Imprisoned

She rolled over in her sleep a soft sigh escaping her thin pink lips. Brown hair drifted around her face like loose strands of silk. The dark green pillow was like a pool of shadow under her lightly tanned face. The matching sheets had fallen away from her shoulders and slid down to the lean curve of her hip. His shadow fell over her waist like another blanket. She was a slender woman, her small breasts covered by the thin t-shirt she wore to sleep. His hand carefully slid the sheets down off her hip and along her legs, savoring the feel of her skin and the sight of her pale blue panties. She gave a little moan and rolled onto her back, her hips arching and her knees spreading slightly. He took in the heart shaped curves of her face and the way her eyes moved beneath her closed lids. Caught in a pleasant dream she arched for the lover that wasn't there. His blood quickened at the sight and his hands trembled as he ran light fingers across her stomach, pushing the t-shirt up to just below the small curves of her petite breasts. The touch was enough to rouse her and she opened her eyes blearily. Before she became truly aware of the dark shape standing over her a hand covered her mouth and nose. She tried to suck in her breath to scream and all that filled her lungs was the harsh scent of chemicals. The darkness grew deeper as something stronger than sleep took her.
When she woke she wasn't in her soft bed any longer. The soft of nylon shifting in the wind was the first thing the noticed. Blurrily opening her eyes she saw only a deep neon orange. As things swam into focus she realized she was in a large tent. Panicked she tried to sit up only to be jerked back down by a sharp pain in her neck. Her shaking hands rose to touch the cold metal that was locked about her throat. Panting with fear she slid her hands around it until she found the chain, each link a half inch thick. Roughly three feet of chain led to a padlock and an iron stake that had been driven into the ground. She rose to her knees and in a fit of blind terror began to yank on the chain, screaming for help. The stake wouldn't budge and no one came to help her. She was alone with the sound of the wind slithering across the nylon tent. Almost an hour was spent in hysterics, crying and tugging and pulling on the chain, until she had badly bruised her hands and neck, cutting the skin of her jaw and shoulders with frantic spasms. It wasn't until she collapsed sobbing upon the tent floor that the uniform coldness made it obvious that the collar was all she wore. She curled into a ball, despair and terror like a black cloud threatening to devour her mind. In fear, she passed out again.
She awoke again without even the wind to keep her company. The sides of the tent were dark and the air was growing bitterly cold. Her shivering made her curl into a ball in hopes of keeping warm. She looked around and froze, seeing something different. The chain was longer. Hope filled her when she realized it might be long enough to go outside. She crawled to the edge of the tent and unzipped it, scurrying outside in a desperate desire to be free. She didn't think until she got more than a few feet from the tent and the chain jerked her up short. She wept and dropped to her knees upon realizing that she still wasn't free. The pine needles beneath her knees made a soft carpet, while small roots and rocks dug into the bones of her legs. She looked around, barely caring what she might find. Already hope was dying within her. A small wooden building was within reach of the tent, an outhouse. The need to use, now that it was brought to her attention, it was so strong she could hardly stumble to her feet. She burst into tears anew to realize that because of the chain she couldn't even close to the door properly. She cried but still did what she needed to do. Folded neatly upon the bench next to the opening was a thick flannel night gown, twelve tiny buttons to do up the front staring at her like brown eyes. She pulled it on gratefully, her skin riddled with goose bumps from the cold. Sagging with quiet despair she crept back into the empty tent, curled up on the floor and cried herself to sleep.
The weight that crushed her to the floor brought pain blossoming across her body. Harsh teeth bit into her neck and shoulder, grasping hands tore the night gown open and a knee brutally thrust her legs apart. Before she was even aware fully of what was going on the man entered her. He thrust his cock deep into her and began to pump and grind without rhythm, without control. His nails sank into her back, buttocks and hips, scrabbling for purchase as he kissed and bit roughly all over her neck and shoulders. One hand buried itself in her hair and yanked her head back, bringing a scream to her lips. It only seemed to excite him more. He hunched to bring his brutal teeth to her breasts, her small nipples being abused terribly by his uncontrolled ravaging. It wasn't long before his sperm exploded inside her like a hot geyser and with a parting grunt and a wrenching bite that broke the skin of her left nipple he tore himself free of her and was gone. She heard the zipper and the sliding of nylon with deaf ears. Her arms gathered the torn nightgown close about her thin form, her legs curling protectively around her abused groin. She shook, not with cold, but with terror and shame. A sense of violation rose within her so strong that she could barely keep from vomiting. She lay as though comatose, trembling upon the bare floor of the tent, the chain no more imprisoning her than her mind.
The sides of the tent began to grow light and gradually the air grew warmer. She lay unmoving, uncaring at the coming of the day. She was lost in a loop of terror, trapped in a spiral of pain and shock. It was the smell of food that roused her, bringing a faint stirring of life back to her mind. A cloth covered bundle sat in the corner of the tent. She lethargically unwrapped it to find a bowl made of bread, with scrambled eggs and a bit of cold ham inside. A quart box of milk sat beside it. She ate mechanically, unable to deny the hunger an entire day without food had created within her stomach, but her green eyes remained lifeless and frozen. So began the pattern of her life for how long she did not know. Each morning she found food, she could reach the bathroom but no further. Each night she was brutally raped, sometimes anally, sometimes the man did not even make it inside her, simply thrusting against her until his sperm dripped down across her skin.
When the police finally found her, she was unkempt and damaged. She cringed and wept at the sight of them. Years of therapy did little to restore her to the woman she was before the traumatic experience began. The trial passed in a blur and she remembered little of it. The execution was a foggy experience. Each night she relived her life within the orange walls. The home her father made for her.