The lost girl

I woke up lying on a basement floor and not one of those cool basements with a popcorn machine and a bowling alley. Nope, this basement is straight out of a bad horror movie. One that my black/white ass would never be a part of. I don't creep dark roads, or haunted houses, or something stupid like following a police officer after he has you wrap a dead body in plastic wrap. Seriously!

I sit up and instantly fall back over my stomach; I feel like I might vomit. I lift up my shirt and can see bruises all over. It looks like I got my ass kicked and my head feels like concrete. I am the worst kind of alcoholic. I hear a soul shattering scream.

“No! No, you don’t want to do this! Please, God!”

“Scream all you want. I love when they beg,'' his voice is smooth. It’s like lying in a bed of silk sheets, but the accent is strange. There is nothing I can do to help her. I’m stuck in a cage chained to the wall. I need to remember last night.

I try to sit up again, this time in the corner of my cage. I have the wall to my back and the cage door in front. I lean my head against the brick wall; the feel of the cold stones soothe my headache. I really should stop drinking like I have since getting home from my last tour in Iraq, the one that got me discharged. The last thing I remember is going to the bar. I can’t even remember the name of it right. It hurts to think.

For the first time since I woke up in this pit of shit, I look around the basement. There are three cages, all built into the frame of the house. There are chains everywhere, dirt floors, no windows, and a wood table with what I assume is blood and flesh. And a red door I guess is where the torture happens. There are doors out, but they’re metal and it looks like a key code to open. So that sucks. This basement smells like blood, shit, piss, and vomit. Pretty much a high school party. Well, the good ones at least. Something moves in the far cage, “Hey, you! I can see you, unless I’m still drunk.” Nobody says anything, and for second I think maybe it was in my head, that I just need there to be someone else here. I hate being alone. I drink when I’m alone.

I start to feel trapped like I was in Iraq. I got stuck behind enemy lines for five weeks before I made my escape. My commanding officer felt my trauma was too bad to stay enlisted and I was sent home. I killed six men that day. It was the only time I ever killed someone up close. Hunting someone down like an animal takes part of your humanity, and even though it was me or them, one way or another their faces still haunt me at night. The only sleep I really get is when I black out from drinking too much, which is most every day. I see a leg pop out of the corner of the blanket, “Hey! Hey, I can see your leg!” I yell. A woman about twenty-two pops her head out from her crappy ass blanket. Bad guys can't afford the good shit. You kidnapped me; I should have more than a cage and a bucket. Her left eye is swollen, her lip looks busted, and her eyes are as blue as a blue glow stick you get on Halloween.

The way she looks at me, on the street you would think I fucked her boyfriend/husband/whatever, and she said, “We are not to speak to each other or the master will punish you. Stop talking!”

At that moment the red door opens and a man steps out. He doesn’t look evil. He looks normal— well, like a white man with a nice build. He could get laid for free. His lip is busted and I remember what happened. He stood there in the middle of the room. The girl in the far cage was hiding under a blanket. He said, “Did I hear you talking, Brittany?” she didn't say anything but I could hear crying and just the smallest wince. He starts walking over to her cage, running his hand across the bars as he walks by, slowly taking his time, knowing that he is scaring her more because she knows he is coming.

He opens the door to her cage, “Please, show me your beautiful face,” her tears are falling quietly. She is doing her best to hold her fear back, as he reaches down to gently lift her face to his and ask again, “Were you talking?”

She cried out quietly, “Yes, but only because…”

“Shhh… You know the rules,” he grabs her hair and pulls her up to face him. “Now, what should your punishment be?”

“No. Please I wasn't trying to break the rules,” he pushes her down onto the bed, spreading her legs and hands with chains he has placed all over the cages.

I can't sit here and watch this, “Hey, asshole! Is that a sweater vest?” I laugh as I say it. “You tried to put something in my drink.”

He looks back, “You're not going to save her from me. There's nothing you can do. Wait your turn.” He looks down at Brittany, who is quietly crying, “You know the rules.”

He pulls down her underwear and lifts up her shirt. He pulls his dick out and rubs it on her ass. It starts to grow into a dick that would scare a porn star away as he grabs Brittany's hair and she cries, “Please, I will be good. I didn't want her yelling. Please!”

He thrusts himself into her pussy, and she screams in pain. He is pounding her so roughly I think he might snap her neck. The more she moves and fights, the rougher he gets. He starts to choke her as his dick slides in and out of her, and each time she cries more. You can see the pain and soul crushing desire to die in her eyes. She wants freedom no matter what form it is in. She begs him to stop, and the more she begs and cries, the harder and faster he goes. Before he finishes, he pulls out of her pussy and says, “Never break my rules,'' and shoves his hard dick into her ass.

She screams, “No! Please! You’re hurting me!”

He just keeps going, thrusting deeper and deeper and holding her head down against the bed. As he begins to climax, he grabs her hips and pulls her into his thrust. He pulls out with cum still dripping from the tip and grabs her head and shoves her mouth down on it, “That's a good girl. You know you like it. I felt it when your pussy got wet and you squirted all over me.” She cried.

He slaps Brittany hard after he’s done, and pulls up his pants as he stands. He unchains her and locks the cage behind him and then walks over to my cage door and opens it. He comes at me, and I let him grab me by my neck. There is no way I can stand up without help. He slams me up against the brick wall. I head butt him; his nose starts to bleed and I laugh, “My bad.''

He back hands me and I hit the floor. He took my shoes, but I kick at him anyway, hitting him in his nuts. He freezes for a moment, and then he punches me. It went dark for a moment. He takes my pants and then tossed me a worthless-ass blanket. “Get comfortable, Ava. You're not going anywhere.”

I spit out the blood building up in my mouth and as he walks off, I yell out, “Fuck you! I will kill you!” I hear him laugh right before he goes back into the room with the red door. I fight hard to keep my eyes open but it's no use; I am going to pass out on this dirt-ass floor with a really creepy vision of Mr. Rogers.

The last thing I see before my eyes go black is Brittany huddling in the corner of her cage crying. She pulls the blanket over her head. I close my eyes thinking that if I can get out of here I am going to start drinking at home only from now on. I start to blink over and over again and then close my eyes. I just need some sleep. Maybe this is just a nightmare and I will wake up soon. I will not die in this fucking basement!

To be continued.......