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2. Year One

Fear is a constant, it's my only friend, I find comfort in its presence and know I'm not alone. It amazes me how one emotion could incite such an irrational feeling inside someone but that feeling is the only thing that reminds me I am alive. I wish I wasn't.

The moment I woke up in this strange place and found myself chained to a table, my hands bound to one end while I was bent over the edge with each of my ankles strapped to the legs. The second I registered I was naked, I knew what would happen. That's when that one fucking emotion took flight inside me, fear. I tried to remain strong and prayed that my family and friends would find me in time but a prayer is as useless as wishing upon a star. They all assumed I was dead but I still held a sliver of hope that my brother, Xander and my best friend Lake wouldn't give up on me, that they would never think I was dead unless they found a body.

The first time Karl raped me I was a wreck, he shattered something within me the instant he slammed his cock inside me. The innocence of my youth was ripped away from that very moment. I screamed and fought with everything I had only for him to punish me with the bite of his whip, splitting open the skin on my back to teach me a lesson. He allowed his men to use my body as their own plaything and even introduced them to me by name so I would feel comfortable—he's a sadistic fuck.

Any sound that came from me or if a tear should fall I was whipped, some of the men liked to cut me and use my own blood as lubricant to rape me. They said I should be thankful they aren't fucking my ass dry, like they were doing me a favor and I should be fucking grateful. They tore away my humanity and turned me into a pet, a doll of sorts. I was treated worse than a dog.

I thought being raped and beaten was the worst of it, until four days of being chained up meant I had no choice but to piss myself and I couldn't hold it any longer, I also soiled myself. Then and only then did the final man, who hadn't laid a single finger on me, come for his turn. He used my shit as lube, smeared it all over my open wounds and used it as body paint, then forced me to eat it while he watched. Ron has a coprophilia kink and I fucking hate him nearly as much as I hate Karl, they are at the top of my list.

"That's right, you're nothing but a useless cunt who takes our cocks!" I block out Ron's words and focus on the crack in the concrete wall, the same crack I stare at every time any of them come to me. I hate it when Ron comes the most. I hate myself for shitting. I fucking try as hard as I can to hold it so I don't have to see him but I can't. I've been here for what must be months now. Tears silently roll down my cheeks. Every sound I make I'm punished for, my back is still raw and bleeding from being whipped yesterday. If I fight, I'm whipped and beaten, if I cry or make a sound, I'm whipped and raped again. Karl–Master as I'm forced to call him—watches every time his men take their turn, he says until I can be trusted to behave he won't allow me any privacy. He thinks allowing me to be alone with each of these vile fucking rodents would make me happy. He is the worst type of fucking human.

"Those tears are costing you space on what used to be flawless skin, Doxy." I cringe and bite down on my lip trying to force my tears to stop falling at the sound of his voice. I know my family will be searching for me, I just have to hold out until my brother and our friends come for me. I know Xander won't stop looking until he finds me, he promised he would always be there when I needed him and I need him now more than ever.

My mom told me a dream is a wish you make with your heart, my heart must be in default setting because my wish of freedom and a painless death has yet to come true…

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