me run all the way to a stream where a big log adorned in moss made it hard to go any further.
I tried to plead, but he slung a noose around my throat and whipped me to the ground.
Before I could even get the fight in me, he was cutting off my air supply while dragging me between a set of trees.
My skin was scraped and cut up by bits of rock, dirt, pine needles, sticks, you name it.
All superficial. All easy to heal. But no less painful.
I dipped in and out of consciousness as I struggled to gasp on flashes of air.
The run had taken so much out of me, and now he withheld the oxygen I needed to fight.
I don't know exactly how far he took me, but once I lost all ability to contest him, he wrapped duct tape around my head and over my eyes so I couldn’t see him, before finally removing his mask.
Then he tied me to a fat trunk, pulling my arms back behind me.
A rope was tied to one, wrapped around the tree, and then tied to the other.
He kept the noose around my neck, too. Hurled it up and over a branch and tugged it taut.
Not so tight it choked me out, but enough that any resistance I gave only made it harder to breathe.
He let my legs stay free, able to control them mostly.
Time stood still as he took from me until I was nothing but a heap of strangled cries wrapped in skin.
Bound and determined to leave no hole unexplored.
The hunter wasn’t particularly violent about it. Not like some of the workers who beat any sense of hope out of me when I first got here. The hunter didn't punch or kick me. He didn't spit in my mouth—or even on me. That's one of the favorites of the staff here.
I can still feel how he lifted my legs off the ground, keeping my hips dangling there as I remained tied to the tree.
Then he tore into me. Violating me. Ripping tears from my grief-swollen eyes with every horrific thrust. When he was bored with that hole, he withdrew and hurriedly, without any preparation or lube, dry-fucked my ass.
That hurt the worst. The pain has since healed, but the shame resonates like a mortifying echo.
I was already a vacant shell when he tore himself from my bleeding anus.
He lowered me down until I was on my knees with my arms still behind my back, before tightening the noose again.
He forced himself into my mouth when he came, firing weakly across my tongue before withdrawing and slapping his dripping dick across my face.
It'll be the last time it ever happens to me.
Because I'm going to get away. And it all starts with a pair of shoes.
You see, the girl being auctioned off is allowed to request one item for their attempted escape through the woods.
I don't remember how, exactly, I figured this out.
But most of the girls, when they run, are either in pants or have a flashlight. Both are a waste of time.
We’re completely naked, head to toe in the buff.
When the gate opens and we go running, it's a wilderness of rough terrain beneath our feet.
Most girls don't make it more than a few hundred feet before they cut their soles, and then they're fucked.
What's worse is when they get caught, they'll get beaten and raped and who knows what else.
And they'll come back with dirt and debris inside the open wounds under their feet.
I should know. It was the same when I got dragged.
But not tonight. This is the one when I finally make it.
The one when I finally escape my captivity.
Because I chose a pair of running shoes.
I don't know who's going to bid on me. I don't know how much.
I don't know how big they will be. I don't know what they'll be wearing.
I don't know what kind of equipment they will bring.
I don't know which way I'll go. The one thing I do know is I will not be stopping.