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you don't remember when you fell asleep.
you don't remember much of anything as you come to, groggily noting an unusual hum in the room and a faint ringing in your ears. with great effort, you crack your eyes open. your vision is blurry at first, the lighting of the room is low, soft and warm, the dying rays of a midsummer sunset. you groan softly as you feel a throbbing behind your eyes. your head is killing you. you close your eyes again and begin to stretch.
your drowsiness sharply turns into fear as you find you cannot move your limbs, a dull ache already manifesting in your shoulders and legs. adrenaline rushes through you as you open your eyes and reflexively try to yelp, only to find yourself gagged. now that your vision is growing clear, your heart nearly stops as you meet the hungry gazes of your tormentors circling the bed like sharks.
your body stiffens as you recognize the feeling of a vibrator buzzing incessantly against your sex. instinctively you buck away from the toy, but it's no use - the device stays secured to you no matter how you squirm. your futile efforts do nothing but elicit coos and taunts from the pack of wolves pacing the perimeter of the bed, their eyes now fixated on how your plump body writhes and jiggles.
tears prick the corners of your eyes as your stomach lurches in horror. there is absolutely nothing you can do. you're completely on display, naked save for the red ropes constricting your form. you’re propped upright, arms bound tightly behind your back and legs tied apart in a forced kneeling position, granting your captors full view of your soft tits and belly, thick thighs spread apart to reveal your swollen cunt.
you feel like a cornered animal, your heart racing as you brace yourself for the inevitable. despite your vulnerable position, no one has yet to reach out and touch your shaking form. the anticipation threatens to overwhelm your panicked brain, self preservation overriding any dignity you may have clung to. a plea for mercy is stifled by the cloth gag as your tears spill over and run down your reddened face.
"aw, baby, don't cry," one of the devils purrs condescendingly. "doesn't it feel good?"
you begin to sob harder in response, ducking your head down in shame. it did feel good, and you hate every nerve in your body for betraying you. the shame and guilt collide with the fear and building arousal in your gut. it's making your head spin. the cloth between your teeth is making your jaw ache, the taste of fabric long since drying out your tongue as spit starts to dribble from the corners of your lips. a thick miasma of sex and sweat and hot breath hangs heavy in the room. the air in your lungs feels leaden, smells heady and overripe. it’s too humid in here. the lamplight which once emanated a cozy glow now shrinks the room, lengthening the shadows cast on the faces of the congregation. your hips hurt so fucking bad. you would’ve collapsed into a heap long ago were it not for the restraints rooting you to the bed. the rope is digging too far into your skin. you feel it embedding itself deep into the fat below the dermis, the thought of being frozen in this demeaning condition making you shudder. the lump in your throat grows larger than you thought possible, coughs now accompanying your harsh sobbing. the pacing footsteps seem to fall in time with the pounding in your skull. the flood of cloying remarks surrounding you makes you feel like you're drowning.
"fuck they look so good like this. should've done this sooner."
"god, i can see all the work we've put into them like this. all that pretty flesh..."
"didn't wanna be mean, but you didn't leave much room for choice, did you, sweetheart?"
it’s too much. it’s all too much. you squeeze your watery eyes shut, wishing you could clamp your hands over your ears and curl into a ball. you would give anything for a pit to materialize beneath you, or for a meteorite to strike the bedroom. any reprieve from the onslaught would be welcome. the thought of playing dead breaks through the raging whirlwind of hysteria. none of the gathered have actually moved to touch you yet; maybe you can make it stop before it gets worse, act out some kind of episode, maybe -
you’re torn from your thoughts as the toy’s vibrations suddenly intensify, your eyes shooting back open. you can’t suppress the spasms that follow, but you still try to ignore the building arousal in your gut. you choke on a half-sob, half-moan when you feel yourself ceding ground against it.
“oh, i’m so sorry, was it too boring for you? can’t have you falling asleep, babe,” one of the voices sneers. “i wouldn’t dream of depriving you, greedy little thing.”
“they’re close. look at them tightening up.”
your breathing grows more erratic, the fear and lust growing indiscernible as your heartrate spikes. you don’t want this, you don’t want to give in. but you never had a say in the matter.
your orgasm crashes through you like a tsunami, the convulsions bordering on painful as you thrash in your bonds, your head whipping back. your audience reacts with saccharine elation, a patronizing edge bleeding into the unwelcome praise.
“good job, baby! i knew you’d give us your all.”
“that’s it, put on a show, fuck that’s hot.”
“never seen how hard they pulse when they cum like this. shit, i didn’t know what i was missing out on.”
the sound of zippers coming undone. the flashes of cameras. the hissing of air between clenched teeth. the wet, obscene noises of self indulgence entwining with your own concert of garbled whines, the vibrator’s oscillations persisting underneath the layers of sound.
the stimulation doesn’t cease as you come down from your high, the pleasure morphing into discomfort. it almost feels like you’re being burned, but you’re given no leniency. they wring orgasm after orgasm from your strained body, never once laying a hand or raising their voices. you find yourself wishing they had; at least it would’ve made some kind of sense, it wouldn’t have been so cruel. it would’ve been easier to stare down a barrel of a gun.
finally, after minutes or hours or days - you could hardly tell left from right by now - it ends. the vibrator goes still, the ropes are loosened and eased off of your trembling form as a chaste kiss is placed on your glistening forehead. you’re paralyzed, unable to move from your spot despite the cooling fluids pooling beneath you, freeze response taking over. the footsteps are no longer pacing, now moving about the room purposefully. you distantly hear the sound of running water as the room begins to clear out. soon, you’re only left with one of the assembly. a strong pair of arms lifts you up and brings you to the adjoining bathroom where a bath has already been drawn. you barely register the warm water rushing around you as you’re gingerly lowered into the tub, your gaze fixed on nothing as you lie limply among the suds. the same arms that brought you in begin to wash your body with a near reverent touch, bringing your wrists up to brush their lips on the bruises that begin to bloom.
“you did so well. i’m proud of you,” comes a low voice close to your ear. the words are genuine, any trace of malice long gone. you don’t meet their gaze.
soon after you’re carried out and dried off with the same faithful tenderness, mindful of the marks decorating your skin. you catch a glimpse of your naked form in the large mirror. you don’t recognize the person staring back at you. the face is puffy, the last bit of evidence from your crying marathon. dark bags hang beneath your dull, bloodshot eyes. your body is so soft and weak now, purples and reds dancing across your unfamiliar curves. what did you look like before this? who were you so long ago? how long has it been? how long will it be?
someone has changed the bedding as you bathed and left a light snack with a warm drink and a bottle of painkillers on one of the nightstands. the image of tongues dragging along the spot where your fluids gathered surfaced in your mind, your blank expression breaking into a slight grimace. it probably isn’t too far off from what’s happening beyond the reinforced door of your room.
you feel like a doll as you’re carefully dressed in pajamas, barely noticing the soft kisses planted along your body. you don’t acknowledge their blatant arousal. the offered food is chewed and swallowed mechanically despite the way it resembles styrofoam in your mouth. the pills are obediently swallowed with the drink - you have nothing left in you to fight back. you have nothing left in you at all.
you’re attentively tucked into the bed, your unwelcome companion adjusting the numerous pillows at your head and fussing with the blankets. they soon retreat to the bathroom, leaving you alone with only your aching limbs in the low lamplight. you pretend the faint lascivious noises are coming from somewhere much more distant, that you’re somewhere else. the urge to cry returns for what feels like the thousandth time that day in spite of how far away you feel from everything. you turn to the side, wincing as your muscles protest.
the room is swallowed by darkness after they return and settle themself against you, face buried in your neck and arm draped over your waist. their breathing grows soft and even, feeling like a final “fuck you” as you stare at the near black of your surroundings.
a stray tear or two spills down your face. you’re more exhausted than you can ever remember feeling. you feel empty and heavy all at once.
you don’t remember when you fell asleep.