Roofies are a hell of a drug. Especially when you wake up with your hands cuffed behind your back and sharp pains running across your stomach, ribs, thighs, and breasts. It felt as if I was being held up by knifes but as open my eyes. Try to force them to focus beyond the drug haze that had covered them. It took awhile to realize I was staring at a floor. It was concreted made brown with dirty and there were scuff marks from boots all around me. I tried to look down to see the bed I was on, but there was nothing under me. I didn’t understand. It didn’t make sense, I could feel the pressure underneath me as if I was laying on a bed of nails. I tried to look up behind me and cried out as I felt that sharp pain digging into me intensify so badly that my vision turned white until I forced myself to relax again. The pain didn’t go away but it wasn’t as if I was being sliced by hundreds of razors at once. I found myself panting as I recollected my brain working hard not to shift and get more comfortable as anytime a muscle flexed or moved it’d cause that sharp awful pain. I try to recollect what I saw before my vision turned and I remember a spiderweb. Nothing but thin silver lines moving from around me and into the ceiling but that didn’t make sense either and I just can’t understand. Then I heard the crunch of dirt being ground into concrete. The heavy footsteps of someone in boots walked towards me. I waited to see the person who had captured me but they never appeared in front of me and then I felt something soft, gentle, and evil across the sole of my foot. I gasped, laughing, as I instinctively tried to pull my foot away from whatever the soft item was. The pain was so intense that shot through me, my vision went white as I felt razor blades all over my body. A hard hand gripping my ankle and holding my foot still as the soft item went away to fingers. The hard fingers digging into the sensitive curve of my foot forcing me to laugh and scream as I jerk, pull away, and squirm against my bindings. I can feel them digging harder and harder into me. I feel what is almost a pop in some areas as the pain goes to an entirely new level. My frayed nerves extra sensitive from the abuse allowing me to feel the dripping blood from those popped sections. The sound of the blood dripping onto the floor was so loud to my ears. Even over my sobbing laughter. He wouldn’t let up though, his fingers just switching from one foot to the other, driving me mad. I couldn’t even beg for him to stop all my air went into crying, laughing, and sobbing. I felt like I was going to pass out and didn’t even realize how sick this was all making me until I felt the burn of stomach acid in my throat and seeing the mess I made on the floor. He stopped, still never saying a word to me as he walked around me. Stopping in front of me he pulled my hair pulling my head up. My face was red, my eyes full of tears and flowing, and even snot uncontrolled down my face. I flinched as he spoke. His voice hard and deep like gravel and wolf growls. “You made a mess slut.” He pulled me forward by my head, rocking me on whatever torture device he had put me on making me whimper and scream again. He pulled my face into his hard jeans. I could feel his hard cock as he ground the rough cloth against my face scratching it with his zipper and the metal button as he promised to me. “I’m going to have fun with you whore. Especially making you clean this up. Now open your mouth and beg me for my cock.”
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