mykinkywankbank: a-little-consensual-violence:If you’re not a good girl, you get punished. Is it w
mykinkywankbank: a-little-consensual-violence: If you’re not a good girl, you get punished. Is it worth it? Is it worth talking back, is it worth not doing what your told, when it means spending hours locked in a box, trapped in freezing cold water, always inches from drowning? Do you enjoy being left alone in the dark, clinging desperately to the wire mesh above you, the water lapping threateningly at your nose and mouth as fatigue starts to set in? The hours ticking by, knowing no one is going to come check on you, there’s no one to save you, shivering, your body cramping, but you have to keep going, you have to hold on, there’s no escape, minutes feeling like hours as the fear overwhelms your mind, the darkness laughing at you, the water trying to draw you in… and knowing there’s not a single person that cares about your struggle. Is it worth it? I said I was sorry, that I’d do anything. “Anything?* Anything… He took me to an auction in another country and sold me to a wealthy old man. Not a charity auction, like I’d thought. He was set to retire now. The old man beat and raped me, and I didn’t resist after the first time because he’d been told how terrified I was of the grate. One afternoon in there in my new home had been enough. The old man drugged me and used my body while I was too out of it to understand. I came out of the high sore and aching everywhere, and desperate not to feel anymore. I begged him to make it numb again, and he gave me different pills and violently raped me instead. He never made me numb after that. I shouldn’t have asked. Fairly soon after that it became obvious that I was pregnant, but the beatings and rapes never stopped. I prayed that I would lose the baby, so I wouldn’t have to bring a child into this hell, but he knew where not to hit me, it seemed. He brought a doctor with a portable ultrasound machine to check on me, and they just laughed together. I was apparently put on bedrest because he chained me to the bed shortly after that. My belly was enormous and the false labor cramps came often. When my water broke for real, he forced me into the deep tub to labor. When I started to scream, he put the grate over my head. I was terrified and promised I’d stop screaming, please just take it away. After what seemed like an hour he did. I labored quietly despite the screaming pain and delivered two baby boys. He grinned as I took them to my black-and-blue breasts to feed. My whole body hurt like never before. Everything radiated pain, inside and out. But now I had to protect these tiny people. He got a bassinet for the babies and only beat me every few days for a change. After two months, though, he took my children away from me and started to give me pills again. He hooked me up to a milking machine and pumped milk from me almost around the clock for another three months before the pills changed again. Then the other men started to come to beat and rape me. I was abused several times a day by strange men. If I cried at all he put me in the water grate. If I was willing and friendly and welcoming all day he gave me something that made me high. I quickly became the best little actress despite the horrible clients and my pimp owner kept me in outer space. But he got bored of that, and suddenly I only had one client, every day for at least month. The pills had changed and I wasn’t high as a kite. A few months after that I could feel a baby kicking. I bore triplets, this time with the doctor’s supervision, two boys and a girl. The boys were taken after only two weeks, but they left the girl with me until she was eight months old, then took her too. I don’t know what happened to her but I don’t think it was good. -- source link