My name is Raelynn Price. I’m 22 years old. My breasts are generous in size, my hair long and scarlet, and my skin pale…just like my Irish ancestors. Maybe that’s why they often call me ‘the Irish bitch’.
My entire world is a wooden cell. It’s about 16 feet long and 5 feet wide. The ceiling is too low for me to even stand up in. How long I’ve been here since my kidnapping, I wish I could say. I remember my graduation ceremony, and then going to a party. I remember downing a drink from a solo cup, not knowing what was in it, not even caring as dozens of other students from my class celebrated alongside me. That night we were all ready to throw our inhibitions to the wind. After the party, that’s where my memory turns into one big blur.
And then I woke up here, in this wooden cell, naked and alone.
They’ve kept me naked and trapped here ever since. There are two small compartments that open and shut only when my captors wish it. Through one they give me trays of food and toiletries. Through the other they take the trays of trash I return to them. There is a crude toilet in the floor, a ceramic bowl which flushes automatically. There’s a cramped shower in one corner with a lowered, separate patch of flooring – just porcelain tiles and a grate-covered drain. Lastly there’s my ‘bed’ if that’s even the right word for it. It’s a mattress, nothing more. No blankets, just a thin sheet which they let me hand through the compartment once a day, returning me a fresh one.
This is it. This is my world.
I imagine Mom and Dad and Nancy are all worried sick or heartbroken. I wonder if the police are still looking for me. How many weeks or months has it been? I don’t know. I just don’t know, and that eats away at me.
Without sunlight there is only one thing that anchors me to any sort of routine. There is one thing that I do know to expect. This ‘morning’ it begins like any other. I wake up to hear a pounding on the other side of the wall.
“Wake up, bitch. You’ve got a customer.”
Near one side of my prison there is a round hole. Ever since my captivity began, my captors have made one thing clear. I will not continue to receive food unless I keep providing my ‘services,’ and my services involve one primary purpose.
Sucking and fucking cock.
Whenever a cock appears, thrust through that hole, it is understood that I must lick it. I must suck it. I must take it into my mouth and pleasure it. That is the rule that matters more than any other.
Now, on this ‘morning,’ I crawl toward the hole. I see the cock sticking through it. The man’s cock is long, hard, and throbbing with a latticework of veins. After sucking as many cocks as I have, I have started to see each cock almost individually. I’ve started to detect the slightest differences from one cock to the next.
“Start sucking me, whore. What’re you waiting for?” I know everything I do is being recorded, so I know that the men I pleasure can see me despite the wall between us. I look calmly at this man’s penis, with its elongated excitement. I see the slight change of coloration near the tip of his cock. This is a new cock which I have never pleasured before. I take it into my mouth, slurping on it with deep, deep pulls. My tongue cradles the underside, caressing as I pump back and forth, back and forth. My hand reaches between my legs, playing with my clit. The other hand I use to fondle my own breasts. The customers seem to like that.
I can hear catcalls and jeers from the other side of the wall. The man, whoever he is, has many friends with him. I can hear their vile talk through the sound system wired into the walls.
“That redhead slut likes your cock. Look at her feel up her big tits while she sucks you, man.”
“When do I get my turn?” another eager voice interrupts.
“Shut up. Let Chalmers have his fun. He’s the man of honor tonight.” Chalmers. Finally a name. Usually I don’t get a name. My three main captors, whoever they are, have never told me theirs. I know them only by their voices.
As I’m sucking Chalmers now, I slurp loudly. I impale my mouth, my lips pressed in a tightened seal around his shaft, until his entire cock is enclosed. I suck him harder than ever, nearly gagging. I hear him groaning on the other side. My fingers pick up the pace as I finger my own clitoris for my anonymous audience’s sadistic viewing pleasure. I hear more whistles, more catcalls. I know that the men, whoever the bastards may be, are certainly appreciating the ‘show.’
The oddest part of all this is the arousal starting to churn in my veins. The lust that starts to warm my pussy as I suck, feeling slickness along my fingertips. It’s hard to explain, except to say this: When you’ve been isolated for as long as I have, when you just crave human contact, any contact, then it makes a girl do strange things. I pretend that this Chalmers is someone who cares about me, and that I care about him. I pretend he’s my boyfriend. I suck his cock lovingly. I move back and forth along his rigid manhood, slurping and sucking fervently because it is the only human contact I have…
Because, crazy as it sounds, after all this time, even the sadistic jeers and catcalls I get from giving the men this ‘show’ is the only human feedback I get. This cock-sucking is literally the only way I can affect the ‘world’ around me, this reduced miniaturized world which is now my prison.
“Uhhh!! You’re doing very good, red-haired cunt. Now turn around and show me that wet pussy.”
I pull up off of his cock. His dick-slime dribbles down my bottom lip. Gooey strands of his pre-cum ooze down my chin. I lick my chops and turn around. They must have a large screen to view my nakedness on, because I hear appreciative whistles now. My gaping slit is wide open to my ‘customer’ and his posse. I slowly back up until the tip of Chalmers’ cock is barely pressed to my sex.
“Ahh. This bitch is such a tease. Get my cock inside you. Impale that pussy!” Chalmers growls. I obey instantly. I gasp at the feeling of his cock – well-lubricated thanks to my enthusiastic sucking – when it embeds itself deep in my snatch. I begin moving. I shove my hips backward, groaning as I hear his grunts of approval.
“Such a tight little pussy. Keep fucking me, bitch. Just like that. You want to earn your dinner, right? You earn it, then. Fuck me with that tight little pussy, redhead. You’ll get quite a reward.”
I already know what ‘reward’ the bastard is talking about. From his frantic grunts, I can tell it will come sooner than he wants it to. I keep slamming my cunt backward, engulfing his penis. It feels slicker and slicker, covered with his juices and my own. I reach one hand between my legs, stroking my clit as I ram my pussy back to fuck myself on his cock. I do all the work while he just stands there, moaning with the build-up of pleasure.
Then I feel it, his cock seizing up inside me.
“Aaahhh. Now college cunt gets her reward! Squeeze that fuck-hole around my dick now and hold still!” I ram myself backward as far as I can, enclosing his shaft in my warm depths. I am wet now from all the stimulation. A part of me groans in frustration that I can’t come, and here he is getting off. He is groaning, spewing thick ropes of cum deep in my pussy, so deep I can feel his warmth like a scalding brand on my insides.
“The little cunt drained my balls dry,” Chalmers huffs. His softening cock pulls back, leaving my pussy to feel empty and barren. Except it isn’t. I feel his seed oozing from my love-hole, collecting in a puddle on the floor. I turn back just in time to see another cock poking through the hole.
“Dmitri’s turn. Let the Russian do his thing.” I think the voice is Chalmers’, but I can’t be sure. Gripping near the base of his shaft with one hand, I stare at it. It’s thicker than Chalmers’, a little shorter, and the veins are much bigger as they throb. It’s an impressive cock, no doubt about it. I take in my mouth, sucking on the tip with a zeal which the most shameless whore would have been proud of. As I suck deeply, feeling the tang of his pre-cum on my tongue, I reach down once more.
My fingers rub my pussy, my clit, in a frenzy as lust coils through my body. Please! I’m so close. I just want to come. Even worse, I want these men to SEE me come. I want to hear their reactions. That’s how far I’ve fallen now. Just a simple human reaction, even from these monsters, is at least something to break up the hum-drum nothingness of my sexually enslaved existence.
I imagine what the men are seeing now – a beautiful, slender girl kneeling naked, long scarlet hair flowing down her back, sucking enthusiastically – SLORP! SLURP! – making those sounds with my lips sealed tightly around this new cock. I try to forget about my past life in moments like this. I try to forget about anything that might pull me out of this brief respite from reality. For these seconds, submerged in my libido, I can just focus on pleasure. My fingers are flying along my clit now. I’m fucking myself with those fingers too, thrusting them inside myself like miniature cocks. I feel the beginnings of the wave cresting over me.
“That little whore’s about to get off, I think.”
“Dmitri’s not far from it either, are you Champ?”
“Uhh!!” I hear Dmitri’s coarse, gravelly voice. “Your mouth is sweet, little slut. Suck me harder. Suck me until I come deep in your whore’s mouth. Ahh. Such a good girl. Mmm…”
He called me a good girl. It’s insane how much that compliment means to me. My lust soars as I caress my clitoris. The sounds of wetness in my pussy create a squelchy sound of suction as I fuck myself with my fingers until…until…oh god. Oh FUCK. It hits me with unexpected force. I knew it was coming, but somehow I still wasn’t ready for it. I moan around Dmitri’s cock as the orgasm tears me to shreds, unleashing convulsions of pleasure as my cunt tries to squeeze frantically around a cock that isn’t there.
“UGGHHH!!!!” I keep sucking Dmitri’s cock, slurping my way through the orgasm.
“The bitch came. That little fuck-toy actually gushed all over the floor. Look at her!” I hear one man shout. The other men are now making all kinds of raucous comments, debasing me with every word.
“The little slut deserves to be a sex-toy for the rest of her life.”
“When it’s my turn with her, I want to fuck her in the ass.”
That thought makes me cringe, even as I cradle Dmitri’s shaft with my tongue, moaning loudly as I slurp with eager obedience.
“Ahhhh!!” Dmitri growls. “Take it in your mouth, whore, but don’t swallow! Don’t you dare!” I feel a splash of warm, sticky liquid in my mouth. His manhood twitches in my mouth, depositing more surges of sperm. Slowly I draw back, sitting back on my haunches. I open my mouth, revealing a mouthful of cum. My entire tongue and mouth glistens with a milky-white sheen.
“Now spit that cum on your pussy, bitch. Rub it between your cunt lips. Let’s see you rub that nasty cum into your sexy little hole.” In the past, I’ve disobeyed when a ‘customer’ has given me such degrading orders. The result is always the same; days without food. I don’t want that. I want to survive. I want to avoid pain. I’m just a girl, but I’m also human. So I do what Dmitri tells me.
I spit the globules of his cum onto my hand. I reach down, rubbing it into my sex. The jeers and catcalls get louder and louder until they’re like deafening applause.
“That bitch has one creamy pussy,” one man laughs.
“I think she needs some cream in her tight little ass too.”
“Yeah, someone needs to fuck that sexy butthole,” another man chimes in.
Now is the worst part. Now is the part I dread most. Sucking cocks is one thing. Even letting these men fuck me is bearable. But anal sex…it’s never been something I’ve enjoyed. My first boyfriend in college often wanted it, but I never could get over the pain. Now, thinking about it, I shudder.
I shudder as a new cock pokes through the hole. It’s long and dark as ebony.
“Lube it up, young slut. It’s going in your ass.” With a tear sliding down my cheek, I grip the base of his prodigious shaft.
“Yes, Sir,” I say, smothering the bulbous head of his cock in my mouth. Sucking and pumping his dick with my hand, I just pray that he will let me ass-fuck him gently. I pray that these sadistic men will exhaust their supply of cruelty and cum before my own stamina is no more.
~~~~~~~
My captivity continues like that for longer than I would care to admit, until one day… One day it all changes. One night, as I am getting ready to go to sleep in my coffin-like cell, I hear a voice through the speaker.
“You have a customer, bitch. Get ready.”
It is one of the enforcers who works here, one of dozens. I recognize the voice, though I have no name to pair with it. I call him ‘Scratchy’ because of his tone. Whenever I imagine him, I think of someone ugly, with a warped body to match his equally warped voice.
Now I kneel down as a man’s cock thrusts itself through one of the many holes to my prison. It is a long cock, at least 10.5 inches, and thicker than most. I slowly wrap my hand around the knob of flesh, pumping it a little as I lick the tip. It surprises me, his silence. Normally my tormentors are vocal. They can see me via the video feed, of course, but that is never enough. They always want to command me. Control me. Feel that rush of power, I guess.
But this man, he is deathly quiet. He says nothing as I began sucking on his cock. Even as I slide my tongue to cradle his underside, smothering him with my mouth, he says not a word. Not even a groan escapes his lips as I pump my mouth up and down his elongated shaft, letting my nose press against the wall as I take him as deep as I possibly can.
“UGGHH!!” I gurgle with his shaft halfway down my throat.
I can sense that I am pleasing him. His excitement is self-evident, his cock growing stiffer with each of my thudding heartbeats. His body silently screams its need for me as I suck him between my lips, finally pulling back as I hear the faintest groan coming from the other side of the wall. A lazy strand of pre-cum connects from the tip of his penis to my lips. I lick my chops.
“What is your name?”
My name?
I gape for a moment. None of the other ‘customers’ or ‘clients’ have ever asked me that before. It doesn’t matter to them. I am merely a collection of holes to fuck…mouth, pussy, or ass…not a person. The way this man speaks to me now, though, I can tell he expects an answer. I can tell he views me as a thinking, self-aware being.
But I’m afraid too. Is it a trap? Dare I tell him my name? I know the men who work here have given me a number. I try giving him that instead.
“I’m Slave 13.”
Without waiting for an answer, I re-smother his shaft, sucking hard around his cock. I begin to moan, rubbing my own breasts as my jaw ripples with the effort of giving him pleasure. He groans louder now, until I draw off of him with a loud pop, his pre-cum dripping down my chin. I gather some of it up and, for some reason, I don’t know why, I spread it along my breasts, as if to let him claim me as his.
I reach forward, but the cock vanishes altogether.
“Before we go any further, give me your name,” he insists.
“But Sir, I already told you. I am Slave 13.”
There is an exasperated sigh from the other side of the wall.
“Your real name. Your full name.”
I freeze with indecision. Should I tell him? So many of these men are cruel and violent. If they know my name, that means they can track down my family, and I don’t want that. So I give him only some of what he wants. It’s silly probably. Whoever runs this dungeon hellhole probably can give him all the information he wants anyway. But I take what little power I have in my life, and I exercise it.
“I’m Raelynn.”
“Raelynn…?”
I don’t answer, and after a while he seems to accept my stubborn refusal to fully accede to his demand. He inserts his cock through the hole once more. I take it, sliding my tongue along each side, before sucking just the tip, then flicking my tongue at its bulbous head.
I slide my fisted hand up and down his now slick cock. He is nearly there, I can feel it. I pump harder, listening to his increasingly ragged breaths now. The intimacy of hearing those needy intakes of air gives me a strange thrill. I imagine the look on his face. His eyes, heavy-lidded, while his entire consciousness focuses on one thing – my hand pleasuring his hard cock.
Then it happens. He groans, a plaintive cry, a primal outburst, his cock spewing in my face, and all over my breasts. There is so much cum. It shoots in thick ropes to cover me, lashing my nakedness with its sticky heat. His jism coats my forehead, nose, and lips, dripping down my chin, even peppering my tits. I groan. I lean forward, sucking his still semi-hard dick, enjoying the surprising sweet-salty tang of his seed.
“Raelynn…thank you.”
Those two last simple words, he says them like he really means them. His sincerity catches me completely off guard. Then his cock has vanished once more. Soon, all I can hear are his parting words, lingering. Giving me hope.
“I’ll be back. When I do come back, I’ll set you free, Raelynn. I give you my word.”
~~~~~~~