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From: "Nikki@P.U."
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.incest
Subject: STOCKHOLM (ped, bdsm, abuse)
Date: Wed, 03 Nov 2004 15:50:15 -0800
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===================
STOCKHOLM (ped, bdsm, abuse)
BY RIDER
Sitting in the dark room, Sandy struggled against the ropes that bound
her wrists and ankles. With a gag in her mouth and her hands tied behind
her, she made little progress, but she was a determined little girl. She
could feel liquid running down the fingers of her right hand and figured
she may have rubbed herself so raw that she had begun to bleed, but that
didn't stop her. Perhaps the fear of another encounter with the nameless
man that put her here gave her inspiration.
The only thing that could make her cry was thinking about the way things
used to be. She missed her mother and father. She missed the sunshine
and her friends. She missed good food. When her thoughts strayed to
these things, she would cry.
The bare floor was cold on her butt and wet from her own urine. Although
there was a corner she used to defecate and urinate, the room was small
and the urine flowed all over the floor. The stench was getting
unbearable as the urine degraded into ammonia and the quantity of feces
had grown. Naked, except for the ropes and gag, she tried sleeping in a
sitting position so that she would not have to lie in the stench. She
finally found that if she leaned into a corner, she could rest for a
while. Everything was dark and quiet.
Suddenly, a bright light shown from across the room as the door opened.
It was so bright she could not even tell if there was someone standing
in the doorway. She knew he was there, though. It was always him.
There was no movement or sound for a while. Then footsteps clicked
across the cement floor and she felt a hand on her leg. The ties around
her ankles soon loosened and the rope was removed. Nothing was said. The
hand gently grabbed her arm and pulled insistently and she struggled to
her feet. Her hair, once beautiful, was a scraggly mess that smelled of
urine and hung down in her face obscuring her vision.
Stumbling towards the light, she thought it actually felt warm, but it
wasn't sunshine. She was led from her stagnant cubicle through another
room into still another. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the light and she
could identify bathroom fixtures. She was not angry now; just dazed,
confused and fearful.
She felt the hands untying the gag and removing it, but she did not
scream for fear of what he might do. Besides, she was fairly sure no one
would hear. As she stood with her hands bound, naked and trembling with
cold and fear, she watched as he filled the bathtub with water and
tested the temperature with his hand. As he was bent over the tub, she
contemplated possible actions. She could kick him, perhaps forcing his
head into the wall and knocking him out. Glancing at the door, she also
though about running.
The man stood and she turned her head, but she noticed that he was also
looking at the door. And then he looked her in the eyes. She looked away
at nothing in particular, the tile, the floor, the grout, expecting that
he would walk over to the door and close it, or hit her if he figured
out what she was thinking.
Nothing happened. She did not return his gaze even after it was apparent
that he would not do anything, but kept her eyes almost motionless to
cover her thoughts. Her plans had not been completely blocked, but she
lacked opportunity at the moment. But when the moment was right...
She felt his hand on her shoulder and pulled away towards the tub, now
almost full. His hands continued to urge her from behind and she decided
to go along and get into the tub.
A delicate soapy odor permeated the room and she noticed that he had
added bubble bath to the water. What a curious thing! Bubble bath! She
was pleased and angered at the same time. After keeping her locked in
that nasty room, he had the audacity to try and make this bath
"special." But, oh how she loved bubble baths! She wanted to kick him
some place special to thank him.
After she had stepped into the tub, he untied her wrists. She brought
her hands to her front and felt the unnatural pull on her shoulders from
having been behind her for so long. Blood was caked onto her fingers on
the right hand and the wrist bore abrasions that were raw and tender.
She slowly began to sit in the bath and felt the bubbles tickle her
hairless pussy and the backs of her thighs before she felt the warm
soothing water. She decided to lean back and hide her naked body under
the bubbles, but the water stung her wrist so much that she cried out
briefly. She held her wrist for a moment and swallowed her tears before
she again lowered herself into the water. This time, the water stung,
but she put the pain out of her mind and submerged her body as much as
she could. Her legs were too long for the small tub and her knees stuck
out above the water. She moved some of the bubbles to cover her knees,
wanting to become invisible.
She cringed as he approached the tub with a washcloth. Although it was
likely he was going to wash her, she dreaded his touch and closed her
eyes to avoid seeing what he would do. She felt the water move as he
moistened the cloth and then the cloth touched her shoulder. As the
cloth gently rubbed her skin, she resigned herself to being washed and
did not make any move to resist. She lay there as he washed her
shoulders and arms. His hand behind her neck prompted her to sit up and
he then washed her back. The motion of the cloth, the warm water and the
gentle sounds of dripping and splashing water relaxed her despite her
intent and she fought to keep alert so that she could find an
opportunity to escape. She soon realized, however, that escape would
have to wait for a while, and she was so tired from her lack of sleep
that she allowed her captor to wash her quite passively.
She closed her eyes as the man washed her face and kept them closed. She
gave no resistance as he lifted her injured wrist from the water and
patted it with the washcloth.
Her brow wrinkled when the washcloth disappeared beneath the water and
began to rub her stomach, but she gave no other outward sign of
displeasure. Her expression did not change as the washcloth passed
between her legs and gently rubbed her hairless labia and around her
anus. Mentally, she had divorced the washcloth from the hand. At least,
she thought, it was not his hands touching her. It was the washcloth
that caressed her legs, not his hands.
His hands did touch her head as he applied shampoo and scrubbed the
strands of scraggly hair, but that did not evoke any new disgust. In
fact, she was glad to finally get the grunge out of her hair.
After rinsing her hair, she again felt his hand on her arm imploring her
to stand with which she complied. A clean dry towel was wrapped around
her shoulders and she grasped the front and held it to cover her
nakedness. She stood perfectly still as she felt his hands through the
towel patting her dry.
She was led through the door into a hallway and then into a large room.
A large bed occupied the center covered only with sheets. The rest of
the furnishings were unremarkable: a nightstand, a lamp, a chair or two,
and the floor was covered with blue carpeting. There was another open
door besides the entrance that led to another smaller bathroom and, most
notably, there was a window. Curtains covered the window and there was
no way to see outside, but she could tell it was night. That was the
only way to tell the time since there were no clocks, no television, no
radio, and no telephone.
She gave a little resistance when he removed her towel, but finally
stood there and covered her privates with her hands. He gestured towards
the bed and she slowly moved and sat down on the clean sheets. It was
the softest thing she had sat on in what seemed like a very long time.
"Lie down," he ordered. It was the first time she had heard his voice.
It was not gruff, as she expected, but normal. Just like anyone else's.
She sighed and lay on her back with her knees bent and her hands still
covering her privates. He closed the door and walked to the dresser
where he removed some cloth and returned to the bed. He took her left
arm and tied the cloth around her wrist and then to the metal bedpost.
With her right wrist, he first wrapped the wrist with a soft cloth
before tying that one to the other bedpost. She struggled briefly when
he grasped her right ankle, but then gave way to avoid arousing his ire.
After tying it to the lower bedpost, he took the final piece of cloth
and walked around to the other side of the bed. She didn't even resist
when he grabbed her left ankle and straightened the leg out before
securing it with the cloth.
For what seemed like a very long time, he stood by the bed and stared.
She bent her neck and looked down, wondering what he was staring at. She
had a flat chest without even a hint of tittie like a woman has. Her
pussy was completely hairless and smooth and she knew that women had
hair on their pussies. So what was there to look at?
As he turned and walked to the door, she finally got the courage to speak.
"Hey, mister! What if I need to pee?"
He turned around and replied, "Just yell," before he continued out the
door leaving the light on.
Her brief thoughts of screaming for help were dashed by this new
instruction. Evidently, there was no one around besides him to hear her,
so there was little point in attempting to attract attention. The last
attention she wanted at the moment was his.
As the door closed, she was alone again. Reflecting on her new
circumstances, she decided that they were definitely better than before.
She was clean and dry, relatively warm, and lying on a soft bed. The
ties were cloth instead of rope and she was not gagged. She wanted to
turn over, but the ties prevented her from moving so she lay there and
closed her eyes. As she drifted off to sleep, she remembered she had not
eaten in at least a day.
The aroma of fried bacon, toast and eggs wafted through the room and she
thought she was still dreaming. As she opened her eyes, however, the man
was setting a tray on the bed. It was covered with breakfast food in
separate plates and there was orange juice in a plastic cup. As she
stared at the tray, he untied her hands. The man moved to the foot of
the bed and sat in a chair, leaving her with her arms free and a tray
full of food within her reach.
Although she was hungry, she hesitated. Was this a trick? Was the food
poisoned? As she eyed the food and then the man, she decided that it
didn't matter. Besides, why go to all this trouble to kill her now when
he could have done it easily last night or any time before?
Despite her ravenous appetite, she made a pretense of being calm and
collected as she picked a piece of bacon and put in into her mouth.
Followed by buttered toast, and eggs and more bacon, rinsing it down
with orange juice. Soon, she gave up the pretense and began voraciously
chowing down. She made no effort to conceal her exposed cunt, despite
the fact that he was clearly positioned for the optimal view, but ate
like she had never eaten before.
The portions were generous, but there was no food remaining when she
finished. Her hunger satisfied, she leaned back on her elbows and
returned the man's stare. Feeling somewhat emboldened with a full
stomach, she decided to engage the man in conversation.
"What now?" she asked, slightly concerned that he might actually tell her.
After a brief hesitation, the man answered, "Put your hand between your
legs."
She saw no problem with covering herself and moved her hand quickly and
placing it over her pussy.
"Now rub yourself," he commanded.
She failed to see the point in this request, but decided to obey. She
moved her hand slightly up and down and kept it placed where it would
continue to cover her pussy. She kept up a steady motion as he watched
for several minutes and, although it was pleasurable, it was not
exceptionally so.
She thought to herself, "So this is what you have to do for breakfast
around here."
He finally arose and moved to replace the ties on her wrists. As he took
her left wrist, she asked, "Can I go to the bathroom now?"
After removing the empty tray, he released her wrist and untied her
ankles before stepping back to let her get up. She slowly sat up on the
side of the side of the bed, still warm from the tray, and then walked
to the bathroom. She no longer used her hands to cover herself,
recognizing the futility of such a gesture.
Upon entering the bathroom, she closed the door and felt a sudden rush
of excitement. A chance to escape? There was no lock on the door and no
window. The ventilation was too small for her to fit through and too
high to reach in any case. There was only a toilet and a sink with no
medicine cabinet or closet.
Sighing at the unfortunate conclusion, she sat on the toilet and both
urinated and defecated. There was toilet paper which was a welcome
sight. She washed her hands and took one final look around for anything
that could be used to help with an escape. She inspected the workings of
the toilet for sharp objects and scrutinized the plumbing, but she
finally reconciled herself to the fact that there was little of any use.
Fighting the desire to just stay in the bathroom, she finally opened the
door. The man was nowhere to be seen and the bedroom door was closed.
She was alone! And untied! She felt almost free as she walked over to
the window, lit with daylight, and pulled back the curtains. The bars on
the other side reminded her of her prisoner status, but the view onto a
pasture was a delight. Except that there was no evidence of humanity
anywhere to be seen.
She spent most of the rest of the day exploring her new space, but
finally tired and lay back down on the bed. She got under the thin
covers and curled up in a ball. Even without a pillow, this was
paradise. As she fell asleep, she dreamed of walking in the pasture
barefooted and naked.
It was evening when the man returned, again carrying a tray of food.
Again, there were no utensils, but the food was delicious and missing
lunch had made her quite hungry even while she slept. When she had
finished, he came and moved the tray.
Returning to his seat at the end of the bed, he sat still for a moment.
The silence was frustrating, so she again asked, "What now?"
With less hesitation, he instructed her to lie down. She lay on the bed
with her legs together and looked at the ceiling.
"Raise your knees," he ordered. She did as he said, keeping her knees
together.
"Now separate your knees."
Having been naked and totally exposed before, but being untied and well
fed now, she decided to follow his instructions. There was little to
lose since he could just as easily tie her in whatever position he
wished and she was hoping to keep the small degree of freedom that she had.
For several moments, she lay with her hands beside her and her knees up
with legs spread wide. She could see no point in not explicitly
following his instructions. Exposed is exposed, so why not give him what
he obviously wants? She was not clear why, but she did know that he was
intent on viewing her preteen pussy and she thought cooperation might
lead to better things than resistance, at least for the time being.
"Put your hands between your legs and pull the lips apart," came the order.
For a moment, she hesitated. It wasn't that she didn't understand, she
was contemplating disobedience. Could she deny him the pleasure of
seeing her innermost private recesses?
His glance towards the dresser immediately shocked her back into
reality. There was no denying this man who could just as easily remove
the freedoms that he had granted. To avoid being tied, she immediately
pulled her cunt lips apart as far as they would go and, to emphasize her
compliance, lifted her hips.
When she was sure that her compliance had averted being restrained, she
slowly let her hips return to the bed. She watched him for a while, but
her neck got tired and she rested it on the pillow and looked at the
ceiling as she kept up the uncomfortable traction on her cunt lips.
Minutes went by, but he just sat there, staring. It was as though she
were a photograph, placed in this way for his amusement. She felt like
saying, "Take a picture. It will last longer," but she kept her silence,
fearing that he might demand more liberties if she were insolent.
That evening began with a repeat of the earlier bizarre request and she
snapped her legs apart and pulled her lips apart almost before he had
finished making his request. There was something new this time.
First, he made an additional demand. "Put a finger into your cunt."
The word "cunt" was one she had heard, but it had vulgar connotations.
Still, she wasn't about to quibble with his vocabulary under the
circumstances, so she put her right index finger and the entrance to her
pussy and slowly pushed it in.
"Move it in and out."
She began to move her finger in and out and watched her hand move
between her thighs as she kept an eye on him. She became briefly
frightened when she saw him undo his pants and pull out his penis, but
he remained seated, massaging his cock and that seemed harmless enough.
It was now obvious that he derived sexual pleasure from watching her.
She assumed that had been the real reason for her imprisonment from the
start.
In spite of the discomfort of keeping her head elevated, she watched
intently as he held his cock in one hand and rubbed it with his other
fist. She had seen a penis before, but it had not been erect, nor nearly
as large as this one. Despite herself, she felt twinges of pleasure from
the friction of her finger, but she dismissed them as she kept her
attention focused on her captor.
He soon ejaculated as she watched in fascination. Once again, she had
heard of this, but only in the clinical drone of her sex education
teacher. She had never seen anyone enjoy such intense pleasure as he
appeared to be experiencing.
He stood, still holding his cum covered cock, and approached the foot of
the bed. She almost panicked. Removing her hands from between her legs,
she put them at her sides preparing to flee. His movements were slow,
however, and she lay still.
He took some cum from his cock by scooping it onto his finger. Slowly
and deliberately, he wiped his finger on her hairless cunt lips and the
slit between. As he turned to walk back to his chair, he zipped and
fastened his pants, wiping his hands on his thighs.
She wasn't sure what he had in mind, so she just lay there. She could
see some of the cum on her pubis as she looked between her still spread
legs at the man. A short time later, he rose and left through the door.
She returned her attention to the while liquid on her pubis. She was
both disgusted and curious as she gingerly touched it with her finger.
It was slippery and gooey; not at all like she had pictured from the
descriptions she got in sex ed. She lifted her finger to her nose and
smelled. Wrinkling her nose, she decided that she did not like the smell
and quickly wiped it on the sheets. Feeling her pussy, it was evident
there was still a lot remaining and she rose and went to the bathroom
where she used toilet paper to wipe off the rest.
Sensing that his actions might become even more aggressive sexually, she
again determined to escape. Looking around her now familiar
surroundings, a plan took shape. She decided to hide behind the door,
which opened inward, and leave some clue that she was in the bathroom.
When he walked into the room after opening the door, she would quickly
dash through the door to freedom. She would only have a short time
before he knew she was gone, but long enough to reach the outside if she
could find her way through the halls to an exit. She remembered every
detail of what the hall outside looked like, and that gave her some
advantage though not a precise guide.
There was no way to predict the exact time of the morning he would
return, so after her preparations were made, she stood where she would
be hidden by the opening door for so long that her legs began to ache.
When she heard the handle jiggle, her heart began to race. She could
hardly breath and didn't want to make noise anyway, so she flattened
herself against the wall and waited.
When the door opened, she knew the man would see the empty bed. She also
knew he would be carrying a tray of food that he would need to set down
before he did anything else. No matter where he went to set the food
down, the door would remain open and his back would be towards her and
the door. That would be the time to move quickly and quietly into the hall.
The door opened, and there was no immediate indication of movement. She
could not hear him move or see his shadow, so she continued to listen
quietly, scarcely breathing. Was he waiting for her to exit the closed
bathroom door?
Suddenly, his face appeared and she didn't know what to do. Her plans
had been dashed and it appeared that he had already anticipated this
ploy. She backed up along the wall, but he didn't move. He just stood
there holding the breakfast tray and, as his eyes followed her, she
could see disappointment and anger in his expression. When she was a few
feet away, she walked quickly to the bed and lay down with her legs
straight and her arms by her sides. Although looking straight up, she
saw him move out of the corner of her eye to the dresser and she began
to sob.
She put up no resistance as he placed the ties around her wrists and
ankles and secured her to the four corners of the bed. Although she had
closed her eyes, tears continued to flow down her temples and into her ears.
She did not hear him leave, but after the door had shut, she looked up.
There was no tray of food and, even if there were, she couldn't get to
it. She cried for her failure, her hunger, her lost freedom, and - just
because. She sobbed quietly for a while longer before boredom took over
and she slept.
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