captor who lays me out and ties me up in front of several cameras so he can set up a multi-angle livestream as he stretches my cunt out around the wide end of a baseball bat

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captor who lays me out and ties me up in front of several cameras so he can set up a multi-angle livestream as he stretches my cunt out around the wide end of a baseball bat

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whumpee gets caught in a 'time bubble' of sorts; what may be mere days for whumpee's team to find them could be months or years whumpee spends being tortured
Thinking about a captor who only ever wants to eat me out. He doesn’t touch me for any other reason — never beats me or puts his dick anywhere near my holes. He just keeps me naked, drugged, and available to him. The food he gives me is chosen to alter my taste as he desires.
By a week or two in, he spread me out over every possible surface in his house, bent me over to eat me out from behind, tied me up in difficult positions so he can hear me scream as I come. And that’s all he asks of me: to let myself react. He’s taken such good care of me, and he doesn’t hurt me like others might, doesn’t fuck me for his own pleasure, or lend me out to his friends. He just wants to taste my pleasure, to hear it and feel it and see it.
He’s angry when I don’t come, and even though I cry and apologize, he leaves me alone in my crate for days. Then he’s all soft and sorry and he eats me out a dozen times in five hours.
Sometimes he uses his fingers or toys, but always tongue. Always his mouth on me. And he films it every time. Takes pictures before and after, too. My pussy lips red and swollen dripping with his saliva and my arousal.
Very occasionally, he sits me down in the corner of a room as he takes out the pictures, plays the videos on a massive flatscreen, and jerks himself off. “This is what you do to me,” he says as he comes again and again to the sounds and the images. I’m so wet by the time he’s done and he lays me out on top of the photographs, spreads my legs, grabs a camera, a makes me come on his tongue once more.
waking slow and groggy and still a bit drugged to a dozen hands gripping and groping and grabbing my very naked body.
it takes a moment to realize that i’m restrained, wrists and ankles cuffed, that i’m lying on a cold, metal table, that the hands are gloved with nitrile or latex, and the grabbing is actually prodding and poking and probing, measurements called out, pens scratching to write down numbers and observations. the fingers in my mouth are counting my teeth and checking them for major defects. the hand at my throat is measuring the circumference, and then the length, mapping out my arteries and trachea. the hands in most places are accompanied by instruments, whether tapes or rulers or calipers or blood pressure cuffs or whatever it is they’ve forced dry into my cunt to see what it can take without any preparation.
there’s an iv in my arm that i don’t notice until somebody begins measuring my palm and fingers, twisting me this way and that to make it easier on themself. pens scratch against paper as notes are taken, measurements recorded, observations dictated.
when they’re done, they leave all at once, the blinding lights blinking out into utter darkness, but for the tiny red lights on the cameras in all corners of the room, silence in their wake, but for the drip drip drip of the iv bag.
captor who films my face as he violates me, records my voice as he makes me cum and cry, and posts it all online with my missing persons poster as the thumbnail and the tag #.proofoflife

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Captor who ties me up on my knees in the corner, vibrating plug in my ass, pulsing vibrator stuffed in my cunt, a cock gag long and thick enough to just barely trip my gag reflex. Small bells hang from tight nipple clamps and he tells me that if I can keep quiet for 60 seconds, he’ll let me go free. He puts a clock on his desk where I can see it, seconds tick tick ticking away. I try and I count and I try and I count. The plug and dildo alternate vibrating patterns. Every breath deeper than hyperventilating gags me. Drool coats my chin and chest. Slick pools between my feet and thighs. Sweat beads and prickles all over my skin. Even when I can keep my crying and whimpering to myself, my body trembles and jerks and shakes and the bells ring and ring and ring. After what might be hours, my captor pats my head with a pitying smile. I never made it more than 5.
I was still resistant, not understanding my place, my captor said. So she bound my wrists behind my back, held me down on her cock, and had her friend pierce my nipples. When it was done and my tits we’re sore and swollen, she bent me over, fucking me hard, new piercings swinging with every thrust, and made me come and squirt at her friend’s feet.