****** Everlong ******
                           Provided By: BDSM_Library
                              www.bdsmlibrary.com



Synopsis: Slow rape of a young woman
                         - Everlong -

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Don't rape people in real life,
don't kidnap them and don't stick needles into them against their
will.


She's lying on a bed, naked, arms and legs spread. Coils of rope bind
her hands and wrists to the posts of the bed. It is warm, almost hot
in this windowless cellar, lit by countless candles of red and white
on the floor, on shelves on the wall. Her body is stretched, her firm
breasts riding high, her skin golden in the candle light, glistening
with a fine sheen of sweat. She might even be comfortable, still dazed
from the drug, if she weren't starting to be so scared and
confused. She had woken out of her drugged sleep just a while ago, no
memory of how she got here, or where she was. She had tried to scream
as she become aware of her situation. Of him, above her.

He's also naked, lying between her legs, hard but not inside her, his
face suspended above hers. He's not hideous or deformed, a monster or
demon, nor does he have to be, to terrify her in this place, this
situation. His strong hand had firmly clamped her mouth shut, stifling
her first scream. His hand had not been brutal, simply enough strength
in it to quiet her. His other hand held ready to strike her, had made
the consequences of further screams clear.

She had tried to say something, when he let go of her. Still dazed
from the drug, trying to think of something that would help
her. Inquiring into the where, the what, the who. His hand had again
grasped her jaw, then, silencing her. For a short moment resting his
weight on her jaw, hurting her, he had slapped her face with his other
hand, hard. Took his hand away from her mouth, bringing his index
finger to his lips, commanding silence.

He lifts himself up now, kneels between her thighs. His hands move
along the side of her stomach, upward. He feels her breath start to
flutter as he caresses her, moving over her ribs, slowly moves his
hands down again, his thumbs on her belly. He follows the curves of
her hips, along her stretched, spread legs. Only his fingertips
touching her, he moves over her thighs, towards her pussy.

She starts squirming as much as her bondage allows, starts to say "No"
and is silenced by his look.

His fingers move over her hips, upwards again, not touching her pussy.

She feels his hands on her, caressing her body, softly meeting the
underside of her breasts, over her legs, on her thighs again, still
avoiding her pussy.

He lowers himself down towards her then, his body on hers for a
moment, trapping his hardness between them. Reaches down beside the
bed and comes up again, an ice cube between his fingers.

She sucks in breath, the first icy water drops falling on her
skin. The cold ice meets her belly, she arches her back, straining
against the ropes. Raising her head, watches as he trails the ice over
her lower body, melting from her body's heat, drawing clear, cold
trails of moisture on her hot, sweat glistening skin. The ice melts
away, and for a moment it's just his fingers, moist and cold,
caressing her skin.

He leans down, his body on hers again, warming her ever so briefly,
comes up with another ice cube. Trails the ice up between her breasts
and looks into her eyes, as he draws slow circles over one breast.

She inhales again, involuntarily pushing her chest towards him. With
the ice melting away, his cold fingers pass over her hardening
nipple. She's breathing heavily now, her eyes closed, her chest rising
and falling, as he leans down again, coming up with another ice
cube. He takes his time on her breast, the ice melting on her nipple
again. Despite the warmth of the room, she's shivering now, as he
repeats his slow, almost-fucking motion, fetching ice cube after ice
cube, melting away on her body, her nipples firm.

She freezes, as she feels not an ice cube but the tip of a needle over
her breast, stops her exhaled breath and for a long moment, everything
is still.

"Remember to breath", he whispers to her then, the needle now pressing
ever so slightly onto her nipple, making a slight indention. Slowly,
carefully she begins to inhale, pushing her nipple against the
needle. Following her rising motion, he raises the needle ever so
slightly too slow, making her rising breath increase the needle's
pressure. Following the downward motion of her slowly exhaled breath,
he keeps the pressure of the needle steady. Entirely focused on his
task, he lets the needle push ever deeper onto her nipple with each of
her breaths, without breaking her skin.

She's calm now, just breathing, looking up at the rough ceiling, the
patterns the candlelight makes with the uneven plaster, shadows
dancing and weaving. The drug's fading grip still strong enough to
provide a base on which her slow, deep breaths build a trance. Her
nipple is starting to throb in pain under the needle's point, the ever
increasing pain merging into her trance.

He senses this of her, knows she's deeply gone. keeps the needle firm,
when she next draws breath, increasing the pressure that last fraction
needed to finally break her skin.

She cries out as the needle slides into her nipple. In a sudden moment
of clarity, her irrational hope that he would not, would let her go
before that, is gone from her like a flock of startled birds. She has
the measure of him, now, knows that, despite the pain, the needle was
only a symbol, mimicry and foreplay to her rape. She starts to pull
against her ropes again, begs him, "please, no!" as her tears begin to
flow.

He grabs her needle tipped breast with a sure hand, flicks the needle
with a finger, stops her struggle. Looking into her eyes he holds her
with his gaze. He has another needle in his hand.

She didn't see him pick it up, holds still, looks at him through her
tears. Sees him hold the needle over her unharmed nipple, pushing down
gently, just like he did with the first. "Breath in", he tells
her. Waits for her reaction. She defies him, taking only the
shallowest of breaths, down her belly, not moving her chest.

He raises himself up, straddles her stomach and prevents her shallow
breaths with his weight, the needle on her nipple again, "Breath!"

She closes her eyes, holds her breath, seeking the only escape left
her, passing out into unconsciousness. Even this is taken from her, as
she feels the first needle pushed deeper into her breast. "Breath",
she hears him repeat.  Feels the head of the needle already stuck into
her nipple being moved around in small circles, sliding further in,
tearing flesh. She starts moaning from the pain, her tears flowing
more rapidly. Against her mounting panic, she starts to carefully,
deliberately, draw breath, pushing herself against the needle again.

His hand leaves the first needle alone, halfway in her breast now,
begins the ritual again with the second. She's fully awake now, feels
the throbbing pain in her one breast, feels her other breast's nipple
start to hurt with each breath she forces herself to take. The pain
from the second needle building, she starts to lose herself in a
trance of a different kind. Adrenaline replacing the artificial drug
in her system, her body pushes her awareness away from the pain.

She cries out as the second needle penetrates her skin, sticks out
from her nipple, but her slow, deep breathing doesn't stop, even as
she cries out again and again, until she's helped him push five
needles into her nipples.

Keeping the sixth needle he is sinking into her steady with one hand,
he reaches behind him with the other. Starts to softly caress the lips
between her thighs, plays with them.

She does not notice his fingers for a long while, even when he pushes
two of them inside her. Her eyes are closed, her mind focused on her
breathing, on keeping away from the pain he's causing her. Her body,
free from the supervision of her consciousness, reacts to his fingers
on its own, adds her juices to the moisture of her sweat, running down
her body. The needle he's guiding into her is already almost through
her skin, when an involuntary moan of pleasure escapes her lips.

He chooses this moment to push the sixth needle into her, traps both
her nipples between his fingers and squeezes them.

The pain pulls her out of her trance, eyes wide open, truly petrified
with fear, now, despite all he's already done to her. She knows that
now he will take her. She starts her struggles again, despite the pain
of the needles in her bouncing breasts, of the rope hurting her wrists
and ankles. She starts to plead with him, knowing it without use.

He slaps her, grabs her nipples again, flicks the needles with his
fingers, turns her pleading into sobs and more tears. He raises
himself of her belly, positions himself between her thighs. Pushes her
legs further apart with his, the rope binding her stretched taunt,
holding her still, powerless against his entry. He guides his hard
cock to the entrance of her moist pussy, looks into her tear stained
face, waits.

She stops even trying to struggle. Her muscles no longer tense, he
relaxes the pressure against her thighs. She knows what he wants of
her now. As with the needles, she must take an active part in her own
abuse. Her legs are free enough now, from her fight against her ropes,
to allow her to move herself onto him. Again she finds herself in a
moment of absolute stillness, as she looks into his eyes, measuring
her strength against his will to hurt her. She doesn't move, with him
still poised to enter her, unable to will herself to do this thing.

He moves instead, reaches beside the bed again, shows her a box of
needles, places it on her body, between her already needle-adorned
breasts, waits. His hard cock pressing against her pussy again, she
slowly pulls herself onto him with her legs, as far as the ropes on
her wrists allow. He stops her, looks into her eyes, makes sure that
she knows she has lost. He takes the end of one of the needles in her
nipples between his fingers, not taking his eyes of hers.

She pulls herself up with her wrists again, and he gently pulls on the
needle, almost taking it out of her nipple, waits for her again as
she's almost off him, holding herself there.

He looks at the box of needles, at her breasts, into her eyes.

She pulls herself onto him again, fears he would push the needle in
again with her motion, yet he pulls it out completely and throws it
way. Fucking him this way, pulling herself on and off him with the
ropes holding her to the bed, he rids her of her needles, drops them
to the floor.

He takes the box of needles away as well, starts adding his own
movement to her rape. Lowers himself to kiss her neck, softly
caressing her breasts.

She doesn't dare stop trying to fuck him back as he takes her,
increases his rhythm. Her tears have stopped as she moves mechanically
against his thrusts, ignoring the pain in her her ankles and wrists,
her breasts. Even when he takes his hands away from them and only
thrusts into her again and again, her breasts hurt, bouncing with his
thrusts.

Only when he climaxes inside her and just lies on her for a moment,
the tears come again. Not from the pain in her muscles, between her
legs, nor from his weight flattening her hurting breasts against her,
but from the realization of what just happened to her, what he did and
made her do to herself.

He raises himself off her with a content sigh, kisses her cheek, tries
to kiss her lips, but she looks away from him, holds her head to the
side. Against her expectation to be hurt again, he moves off the bed
completely, takes a box of black and gold from behind some of the
candles, brings it over to the her. He opens the box, takes out a
small piece of paper. Firmly grabs her head, forces her to look at
him. He holds the paper in front of her mouth, finally pries her mouth
open when she refuses him and slips the paper under her tongue, holds
her mouth shut.

The drug takes hold of her again and she drifts off into the long forgetful
sleep the drug will give her.

He watches her a moment longer, then unties her. Putting the box back
in its place on the way, he walks through a door behind the bed, comes
back with salves and toiletries, cleans her body, and tends to her
nipples and the sores from the ropes, checks her pulse. Picking her
up, cradling her in his arms, he carries her through the door, down a
corridor and lays her sleeping form onto a cot in her cell.

Review_This_Story || Email Author: Marquis_de_Carabas


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