chapter 1 - waking up

You sob softly in anguished frustration that you have lost any sense of how much time has passed since you woke. You remember stirring from your slumber, trying to stretch and move, then snapping into panicked alertness as you realized something was very wrong, struggling to piece together the terrifying reality of your situation.

The shocking sense of violation is all that you can focus on at first - the sickeningly intrusive sensation of something unwelcome in your vagina, and the unsettling feeling of something hard and unyielding prying your mouth open. The gag feels uncomfortably large, forcing you jaw wide as it seals firmly over your lips. Trying to scream for help, you struggle to push the gag from your mouth, but it is held tightly in place.

Your senses tell you nothing of your surroundings. A pair of blacked out goggles cover your eyes. They sit tightly, and with your eyes open the darkness seems even more intense than with them closed. Likewise your ears are covered with what feel like padded ear phones, the sound of quiet static all that you can hear. The loss of sensation is disconcerting, and you flinch with anxiety as the idea enters your mind that you have no idea whether you are alone - whether someone is observing you, or even whether you are being watched by a crowd. Not knowing seems somehow worse, rubbing in your complete helplessness by denying you even the knowledge of what is happening to you.

The the gag, your blindfold, and ear covers are held in place by tight fabric wrapping, leaving only your nose exposed. You breath deeply, laboring to fill your lungs through your nostrils, infuriated by your powerlessness, wriggling as you struggle, your attention moving to try to dislodge the intruder from your pussy.

Your legs feel swaddled, tightly bandaged together, your ankles secured to something. The arrangement prevents you from curling up or bending your knees, leaving you stretched out and violated. You can feel padding around your crotch and buttocks, tightly wrapped and wadded, holding the stiff invader in place despite your squirming attempts to dislodge it. As you struggle you become more aware of its shape, whimpering in disgust as you feel a second protuberance that rests snuggly against the top of your vulva. The small insult compounds the indecently personal nature of your assault, filling you with fear over the purpose of your imprisonment as your mind races, trying to assemble any clues as to your fate.

You tug again at your bonds, uselessly trying to free your hands and arms, but your wrists are tightly secured above your head. You clench your hands in frustration, but your fingers are curled into useless fists, bandaged like a boxer's gloves, stopping you from feeling or exploring with your hands. Your anger swells at the visceral feeling of vulnerability the restraints produce, preventing you from shielding your exposed breasts with your arms. Whoever did this to you was deliberate and meticulous.