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Chapter Seven
The water dripped…drip drip drip…it dripped incessantly, and it was slowly driving her mad. There were times when she found herself concentrating on that endless dripping noise, even counting the drips, if only in order to take her mind off her other troubles. And these were numerous: she had utterly lost track of time for instance – she may have been there hours or days, she didn't know; she was in continual pitch-blackness, with never a chink of light to relieve it, not even when he visited. She had no idea how he knew where to go and what to do when he got there. She was beginning to think that he was Omnipotent and Omniscient, which of course was the idea.
*drip drip drip*
Sweat poured off her pain-wracked body, and pooled inside the garment she was wearing, increasing her discomfort to levels of slow, exquisite torture. She had been strapped and zipped into a tight latex sheath, with only her head sticking out. The sheath included a single leg-piece, into which both her legs had been crammed, her anklebones grating together, and her knees and thighs further welded together by the stickiness of her sweat-drenched skin. The rubber was so form-fitting that the crotch of the garment had almost been sucked up into her pussy, but this was in no way erotic. It clung to her shaven mound, giving her the unrelenting sensation that she was being cupped and groped by a warm clammy hand. Her arms had been fed into the garment's internal sleeves and were pressed tightly to her sides. It clung suffocatingly to her stomach and her breasts, so that she was beginning to lose track of where Tara ended and her latex skin began. Lastly it was buckled up around her throat like a collar, a hateful reminder of her enforced servitude. Although the room was cool, inside that rubber skin she was literally stewing in her own juices, and she hardly move in its clinging grip.
*drip drip drip*
Her muscles were cramping - she tried to stretch, to tense them up and relax again, but this gave little relief. She was a sportswoman, and her muscles were not used to this kind of inactivity. He had kept her limber enough, with the positions into which she was frequently restrained, and his nightmare of a gym kept her fit, but this complete immobility was beginning to tell on her body. Her back ached from lying on the hard stone floor, the hot sticky dampness from her sweat and other fluids soaked back into her skin which chafed excruciatingly as it rubbed against the latex sheath. Her jaw alternated between a fierce ache and total loss of feeling from the oversize ballgag that had been forced into her mouth, and her throat was constricted. For some reason that she could not fathom she had not expired of thirst and her mouth although tasting foully of rubber, was not all that dry.
*drip drip drip*
A scuffling sound, staccato, a whisper of movement, but it awoke her from dream-haunted slumber. Sleeping had not been by choice, but her body had long since wrested control from her frightened mind, and had dragged her down into her only possible refuge. Even there, there had been no peace: her dreams were fragmented and twisted, and she was trapped, she was buried alive under tons of damp earth, peaty and clammy to the touch. She tried to call out and the earth trickled into her mouth, filling it to the back of her throat, and still it pressed down, harder and harder, forcing her to swallow to avoid choking to death. The earth filled her throat, her stomach. It filled her veins and her lungs. They had buried her living body and left her there forever, trapped but conscious, weighed down by the terrible heaviness, but alive, to spend her days and nights as a living corpse until the madness overwhelmed her mind, and she screamed silently into the darkness for eternity…
*drip drip drip*
Her eyes snapped open, but the dream did not fade…dark, clammy, pressing, clinging. What was real, what was dream? A scuffling sound…was it in the dirt of her grave, were there worms, insects, waiting to feast on her body? These thoughts flashed through her terrified mind in an instant, but the feel of the hard stone floor beneath her aching muscles, the rubbery taste in her mouth brought her back to some semblance of reality. Scuffling…rats? Spiders? Her ears strained to hear, but the noises were gone. She wept silently, tears coursing down her face, leaking down around the collar of her prison. How long could she last? She didn't want insanity, but knew that her mind could not stand much more of this torture. She could no longer feel her legs or her arms. She felt disembodied, yet anchored to one spot. A frightened tired mind with no home or form. She was so alone, cut off, with only her own terrified thoughts and dreams. Hell wasn't burning lakes, or other people – this was Hell.
*drip drip drip *
Then he was there again, with no noise, no warning of his presence. There was only his warm sweet breath against her cheek as he whispered in her ear: “No control, no self-discipline...I grant you the privilege of some movement, so that you can sleep more comfortably, and you betray my trust. You used this body…*my* property, to give yourself pleasure, a pleasure for which you did not have my permission.”
Her body was rigid with fear inside her shiny rubber prison. His deep voice was cold and contemptuous, and there was an undertone of...danger...in it. She tensed in her broiling cocoon as his strong fingers gripped her chin, pulling her face around to the side. The whispering started again, into her other ear. “I have tried...I have tried to teach you, I've tried to instil discipline, I've tried to make you understand that your new life can have its rewards as well as the pain or punishment. But those rewards are earned, they are not…stolen, as you have *stolen* your orgasms. You are a thief, my slave, and thievery should always be punished.” His grip abruptly loosened and his presence was gone once more.
*drip drip drip*
She was going crazy here - sleep was now a rare and elusive event – not only due to the dripping water, but there had been other sounds in the darkness too, a kind of *slithering* noise like something dry rasping across stone. Her logical mind, what there was left of it, refused to accept the fact, but her subconscious screamed “snake!” at her. Rats and spiders she could bear, as she was pretty sure they would leave her alone, but she loathed snakes and was utterly terrified of them - but what would a snake be doing in a cellar somewhere in England? Didn't they only have adders over here in any case? However, try as her rapidly diminishing logic might, the fears steadily grew. She was lying on the floor quite unable to protect herself and, with her terror magnified by the darkness, she imagined they were all around her, coming closer, ready to slide over her tightly-wrapped body or her face. Dry scales, abrading her skin, coiling around her neck, squeezing and squeezing...and it was then, as those horrors gripped her mind and turned it upside down and inside out, that she screwed her eyes shut and screamed into the dark, into that enormous rubber ball lodged behind her teeth. Her voice gurgled around it, a lost, pathetic sound that soon disappeared into echoes, which only reinforced the notion of a dank medieval dungeon, where she would rot forever...
*drip drip drip*
And then he was there, his cool hands running through her matted and sweat-soaked hair. Her eyelids snapped open again, her eyes vainly darting from side to side in the deep velvety blackness, trying to locate him. She gurgled out a scream once more as his fingers coiled around her hair and pulled it savagely, but the scream turned into a choke, as fluid caught in her throat and trickled down her windpipe. She began to panic, thrashing impotently around in her all-enclosing bondage, desperately afraid that she would choke to death. The memory of her dreams flitted through her mind, choking, lungs filling…
Then there was a sensation, a loosening of the gag-strap, and the colossal sphere of rubber being gently but steadily tugged, engendering a new fear, that her teeth would break under the pressure. However, the smooth ball finally slipped over her teeth and popped out of her mouth like a cork, followed by an explosive series of coughs. She felt herself rolled on her front, her breasts squashed into the hard stone floor as her back was pounded until she gained control of her breathing again. She lay there helplessly, close to hyperventilating, unable to shake off the feeling of being crushed, tightly constricted as her body was in that rubber skin. The blood rushed in her ears and her heart pounded against her rib-cage. She tried to cry out again, to beg for release, but her quick shallow breaths and tight chest would not allow her the necessary air to do so. She felt her arms tingling, her head starting to spin, or was it the room spinning? It was so black, she was so disoriented…she couldn't breathe...her lungs wouldn't inflate anymore.
Mercifully, she passed out.
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