AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I blink again.
Is this real?
The man sighs and steps away, wiping his fingers clean with his pocket square. He eyes my hole, nods like he’s confirming something, then steps around to where my head is. His pants and belt are done up. He must have finished with me earlier? While I was… sleeping? Or is he going to use my mouth now? Maybe both?
He pulls something out of the inside pocket of his jacket. A flask. I blink at it, too tired to think up any more questions.
“Just a little,” he murmurs, twisting the cap off and bringing it to my lips. I prepare myself for the sting of alcohol, but it doesn’t come. A soft, pitiful sound escapes me when I realize what it is. Water.
It’s just enough to fill my mouth once, then he’s taking it away. I try to chase the flask before deflating when I realize it’s useless.
“I can’t give you more,” he explains, his eyebrows pulling together like I’m confusing to him. He gently passes a hand over my head. Almost like a pet. “I’m sorry. Hang in there, okay?”
Right. Hang in there. Because someone is coming. He said someone is coming.
Dread fills my stomach. Someone bad, it must be. Bad enough for this man to think he needs to warn me.
Unless he’s not really here. I think I saw Carter before. Like… a hallucination? Or was that a dream?
That would make sense. A man who let me sleep, who didn’t fuck me, who gave me water, who petted me like I deserve gentle touches - that’s not a man that exists in this world.
My brain still feels too foggy, too overworked, to figure it out.
I blink.
He’s gone.
I let my eyes close. He must not have been real after all.
Water. Please. I'll do anything if you please just give me water.
I stare into the eyes of the man on top of me, trying to use telepathy to beg him. It's my only option. I haven’t spoken in a long time. I don’t think I can. My mouth is nothing but a dry, raw thing for them to fuck, every wave of salty cum only making it worse.
Please. Water. Your piss. I'll drink your piss. Please, please, piss in my mouth. Spit in my mouth. Anything - please.
He doesn't hear me.
We play the crawling game.
We’ve played it before, whenever the guards are feeling bored or particularly sadistic. Sometimes it’s for food. Or water. Or medical supplies. Or a blanket.
Today’s game is for the water I so desperately need, and it’s the worst round we’ve ever played. They’ve spilled rice on the cold cement, as if my abused, broken body isn’t struggling enough to make it across the floor to my prize. My legs are useless, dragging behind me. My arms are barely strong enough to help me pull myself along.
The guard at the other end of the dungeon shakes the water bottle at me, like an owner shaking treats at a dog. I don’t mind. That’s basically what I am. A dog. A slave. Whatever else they want me to be.
It’s nice of them to give me a chance at water. I’ve been wanting it for so long. I’m so glad they decided I’m worthy of some. Maybe after I get it, I can take more punishment to prove how good I am. To prove that I remember my place now.
Someone stops me with a boot on my back. I sag into the rice, ignoring the way it digs into my skin. Another boot steps on my head. I think hair rips out of my scalp. It hurts with a far away sort of pain.
The pear of anguish in my ass is jostled just before someone turns the key in it. My limbs jerk without permission as the metal expands. Huh. Guess my legs do still work.
“Keep trying,” someone says teasingly, the boots leaving my body. “Or are you giving up?”
No, no, not giving up.
I hurry to drag myself forward again, my eyes locked on that bottle of water. They stop me again. The key is turned twice more. The pain isn’t far away anymore. It’s right here, sharp and urgent. My mind spins.
“Here, doggy, doggy,” someone croons. “Aren’t you thirsty?”
