Fiction: Taken for a Drink

As I said earlier, I'm not a writer. I'm a big fan of erotica and the topics in what I read become discussion fodder with both R & B. B asked me to write something for him and this is it. Thanks to those of you who have taken a look and provided feedback.

Warning! Danger! This work of fiction contains non-consensual activity. Did I mention it's fictional?

B's instructions: Write about a woman who takes a business trip to South America. When she and a male co-worker are in a small village, a band of local guerillas takes over....

Being jolted awake by something hitting her seat, hard, she glared across the aisle toward Brett. What she saw instead was the beverage cart and a too-perky flight attendant offering her something to drink. Damiana shook her head and adjusted in her seat to turn away from the cart, the man, the world. She couldn’t get the memory out of her head of when her boss told her conditions in the area she’d be returning to had worsened to the point that women could no longer travel alone. Brett seemed to beam when their boss told her Brett would be accompanying her. It was common knowledge that he was on a fast track to fill his uncle’s footsteps in senior management. It was also common knowledge that he was called the Brat behind his back by the rank-and-file who would most likely work for him one day. Her attempts to avoid having to babysit the Brat were quickly halted. "New company policy."

She tried to focus on her goals for the trip. She’d made bottling plant inspections before and she found it to be an interesting part of the traveling she did. The captain’s announcement that they were preparing to land woke her and she started to make sure her things were in order. Looking across the aisle, she saw Brett looking rested and a bit anxious. She couldn’t help but grin when she thought how difficult it would be for him to get along. Damned if she was playing interpreter for him.

They gathered their baggage and after clearing customs, found their driver and made their way slowly into the city. Cali was beautiful… lush and green, and Damiana always felt the pace of life slow down when she was here. She chatted in Spanish with Marcos, the driver who she knew from her previous trips to the city. The "clang-clang" of a salsa beat was faint but ever present on the radio. Arriving at the hotel, she double checked her inspection schedule with Marcos and agreed to see him in the morning. She was counting the minutes until she could be soaking in a tub of hot water with a glass of wine.

"What do you say let’s drop off the bags and talk about these plant inspections over dinner?" Her mind screeched to a halt. This was not how she wanted to start off with him.

"Brett, I’m really wiped out from the flight. Why don’t we just get up to speed on the drive over in the morning? We’ll have an hour’s drive at least…" She finished the sentence in her mind. "And I can educate you on your job then." His expression darkened a little and he started to pull his suitcase toward the elevator.

"Well, okay. I was just hoping to get some insight from you, but I guess it’ll keep till morning. What time are we leaving?" Damiana dragged her bag along behind him and, seeing a touch of resentment in his expression, told him 9am. To her dismay, they had connecting rooms. As she double checked to make sure her side of the connecting door was locked, she silently cursed her boss and this new company policy.

***

Damiana was amazed that someone could prove himself to be such an ass in such a short time. She spent the next couple of days prepping Brett for each visit, letting him know what to expect, what to look for, when to question what wasn’t being said and even how to conduct business in their culture. The etiquette of a meeting was quite different than in the States. Brett managed to insult someone or let them know what a tool he was at every inspection they made. By the end of the second day, Damiana didn’t know whether to be embarrassed for him or whether to just try to keep from laughing in his face. Oh and wait until her boss heard all this. The knowing glances Marcos exchanged with her in the rear view mirror were becoming more and more frequent.

Today’s visit was to be at one of the smaller bottling plants in Fredonia. The plant had been experiencing problems with theft and ramping up local security practices had not helped. The drive was a long one and the day was particularly warm. It was days like this that made Damiana wish the acceptable business attire for women in this country had kept up with other parts of the world. She slipped her foot out of her shoe and wiggled her stocking-covered toes. "The pace of life is not the only slow thing here," she thought to herself. She’d removed her suit jacket before getting into the car so it wouldn’t be completely wrinkled by the time they arrived. Taking her phone out to check the time, she was irritated to see she had no signal. Rubbing her temples in an attempt to ward off a headache she felt settling in, she asked Marcos to turn the radio down a little and dug around in her bag for some aspirin.

She found none. Faced with a serious dilemma now, she debated. "Ask him for aspirin and be in his debt, or spend the rest of the day being miserable." She glanced at Brett, who was dozing off with his head pressed to the window, leaving a big wet smear when it moved with the motion of the car. She rifled through her bag again, checking to see if maybe one had been dropped out of the bottle by accident and was floating in the void that exists in the bottom of a woman’s purse. Like the knight in shining armor that he was, Marcos produced a bottle of aspirin from the glove box and passed it back over the seat to her with a smile. She could kiss this man! And probably already would have had it not been for his devotion to his wife Ana, and their children. She opened the cap and shook out two of the pills. She swallowed them with a sigh of relief and met Marcos’ eyes in the mirror. "Mil gracias, Marcos."

"No hay de que," he smiled back.

***

Her first thought was of doves. From a distance she could hear the folk song that had become familiar to her… Maracaibo…. Dos palomitas volando… La Guaira. Confusion crowded her thoughts and she opened her eyes. In front of them she saw the bottom of what couldn’t possibly be, but looked a lot like a chandelier. As her mind fought its way out of the fog, she realized something was terribly wrong. At once her body sprang into motion as the adrenaline pumped through her. She quickly learned it was to no avail; she was quite immobile and was unable to even turn her head. The scream that emerged when she found her breath was muffled and sounded far away, even to her. She breathed hard through her nose and continued to struggle, trying to move different parts of her body individually, taking stock of the situation.


Her head seemed to be held in place by some sort of strap that was connected to the surface below her. She could feel that it ran from the base of her head straight up the back and down her forehead where it split into two straps that ran along the outside of each eye. The straps held some kind of gag firmly in her mouth. Her attempts at dislodging the gag were unsuccessful. She could feel more tight straps holding her shoulders down. Her arms were at her side and they, too, were held in place with straps. She felt them cutting into her upper arms and her wrists.

A glimmer of hope surfaced when Damiana realized she could move her fingers. Shortlived hope, as her fingers found something cold and hard not far away: a padlock. The rings it secured to one another were cold and hard as well. One of the rings was attached to a strap that held her hips in place. As she moved the padlocks back and forth, another scream tried to find its voice.

***

He sat in an office that looked more like mission control than a home office in a small Colombian village. He glanced at each of the monitors in front of him, but his eyes mainly focussed on the dining room monitor. She’d just awakened and he watched her struggle on the dining room table. In the end, taking her had been much easier than he’d anticipated. After hearing her bitch and moan all week, the time had finally come to take control and he was more than ready. Picking up a telephone, he pressed a button, spoke two words, and hung up.

***

She had flipped the padlocks back and forth with her fingers, working them loudly in their fittings, until her fingers ached. She sensed someone nearby and struggled to see the person… any person; someone who could help her. A dark looking man with dark eyes came into view. Dressed in a dark green T-shirt and camo pants, he scowled down at her with contempt. He leaned toward her and twisted his head so that he could see her face and she could see his. The look in his eyes caused her to cease; her moaning, writhing, struggling, breathing… all ceased and fear consumed her.

He moved toward her feet and she struggled to move her head to be able to see him. She couldn’t quite get it there but continued to try. She heard scissors and felt movement in her skirt that told her it was being cut off her. She whimpered as the scissors cut over her skin and when the material was ripped from beneath her, she cried out again. Fingers reached inside the waistband of her pantyhose and she heard the scissors make two "snip" sounds before they, too, were ripped off her body. Her blouse and bra quickly found their place in the pile of clothes and despite the heat, she shivered. The dark face leaned close to hers and sniffed the air above her. "Touch the padlocks again, and I will cut your fingers off, too."

***

He watched her until well past dark, late into the night. Naked and bound, still struggling. He admired her perseverance and knew that would be a trait that he could use to his benefit.

***

Pain radiating from her left nipple woke her up abruptly. Another man dressed in camo stood beside her, his fingers clamped hard on her nipple. He let go and quickly slapped her breast; two hard slaps and she was fully awake and in a panic. He moved to the head of the table and placed something over her eyes. The blindfold attached to the straps on her head and she was thrust back into darkness. She heard the man retreat and took some deep breaths to try and calm herself. Every muscle in her body ached. Her jaws throbbed and she really had to pee, despite the fact that she’d had nothing to drink since she was in the car. She wondered how long ago that had been, but couldn’t keep it straight… daytime and nighttime. She jumped in her bonds when a hand touched her thigh.

"I imagine that by now you’re pretty thirsty.

"She acknowledged with a weak "Mmmhmm."

"I’m going to remove your gag and let you have something to drink. You are not going to make a sound."

She felt hands on her face and her mouth was emptied. She gasped at the suddenness of it and closed her jaw. As she was drawing a breath to scream, she felt the cool tip of sharp steel pressing into her neck. Wet warmth spread below her and made a puddle around her hips. She heard the man chuckle and she spread her lips when she felt the straw against them, almost as a matter of reflex. She sucked greedily, anxious to alleviate the discomfort she felt in her mouth. She’d swallowed three times before she realized she was drinking piss. The mist that sprayed out of her mouth splattered back down onto her face and chest. The man chuckled again.

"Please!" She stammered. A hard slap across her face jolted her head but the harness held it in place.

The straw poked at her lips again, but she kept them clamped tightly shut. Her nipple felt like it was being ripped from her body and she opened her mouth to cry out. Something round and hard filled it before she realized it was even happening. But this was different; it left her mouth open. She breathed hard through her mouth trying to force the intrusion out. It was attached to the straps on her face and she knew it was there to stay.

"You can make this as painful as you want it to be, but one way or the other, you’re going to drink this. Any that you spit out, you will soak in.

"A cry escaped from her throat and she was slapped again. She felt a stream begin to fill her mouth. And as quickly, it stopped.

"Swallow."

She swallowed and her mouth was refilled. This pattern of small pours and a pause for her to swallow and breathe continued for what seemed like hours. Her stomach slowly filled with piss. Her brain had gone into self-preservation mode and she withdrew from the reality of her situation.

***

As he watched her spit his piss, he made a mental note that she should drink of the nectar every day.

***

Time ceased to exist as the minutes ticked loudly from the clock on the mantle. Occasionally, someone would approach her and pour piss into her mouth. The voices were not always the same and some of them overfilled her mouth so that her hair and chest were soaked. They woke her with streams of hot pee splashing as they aimed at different parts of her body. Several of them splashed onto her at the same time, leaving her in a puddle that never dried. She’d wet herself quite a few times now, too. The darkness never left her and neither did the urine that seemed to flow unceasingly.

***

On the third day, he went to her himself. The stench that filled the air around her made him smile. He took in the sight and considered how he’d gotten here. It made him proud that he’d succeeded. The ring gag slid out of her mouth with a quiet moan. He unlocked the padlocks and began removing the straps that held her in place. Tentatively, she moved and flexed her muscles, gasping and moaning as they came back to life. He pushed her wrists together in front of her and she felt them click together. He swung her legs around and helped her sit up. She whimpered softly, but he could tell she had no fight left in her. Three days of darkness and piss had seen to that.

He led her away from the table. The fresh air made her shiver. Sounds became echoey as he walked her into the shower. He turned on the cold water and she gasped and jumped. Slowly and methodically, he washed her, rubbing the muscles he knew were sore and bringing her back from the recesses of her mind. He washed her backside carefully, checking to see there were no ill effects from her being wet for so long. He washed her hair as best he could, working around the harness. Still in the dark.

He toweled her dry and admired his new acquisition in the mirror before leading her out of the bathroom and down a flight of stairs. He had a feeling she would be worth the wait.

***

From far away, she could see herself, but it was so much easier to keep that distance. Weak and disoriented, she was easily led and eagerly followed. Her senses went into overload when a smell came racing into her being. Her stomach growled and churned while her mouth watered furiously. She was ravenously hungry and didn’t notice she’d been pushed to her knees until well after she was already there. Her moans were answered by a single finger touching her lips lightly. "Shh…"

***

He tore a small piece of bread from the roll and held it to her lips. She took it greedily and almost swallowed it whole. He took his time and admired her movements up close. The shape of her neck as it met her shoulder… the locks of hair that hung damp around her face. He remembered the high-powered executive bitch look she’d had not long ago and a smug grin covered his face. She seemed to gather some strength as she ate more and he watched her former self try to emerge. Having given the respite needed, he pulled her quickly to her feet and she gasped at the suddenness of it.

***

As she struggled to maintain her balance, her arms were thrust above her and attached to something overhead. She moved her wrists tentatively from side to side, testing. A little sideways movement was possible, but she couldn’t lower her arms. And now they were being pulled higher, tighter, forcing her onto her toes. She moaned loudly and once again, found a single finger over her lips. The seemingly tender touch fought with the force of her arms being pulled so harshly. In the moment that it took for her brain to register the touch and switch its cry from loud to silent wonder, she heard a whirring sound and felt pain cut through her ass. She screamed. Behind the blindfold, she saw flashing rings of white light. Her body moved with the force of the whip and her arms pulled her body back rudely. The pain ripped through her again and again until her screams became one, the light in her eyes was continual and her arms ached with the pain of trying to keep her body balanced and still.

***

He placed the stripes on her body with precision, starting with her ass, then alternately moving up her back and down her thighs. He fed off of each scream. Her struggles to endure excited and energized him. He moved to the front of her body and covered it with stripes as well. She practically hung from her wrists now. Her screams had become little more than hoarse cries and he knew she was pliable now. Ready to be made his.

He unfastened her wrists and lowered her body. When her knees were underneath her, he supported her there. He placed the back of his hand against her parched lips and held it there. "She has much to learn," he thought to himself as he moved the hand from her lips to slap her face hard. His hand returned to her lips. To her credit, she learned quickly and kissed the hand that had just beaten her. After she slid the rest of the way to the floor, he handed her a glass and spoke his first word to her:

***

"Drink."

The thought permeated her through every cut on her body as it sounded all encompassing, yet far away. She sucked greedily at the straw between her lips and swallowed his nectar before everything went black.

***

The muffled sound of knocking dragged her up and up. Her body tensed and the searing pain of the cuts on her body caused her to see white again. The knocking persisted and she moaned loudly as her mind and body came back to life. She swallowed a couple of times and rubbed her sore jaw. She was disoriented. The nerve of Brett waking her so early, she thought. Pushing the covers off, she looked around and tried to get her bearings; hotel room, sunlight filtering through the sheer drapes that shimmered in a light breeze. She opened the door without looking to see him and instead found a room service tray. Her mouth automatically watered at the thought of a cup of coffee. She signed the check hastily and closed the door. She was more groggy today than she had been in a while and she needed to shake the feeling. Splashing some cool water on her face would help, she knew. Weird dreams crept back into her mind and she needed some clarity.

As she moved toward the bathroom, her phone rang. She picked it up and continued to the bathroom as she answered it. He spoke that single word for the second time. It jolted her out of her grogginess at the same moment she looked up and stared into the mirror. The body that stared back at her was covered with stripes… lines of red and purple. She was too stunned to speak. She flew across the room to the room service tray and with nerves calmly betraying her panic, picked up the carafe and poured. A sound like a whimper, yet like a moan, escaped her. The sight and smell brought back the dreams she now realized were reality. Images flashed through her mind like a slideshow.

"Open the door to the adjoining room and come to me." The phone disconnected.

The emotions that overcame her were fierce; pain, humiliation, rage. But still she was drawn to the door. She knew she had a choice and the realization was like a slap to the face. She knew she could easily dial the phone and make this all go away. She could make the bastard pay for what he’d done to her.

The choice was easy for her in a surreal and detached kind of way. He’d made it easy for her. Turning back to the tray, she picked up the cup and walked to the door that adjoined her room to Brett’s. She opened it with a simple determination and walked through it.

He sat in a chair with his back to the window. Sunlight silhouetted him and made her squint. Damiana could only see his outline and walked toward him, needing to see more. As she neared him, she searched expectantly for his eyes. She dropped to her knees and for the first time since the long car ride, she looked up and into his eyes and gasped softly. Marcos looked down at her and smiled. He nodded toward the cup in her hand and watched her eyes.

"Drink."