Lana's Awakening Read online

  She didn’t want to imagine worse than before, so she held her breath as the last of the tape pulled at her hair before its touch was no longer felt on her lips. She almost wanted to thank him for removing the tape as she sucked in a deep breath, but thought better of it. There was silence for a moment, and then he spoke again.

  “Would you like to go to the restroom and take a bath?” he asked.

  For Christ’s sake, yes she wanted to go pee, hell she needed to. And a bath? God yes.

  “Yes,” she managed weakly.

  “Would you like something to drink?”

  That was a bit tougher. She wanted to ask if she could get the drink after peeing, but was starting to get the hang of this to some degree. She still had no idea, not to mention a desire to find out where it would end, but she understood this first part.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Let’s begin. To get all of this I am offering you, all you have to do is apologize for kicking me and making me spill the breakfast I had worked so hard on for you.”

  Apologize? To him? Fuck’s sake, was he serious? But she knew the answer. He wasn’t well, that was for sure, but she believed he was in fact serious.

  “I’m sorry I kicked you,” she said.

  “And…?”

  “And for making you spill my breakfast.”

  “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

  Fuck yes!

  “No, it wasn’t,” she answered.

  His footsteps sounded on the floor as he walked around the edge of the bed and Lana heard another door open on the opposite side of the room. The distinct sound of water beginning to fall from a faucet and hitting a porcelain tub could be heard, before the footsteps made their way back to the bed. He was going to untie her! Shit, she hadn’t thought of that, he was going to have to untie her in order for her to go to the restroom and take a bath.

  But any hope caused by the realization soon faded as she felt him reach under her neck and place something there. It was thick and heavy, and while she could feel it had been softened where it touched her skin, she could also feel that its edges were tougher. As she heard metal touching metal, and then a light clicking sound, she realized it was a collar of some sort. So much for that idea.

  “Sit up, please,” he said, as he guided one hand behind her shoulders and lifted. Then one by one, he untied her hands and then quickly attached them together in front of her waist. She felt the distinctive touch of metal on her chest and stomach as he connected her now handcuffed hands to a small chain which went to the collar on her neck.

  “I am going to untie your feet now and lead you into the restroom,” he told her with that same flat tone, still trying to be Italian or Spanish or whatever the fuck it was. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  He did as he had told her, standing her up and leading her into the room where the water was still running. He gently turned her around, but before he allowed her to sit on the toilet, he placed something in her hand. It was light and soft – cloth, she reasoned – and closed her hand around it.

  “This is a hood,” he told her. “I made it for you to replace the blindfold. I think it will be more comfortable. You will wait until you hear me close the door before removing the blind fold. Then you will do what you need to do in here. I will return in 15 minutes. At that time, you will have done your business, bathed and drained the tub. You will be sitting on the side of the tub with the hood on your head when I open this door. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  She needed time to think, and while she knew she didn’t have long, 15 minutes to be exact – assuming he kept his word – it would have to be enough. When she heard the door close to her right, she quickly pulled the blindfold off and looked back in the direction of the other room. The light in the small bathroom was dim, but it still stung her eyes, causing her to shield them with one hand while the other still clung to what he had given her before he left. He was gone, and the door was closed. That actually surprised her, but she would soon know why he felt he could trust her with the door closed.

  Aside from the toilet she could feel with the back of her calves, the bath tub in front of her and a small sink were the extent of contents in the room. No shelves, no medicine cabinet, just the basics. A wash cloth hung on the side of the tub which was about as full as it needed to be without overflowing once someone submerged themselves into it, so she took the two small steps toward it and turned off the faucet before checking the temperature of the water. It was close enough, warm, but not hot. Normally, she would have preferred it a bit hotter, but nothing else was anywhere near normal right now, so it fit better than it should have. Besides, she reminded herself as she lowered to the toilet, any hotter and it would probably inflame her already injured lips and face when she did get about the business of bathing.

  As she continued with what she could only speculate would be a world record for pissing, she looked closer around the room. There had been shelves at one time, as well as a medicine cabinet above the sink, but they had been removed, most likely in preparation for this bullshit.

  She could no longer hear the ticking of the clock in the other room, but she knew damn well it was still moving right along, and as much as she wanted out of this newfound hell, the clean water looked inviting. She needed a fucking wash badly. A second check that the water was close enough to a reasonable temperature and she allowed herself to slip into its embrace, letting the tears flow one more time.

  Once in the water, she took the time to look at the cloth in her hand. It looked somewhat like a ski mask, only there were no holes to see through, just a perfectly round opening for her mouth.

  “Shit,” she allowed herself to say as she inspected it closer.

  There was a small metal cable running along the bottom edge, interweaved through brass eyelets every inch or so in the fabric. The cable ended with a loop on each end, too small to allow it to slip back inside the fabric, but clearly large enough for a lock to cinch it together. She ran her hand along her neck below the back of her head and quickly recognized a small lock on what she now knew was indeed a collar. No doubt the hood was designed to lock onto the collar. She would never be able to get it off by herself. She stretched the fabric between her hands, while noticing the pink stitching around the bottom sedge and around the…

  The blowjob hole?

  Yea, the blowjob hole. There was no deluding herself about that. It was designed specifically to allow this bastard room to shove his dick in her mouth. The fabric stretched some in her hands, but not much. Maybe, given enough time, she could stretch it out enough from the blowjob hole to allow vision, but she knew it was not something she would attempt now. A blowjob hole! Fuck’s sake.

  What if she bit the fucker off, would he still think this was all a great idea? She almost allowed herself a brief smile, but the reality of her situation stopped it. Sure, he would be The Great Dickless Wonder for the rest of his life, but there was no doubt her life would be over.

  She tossed the hood over the edge of the bath tub and began to clean herself. This was going to be pure hell, but she was not going to die in this bastard’s house. As the warm water washed away the filth she had accumulated of late, she made herself a promise, fueled by a surprising calmness and resolve she never knew was inside her. If the opportunity to escape presented itself, she would grab it with both hands, but if not, she was going to (fucking puke) stay alive. At least long enough to kill the sick fucker.

  You know damn well what he is going to do to you.

  She did, and he would pay for it, for fuck’s sake would he ever fucking pay for it, but she would have to be alive for that.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Sergio left the hospital both scared shitless and relieved all at the same time. The staff there had no record of Lana ever being admitted to the hospital, from a car wreck or any other reason. That marked one of the two possible explanations for Lana’s disappearance off of his list. The only one which remaine
d was the one he didn’t want to think about, the one where there was no need to take her to the hospital at all.

  Of course, there was a third, and just as heart-wrenching possibility he was trying to keep his mind from entertaining, though it was no better or worse than the last. Just because she had been killed in a car wreck, that didn’t necessarily mean the police would know about it. There was the lake, and the river, not to mention the roads which twisted and turned up and down the fucking hills and wooded areas just outside of town.

  His hands almost fell from the steering wheel in exasperation, as he allowed his mind to think one unthinkable scenario and then another. Why the hell hadn’t she returned his calls? Where the fuck was she?

  He pulled back into the Wholesale Warehouse parking lot and stopped his car. Maybe Ron had heard from her.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Lana sat on the side of the bathtub, straining to hear over the sound of the water as it swirled into a small whirlpool before finding its way down the drain. She wasn’t sure if the 15 minutes she had been allotted had elapsed, but she was fairly sure if it hadn’t already, then it would pretty damn soon. Her chained hands found the bottom of the newly adorned hood and pulled it outward from her neck, wondering with some trepidation just how tightly it might soon be cinched around her neck. As the last of the water disappeared down the drain, she knew she would soon find out¸ as footsteps began to approach outside the door in front of her. She had done as she had been asked, so she was certain a second beating… worse than before…would not be necessary.

  “Very good,” he said as he entered the bathroom. Lana could almost make out a hint of a smile in his voice. Thank fucking God. “Stand up, please.”

  She did as she was asked, slowly and deliberately, having less difficulty than before as the hood, still unconnected to the collar on her neck, allowed a limited view of the floor in front of her, allowing her to maintain a better balance than she had when her sight was completely obscured by the makeshift blindfold.

  “Would it be possible for me to get something to eat?” she asked lowly, and as humbly as she could force herself to be. “I promise I will appreciate it this time.”

  “Turn around, please”

  Again, she did as she was told, without even the slightest hint of disobedience. She had expected it, might have even done it herself if she had access to the key, if for no other reason than to keep him in a lulled sense of control. So when he opened the lock on the back of the collar and then reattached it with the ends of the hood’s cable now attached as well, she was not surprised. But she was surprised when he punched her in the lower back, causing her to fall across the edge of the tub, screaming out in pain as fire spread from her back down both of her legs.

  “What the f…!” she started, but a second blow, this one with the palm of his hand in the middle of her back, stopped her in the middle of the word, allowing only another high pitched wail to take its place.His voice, now loud but seemingly controlled, came in over her cries.

  “Did you understand the rules?”

  “Yes!” she sobbed.

  “Yet, you chose to speak when you were not asked a question, didn’t you?”

  Fuck, was he serious? She had put the fucking hood on, knowing he was going to lock it on her head to the fucking dog collar, the goddamn bitch collar. Even knowing perfectly well what the fucking blowjob hole was for, she had sat there naked on the side of the tub like he had asked, and he was pissed off because she had asked for something to eat. After God only knew how long she had been there, starving to death, all she had asked for was something to eat. Shit!

  “Didn’t you?” he repeated, quieter than before, no longer needing to lift his voice over her screams, now reduced to weak whimpers. She tried to straighten herself out and get back to her feet, but he placed a hand firmly between her shoulder blades, holding her in place.

  “Yes,” she managed, fighting off the urge to scream it at him, while attempting to stop the tears, hot and salty, from flowing inside the hood, the hood with the blowjob hole, the goddamn blowjob hole.

  “Did I tell you what would happen if you did not follow my instructions?”

  “Yes,” she managed.

  Worse than before.

  Lana felt his hand slide higher between her shoulders and then ball into a fist around the collar attached to her neck, cinching the leather uncomfortably tight against her skin. She felt the leg of his pants brush against the outside of her left leg as he positioned himself standing beside her against the porcelain tub. A brief moment of relief tried to find its way into her head as she realized he couldn’t rape her from there. But what was he going to do? She didn’t know. She heard what sounded like him spitting behind her and then quickly felt his free hand against her butt, his fingers recently wetted by exactly what she thought the disgusting sound had been. His fingers found their way into the crevice between her cheeks, two of them roughly forced inside her anus.

  “No…” she started, surprised and scared.

  “Silence,” he answered, and began repeatedly jamming the digits deeper inside her. She had expected to be molested; it had pretty much gone without saying, as did the fact she would more than likely be raped, but he was raping her asshole with his fingers, harder and harder. That, she had not prepared for, and what little lubrication he had provided, was quickly becoming useless and she could feel the rough callused fingers grinding against the tender skin inside her.

  Discomfort quickly became serious pain, and it hurt like nothing she had ever known. She begged him to stop, trying to lift herself from the tub, only to be held in place by the hand which was steadily tightening the collar around her neck. Her chained hands flailed uselessly about as she tried to reach behind her and, at the same time, stop her face from being forced into the porcelain opposite her. Shit’s sake, he was going to strangle her to death right now.

  It was only when her panic had reached what she believed to be its highest possible point that he stopped. His grip loosened on the collar, though it was still tight and he still held her bent over the bathtub. She felt him remove his fingers from her bowels, the quickness causing almost as much pain as when he had first inserted them. She collapsed in place across the edge of the tub, no longer fighting his hand. Dear God, she was so relieved. There was no way she could have taken much more of that. No fucking way.

  “Now, this is going to hurt,” she heard him say. She jerked her head back toward him, forgetting she had the hood on and would be unable to see his face. What did he mean ‘going to hurt’? It had hurt. Like a motherfucker, it had hurt. But the fearful realization came as painfully quick as the next assault. She had only a brief moment to feel something cold and firm placed against her sore, trembling ass. It stopped short of the now enlarged opening, hampered by both of her buttocks just long enough for her to realize it was much larger than his fucking fingers.

  “Please, don’t!” she screamed, but all she heard in response was a loud ‘popping’ sound as he forced it against her already bleeding asshole and then inside. She screamed and struggled, but the hand on her neck held her in place and began tightening the collar again, tighter than before and then tighter still. Blood ran down both of her legs as he pounded it harder and harder inside of her, sending shockwaves through her body, but she never felt the blood, as he slid whatever it was deeper inside her. The ripped opening which had recently been for ‘exit only’ soon stopped being the only source of the pain, as he slammed it even deeper still, faster and harder. Her thighs were being crushed against the porcelain tub as he impaled her against it with one hand and pulled her back against the assault be her throat with the other.

  Her frantic, garbled screams were no longer audible, barely detectable as the collar around her neck became even tighter, blocking the airway and denying her lungs air. He ears felt as though they would pop, as if she were descending in an airplane. She couldn’t hear herself screaming anymore, just the sickening sound of her asshole being violate
d repeatedly and seemingly endlessly. It was…sloshing into her now, fucking sloshing.

  “I’m going to die,” she thought.

  As the blackness settled in, blocking out the pain first and then that horrific sound, Lana never noticed. She was drifting across an empty parking lot. Someone was calling her name. She could almost make out who he was, almost see his face. Maybe it was…maybe…and then he was gone.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Ron had been unsurprisingly as worthless as the receptionist at the hospital, offering no more information than hope. Instead of allowing the conversation to remain on the imperative issue of Angel’s disappearance, he had insisted on giving Sergio a list of reasons he was no longer an employee of the Wholesale Warehouse. It had been all he could to restrain himself from caving in the side of the man’s skull, putting another permanent stain on that revolting blue suit. Sergio couldn’t care less about the fucking job; it no longer mattered in his world, a world which was quickly spinning into oblivion.

  After leaving his former place of employment, he had finally summoned the courage to go to the police station and, eerily similar to his trip to the hospital, had been both relieved and frightened at the same time. They had no information at all about Lana Martin, no accidents, no homicides. He tried to allow himself to believe all this meant she was ok somewhere, but his heart wouldn’t let his head make that leap. Something was wrong, dreadfully wrong. At least someone had taken the time to listen to him, though he doubted they had given his fearful delusions of doom any credence. It was not unusual apparently for someone to quit their job, just as it raised no eyebrows when someone, especially someone without a job, was not at home. The fact that her vehicle was not sitting questionably in her driveway only made the detective he spoke with, a detective, Tom Tinkerton, if he remembered correctly, seem even less likely to spend too much time on it. Most likely, a report wouldn’t even be filed about his visit to the station, Sergio feared.