Imprisoned (Teaser)
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https://subscribestar.adult/posts/873962
By DX
Copyrighted 2017,2023 all rights reserved. May not be used without prior written permission.
The sharp tick of her arch breaking high heels clicked sharply on the cement floor of the parking garage and the sound echoed madly in her foggy and heavily drugged brain. She could see herself on the edge of a dream, her elegant dress flowing, and her fox fur draped across her shoulders. She was tall, despite being only five foot four in her killer pumps, as if floating on her cloud of hubris. She was sparkling in her hazy dream, diamonds winking in the flickering florescent light. Her lipstick was a dark, venous blood red and her lips wore a perpetual arrogant smirk.
She had much to be arrogant about.
The feel of metal and cement grated on her face, as a low, throbbing pain racked through her body. Why was she lying on the floor? Where was the attendant? Where was her phone?
Watching her dream-self rummage around in her clutch purse she wanted to cry out, The phone! It’s in the purse! Call for help! Now! but all she could manage was a throaty moan her dream-self could not hear. Instead of her phone she pulled out the key to her Lexus, all the while oblivious to the hulking shadow sweeping up behind her.
Lightning, hot and sudden, and her world went vertical. The greasy, oil stained cement floor ruined her dress, her hair.
She lay on the floor. It was wildly bright. Walls rose about her, surrounding her completely. Cement. Cement walls, cement floor, cement ceiling. Get up! She shouted at her dream-self. Run! Just run away! But he had her, picking her up and putting her into darkness. The sound of a van door slamming shut.
There had been no fear, no realization, until the hollow tearing sound of duct tape being spooled off a roll filled her senses.
She was in trouble.
Then nothing.
It jarred her fully awake. She was in a cement room with light, brilliant white, beaming down from a three-inch hole in the ceiling. As she stirred, sliding to sit up, she first noticed she was barefoot.
Where are my shoes? She looked around for them thinking about the cost of her designer footware before the flashing image of metal pulled her attention back. Shiny metal shackles wrapped her ankles, connected by a metal cable. They had no key, no lock. It was as if someone had welded them on.
Still struggling to sit up she tried to use her arms but found her hands were trapped in small, round cages, which had also been cuffed. There was a short, three-inch cable attaching them to a metal belt, leaving her hands trapped to her waist. Cables ran down the front of the belt to a metal shield, which pulled snuggly over her vagina. The cables then ran from the bottom of the shield, under her buttocks then up over her hips to the belt. Her eyes traveled up her body before stopping at the metal cups covering her breasts held tightly in place by welded cables.
“What in the world?” She croaked, feeling her voice rake as if she hadn’t used it in quite some time. As she scooted on her butt to sit up properly she felt the weight of a cage around her head. It appeared to be oval in shape with bars blooming up from a metal collar around her neck. There were flat pieces welded on the inside of the cage that rested on the crown of her head, across the bridge of her nose and under the nape of the back of her head. As her head turned, the cage turned with it.
Almost breathless, she properly took in her surroundings.
She was in a concrete box.
It was about three feet wide, three feet high and three feet long. The ceiling had a hole where light poured through. In the corner there was a dimple in the floor about eight inches in diameter and four inches deep. In the center of the depression there was a hole about an inch in diameter.
She slowly shifted around and found the door.
Framed by concrete, the door was two feet by two feet of the same shiny metal that her shackles were made from. In its center was a three-inch diameter hole. She shuffled closer, trying to peer out. As she leaned towards it, she could see frame of the door showed the thickness of the concrete walls. She guessed it was about eight inches.
Was she in an asylum? Locked away in a high-risk ward?
“Hello?” She called out, putting her eye up to the hole. The metal of the door was an inch thick; beyond that was a heavy piece of glass, possibly ballistic. “Can anybody hear me?” She could see a small, cramped room. The concrete walls were maybe six feet high and the room about six feet deep. Against the back wall was a metal rung ladder. Just at the end of her peripheral vision to her right, she could see blue plastic barrels stacked one on top another. She could count four, but imagined there where more. There was white PVC piping connecting them all together.
“My name is Eliza Cooper!” She shouted at the door. “I am the Assistant States Attorney!” She craned her head to try to see more in the room. Light beamed down from a hole in the ceiling similar to the one in her concrete box. “I demand to be released!” Her voice shrilled. “You must return my clothes at once! You have no right to keep me here and I promise heads will roll for this! I want a supervisor down here right now!” She squinted, peering through the little hole. There didn’t appear to be any video cameras in the room.
She sat back almost aghast. The concept began rolling through her head. She wasn’t in prison or an insane asylum. Images of her last memory flooded her senses. She had been abducted.
“They’re looking for me, you know that?” She screamed. “You’re only making it worse for yourself. Release me now and we can talk plea bargain!” As her voice’s echo faded out, she knew no one had heard her.
She scanned the door, but there was no key. It was smooth, without a slot for food or water. She tried to maneuver her body so her hands could reach the door, but the hand cages prevented her from touching it. She rotated carefully, swiveling on her butt on the concrete floor. She scooted forward and then leaned back on her back so she could raise her feet to the door.
She tried pushing, and then sliding the door, but it didn’t budge. She then kicked it repeatedly but it was so solid it barely made a noise. Panting from her exertions she shifted to get back on her butt, but it was complicated in the tiny space. With her hands cuffed and her feet shackled any movement became a carefully orchestrated exercise in human engineering.
Sweat glistened on her brow as she almost cheered when she was sitting again. “You will pay for this.” She growled, catching her breath. “Every bit of this, every indignity.” She looked at the door unmoved by the threat. “I know you hear me and I swear you will pay for this!” She shifted forward and started banging her caged head against the door. It made a good, sharp clang.
“I DEMAND TO BE RELEASED!” She hollered, her words punctuated with strikes against the door. “Now! Do you hear me! I am the Assistant States Attorney!” Sweat rolled down her face as she tried to catch her breath. “I have rights…” She tried to wipe the sweat from her face but cursed her hand cages. “What the hell is this?” She looked at her cable and shield underwear. “A chastity belt? Seriously?”
She leaned back and rammed her head into the wall hoping to break either the wall or the head cage. Neither happened. She slipped her legs underneath her and got to her knees. She tensed her body, aimed her head at the door, and with an Amazon’s battle cry launched forward into the door.
Stars flashed across her vision as she bounced back. Stunned, she glared at the door. It was unblemished. She geared up again and crashed her head as hard as she could. Other than a sharp pain in her head, nothing had happened.
She thought it was sweat dripping from her brow until she saw it was blood.
“I’m bleeding!” She shouted. “I need medical attention!” She shuffled as close to the door as she could. “You cannot deny me medical attention!”
There was no answer.
Eliza Cooper, Assistant States Attorney sat back in stunned silence.
She shook her head, not believing, and began screaming and screaming and screaming.
Hours? She had lost track. She was sticky in her own blood, although the cut to her head had clotted. There was nothing left of her voice but she kept chanting her demand to be released until exhaustion took her and she slept.
Sitting on the unyielding cement floor caused slow but insistent radiating pain, which stirred her. Alarmed she was still in her concrete box, Eliza began shouting again, but her throat felt as if she had gargled with butterfly knives.
Looking again she noted the room was dimmer. She looked up into the hole in the ceiling. Eight inches of cement led to a pipe, about three inches in diameter. The pipe went straight up for at least ten feet. She shouted up the hole with her feeble voice but nothing happened. Peering again, she noted the light was in fact fading.
And a sliver of rainbow.
She pulled her eye from the hole with start, and then peered again.
A prism! She thought, sitting back. It was directing sunlight from who knows where and now the sun was going down. A flash of fear tickled her but she dismissed it. They have some night operations. She assured herself. It also meant the evening shift would come by. They had to feed her and provide her with medical attention.
They would release her the moment they found out who she was.
Something started ticking.
She felt it more than heard it. Mechanical clockworks came to life and she shifted her legs around, ready to leap out the moment they opened the door.
Gravel spilled from a small hole in the wall into a dimple in the floor. Beside it was a second basin that filled with water.
Eliza looked at it curiously. She hadn’t noticed the two bowls set into the floor by the door before and it surprised her that, locked in a three foot cube, she hadn’t properly taken in her environment, but then again she hadn’t thought she would still be there to worry about such things.
The gravel appeared to be dry dog food.
“You are kidding me.” She hissed. “You are… fucking kidding me!” She cursed. She sat in the far corner, trying to put as much distance from the insult as possible. She started screaming again, invoking the Geneva conventions and the Red Cross.
But the room only became darker, gloomier.
Fear became an itch.
She felt the walls closing in as the darkness grew. She screamed more and more but still there was no response. She knew there would have to be some light, probably from the peephole in the door.
There wasn’t.
The darkness was profound and absolute.
And Eliza screamed and screamed.
Full story available here, please support us!
https://subscribestar.adult/posts/873962
Imprisoned (Teaser)
Copyright 2023, all rights reserved.
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