Fighting Dreams Ch 09

Author's note: Alright people, you know the drill. This is the second to last chapter. Dark gritty NC is my style. If you've made it this far and don't know that, please for the love of god go back and read my earlier chapters before deciding if you can handle this one. I've never guaranteed a happily ever after, and I'm not going to now. I will, however, call you out if you complain to me about the brutality given how much text I've spent warning you about it every single fucking chapter.

Trigger/Kink Warnings: Prostitution, Whipping, Anal, Enemas, Breeding, Bondage, Confinemnet, Drug use, Needle play, Punishment, Sadistic Elements, Implied Character Death

Chapter 9: Trapped in Hell

"Welcome home, kitten," Seth greets with a cold smile. "It's been far too long."

The malevolence that bleeds off him has me backing away. Numb as I am, there's always that instinctual need to run from the lion that's waiting to eat me alive. He doesn't let me move more than one step. No, he catches one of the rings at my collar and holds it tight.

"You're supposed to be afraid, kitten."

"After all, this is a punishment," he muses, dragging me by that ring on my neck up to my feet and over to the bed. "-that's four years overdue."

I'm chained to the corners of the posts on my belly, back legs, and ass exposed to him. I know what's coming and I can't help myself. No matter how strong I want to think I am...no matter how I want to run away into my head, I shake like a leaf before him and the memories that surface as an inescapable nightmare.

I watch him prep the needle from the corner of my eye. He doesn't give me a chance to worry about it before I feel its harsh bite. It makes me scream. The pressure that comes through that puncture leaves me twisting in the cuffs as much as I'm able as the tracker settles into the flesh of my glute. The pulling out of the needle burns.

I'm panting, sweating already and he's barely started.

The fucking he gives me? He must have given me something in that injection. No matter how much I tell myself that I hate him, my body is convinced that it feels good.

I'm slick as I was when- No. Don't think of him. Don't. You'll just make it worse. Because that was all a lie

.

I bite down against the covers. I try to hold back the sounds as his savage thrusts claim my body for his use. I keep telling myself who he is and what he will do to me as each thrust steals my breath. But my body doesn't care. It slickens more anyway.

My hips ache as his thrusting becomes more instant. He leverages his body against my bondage to rut as deep as he can. As his pushes start to draw out pained whimpers, I can feel him getting harder, thicker in me with his impending orgasm.

He's always gotten off on my pain.

I'm on autopilot; the doll has taken over and there's no fight in me. There's barely the will to survive this. I'm his toy to do whatever he wants with and the less trouble I'm in, the less he'll hurt me.

My body's his toy and what I want doesn't matter. So when his pounding takes me to the edge, he snarls and doesn't stop until his throbbing dick is pouring its seed into me with each hard pulse.

He pulls out and wipes his cock along my thighs, walking to the side. "A warm set of holes... that's all you are," he says coldly. "Something to be fucked. Something to let them play with until they're satisfied. And I'm not satisfied."

"Get your ass up," he snaps, and when I scramble to my knees, his fingers grab my hair and pull me so that I'm staring into those pitiless dark eyes. "You were such a bold little bitch in my office, slut, where's all that fire now?"

The push on my head shoves my eyes back to the floor when I have no answer for him.

"You'll be whored out as one of my playthings until you've made my money back. Whatever they want; however they want it," he orders coldly.

"Starting right now. Andres, use whatever holes you want."

His associate fucks my ass impersonally, bent over the ottoman. He's greedy and impatient; his rutting hardly phases me. I'm stuck in the furious gaze of the one who owns me.

This is a reminder that he can give me to anyone, anytime he wants. It feels full and uncomfortable and burns a little bit and leaves me somehow even a little emptier when he shoots his load and is done with me. I'm nothing to anyone here but a body to be used.

But it's not good enough to just... survive it.

I learn that when Seth's hand snaps back across my face and his grip feels like it's going to pull my hair from my scalp. "You're. A. Fucking. Whore. You better be begging them for more like they're the best fuck you ever had. I promise I'll make you wish you were dead if you don't," he snarls.

"Just do it...." I whisper, staring at him. "I'll kill myself for you."

"You don't get the luxury of suicide," he warns as he clips a lead to my neck. "Now open up."

I wish some part of me was strong enough to tell him no. But right now? I'm not. So I open my lips and when that red pill dissolves, I swallow. He makes me show him my tongue to be sure I didn't stash it, then he takes me to another room.

This room has several young women in it, some lounging on couches and beanbags and others locked in cages.

He locks my hands behind my back before he puts me in one of the black barred confinements. The cramped space makes me stay curled up tight; I can barely raise my head to look out.

Nothing ever changes here.... Just like before... so small. So tight... but now there's no hope of escaping him.

The key he gives to a black-haired girl who's in a shiny black latex bodysuit. "She's kept fully restrained and caged between clients. She's your new bottom bitch..." he informs her with a smirk. "Make sure she behaves."

"Of course, Sir," she replies, ever the good little puppet.

But as the warm haze takes me, I can't be mad. I can't be anything but a kitten in her cage hoping that someone will play with me. And when the leash clips to my collar, and that leering gaze fills my eyes, I put my mask firmly in place. I smile like I'm seeing the sun for them; I perform like a wind-up doll with everything that's expected of me.

I'm just too tired to try to fight it anymore.

She takes me to the purple room to use me. And there she sits on the bed with legs wide before she uses the leash to pull me to her cunt. I fuck it with my tongue and suckle her clit steadily, moaning to drive her deeper into her lust.

When she's come to her satisfaction, I'm drawn up over the spanking bench. There, strapped against its surface, she fucks me hard. The strap-on is thicker than I like.

Her hips slap mine with each heavy thrust in and out. There must be a phallus in her too; she pants and groans as she bucks against me faster and faster until she cries out her pleasure.

When she pulls it out of me, my mouth is put to work cleaning the toy.

She leaves me strapped against the bench when she leaves. The black-suited bunny comes in, cleans me off with a washcloth, and then straps me into the cross facing the wall. She's surprisingly strong for her size; I don't think I'd win if I fought her.

So I don't.

The next person to use me is an old man. He's heavyset and smells of acrid smoke when he gropes and fondles my breasts. When he puts the belled clamps on my tender nipples I begin to understand that he's a sadistic type.

He stripes me to tears with an acrylic cane, palming his dick. I beg him piteously in my sobs; he gags me for the audacity of asking for mercy. Then he continues until the bells on my aching nipples chime without interruption from the shaking of my body.

He fucks leisurely, using his rough hands to tense me around his thickness. I hate him even as the pleasure soothes some of the pain. He finds the lines of agony and torments them with pinches to keep me on edge until he fills me with his load.

This time when the black-suited bunny returns, she has the guard with her. She unhooks me and takes me into the side room which is a bathroom. There I'm tossed into the tub, rinsed down, and then forced to bend over.

The jet of water into my pussy makes me startle but there's no avoiding it as she squeezes the full bottle in. There it sits heavy and uncomfortable while the guard's hand keeps me bent and still until she presses on my belly to force it back out.

The process repeats with my ass. By the time it's done, my cheeks are as red as my thighs.

"I'm only going to help you this time. Every time after it's your job. Any time they cum in you, this has to be completed," she says firmly. "And trust me, you don't want Master to do it unless you like feeling like you're burning from the inside out."

Noted

.

When I'm dried off, she takes me back into the purple room and straps me into the center floor chain for the next client.

So it goes over and over until at last a chiming sound rings, and no other strangers come in.

I'm washed out again before bed. My body is scrubbed from head to toe; an enema and douche take care of any lingering evidence of my last client. I don't feel any cleaner than I did before but I must meet inspection because his latex bunny doesn't call for the guard..

I'm exhausted; the ache of my spine and hips makes it painful to crawl or walk as I'm led out of the main room. I just have to get used to it being like this for a while.

She is about to put me back in my cage when another guard collects my leash from her and pulls me down a different hallway. So I guess I won't be resting after all. It doesn't matter. It's already morning based on the light filtering in.

Up an elevator and then I'm in Seth's office.

Crawling beside his chair, I kneel and stare at him as he smokes. My lead is switched to a locking ankle tether; it doesn't matter. I don't dare move away from him. Not when he can do whatever he wants.

"You hate me, bitch," he says, scrolling through statements on his computer. "But you make good money."

He closes the screen and turns his chair to me, tapping the ash off the cigar. "Get up," he orders coldly.

When I'm on my feet, he traces the bite mark on my hip and looks over the few lash marks that have split my skin. The corner of his lip pulls back in disapproval. "Fragile. Just like always," he growls. "But the feeling should remind you to play nice for my guests."

"I don't like the whip, Sir," I murmur in my haze.

"But you'll learn to love it because that's what a whore does," he replies, putting me back down to my knees. "Now open up."

I take the pill he gives me without a word. It's a capsule this time. Everything gets tipsy; I can't seem to keep my eyes focused on him or anything in the room without it sliding away.

"Down, bitch." Seth murmurs, his foot pressing my torso down to the floor and resting on my back. "I'll use you later."

Exhausted and altered, I don't bother to move except to curl my knees up to my chest when I can't stay on my belly comfortably.

I close my eyes to stop the wave of nausea, and when I open them seconds later, the light shines brightly through the windows. There's another set of shoes across from the desk; men's shoes in black leather.

My eyes trace them upward to stare at King, and my stomach is in my mouth.

"...the deposits are on track to allow for a buy-out within a year if projections remain consistent to reality," Seth says as he displays his screen. "Which will turn a nice profit for everyone."

"If you can't maintain them after we provide, then I see no reason to invest further," King answers. "We'll be monitoring the situation. Show me the numbers in a month; if they still agree, then you'll have a deal."

"I'll be sure to send them. But the numbers will hold."

King rests his head in his hand; I can see the lion's gaze weighing the devil. "We'll see."

When King has left, Seth drags me back to the purple room. "How does it feel to know you're a whore?" He questions, snapping my wrist links into the restraints.

The words slip out before I can stop them. "The same as it does to fuck you, Seth."

He makes me scream for that little statement of rebellion with his single-tailed whip. There are lines along my belly, my breasts, my ass, and my thighs that ooze blood. The more I shriek, the harder he gets.

He makes sure my mouth never uses his name again.

Fucking my ass until I sob under him eases the rest of his ire.

The cycle continues for the next week. Up, clean up, pills, whored out to clients, clean up, more pills, and sleep on Seth's office floor or be dragged back into my room to be used by him.

I try to stay in the moment; one second at a time as I work. It saves the crushing emptiness from overwhelming. Numbness is my safe place, where there's no good to be taken away and no bad to be feared.

The pills blessedly make it so I can't remember much, not even the faces of those that I fuck. They heat my body into a slut and drop me into the world of sleep. I wouldn't make it long without them.

There's one day of no clients. That day is spent sleeping, bathing, and trying to shake the headache that the meds have left behind while letting my aching hips rest. It makes it a little better, but it's no less miserable.

By the end of the week, Master has acquired Marissa.

I see her on the floor, but we don't have the time to speak with the clients and our confinement is too far apart. I don't trust his dolls not to report back. A glance is all we can give one another of mutual understanding.

She seems to get assigned to the sadists because she always has fresh marks when she comes back. Over time, her eyes glaze over like the others. She's little more than a shell except when she's performing.

Time slips and slides here.

The days without clients seem to come intermittently. It might have been a month by now. Maybe it's only been a few weeks. I don't know for sure except that I no longer hurt at the end of the day, no matter how many people use me.

M is let out of her cage some days now. She sleeps nestled with Sara and Destiny. They soothe her when she goes unresponsive; they help her fix her hair when her hands shake too much to braid it.

Even Laura eventually softens toward her; I see her hug M close down the hallway before she opens the door to the room where the client is waiting.

For now, my tight box remains and I am grateful for it. In this little space, I'm safe and left alone.

One of my worst days yet comes far too soon. Master orders that I am to entertain Bolton.

Laura straps me into the bondage horse before he arrives. The raised padded edge offers my pussy and ass with ease. My hands are clipped to the rings on either leg. My ankles are locked to the lower rings on either side to keep me spread. A strap is wrapped over my back.

Before she leaves, she anoints my pussy and nipples with deep yellow oil that makes them start to tingle and feeds a ring gag over my tongue. I feel like I'm being redressed to live the nightmare I faced at The House all over again.

"A beautiful breeding bitch all prepared for me," Bolton notes as he enters, tossing his coat on the bed. "Sensitive, dripping already, and utterly exposed. Just the way I like it."

His pants follow his coat seconds later and then he adjusts the bench's height to his liking. There's no waiting this time; he thrusts savagely into my waiting mouth. His cock drags over my tongue again and again, making me taste its acrid, unwashed flavor as it hardens.

When my throat spasms, he simply holds me deep on him. No matter how I fight my bonds there's no winning. Then he pulls out, leaving a string of saliva from my tongue to the head of that throbbing dick as I gasp.

The tingles become a burn. And it seems like the wetness of my pussy is only spreading the damn stuff. I can't help but squirm against the leather; I pant raggedly through the gag.

"Do you like it, Jazz? Ginger oil increases in potency the longer it's on," he notes as he rolls on a condom with a cruel smile. "Which is going to make this all the more fun. You see, I didn't book you just for myself tonight. My bulls were feeling a bit pent up so I invited them along."

Fuck is the only thought that makes it through my brain before he thrusts into me. And while he's thick with his desire, it's the oil slipping inside me with each of his thrusts that's making it hard to hold myself together. It makes me so much more aware of the cock thrusting in and out of my tingling walls. My body grips him like a lifeline. Of how when he jets into me, it does nothing to soothe the burning need he's plagued me with.

And it's then that I feel a much larger set of hands grip my hips. I can't help but scream against the gag as the massive rod of the next man buries itself to the hilt between my thighs. He fucks long deep strokes that are only making the burn worse; my pussy spams around him as it tries to accommodate his massive size. But the squeezing of my body must win him out; when the orgasm slams through me, his hits as well.

It doesn't hit that I didn't have permission for it. I'm too stuck in the burning that's amplified. Not until I feel a hand run over my ass and spank the round flesh as he pulls out. "Naughty bitch..." Bolton chides, taking down a flogger off the wall. "Cunts don't cum without permission."

The slap over the leather tails over my most delicate regions leaves me twisting against the leather holder. I'm jerking in my bonds as he paints it red. He uses his full arm in each stroke until my body is throbbing, burning from the inside and out. But he's not done even as I cry for him.

No, his next bull lines up and bottoms out in my cunt in a single thrust that makes me scream.

The fuckings continue. Every time I fail to keep my orgasm at bay, he gives me ten more strokes right to my pussy, and that only makes it more difficult to hold back as my overstimulated nerves buck any hope of control. After the eighth or ninth one, though, he dismisses the other men from the room.

His last bull, though? Fuck gods. It's like having a baseball bat driven between my thighs with each thrust of the man's rod. I squeal and buck under him. I grind back, trying to ease the burning stretch that's tormenting me as he bottoms out again and again. When his load is released, I swear that it makes no difference. Just pulling out from me makes me cum that final time.

I'm sweat slicked against the bench, dripping cum down my thighs and feeling the throb of my body. "When Seth allows," Bolton says, stroking his fingers down my spine, "You'll be going down to the stalls for my bulls to take out their frustrations on. They seem to like breaking in your pussy. And I enjoy watching a bitch like you put in her place."

Bolton whips me for it a final time before departing.

I can barely get up from the bench as Laura releases the cuffs. My legs collapse under my weight when I try to go to the showers. As I fall, my cheek smacks against the corner of the bed frame. Lights explode in my eyes; it's hard to remember how to work my legs.

Moments later, Laura's dabbing away the blood gently with a towel as she calls for Sara to help. It takes her and Marissa to get me up from the floor, and then down the hallway to the bathroom. My legs can't keep me stable with all the sensations still plaguing me.

Laura lets M stay with me in the shower to wash off. Between the two of them helping keep me on my feet, I am cleaned gently inside and out to ease the burn. Then I'm led back out to the central room and down a hall. For the first time, I'm not locked back up.

Instead, she leaves me tethered to Destiny to sleep in the sapphire room. A few dabs of cream slow the bleeding; an ice pack helps ease the throbbing pressure. Laura fetches me early to lock me up before Master comes in the next day. It's our secret.