It was dark inside and soundproofed. She was aware of movement as the crate was transferred from one place to the next, but it remained in the proper position so that she was facing...up?
It was hard to tell as she was secured with cushioning that kept her immobile and rendered her sense of gravity almost nil. The air pumped into the mask that covered her nose and mouth was pure, blocking any taste or smell she might have clung to. They had put a needle in her arm but she no longer felt it as it dripped nutrients into her bloodstream. The cushioning surface was felt-like and had been luxurious when she was placed inside days ago.
Had it been days? Or was it hours? Or weeks?
But now it was all she could feel on her naked skin and so she felt no contrast and eventually nothing at all. Just like her sense of passing time - surrounded by it and knowing nothing.
She had felt things before. Like when the first man took her. She remembered the chilling bite of snow on her back and buttocks as he took her in the snow. And then the red-hot pain as he ripped into her innocent body, making her believe she was going to die. But she didn't. Instead, there was that huge thing, hard and hurting, moving inside of her. Inside - she never could have imagined that before.
She felt his presence pressing against her in there, widening the place she was suddenly learning about and making her bloated there. He kept moving, pounding her, making her aching tissues burn and on the verge of breaking apart.
But she held together and received the thick bursts of slime in her body that meant he was done. Done for the first time.
My name is Naomi.
She reminded herself of this in her dark, unfeeling place as her mind floated.
The first man hadn't used her name, had he? None of the rest did. But it was her name and she was desperate to keep it.
Not like her clothes.
"You won't need any clothes anymore," he had said to her.
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Mr Double's Palisade
A MrDouble Production:
Changes last made on: Monday, August 28, 2017