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Erica groaned into her gag as her captor left her alone in the room, strapped to the bench.  She closed her eyes tightly as new, hot tears began to stream down her cheeks.  The vibrator buzzed fiercely inside her pussy as she squeezed her thighs reflexively against the padded edges of the bench.  Bent forward slightly, she bucked against the bench with all her strength, desperate to free herself from this new form of torture and the effects that it was beginning to have on her.  The most she could accomplish were momentary respites for her clitoris from the attentions of the attachment that pressed against it, never more than a brief flash, made worse by its return.  She twisted her trapped wrists in the tight cuffs that held them behind her neck but found no release, her whole body tense as the intruder continued to vibrate inside her.

She cried out in surprise, drool sputtering around the thick rubber ball in her mouth, nearly falling forward as the vibrations suddenly ceased inside her.  Her whole body trembled as she sat back upright again and opened her eyes, coming down from the climax that she had been approaching.  Alone in the room, she blushed at the disappointment that she felt in her core.  The scene on the television had changed, now showing a petite brunette dressed in goth clothing.  Erica watched as the girl was dragged into a basement and bound tightly in rope.

Just as the pale girl on the screen was entered violently by the black-masked man who bound her, Erica felt the vibrator surge to life inside her once more.  Already left wet and wanting from its first attack, she felt herself driving quickly toward orgasm.  Blushing crimson in humiliation, she welcomed the oncoming promise of pleasure.  This place was hell, and there was nothing she could do about it, but at least she could accept what little pleasure it offered her.  She hated herself for giving in to her captor in even so small a fashion as this, but there was no stopping the reactions of her body.

She screamed into the gag as the tide of her orgasm crashed over her bound body, arching her back, thighs twitching against their restraints on the bench as it wracked her.  And still the vibrator thrummed inside her forcefully, quickly turning her rhapsody of pleasure into discomfort.  She bucked against the bench as the cruel rubber continued to throb inside her pussy and against her clitoris, still sensitive in the aftermath of the powerful orgasm.  Sobbing, panting for air through her nose, she pulled at her restraints, desperate for the vibrator’s attentions to subside.

When the vibrations finally ended again, she was coated in sweat.  Her bare, heaving breasts were a mess of snot and drool from her frenzied exertions.  She could feel her juices on her thighs and ass, all over the bench beneath her.  She trembled as if she had run a marathon, panting for air through her flared nostrils.  Whining softly, she tried again to find release from the leather cuffs and chains, confident that the vibrator would not remain dormant for long.  She pressed against the rubber ball in her mouth with her tongue, trying unsuccessfully to push it out past her teeth, but it was firmly buckled in its place and would not budge.

Looking up at the screen again, she was faced with a new surprise.  She had to blink away the tears from her blurry eyes to make sure that she was seeing what she thought it showed her, but there was no mistaking the image.  She saw herself at the bar, dressed in one of the previous “uniforms” that the place had inflicted on its bar-girls.  While she watched herself serving pitchers of draft beer in the short plaid skirt and thigh high stockings, she struggled to remember how long it had been since they had worn them.  Feeling addled by some combination of her current situation and the nearly sleepless night preceding, she couldn’t remember exactly how long it had been, but she knew it was at least a month.  The scene changed again, this time a view of her walking across the parking lot toward her car.  The parking lot was covered in snow, but she recognized the red boots of the Santa’s Helper outfit beneath her long coat.

He’d been watching her since December, at least, she realized.  So much for his story about her just happening to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.  It was no accident that she was his captive.  She strained her memory for previous encounters with him, trying to think of some way she might have provoked him to such drastic cruelty, but could not place his face.  What did this new discovery mean, and why had he chosen to share it with her now?  She couldn’t make sense of it, but intuitively she felt that it didn’t do much for her prospects of being released.

The parking lot scene changed abruptly to one of a slender, naked woman stretched out and strapped to a large wooden frame in the shape of an X.  The trembling woman was not gagged and cried pitifully as she was whipped repeatedly across the front of her body.  Angry red welts crisscrossed the flesh of her thighs, belly, and breasts as the thin leather whip lashed across her in steady motion.  Erica watched as the young girl’s desperate struggles against the leather restraints that held her mercilessly in place mirrored her own, and she felt a connection to the tortured stranger.  She wondered if the whipping unfolding on the screen before her was a sign of the new punishment she had been promised by her captor, and shuddered at the thought.

Her wonderings were interrupted by the return of the vibrators ministrations to her pussy.  It started slowly this time, and she groaned into the gag as it gradually grew in intensity.  As her body began to give in once more to the rumbling vibrations, she saw the picture on the television change again, this time to a view of the outside of her apartment building.  Groaning, she watched the view zoom in on her window, peaking through an opening in her curtain to capture a view of her as she stripped out of a pair of jeans.  She struggled to focus on the screen, to find some sort of clue about her captor’s identity, but the dildo soon overtook her again.  She sobbed helplessly, whining in pleasure and humiliation as her whole world came to be focused on the intersection of her legs.

This time, the vibrations lasted longer, seemingly an eternity.  The pleasure became unbearable, transforming into twisted pain, as orgasm after orgasm tore through her trembling body, offering her no time to recover between them.  She lost track of how many times she came or how long this bout lasted, eventually reaching a point where her body was a tense, quivering bow of overwhelming passion.  When it finally stopped, she fell forward, the dildo shifting uncomfortably as she bent at the waist, hair falling around her face as she sobbed helplessly.  She felt utterly spent and wasted.  How long had it been, she wondered.  Would he really leave her here for hours?

When she finally recovered from this newest assault, she looked up at the screen again.  She saw a girl inside a tank full of water, wrapped in rusty chains.  It looked like something out of a magic act, except that the girl was naked, and obviously lacked the ability to miraculously escape from the chains’ embrace.  This captive was obviously scared, and struggled to keep her mouth and nose above the surface of the water.

More than anything, she knew that she had to find a way to escape this place.  Should she be given another opportunity, even a slim one like the one in the bathroom this morning, she promised herself that she would take it.  If this horrendous treatment was the reward that she could expect for good behavior, it was clear that the risk of further punishment was worth taking.

The girl in the over-sized aquarium faded from view as Erica fought against the leather straps that held her securely in place on the bench.  In its place came a view of herself that chilled her to her bones.  It was clearly at least three years old, and she saw herself sitting at a desk in a classroom at the University, the camera gradually moving from her face down over her breasts, lingering for a moment on her breasts as they rose and fell behind the soft sweater that contained them.  After pausing for a moment, the camera continued its descent, passing the desktop to view her bare, crossed legs beyond her short denim skirt.  Watching her brown suede ankle boot bob as she sat there, she could remember the carefree feelings of those days and she sobbed softly as new tears mixed with the drool that dropped onto her bare chest.

Could she really have ever felt so free and happy, she wondered?  Was it really possible that the care-free girl on the screen before her was the same person imprisoned in this awful basement?  She moaned softly, pitifully, as she watched the camera zoom in for a glimpse of her pink panties when she uncrossed and re-crossed her legs on the screen.  The camera returned to her face, rising quickly over her body.  As it focused on her eyes, she screamed into her gag in frustration, somehow feeling that if only she had her voice, she could warn this younger version of herself of the dangers to come and save herself this misery.

Reluctantly, she took stock of her decision, a large part of her mind unwilling to contemplate the many overwhelming terrors that faced her.  Her captor had been stalking her for years now, so the odds that he had he would release her any time in the near future were impossibly slim.  He had let her see his face, so that added further to the idea that his intentions were permanent.  As far as she could tell, she hadn’t been here even a day yet, and already she could feel her strength and stamina slipping.  The long periods of confinement and lack of sleep were already taking their toll on her body.  It wasn’t difficult to realize that within just a few days she would stand no chance of resistance.

As the vibrator leapt to life inside her again, she forced herself to push it as far away from herself as she could, focus on thoughts of escape fuelled by anger and desperation.  So far, he had been very careful to always keep her locked to something at all times, and she could see no reason to think that he would make a mistake within the next couple days.  All of his actions seemed orchestrated, somehow, too well planned for a casual mistake.  God, the thrumming of the vibrator insider her and against her clit was maddening in its intensity.  Against her will, she felt herself beginning to ride the wave of another orgasm.  She had no choice but to fight him the next time he left her hands free, as he had done this morning.  He was bigger than she was, she knew, but she kept herself in good shape, and thought that she’d at least have surprise on her side.

Her focus began to fade, betrayed once again by her body’s reactions to the pulsing vibrator, more painful than pleasurable now against her tender flesh.  She turned once more to the television screen and saw an image of herself lying in her bed in her old dorm room.  She was wrapped up in the covers, wearing a pair of boy shorts and a tank top, with one bare leg out from beneath the sheets.  Her dorm room?  He’d been inside her dorm room while she was sleeping?  Who the fuck was he?  The picture on the screen faded once more, this time replaced by a plain black screen on which were imprinted a pair of simple statements in white letters.

Erica no longer.

My slave forever.

The words struck to the very core of her, and she broke down into hysterical sobs after reading them, panting through her nose.  Her body seemed to work on autopilot, half of her screaming and crying, while the rest trembled, victimized by the vibrator that worked her over mercilessly as only a machine could.  As she cycled through phases of struggling and collapsing in exhaustion, it seemed that the pauses between the intruder’s attacks grew shorter and shorter, until it seemed to be running almost continuously at maximum power.  She felt almost numb to it, cold, hollow, and locked to the bench.