Chapter Text
Sabina’s POV
Sabina Wilson is undergoing the challenge of a lifetime. She is bound sadistically, in a taxing and humiliating position. For starters, she is completely naked against her will. On top of this, thick, rough rope wraps tightly around the top and bottom of her breasts and around her torso, squeezing her breasts cruelly between. More rope is attached to this breast bondage behind her upper back, connected to a metal ring set in the roof. Sabina has been winched up so that she’s standing – only just – on the balls of her feet. She isn’t able to set her heels down on the ground no matter how hard she tries … so is unable to get her feet under her. Unable to stand. Which makes her feel crazy (not in a good way), apart from being painful. It’s a form of predicament bondage, and it has Sabina trapped it its web …
Both arms are bound tightly behind her back at three points. Her wrists are fixed together with only a few inches between them, by cold metal cuffs. These dig in painfully. She is cuffed again just above her elbows; these cuffs are attached by a short length of chain (pulling her upper arms so close together it hurts). To add insult to injury her thumbs are cuffed to each other: somehow this (stupid? cunning?) little touch makes it all feel that much more constrictive. Sabina’s ankles wear metal cuffs but there is no chain between them … at least for now. She sways in place, her body half-spinning every now and then, helplessly. She moves mostly-on-her-toes, straining to keep her balance … yet unable to stand straight. It’s the (intended) effect of the torture tie: Sabina has no control. She’s helpless. The way her upper back has been attached to the roof forces her to lean forward at a slight incline, slumped against the breast bondage … which causes the ropes to dig into her vulnerable breasts even more cruelly. She can’t draw a full breath. She is panting lightly, constantly; her heart is beating fast. Her thigh muscles tremor with strain, as do her calves …
Sabina has been in this godawful position for a long time now, left alone in this cell. She’s lost track of time. It’s probably been several hours … but she’s by no means sure. Enough time has passed for her to reach this breathless, slightly dizzy state and for her skin to break out in cold sweat. She feels a little clammy, certainly chilled. The cell is on the cold side but it’s more likely from the stress of holding this forced position: the strict bondage is arduous. Sabina’s body is killing her: her feet, straining calves, thighs, back, arms, shoulders, chest, breasts. She doesn’t know what hurts worse at this point! Her attention keeps shifting restlessly from one point of pain to another … not that she can do anything much to relieve any of them. Her body keeps shuddering lightly, especially her leg muscles: fine tremors caused by the (cumulative) stress of the predicament bondage. That’s what this is, Sabina knows: it’s a form of torture. The bad guys are torturing her, probably softening her up for effective interrogation. Or maybe it’s just because they’re sadistic fuckers … she feels a hint of panic, muscles it back down. She can’t afford to panic … she has to keep her head!
Sabina isn’t sure what the bad guys’ motivations are (let alone who they are), but she knows she’s already been trapped in this hellhole for Far Too Long. Although it’s probably only been, what, half a day? (She’s just not sure.) She’s super keen to escape, ASAP. She’s hoping against hope that her regular Angels’ teammates, Jane Kano and Elena Houghlin – who are also her girlfriends: the three-of-them are in an established polyamorous triad – will find and rescue her, before worse can happen. Before The Worst can happen … whatever that might be. Sabina has a fair idea of what it’s likely to be … given the current setup. Since it’s horrific, she’s doing her utmost not to think about it … denial is better. There is no signal coming over her comms system: the golden angel wings tattoo halfway up Sabina’s neck. The Angels’ tech works via bone conduction and sounds like her teammates are talking in her head: Sabina only hears silence. She hasn’t heard from Bosley (her team’s ‘lieutenant’ aka handler, and her longtime mentor) or her girls since she woke up naked in this cell. That’s terrifying. Are they okay? (They’d better be okay!) What if Jane and/or Elena are captured too? (God forbid.) Or … worse?! That would be unendurable. Worse than this fucked-up bondage (which is damn hard to endure, not that Sabina has a choice), and that’s … really saying something.
Sabina doesn’t remember that much about how she got into her current predicament. It wasn’t long after waking up that Sabina had been joined by three (unknown) thug types who strung her up, working together. Two of them held her immobile while the other bound her into position. She was feeling weak and out of it – some kind of drug maybe? She’d struggled (pitifully) in her enemies’ hold, on and off, in between zoning out … with pretty much zero effect. If her poor showing was the result of a mystery drug (her best guess), it appears to have worn off now. She’s cognisant, worst luck: she can feel her pain. She hadn’t discovered anything of use about her enemies or the sitch: the thugs hadn’t talked to her, no matter what Sabina prodded them with verbally (nothing clever, since she was far from her best intelligence-wise) … though she did get a hunch that they’re working for someone else. Someone who must have instructed that she be roped up in this torture tie, then left the fuck alone. To be softened up for them. But who the fuck are they?!
Time stretches on …
And on
and on
and on.
Pain winds its way across her body,
up and down her burning muscles.
She’d sort of like to scream
or sob
or whimper
… but she just doesn’t have the fucking energy,
let alone the extra breath.
Eventually ...
… A sound at the cell’s door. Sabina looks over, fearfully. The metal door is opening, and a tall man is stepping inside, smiling at her gloatingly. She’s seen him before; he’s a mark from a mission many years ago … Sabina forgets his name.* Stereotypically tall, dark, handsome. Also charming, aggressive … cold. His unusually green eyes are glacier cold. From the little she can remember, he scared her even back then … though she (professionally) hid this and carried out her mission objective, regardless. He’s a sociopath. At least she’d thought that back then. This is seriously b.a.d. … she feels rising panic, muscles it back down with force …
“Remember me?” the man asks, voice deep and dark and velvety.
Sabina stares back, racking her brains for his (long-forgotten) name. Before she can come up with it, he steps forward smoothly, wrapping one leather-gloved fist around her throat. He pushes her head back so that she is forced to look up at him … even though she was already looking. He squeezes lightly. Sabina goes still. It’s the equivalent of being sure that you, the mouse, are being held in the cat’s claws. It isn’t a good idea to do anything to provoke the predator. This man – whoever the fuck he is – is dangerous. She can sense it through and through! Her instincts are screaming for her to flee, to hide … or, if that’s not possible, to fight. None of that’s an option. She’s effectively frozen in place, thanks to the strict bondage …
“You belong to me now,” the mystery man tells her calmly, with all the confidence in the world. “You’re my sex slave.” Sabina blanches: she can’t help it. This asshole couldn’t have said anything worse. It’s one thing to know torture is (probably) coming. It’s worse to know that it’s going to involve sex. That means rape, assault, coercion, humiliation, desecration … Sabina is fucked. Like, literally. It’s going to fucking break her …
“I wanted you, the moment I discovered you’d conned me,” her ex-mark tells her, eyes boring into hers. “I made plans. I’m able to wait … when I have to. Very. Patiently.” He lifts one eyebrow. “Finally, all this time later, my plans have reached fruition.” He smiles slowly, a predator’s smile. It’s more a baring of teeth than anything else. It creeps Sabina out, big time. “You’ll be fun to break.” Her enemy glances up as though he’s thinking hard, but Sabina can tell it’s put on, just an act. He’s already planned his lines: he’s putting on a show. “Now what shall we do about your smart mouth…”
“I haven’t even said anything yet!” Sabina protests: half-banter, half-serious. It comes out a little wheezy since his hand squeezes tighter the moment she starts speaking. She grimaces and tries to jerk her head back, in reflex. He lets her.
“That was a mistake,” the man warns her. “Remember from now on … you take whatever I give you, and you like it.”
He backhands her, hard. Sabina’s head snaps to the side; that’s going to bruise. She can feel blood dribbling down her left cheek. Say what? Her head moves back slowly into its original position, another reflex. She looks at her captor’s black, leather gloves (so creepy) and sees that he’s wearing chunky, silver rings over the top of several fingers (what the actual fuck?!). One of these must have cut her …
“I think you need a little more … preparation,” her captor tells her, and Sabina keeps her mouth shut with serious effort.
She’s usually a talker: you could say Sabina Wilson is ‘the talker’ of her Angels’ team (as befits a grifting specialist: masters of conning and seduction). Jane is the strong-and-silent type: she’s their brawling specialist (their team’s main fighter and a weapons expert). Elena is their tech specialist (hacking and the like) but she’s able to talk herself out of trouble when she needs to: Elena has an impressively high EQ.* Sabina wishes she had access to some of Elena’s diplomatic talents right now … Sabina is much better at pissing people off. She’s an expert in ‘annoying’. Well versed in all kinds of banter, a fan of every type of humour, incorrigible, a massive (unrepentant) flirt. None of that will help her now: she can just tell. It will only hurt. Far better if she shuts the fuck up! (Which will be hard for her to do … given her nature.) She so doesn’t like the sound of what this creep is saying, but she also realises that antagonising him (whatever the fuck his name is … fuck it that she can’t remember!) is a Very Bad Idea …
Creepy dude begins lowering the rope that attaches Sabina’s upper back to the roof and just like that, she can stand fully on her own two feet again. She huffs out with sheer relief, stretching her back and bound arms out as best she can within their rope-and-metal restraints, shaking out each leg. Scary Guy is behind her now; Sabina can’t see him. She turns in the ropes since she’s able to, courtesy of her feet now being on the floor. He is standing Right There! He bares his teeth at her (she jerks back and yelps … but can’t jerk very far) and forces a gag into her mouth. Sabina makes a yowl of protest, but it’s already muffled by this new impediment. It’s a metal ring gag complete with harness: the large metal ring fits under her upper and lower teeth and holds her mouth wide open, by force. It hurts to hold her mouth this wide open!
She grunt-groans in protest, even as her captor steps behind her and buckles the gag’s leather strap into place behind her head. It’s tight; Sabina feels the metal digging harshly into the sides of her delicate lips. She recognises the gear, thanks to her (extensive) sexual and kinky experience (Sabina Wilson is into practically everything and unashamed about the same)*: it’s a strict open mouth gag with extra leather straps, preventing any chance of her escaping it. One leather strap fits tight under her chin, and two criss-cross over her face beside her nose, before joining at a metal ring on her forehead. Another strap fits over and behind her head, buckling back into place at the base. There will be no escaping or even adjusting the ring gag, thanks to its fucking harness …
“That’s better,” Sociopath purrs at Sabina. “Nobody wants to hear your smart mouth.” Obviously, this ex-mark remembers Sabina’s wisecracking trait from back when he was grifted … since she hasn’t had much of a chance to use it yet (and/or hasn’t dared to). Sabina glowers back and starts to drool, liberally: the ring holding her mouth wide open means she can’t swallow properly. She flushes lightly with the humiliation of it, unable to prevent this giveaway of how she’s feeling. Damn the tell. Scary Guy steps in front of her and pats her cheek with condescension. “Looks good on you.” One corner of his lips quirks up. “Looks right.”
He is now wrapping several loops of a long length of thick, rough rope around Sabina’s throat, effectively collaring her. She feels a spike of fear but forces herself to hold still; she doesn’t want to (accidentally) get choked! Such a vulnerable spot … too vulnerable. Sabina’s captor kneels to affix the twin ends of this same length of rope to each of her ankle cuffs. He yanks harshly and just like that, Sabina is leaning forward (awkwardly) with her neck pulled downwards towards the ground. She is still attached by her upper back and breast bindings to the roof … so she is stretched between the roof and her ankle cuffs, bent at roughly a 45-degree angle …
It is a supremely taxing position … she starts to pant with the strain almost at once: the rope-collar is tight. Her breasts ache and throb where the breast bondage digs in cruelly. Her arms remain bound tightly behind her back, fixed by cold metal at the thumbs, wrists and elbows. Drool slobbers out of her bound-open mouth as she leans over the floor, and she groans through the metal ring gag … which is pretty much the only sound she could make, other than words-too-garbled-to-understand. This is b.a.d. This is going to suck, big time! Sabina’s already trembling with strain and pain …
Scary Guy rises, and pats her on the cheek, again condescendingly. Then he pats her on one (naked) ass cheek. Sabina just stares at the ground and shudders. What else can she do?!
“Enjoy yourself,” he tells her, sounding very pleased with himself.
She hears the sounds of him leaving the cell and the metal door locking. Sabina grunts and sighs and fidgets, not that she can move very much at all. This new bondage position is a sadistic torture tie, it’s worse than being up on her tiptoes! How is that possible … from fucked to more fucked … she is having the Worst Day Ever. Underfuckingstatement. Where’s her team already?! Her beloved girlfriends, their ‘lieutenant’-and-her-mentor, Bosley 342? They need to rescue her already! Sabina can take torture if she has to (and has before, in the cause of Charlie’s Angels) but there’s only so much anyone can take … and truth be told, she’s terrified of what might happen next. Happen soon. She doesn’t know if she’ll be able to endure it … she doesn’t want to find out!
The ring gag makes it impossible to activate her golden wings by voice (a recent-ish improvement in the tech by the Lab Angels): it cuts off legible speech, turns it into gibberish. Besides, her wings aren’t fucking working! She’s checked and re-checked and motherfucking re-checked. Ad infinitum. Something’s wrong with her tat. Or with her teammates’ tattoos (perish the thought!). Or with the tech as a whole, or whatever. Her thoughts race and gibber, though Sabina is only able to groan and moan and drool through the (hated) gag. She’s halfway to panicking … which is a very bad idea, but it’s already happening, and she’s having trouble muscling the panic back down as she’s managed to do, each time until now. She tries to focus on her breathing; she fails …
… She tries to think about her girlfriends, as a Much Needed Distraction. About Sunday Morning Snuggles, and all that this weekly ritual entails. Snuggling together in their big, comfy bed. Warm hugs (Sabina loves touch! All kinds, including affectionate … especially with her girls), soft kisses (she loves kissing!), breezy jokes (mostly initiated by Sabina, of course), dour comebacks (that’s Jane), so-sweet sayings that stop the rising tension escalating into outright conflict (thank you, Elena), sensual playfulness and maybe-wrestling and then they’re having sex (the tension’s escalated somewhere hot- tastic!). No doubt about it, Sabina loves Sunday mornings … no matter how they play out. She sifts through her (multiple, delightful) memories-of-Sunday: there’s so many versions. It totally helps distract her … until it doesn’t. The pain has ratcheted up too high, as one would expect over time spent in strict bondage. Time starts to slow … Sabina can no longer distract herself by retreating into her head … she’s back in the cell, back in her body. Her body fucking hurts …
Time is (somehow) passing even more slowly … and Sabina loses track of exactly how much time has passed. Everything hurts. There’s so much slobber; it’s disgusting. She has started making little garbled, hurty noises, constantly and involuntarily. It’s the pain of this particular gag … it’s too wide for the size of her jaw. No doubt it’s to allow Scary Guy to penetrate her mouth at some point … that’s what Sabina fears. She’s worn ring gags before for BDSM play (Sabina is kinky-AF, plus highly sexual in general) and usually likes them (and gags in general) … but this one’s a bitch … she wouldn’t wear one this big for kinky play. It wouldn’t be safe, it could cause permanent injury quite beside being too-painful-to-enjoy-on-any-level (Sabina – a D/s switch – is masochistic, but that doesn’t mean she likes serious, ongoing pain*). She’d safeword* herself out of it! That isn’t an option now; this isn’t BDSM …
No, this is outright torture! By someone who clearly wants to hurt her, fuck her up for real, turn her into his ‘sex slave’. Sabina is terrified: she can’t help herself. She is trembling all over and it’s not just from the pain of this taxing position … it’s from the fear that she is trying (and maybe failing) to manage. It’s the creeping dread of what’s to come, now that she’s beginning to understand how fucked up her situation really is. Again, she thinks longingly of her girlfriends … prays to God that the two-of-them find her in time … before there isn’t anything left of her worth finding … surely, they are looking for her with Bosley’s help … they must be … she’s sure as sure …. Yet what if they don’t get here in time … don’t save her from this danger? What if Sabina’s left alone with this madman?! It doesn’t bear thinking about! Yet (unsurprisingly) it’s all she can think about, on repeat … she feels like she’s going insane …
Eventually the metal door swings open. Sabina doesn’t look up; she doesn’t want to see. A pair of leather boots and leather pants stop in her line of vision. That gloved-and-ringed hand is back on her throat, jerking her head up so she is forced to look at Scary Guy (she hasn’t been able to remember his name, for the life of her). She chokes and strains around the rope that is now dragging harshly against her throat, thanks to the forced head lift. She is still drooling and making whining noises due to the over-large gag: it’s humiliating. Her captor grins down at her in evident pleasure. His torso is now naked: it’s sleek and muscular, with a sprinkling of dark chest hair: completely fitting with his tall, dark and handsome appearance … but to Sabina he’s become the ugliest human alive.
“You look ready for me,” he purrs. The asshole gestures someone over; through eyes that sting (with tears of pain), Sabina recognises the three thugs from earlier. They are evidentially Asshole’s henchmen. He is the boss. “Get this cunt on her knees,” Asshole orders his henchmen, then he drops Sabina’s head, carelessly. It drops down heavily back into its bound position; Sabina grunts in pain, helpless to prevent this.
Dazedly (but not dazed enough because she is still cognisant … and would rather not be), Sabina stares at the ground. She can sense the thugs moving around her body and see them out of her trained peripheral vision (Angel training: observation is vital on many if not all missions), even with her eyes filled with tears (of pain … and maybe also overwhelm). One thug winches down the rope that is binding Sabina’s upper back and breast bondage to the roof; another is unfastening the ropes from her ankle cuffs, then removing the makeshift rope collar from her throat. She staggers in place, upright and on her feet (for the first time in ages) yet unsteady and weak-feeling. Before Sabina can get her balance, she is being unfastened from the back-to-roof rope. Someone is shoving her down onto her knees on the cold, concrete floor. She kneels there, swaying. Her throbbing breasts are still sandwiched between torso-ropes, and her thumbs, wrists, and upper arms remain cuffed behind her back by hard, unforgiving metal. Her back is killing her! She pants-moans-slobbers through the massive ring gag: no that’s killing her. The assorted leather straps and rings of its harness dig into her face uncomfortably but that’s nothing compared to her held-wide-open jaw … which canes. She hopes she doesn’t dislocate her jaw while wearing this monster … it’s a possibility …
Scary Guy is back in front of Sabina, and without further delay he does exactly what she feared. He gestures at his henchmen; one is on either side of her body, holding her steady between them. She is positioned on her knees between their legs: their meaty hands are wrapped around her biceps in restraint, for all that she’s thoroughly bound and helpless. Scary Guy grips Sabina’s shortish hair at the back of her head (it’s just long enough to be held by) with one gloved hand, and her gag’s chin strap with the other. Sabina sees that his leather pants are unzipped; she has only just noticed - she didn’t see him do that. His penis is proudly on display, rock hard, veins practically pulsing. Sabina winces as she takes in its girth-and-length … both are on the large side … it looks like it’ll be hard to take, and then she stops thinking. He has thrust into her mouth through the metal ring gag: he’s penetrating her fully. Roughly. Without a care for her. Sabina chokes-and-gags on his sizeable cock, unable to breathe properly. He ignores this sign of distress and starts fucking her mouth and throat. His pace is relentless. His hard member slams in and out, hitting the back of Sabina’s throat almost every time, filling her mouth close to completely …
Sabina jerks helplessly; her whole body is being jerked in place by the punishing rhythm that her tormentor is setting. She is held in the upright kneeling position by the henchmen and can’t move away from her rapist. Her bound breasts bounce with the rhythm, which makes them throb more than the bondage. Her eyes sting tears. She can breathe through her nostrils … sort of, on the out-strokes of Sociopath’s penis. On most of the in-strokes he hits the back of her throat: which seals her airway shut completely. Whenever she can, she sucks air in frantically; it’s hard to breathe through her stuffed-full mouth. Her heart pounds with panic, her head pounds with pain. Her stretched-open-to-its-limit jaw is fucking aching. Sabina does her best to relax the back of her throat, stop her gag-reflex, go limp - stop all resistance. That will make being mouth-raped easier to endure, she knows. It’s really her only move: the only agency Sabina has left at this point. She can submit, rather than resist. She has to get through this! Give her girls time to find her, time to save her from this fate-worse-than-death (Sabina’s sure they will: it’s only a matter of time. She refuses to believe in any other possibility). She has to hold on, to survive. Whatever surviving takes, however that looks. Self-respect just isn’t important, under such extreme conditions; dignity’s an insignificant concept. Yet despite her best efforts, she can’t not-gag; her rapist is fucking her too savagely …
The prick isn’t giving Sabina any time to adjust … which she would if she could. Sabina is (very) sexually experienced, much more so than most people. That includes BDSM, rough sex, and ‘consensual non-consent’ (even up to rapeplay). Even though she’s now being raped for real (how can this be happening?!), Sabina could still use her sexual experience to her survival advantage. If she was just given half a fucking chance. However there’s nothing she can do about it: she’s truly helpless. This isn’t a kinky game … she isn’t playing ‘helpless’ for a responsible – and caring – Domme (like say, Jane Kano). Any Dominant worth their salt would adjust and/or stop the moment Sabina calls her safeword (not to mention, provide an alternate way for her to signal her safeword while gagged) … and is only dominating her within their pre-agreed conditions (based on Sabina’s desires and limits, as well as the Dom's).
No, Sabina’s choking on cock, and not in the good way. She’s not in control of this forced encounter … in any way at all. Sabina can only take what this asshole dishes out. Live through it, hopefully … this vengeful prick might mean to fuck her to death! Or not care if he accidentally does so. She can’t remember ever being this scared before … and given all the fucked-up shit that’s happened in her lifetime, that’s beyond belief … she can’t believe what’s happening! It seems like a nightmare that she can’t wake up from … yet she knows she’s wide awake. The relentless throat-fucking seems to go on and on and on; Sabina’s scalp stings from where Scary Guy yanks hard on her hair, driving her head back and forth in a rhythmic motion for his own satisfaction. She feels sick. She feels terrified! Her lungs are now burning even though she’s able to suck in oxygen here and there (through her nostrils mostly) … she needs more air! The oxygen deprivation hurts, but more than hurts is scary. The pain (from all of what’s happening) is relentless (and close to unbearable). Yet somehow … the humiliation is even worse …
Out of nowhere, thick and pungent cum explodes into her mouth. Fills it, dribbles out with her drool, down her jaw and naked chest and onto the floor. Sabina’s rapist pulls his penis out of her mouth (f.i.n.a.l.l.y.), rough as rough. Sabina chokes some more. Some of his (disgusting) cum goes down her throat and some leaks out her mouth. She moans, in pain and mortification. Scary Guy lifts her head up by the back of the gag’s head harness and smiles down at her coldly. Sabina wheezes-gasps in (precious) oxygen, spluttering for breath through the now unobstructed metal ring gag. She tries not to think about how loudly her jaw is screaming (loud). It’s irrelevant. There’s nothing she can do about that: nothing she can do to stop the pain. She lowers her eyes by sheer survival instinct; she doesn’t want to antagonise her captor. He’s a serious fucker … he means business. Obviously, antagonising this evil creep is a bad idea: Dangerous with a capital D. Sabina is unable to lower her head submissively although she feels the urge to do so, in self-preservation! Unfortunately, he’s still holding her head upright …
“That’s better,” Asshole purrs down at her. “You’ll be begging for my cock, before we’re over.” Sabina shudders in revulsion: she can’t help herself. Unfortunately, he sees her reaction … and doesn’t like it. He digs his gloved fingers into Sabina’s open mouth through the metal ring and forces her upright by the roof of her mouth alone, onto her feet. Sabina is standing … if you can call it that. She’s swaying and stumbling-in-place, impaled on her tormentor’s fingers … which remain in her forced-open mouth. The thugs gripping her bound arms have let go; they stand and watch (correction: leer). “Begging,” Scary Guy emphasises.
His other hand reaches up, pulls one of Sabina’s nipples incredibly roughly. She screams; she can’t help it! She wasn’t expecting it. Not to mention the unrelenting breast bondage her breasts are still sandwiched between has left the entire area extra sensitised, especially her nipples. Scary Guy smiles at her scream, even as he releases Sabina’s smarting nipple. Immediately he cups her vulva with that same hand. His large, gloved hand covers the entire area, holds Sabina trapped. She freezes in his grasp, bound arms twitching behind her. He smiles again, shark-like. He withdraws his other hand’s fingers from her ring gag (they’re dripping wet, covered in drool and cum) and squeezes her opposite nipple between them. Yanks on it cruelly …
This time Sabina manages not to scream, but she can’t bite back her hiss of pain. Asshole’s nipple-pulling jerks her body forward some, but Sabina is far more concerned about his other hand: the one holding her pussy. She trembles with fear (not to mention shame): her pussy is by far the more vulnerable area, even though her bound-and-aching tits are at close to their most sensitised (or at least, as sensitive they get during consensual sex and play … before Sabina safewords, because they’re too sensitive to keep going). To her growing horror, Scary Guy begins to grope Sabina’s genitals … lewdly and possessively. He continues holding her in place by one nipple; she stands as still as she can manage, doesn’t try to get away. She knows there’s nowhere to go … and that worse will happen if she tries. Sociopath tugs on one of her outer labia lips, hard; she swallows down a cry of pain-and-fear …
“Who do you belong to?” Scary Guy demands. Sabina can’t help herself: rage-and-hatred explode through her, louder than the fear and shame and dread and drive-to-survive …
“Huhh hohh!” (i.e., “Fuck off!”) she spits, and although it comes out mostly garbled by the gag, it’s still intelligible enough to be understood, especially given the context and attitude …
“Wrong answer,” Asshole tells her, ice cold.
With shocking suddenness, he roughly penetrates Sabina’s vagina with three of his (thick) fingers. She doesn’t know if the leather glove makes this invasion worse or better … the rings definitely make it worse. She hisses out in pained terror, freezes up completely. She doesn’t want to (accidentally) hurt herself by pulling away from him! Besides, God knows what he’d do! She can’t even face what he’s done to her already … she’s pretending it’s not happening. Yet it’s happening … and happening Right Now. Her tormentor is holding her in place by one aching nipple that he pulls hard. Sabina yelps despite herself. Asshole starts to finger fuck her (already aching) vagina. Sabina’s body starts to shake involuntarily; it’s a stress response. This hurts. This is humiliating. This is fucking terrifying … she wants him out of her! She wants him far away! Oh God, oh God, oh God, she can’t get away from him …
“Who. Do. You. Belong. To?” Her abuser asks again, grating out each word to the rough new rhythm of his fingers. Despite what some people might think (and even claim), Sabina Wilson does have a sense of self-preservation, regardless of her rep as ‘the wildest Angel on Charlie’s roster’. It’s kicked in now, by sheer necessity. She’s out of moves! With a sinking heart, Sabina realises what she has to tell her captor … in order to survive this encounter. To live through it. To live and fight another day … since she can’t fight him off today …
“Hooh,” (“You”) she bites out through the gag, though she feels like being sick to even say it. Scary Guy’s penetrating fingers still immediately. Sabina gasps, half in shock and half in relief. What will he do next?! He pulls out of her vagina, none too gently. She shudders in relief.
“That’s right,” he tells her. His voice is pleased, maybe even … coy. “Good slave.” Sabina shudders harder.
Scary Guy pushes her down on her knees, roughly. The henchmen step back close and grab her upper arms, which pull back unpleasantly against the pre-existing arm bondage. She groans. Was there some kind of signal? Sabina didn’t see it …. Scary Guy steps in close, now bearing a thick, leather collar: Sabina doesn’t know where-or-when he got it. Her heart is pounding rabbit-quick with panic … that’s mixed in with relief (that the finger fucking has stopped before it got worse: her stretched-out vagina is stinging. Her throat is aching too) … that’s mixed up with more panic (because what will happen next?!). She’s finding it so damn hard to think … she’s sweating buckets …
Scary Guy buckles the collar around her throat. He pulls it tight. Sabina huffs through her gag, still getting her breath back after the unexpected penetration (both kinds). More slobber slips out the metal ring onto her bound breasts and down onto the floor. Her vagina keeps aching: the aftermath of its sudden invasion. Her throat throbs from its earlier rape. Her jaw keeps screaming from the too-wide metal ring, close to non-stop … she so wishes she could safeword. It’s not an option: Sabina has no options. Scary Guy fastens the collar in place securely. Then he pulls on the metal D-ring at its front with one gloved finger, hard enough that Sabina jerks forward, choking. The thugs holding her by the biceps ensure that she doesn’t fall onto her face, like she would have otherwise. Instead, she kneels before her rapist. She’s suspended between Asshole’s henchmen and their boss. Said boss pats Sabina’s cheek condescendingly, as she half-chokes and drools … all over his leather boots. He sounds amused, like he’s in a good mood:
“We’re going to have such fun together.”
Sabina knows this is a lie. She shivers in his grasp.
“Aren’t we?!” he prompts Sabina, no longer sounding amused. His tone is that of an order, for all that he’s asking her a question …
“Hehh!” (“Yes!”) she wheezes hurriedly, through the gag.
“Yes, Boss,” he tells her firmly, jerking forcefully on her collar’s ring for emphasis. “Or Master.”
“Hehh, Hohh,” (“Yes, Boss”) Sabina repeats dutifully, slurring and half-choking the demanded honorific through the squeeze of the over-tight collar and the impediment of the over-wide ring gag, keeping her eyes down.
She is more than screwed.