Chapter 7

Jane Doe

Pain coursesthrough my body as I open my eyes. It’s much more muted than before but still causes surges of agony every time I move even a muscle. Looking about the space, I see that the entire room is dark. I can’t even make out furniture or windows - nothing. Swallowing, I ease myself up, ignoring my muscles protesting and screaming.

Something wet and sticky in between my thighs captures my attention, and my blood runs ice cold. Somehow, I convinced myself that I’ve escaped, that I was free. But that’s not the case. Far from it. Not only have I been raped again, but I’ve also been left to stew about it without the relief of my drugs.

I force myself onto my feet, and my body wobbles as I ease myself around. The space is big, much larger than any holding cell I’ve been put into. It’s evident in the way the cool air eddies around my feet, in how my breath doesn’t come back to me. I reach out my hands and nothing. The bed is at my thighs, a queen at least from how I could sprawl, but nothing out in front.

A whimper rips from my throat as I try to make sense of my new prison. Warm hands engulf my own, sending my body into a flurry of movement. Why didn’t they kill me? Why am I still here? Frustrated tears stream from my eyes as I let out an outburst of curse words that would make my mother drag me to the sink to wash out my mouth. Would my new owner do the same? Would he even care?

“You listen to me, young lady.”

It’s that voice! It’s him!My body and mind are torn in two. I want to throw myself at him and beg him to keep me safe, but my brain knows better than to let him see me that vulnerable.

“You will control that language while you’re in my household. I will not allow such vulgar profanities to spill from your lips in my presence.”

At that moment, he reminds me of my dad. Anguish drives deep into my heart, sending me to my knees. I hated the bastard. He and Mom weren’t good parents at all, but now, in my weakness, I miss them both terribly. They were a known factor, something I could control.

“Let me guess,” I hiccup, not at all caring how pitiful I sound. “You’ll wash my mouth out with soap?”

Though I can’t see it, I can almost feel the smirk crossing over his lips, and God help me if I didn’t feel a flutter of arousal in that silence. I thought that part of me was long gone, driven out of me with each cock that invaded my body, but there it is, quiet, almost non-existent, but fluttering nonetheless.

His voice takes on a growled edge as he pulls me into his chest. The soft scrape of his stubble against my cheek sends the flutter into something a touch more, and I’m reminded of the wetness I felt on my inner thighs. The burgeoning feelings of arousal are dashed as I realize he’d already had his fun. No use romanticizing him or his hypnotic voice. Just because it didn’t hurt didn’t mean he wasn’t scum like all the rest of my rapists.

Eventually, I felt things for them too. The ones that didn’t hurt when they pounded into me got soft smiles and affected sighs. I let them believe they were turning me on, rewarding them for their restraint. No more. I’m sick of pretending. I want and deserve what’s real.

“If I’m washing your mouth out, it will be my cum and not a bar of soap. Mine at least is organic.”

I bristle against the joke, forcing my brain to not find anything amusing about the situation. “So I guess that’s organic lube dripping out of my vagina then?”

He pauses for a moment, and fear seizes me. Did I cross a line? Is he going to hurt me now?

“What are you talking about?”

As if he doesn’t know.

“Isn’t that your cum dripping out of me right now?”

He pulls away, and I’m again confronted by the big, empty nothing. I don’t know how he’s getting around because I still can’t see. I strain into the darkness, trying to make sense of this space, but nothing, not even shapes, can tell me anything. I don’t even hear his breathing anymore. How far away is he?

I gather my arms about my waist, making myself small, unobtrusive, invisible. Out of nowhere, the light floods the room, nearly blinding me. I throw my arm up to block it out while photo flashes still dance about in my brain. In small increments, I bring my arm down and crack open my eyes, steeling myself against the bright glare.

“Does the light bother you?”

“Why do you care?”

If I’ve pissed him off already, why stop now? Whatever he does will hurt; I might as well lash out while I have the ability. Again, he doesn’t answer. Instead, he walks over to a panel on the wall to fiddle with some switches. I take that moment to truly look at my space and commit it to memory.

The room is enormous, dwarfing my usual quarters by a lot. It’s for sure double my room back home, and that one wasn’t small either. A smile tugs at my lips as a long-buried memory of my sister begging me for my room when I got big and left flies to the surface. She so wanted to be like me. She copied everything about me. As a teenager, it was annoying as fuck; as an adult, it would be nice to have her by my side again. I can’t even imagine how long it’s been since I’ve seen her.

Pulling back closer to the bed, I eye the empty space with just a smattering of furniture. Too big. Too wide. There are so many places hands could grab me in here. For once, I long for my small space where I could wedge myself into a corner and feel protected. Here, there’s nothing to save me.

The bright lights disappear, and in their place, sconces light up from around the room, bathing the space in a soft glow. Though easier on my eyes, it doesn’t help the terror freezing my lungs. Instead of just a large space, shadows spring up, dancing in the light that wavers just like real flames, but is fake like my entire existence.

“I did not touch you in any way.”

I shake my head and climb back onto the bed, anything to be away from him and his alluring lies. “I feel it. You can’t tell me I don’t feel it.”

He saunters towards me as if he has all the time in the world to destroy me. Each step thunders in my brain - a warning, shouting at me to move, but I can’t. I’m frozen in fear in a half-crouch, just waiting for him to do his worst.

“Give me your hand Jane.”

My face screws up as his words fly through. They’re English, and yet, I can’t seem to understand them. “Who the fuck is Jane? And no, I’m not giving you my hand, you creep. You’ll have to make me.” Even as the words leave my mouth, I know I said the wrong thing. How stupid am I to poke the bear like this? Did I learn nothing from my captivity? “Please -.”

He doesn’t even let me finish. Within seconds, I find myself flying through the air until I land squarely on his thighs. They are solid beneath me, infusing warmth into my chilled body. He threatened to come in my mouth if I said bad words again, but this doesn’t feel at all like a position that’s conducive for it.

Before I can think through my situation, the pants are ripped down from my hips, exposing my ass and underwear to this stranger. No, not a stranger, Andrew. The name trips over my brain as his hands glide over my cheeks. Squeezing my eyes shut, I wait for his fingers to shove up into me, but it never happens.

Instead, a tremendous smack cracks against my ass cheek, the sound filling my brain before the pain takes root in my body. When the pain hits, it’s like a freight train plowing through me. If given a chance, I would pick forced oral over this. Even when Dad used his belt, it felt nothing like this. Every joint screams in protest as he smacks the other cheek with the same intensity.

“I believe I told you to watch your language.”

“You told me you’d use your cock in my mouth, not spank me,” I wheeze out, still stunned that I’m fighting with this man when he’s causing me so much agony.

“You’re in a delicate state right now. I would be taking full advantage of you if I invaded you in any way. And that includes your mouth.” His sentence is finished with another smack to each cheek. I howl and buck against him, but that only adds to the pain. Nothing feels right. Everything hurts - from my toes to my scalp. “I know you’re scared, but you will quickly learn that I will not hesitate to punish you when you defy me. My job is to get you better, and I can’t do that if you fight me at every turn.”

“Andrew, please.” I don’t know why I used his name. Now that it’s uttered aloud, I can’t take it back. It hangs in the air between us, enough that he even pauses his spanking.

“You will refer to me as either Sir, Doctor, or Doctor Rayne. You will never use my given name. Are we clear?”

The fluttering starts up again, even amidst the pain racking my body. “Yes, Doctor. Please. Please, I can’t take anymore.”

He stops. He actually stops. I can’t help but wonder as he tips me back up and sets me on the bed. My ass is swollen and hot, but it doesn’t hurt any more or less than the rest of my body. The only thing I can tell is that a weird, warm sensation washes over my body every time I shift about.

“I’m going easy on you today since the pain from your withdrawal is amplifying anything I do. Do not think you got off easy. I am keeping your needs in my best interest, even if you can’t.”

Shame floods my cheeks as I lower my head. “Yes, Doctor.”

“Now then, I know your name probably isn’t Jane, but Jane Doe seems pretty fitting. What is your name?”

“Chastity. Chastity Davenport.”

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Tags: Vivian Murdoch Loftry University Playthings Erotic
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