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When they woke her again, it was the woman who prodded at her through the
cage bars then unlocked the gate. The man, who she
was beginning to think of as her keeper, same as with a caged animal at the
zoo, did his offices with her shackles as before. Then the woman nudged her
again, with something cold and hard that she recognized as the tip of the prod.
Knowing better now than to risk another jolt, she crawled painfully out, more conscious
of the aching bruises round her cunt with her rapist standing over her.
Once she was
leashed, the woman led her back to the examination table and lifted her onto
it. Although they strapped her down as before, this time she submitted to the
woman's examination without a struggle, figuring that nothing worse would be
coming. Only when the woman gagged her and slid the pipette into her throat did
she choke and wriggle feebly for a moment. But the woman held back for a
second; and, once it was clear the dropper was not coming out, she relaxed and
let the end of the tube dose the back of her throat with the numbing liquid.
The woman
eased the pipette out and turned back to the silver tray of instruments. This
time, she came back with a big glass-barreled syringe. Watching the woman
pierce the foil cap of a little ampoule and suck its contents up into the
syringe, she whimpered through the ring gag that was still in her mouth. Her
keeper laid his hands on her flank, perfectly still, half consoling, half
threatening. The woman turned back to the examination table and picked up one
of her shackled hands, massaging the heel of her palm between thumb and
forefinger, then drove the needle firmly into the meat. She moaned at the first
sharp pain, but once the woman pressed the plunger home and injected the drug
into her hand a dull numbness banished it, spreading towards her fingers, like
the feeling in the back of her mouth only more so. She jerked again as the
woman seized her other hand, but her resistance was perfunctory.
Once the
needle was out, she twitched her hands experimentally. They felt muffled,
fuzzy, as though they were sandwiched in big soft mittens: she doubted she
could get a proper hold on anything. The woman took one of her fingers, then
another, pulled and twisted and revolved it, and let go, seemingly satisfied.
All the while she felt no pain, no pricking of those sharp fingernails on her
skin: her fingers might as well have been on some other girl's body.
Now the woman
moved behind her to join the man, and she squirmed and tilted her head round:
already she was growing more nervous each time they went out of sight. And she
had not seen or heard the woman put down the syringe. The two figures shuffled
vaguely behind her; there were some indistinct mutterings in the same
incomprehensible tongue, then those same long-nailed fingers rested briefly on
her thin buttocks and she felt that sharp piercing pain in the rim of her anus.
She let out a
yelp and pulled away, but the woman had already withdrawn the needle and that
telltale numbness was diffusing around her anal ring. She felt something loosen
and slacken, she did not feel like she could have held back the shit if she had
needed to defacate. She cried, but more through shock than discomfort: it was
embarrassing to have so little control, almost infantile. When the man put his
hands on her, she responded for an instant almost like a child to its parent's embrace
before she realized what he was actually doing.
She heard the
same soft liqud noise that had preceded her enema, and cringed. His hands were
busy around her ass, but with the numbness from the injection she could no
longer feel clearly what was going on. The woman put a hand on her neck, but
this time as more than just a caution: the fingers knotted in her hair as her
keeper grabbed her hips on either side and lifted her pelvis to a half-kneeling
position. She knew what that meant by now.
She felt his
first penetration no more clearly than she had his hands. Only a dim
uncomfortable crammed feeling deeper inside her made her more directly aware of
his cock buggering her. With her anal ring completely relaxed, there was
nothing at all she could do to squeeze him out; her anus was stretched around
his shaft with abject ease and passivity. The cramped distended feeling in her
ass made her feel that she should shit,
but his phallus was already too far up inside her for her to push
against and thrusting the other way. She sobbed out her wretched degradation as
he pumped harder and stronger, breathing more heavily. The vague tantalizing
lack of sensation was almost vexing; if she could talk she would have shouted
at them to at least leave her her pain. Without it, her fear and anger seemed
oddly pointless, unjustified. Finally, he jerked her hips back and forth a few
times, gasped, and pulled himself out, her sphincter still clinging around him
as though reluctant to let him go.
She sagged
back on her side, still sobbing dryly. Her mouth opened but only a vague mooing
sound came out of it. Her still numb anus did not hurt yet, above a dull,
distant ache. Her keeper's hand brushed the back of her neck, almost
affectionately: she twitched under his fingers. The woman loosened her gag, grasped
and squeezed her body in a few places, palpated her wrists and forearms, then
stepped back and unfastened her shackles from the table. She hung limp in her
keeper's arms as he lifted her down. Once on the floor, she slumped hopelessly
on her side again, and it took the threat of the woman's prod to make her get
up on all fours and crawl back into her cage.
Back inside,
she shivered as they fixed her back in place. Then the man stepped out of view
for a moment. There was a clinking sound, and her returned with a brushed steel
dish and an unlabelled can. He set the dish down in front of her cage and,
yanking the ringpull on the can lid, opened it, took a spoon from his pocket,
and doled out its contents. She eyed the brown mess in the dish. It looked like
dog food, and the smell that she caught through the bars was similar, but her
stomach rumbled involuntarily and she suddenly realized how hungry she was.
Even though it might be dog food, her mouth watered at the sight of the slop.
Then her keeper put the empty can down and opened his fly.
Disbelievingly,
she stared wide-eyed as he pulled out his dick, still visibly red from raping
her anus, and stood over the pan. He concentrated, holding his penis between
thumb and forefinger, and a few brief spurts of dull golden urine splashed into
the dish. Instantly, the almost appetizing odour of the jellied meat was
drowned by the acrid reek of hot piss. Her keeper, thankfully not carrying a
full bladder load, shook a few last drops off the tip of his glans and zipped
himself up again. Horrified, she guessed what that bitter hint of something in
her drinking water must be.
Whimpering,
she tried to back up as he opened the cage door and placed the steaming bowl
under her nose. Shaking her head frantically, she screwed her eyes tight shut
and wrinkled her nose, trying to shut her nostrils too against the warm sour
smell. The horrible thing was that her stomach, empty now for days, kept
rumbling regardless. Then the woman stood beside her cage and thrust the prod
through the bars, resting its cylindrical barrel across the back of her neck. She held her head up,
trying to keep it above the rank-smelling bowl, but the prod pressed her down.
She shook her head from side to side, and the woman stuck the prod hard into
the skin of her nape so that she could feel the chill twin metal contacts at
its tip. Finally, abjectly, she opened her mouth and took a bite of the
contents of the bowl, lukewarm from the piss.
The first
mouthful had the bitter tang of warm kidneys, but ten times stronger. Her
stomach knotted, whether from hunger or nausea she could not tell, but the prod
was still thrust in the back of her neck and somehow she managed to keep from
throwing up. She choked down the salty mush and took another mouthful,
conscious of the pressure on her neck now more than the flavour. In any case,
now she had started, the unpleasant taste and soggy warmth was tolerable so
long as she could keep her mind off what she was eating. She kept chewing and
swallowing mechanically, and her stomach quietened as it filled. Soon the dish
was almost empty, but the pressure on her neck was unrelenting, forcing her
chin and jaw down into the bowl, pushing her mouth against the metal. The prod
tip pivoted, and she realized the woman wanted her to lick the bowl clean. She
slid the tip of her tongue out pathetically and started lapping the bowl,
discoloured drool slipping from her mouth onto the steel. Finally the bowl was
clean, and the prod lifted away from her head. Her keeper opened the cage door,
slid the bowl out and closed it again, then the woman removed the water feeding
bottle from the cage, obviously wanting the bitter aftertaste in her mouth to
stay with her a long time. She hung her head dejectedly.
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