Silent 
H.  Jekyll

MF, Mf, Ff, bdsm, nc, some scat:  story codes refer to the series, 
not to specific chapters.

Chapter Two:  The Bathroom.  

	Hanging.  At some time during the night most of the pains from the 
whipping had diminished but the pain in her shoulders and wrists worsened and 
worsened again so that she couldn't sleep.  She moved into and out of 
consciousness, her exhaustion playing a game with her pain.  She had tried to 
move her shoulders once or twice, and the hurt had been so terrible that she 
just hung.  When she came out of her little unconscious moments she heard 
herself moaning, the only sound she could hear.  When conscious she moaned 
louder.  At some point her toes touched the floor.  Something in the ropes or in 
her had stretched, and she took a little pressure off her shoulders and wrists, 
though her calves soon cramped up.  She was dreadfully thirsty.  He mouth was 
dry and saliva had stopped dripping around the ball gag.  Everything smelled 
sour.

	He was removing the cap, gag and earplugs.  She blinked then followed 
everything he did.  She hadn't known he was there.  Had she slept after all?  
Yesterday's emotional storm was gone with her strength, but he was like a 
dangerous god:  she feared him and needed him.  He untied her feet and she moved 
her legs together.  When he loosened the ropes holding up her arms the pain from 
the shift in position of her shoulders was so great that she cried aloud and 
staggered.  She slipped, which yanked her arms back up, and this hurt so much 
that she blacked out.  

	When she awoke she was lying completely untied on a small bed, her arms by 
her sides.  She couldn't move her shoulders.  She wondered where he was, saw him 
working on something, tinkering.  What would he do to her now?  He walked over 
to her, squatted down with his face two inches above hers and said softly:  "Now 
you'll obey me completely, won't you?  In everything."  They were statements, 
not questions.  

	She just looked up at him and nodded a tiny nod.  Her mouth was so dry.  
She tried to say "water," couldn't at first get the word out, then managed to 
more or less croak it.  At that he smiled a beautiful, warm smile and said:  
"You're disobeying me already.  I told you not to talk unless I gave permission.  
I see I will have to punish you again."  She lay still, her face looking like 
she was crying, but there were no tears.  She opened and closed her mouth 
several times, licked her lips, tried to swallow.

	He made her get up.  Because she couldn't use her shoulders she had to 
work to roll off the bed and to her feet.  She felt weak and light-headed, as 
well as so thirsty.  Her stomach hurt.  He walked her out of the gray room, she 
padding along passively, down a gray hall, turned left through a door, and then 
they were in a magnificent bathroom.  It was brightly lit, with black and teal 
tiles, and was warm.  It had a lovely profusion of sinks, a modern toilet, and a 
sunken bathtub with -- she would find -- a Jacuzzi.

	"Now you can drink."  He lifted the seat of the toilet and gestured toward 
it.  For a moment she did nothing, looked at it stupidly, then at him, then at 
it again, as though it were a practical joke and he would soon say "joke's 
over."  But it wasn't.  "You have to the count of ten to get all the water you 
can lap up, not using your hands.  After that it's another day before you can 
drink again."  Her eyes got big, but at the count of "one" she streaked to the 
john.  It took her two more counts to get her head far enough in, with her 
shoulders hurting so, but she lapped quickly and not expertly, getting water up 
her nose and coughing.  It was so good.  At the count of ten he commanded "stop" 
but she kept drinking, so he grabbed her and slammed her against a wall.  
"That's a second punishment you have coming.  We will tally them up during the 
day."  There were stars meandering about her field of vision.

	He made her sit in what she took for a broad hair stylist's chair.  She 
tried to steel herself for what he would do to her next, but she never expected 
what  happened --  he simply reclined the chair and washed her hair, and 
expertly.  His strong hands were very gentle, and she noticed that his fingers 
were smooth, soft even. As weak and tired as she was he almost caused her to 
drift out.  He used a blow-dryer.  Then he took a wash rag and gave her a 
complete sponge bath. Hot soapy water, a thorough scrub, then hot clear water. 
Her body was covered with parallel bruises and welts from the whipping, so that 
sometimes this hurt her.

	When he was done with that he got a razor and shaving gel.  "I'm going to 
make you beautiful," he told her, and began to shave her underarms, her legs, 
the few darks hairs around her nipples, and her muff.  It took him a long time 
on the muff, so thick was it, and it looked bizarre when he was done.  It made 
her feel more naked.  Except for being darker and larger her vagina looked 
almost like a little girl's. It was at exactly that moment that she realized she 
had not thought of her own little girl since right after she had arrived at this 
dreadful place.  She turned her head aside and cried for the first time that 
day, in grief at what she now knew her daughter must have experienced.  She 
prayed to God to let them both die.  Alas, the answer was no.

	He suddenly splashed an astringent on his hands and rubbed her pussy 
thoroughly. She grunted and moved her hips and legs, though she couldn't bring 
herself to try completely to move away.  He next applied baby lotion, rubbing it 
outside and inside her lips, pushing his fingers up into her vagina, softly 
caressing the nub of her clitoris.  She held herself as still as she could;  
after a few minutes she felt a stirring, just for a moment, and she couldn't let 
him know that.  He didn't show whether he noticed, but told her to stand.  He 
gave her a toothbrush and toothpaste and told her to clean her mouth.  When she 
was done he made her do it again, and brush her poor tongue, the roof of her 
mouth, and the insides of her cheeks.  He made her floss.  She could use her 
shoulders a little, finally, but the flossing hurt them a lot.  Then he had her 
use mouthwash.

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	"Now you're ready to practice discipline," he said.  "Your job is to learn 
to control yourself and to please me. Kneel on the floor, head down in your 
arms, ass in the air."  She knew he would begin abusing her again, now, and that 
he would be inside of her again.  The past half hour there had been no real 
physical cruelty, and she had begun thinking that maybe she would be okay if she 
just cooperated with him., and maybe after that first rape it would get easier 
to take.  But what did he mean by "discipline?" 

	She knelt on a luxurious bath mat, head on her arms and eyes closed.  She 
was so tired, and so weak, that even though her thirst was returning she almost 
fell asleep right there.  Then he was playing with her ass, caressing it and 
making light circles around her anus with his fingers.  She liked it when her 
husband did that; a few times he had pushed a finger up into her, which had hurt 
a little and had excited her.  She had wondered if he would like to sodomize 
her, something their pastor had been railing about.   Her captor pushed a 
lubricated finger well up into her, then two, which caused her to utter a little 
sighing gasp.  Then his two thumbs, which he twisted back and forth,  She 
grunted at this and began trying to tighten her anus.  It hurt, it hurt!  
Despite her resolve to be silent, she started asking him to slow down.  "Please, 
just let me get used to it.  I'll do what you want.  Please, I'll be obedient.  
I'll help."  He rammed three fingers into her and she yelled.  He pulled away.  
Then he talked to her, as usual very softly.

	"The inside of your ass is as soft as wet chamois cloth.  I intend to 
enjoy fucking it frequently, and I will teach you how to maximize the enjoyment 
of the man who is fucking you there.  You may come to enjoy it yourself.  Who 
knows?  But that isn't the major consideration.  We will clean it out 
thoroughly, because it is filthy.  Look at this!"  He held his fingers out to 
her.  They had smudges of feces on them, particularly around the nail of his 
long left finger.  He continued.  "Smell this," and he put his fingers up to her 
face.  She could hardly have missed that smell of shit.  "Now, I am extremely 
disappointed in that outburst you just made.  The penalty for all of that will 
be to have a complete repetition of yesterday's punishment, on top of your other 
punishments."  He stopped to let her consider this, and when she did she fell 
over on her side.  It would kill her!  She couldn't do it!  She couldn't!  He 
continued:  "Or, because I am a merciful man, I will forgo that punishment, if 
you will be so kind as to use your sweet mouth to clean off my hands, a finger 
at a time.  You have to the count of ten to decide.  One."

	She sat up on her knees and reached for his right hand, the cleaner-
looking one.  She didn't know if she could do this either.  She prayed again to 
be allowed to die.  She took his right hand, pulled it softly to her mouth, and 
began licking the little finger.  It didn't seem to have been used on her.  "No, 
suck and lick it with authority.  Treat it like the sweet little prick on your 
husband."  

	She sucked it in deeper and ran her tongue around it.  In and out.  It was 
salty at first.  Then the ring finger.  In and out.  She was a despicable shit 
herself.  She did everything this monster told her.  She was going to do this 
thing.  She hated herself.  She was so afraid of what he might do, of what he 
had done and could do again.  She was putting her lips up to the long finger.  
It looked clean, but it smelt of shit, her shit.  Oh you coward!  She took the 
whole finger in, and it tasted slightly of shit.  She wanted it deep because she 
thought the finger tip and nail would have the most taste and she wanted them 
far from her taste buds.  But he made her take it in and out, and actually the 
end was no worse.

	His index finger had brown on it, a smudge on the side.  She hesitated, 
then her fear brought obedience and she sucked it in entirely.  The shit was 
strong tasting,  her tongue pushed at it and it felt gritty.  She retched, a 
deep, gut-wrenching gag, and made a sound like flatulence in her throat.  She 
held the finger in her mouth and tried to control herself and to dilute the 
shit.  She heaved again and had to stop for a moment.  She took the finger in 
and out, swallowing.

	His voice was beautiful, modulated and deep.  He said:  "This is how I 
like you best, how you please me the most.  Working to overcome yourself, trying 
to be able to eat shit for me.  Your mouth feels so good when you heave.  You 
abase yourself well.  It will be very good when I fuck your ass and then have 
you clean all your shit off my prick with your sweet mouth.  I'm getting 
incredibly hard thinking about it."

	She took the thumb in.  In was like the long finger and so was easier to 
suck.  She seemed to have control of her stomach again.  She couldn't tell if 
she'd gotten the finger clean because a miasma of shit hung around her mouth.  
She moved to the little finger of his left hand.  She was getting close to the 
long left finger.  When she got there she heaved again, gained control, then did 
it again.  She made guttural sounds when she did it.  She managed to get the 
finger into her mouth and to get the largest part of shit off, then retched 
again and had to hold herself perfectly still for a moment.  Her eyes were 
watering.  She had shit on her tongue and had to swallow, but she couldn't at 
first.  Finally it all went down.  It was really only a tiny amount. There was 
no more shit after that.

	When he let her up she ran to the toilet and hung over it, heaving 
horribly, but only a little, almost clear, mucus came up.  She hadn't eaten in a 
full day, and the small amount of water she'd gotten was gone already.  He said, 
"I didn't tell you to expel any of the shit.  We will add that to your tally of 
disobedience."  Limp on the porcelain, she cried a dry, moaning cry onto the 
back of one hand.

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	He made her get up and sit back on her ankles.  He would use her now that 
she was completely debased.  It was too good to waste. There would be time for 
more later, as well, but this would be the best.  He liked to have his captives 
suck him once they were reasonably cowed.  It was better than just raping them, 
because the mouth really was the center of their being, because they hated it 
more, and because they had to actively work to give him pleasure instead of just 
lying there like they could being fucked.

	He undressed, as before carefully folding his clothing.  He walked over to 
her, his stiff penis pointing at her.  "My sweet kitten, you're going to suck me 
now.  You need to be very, very good and very, very sweet, and give me maximum 
pleasure.  I'll instruct you as you go, but I don't tolerate any slacking.  Use 
that pretty mouth of yours for what it was intended -- to pleasure the man who 
masters you.  This will give you the chance to take part in your own 
domination."

	She reached up the short distance to his prick and pulled it slightly 
downward to her mouth.  She did not hesitate, would not hesitate for anything he 
demanded now.  She took the head in her mouth.  It was so much larger around 
than her husband's that she had to open her mouth especially wide to take it in.  
She remembered the running commentary of her friends, that any rapist must have 
a tiny cock that wouldn't interest a woman.  He was uncircumcised, and the head 
was slippery with pre-cum.  It tasted just like her husband's penis, a little 
like bitter urine and a bit of an off, meaty flavor.  She tried to be good, 
remembering what her husband especially liked, using her tongue and cheeks, 
tickling his shaft with her fingers, tickling his balls.  She didn't generally 
like fellatio, but she loved her husband and it excited him.  She would do 
anything but let him come in her mouth.  But her captor would do that, she was 
sure.  Could it be any worse than the shit?

Usually when she sucked her husband they followed with straight fucking, but a 
few times she had sucked him right to orgasm, pulled him out of her mouth at the 
last possible moment, and pumped him onto his belly.  She was fascinated by what 
it did on its own, jumping on its own, pulsating in her hand, and spitting out 
slime.  It made her think of an eel.  They followed with him using a vibrator on 
her, while she thought about taking his semen in her mouth, secretly wishing she 
were brave enough to do it at least once.  

He pushed his penis deep into her mouth and it choked her.  He pulled out most 
of the way and she licked and sucked just the head.  More fluid seeped out of 
the hole, and she swallowed it.  She concentrated:  please him, pleasure him, be 
good, do it right.  She tickled his balls and pumped the shaft into her mouth.  
He held her head and moved his dick deep into her again, then out.  She tried to 
time her breathing to his thrusts.  He was going faster.  Then he pushed it far 
in and twitched it in and out rapidly and spurted cum into her mouth.  He was 
saying "yes, yes" almost breathlessly.  The penis spurted only at the start, 
then flowed.  The cum was surprisingly aromatic.  She couldn't do anything but 
swallow and swallow, and when he was finished he made her keep the dick in her 
mouth for several minutes, while it shrank back down.  She had done it and she 
was sure she had pleased him.  It hadn't been as bad as she had thought.  It 
hadn't made her nauseous.  

She knelt before him with his penis in her mouth, sucking  slightly until it 
softened completely and was a warm, soft mass that fit completely inside her.  
He kept one hand on her head, holding her all the way to him, so her nose was 
pushed into his public hairs and her forehead pushed against his soft, belly 
skin.  She kept one hand on his balls and the other resting flat against one of 
his thighs.  Her mouth was filled with the flavor of semen and penis, and her 
nose with the musk odor of his lower body. A small amount of semen continued to 
seep out of him, and she continued to suck it down.  It was more intimate than 
she had ever been with a man in her entire life.

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Finally he stepped away from her, his penis slipping from her mouth.  He had a 
very slight smile.  "You will be rewarded for that," he told her, and her heart 
soared for the briefest time.  "You will please me well, I'm sure.  Now there 
are things to do.  Keep obeying completely like that, so that you don't add to 
you punishments."  At that she shrank back into herself, and her head drooped.  

He told her to get back into the position with her head down and her ass up.  
When she did he lubricated her anus with something and threaded a hose into her.  
She knew it would be an enema.  She hadn't had one since the period after the 
birth of her son.  Her captor fiddled with something at a sink and warm liquid 
began pouring into her.  When there was as much liquid in her as she remembered 
she expected it to stop, but it didn't.  She became fuller.  She made a 
squeaking gasp to get his attention without speaking, but he let it continue. 
She was too full;  her belly cramped.  He let more in.

When finally he shut off the flow and pulled the hose out of her rectum she was 
moaning again and swinging her hips back and forth to try to reduce the 
pressure.  She stared at the toilet.  Her captor, though, caressed her back and 
her flanks and told her to hold herself still.  Didn't he know how much he had 
put in her?  

He told her to stand and she did, stiff legged, her butt held tightly in a knot 
to help keep her ass closed.  "Go stand in the tub," he told her.  "You're going 
to practice discipline.  Hold the water in for thirty minutes."  

Her eyes were wild.  She stepped into the tub, holding herself as tightly as she 
could.  She held her belly with her arms.  She couldn't stop it.  He had put 
something else in her besides water.  She held and held and all of a sudden 
water and feces exploded from her, splattering on the tub floor and sides, 
spraying her legs with detritus.  After the first burst there were two shorter 
ones, less violent, that splashed straight onto the tub floor.  The smell of 
shit covered any other smell.  She felt the urge to shit more, but nothing more 
came out, so she just stood swaying among the feces and water, not knowing what 
to do.  Meanwhile, her captor stood across the bathroom, leaning against a sink, 
his arms crossed casually.  

"Oh, you're a very bad little girl.  Couldn't last even five minutes, could you?  
Your daughter is much more disciplined than you are."  She swung her  head 
toward him.  What?  He went on:  "I don't think she'll like how poorly you 
performed.  Maybe I'll let her help with your punishment -- lord knows you've 
just gotten a lot more added on, with this sorry performance."

"Well, what shall we do? You're already filthy, so why don't you just carry it 
around with you as a reminder? That's right, pick up some nice big pieces.  
Smear them on your face.  Do it now!  Now all over your tits!  On your cunt!  Do 
it immediately or I'll whip the skin right off your worthless cunt!  Now run it 
through your hair."  

He was rushing her, making her terror and self-loathing increase.  When she had 
finished what he told her, he had her put her arms behind her back and he cuffed 
them.  He attached a  dog collar and a leash and walked her out of the bathroom 
into a gray hall and to another gray room.  She was dizzy, and sick with the 
smell, while he had gotten another erection.  

The room had several pieces of exercise equipment.  "We're going to work on that 
flab every day," he said.  He made her get on a treadmill.  She couldn't lean on 
the front bar because her hands were bound behind her.  He started the 
treadmill, then increased the speed, and she ran out of steam almost 
immediately.  She started to stumble, so he got a large, leather paddle and hit 
her on the flanks, the belly, the back, all over.  It kept her going, gasping 
and staggering, until she fell hard to the floor of the treadmill and was pushed 
off by it.  

She lay on the cement floor of the room, no longer responding to the paddle with 
anything but breathless cries.  In a bit he stopped.  He left her for a moment, 
then made her get up.  He used the leash to walk her back to the original room, 
a walk that took some doing, as she kept stumbling and her knees kept giving 
out.  In the room he inserted ear plugs, attached the gag, and pulled down the 
stocking mask.  He tied her feet apart to the same ropes as the previous night.  
She was swaying and seemed ready to fall.  He uncuffed her arms, cuffed them to 
the ropes over her head, and  pulled them upward until she was airborne again.  
Now, finally, she bleated like a sheep and twisted her body back, forth, for a 
few minutes, then finally just hung and moaned like last night.  Everything 
smelled of shit, but she hardly noticed it.  He turned off the light and left 
her in the dark.
