FicWad

I woke up in a sweat. Again. I was personally sick and tired of this happening so often. I slowly lifted my head and glanced around the small room, looking to see if he was hiding in the shadows. It didn’t take long to see everything. The room was tiny and painted white. The glow of a streetlamp lit the far corners enough to see he wasn’t standing in the corners. I was more worried about whether or not he was under the bed. It had happened before.

I shuddered at the memory. It was shortly after he brought me here. I had woken up after a particularly horrifying nightmare and after a time, fell back into a fitful sleep. He stabbed me with a needle. A needle that just so happened to contain morphine. He knew I’d be unable to fight back.



Let me go back a way.

My name is Anna. I am 25 years old. And I’m a prisoner. Of what, I have no clue.

He calls himself Gerard. His friends help him. They are Mike, Frank and Ray. They used to have another guy with them named Bob, but he left.

I met them about 2 years ago at a concert my friend dragged me to see. They’re in a rock band. They aren’t too bad. I would probably actually like them if I had had a choice. We met them after the concert and the guy in charge and I got into a heated debate and my friend had wandered off to find someone she could actually talk to. I wish she hadn’t left.

So Gerard and I were talking about comic books and whether or not Batman could actually be considered a superhero. He claimed that Batman was NOT a superhero, I contended that Batman beat up superheroes all the time without the aid of “superpowers” and could therefore be considered a true superhero… that his power was some kind of super strength. It started raining and he invited me to come onto the bus and warm up and finish the conversation.

I said okay.

I’ve since found out that they do this all the time. Kidnap fans, take them somewhere dangerous. Well most of the girls they take end up somewhere dangerous. For some reason they’ve kept me and kept me alive. None of the other girls ever get found. Sometimes I wish I was them. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to live this life.

I have been a captive for the last 2 years. When I was first taken I was forced to call my parents and tell them I wasn’t coming home. That I’d been offered a dream job with a band and that I was accepting it and meeting the band two days from then. Just enough time for no one to suspect the band I was going to be working for and a small enough window that I would, of course, not be able to come home. Plus “the band” had just started a huge tour and I wouldn’t be home until after the tour wrapped up (which wasn’t going to be for about 8 or 9 months). I got to call my parents every once in a while to ease their minds and fears but the calls were strictly monitored by Gerard himself. If I even uttered a bad word about my life (like being really tired or missing them) I was forced off the phone and punished.

Punished. That’s why I’d rather be dead. Punishment here means emotional, mental, sexual and physical torture. I was tied up and beaten. Raped. Called every name in the book. I was tied to trees naked and forced to stay there over night in the freezing cold. There were a lot of times I wasn’t even allowed to eat or drink.

I lived in a small, white room with just a bed, a lamp, and a laptop (which was also closely monitored and had specific sites available for use). I wasn’t allowed to post anything. Just watch videos and listen to music.

I was forced daily to pretend that I really WAS working for them. I cooked, cleaned, ran errands, took care of them when they were sick and dealt with the wives. I dressed the way they wanted when people outside of the immediate band was present. As soon as it was just them and me I was forced to strip and perform any kind of act they wanted. Sometimes (when they were feeling nice) I was just told to stay in my “room”. When there were people around and they didn’t have stuff for me to do I was in sweats and a t-shirt and usually hid in a dressed up bunk. It had blankets and stuffed animals and pictures of my family and I was allowed uncontrolled access to my music. I relished those times and usually tried to get the wives and kids (for Gerard and Frank) on the bus whenever I could for as long as I could.



I sighed and crawled off the bed and peered under it. The light didn’t quite reach under the bed enough to be sure he wasn’t there, but I was pretty sure he wasn’t. He’d been pudging up a little bit lately (I was putting extra stuff in his food so he’d gain weight and be sluggish) and I was sure he wouldn’t fit too far under the bed anymore. I crawled back onto the bed and pulled the thin blanket up as far as I could and tried to think warm thoughts. It had been cold lately and I was getting what I was sure was a cold.

I was just about asleep when I heard a rustle. I didn’t dare turn around to see what it was. Besides, I knew what it was. It was him. Again.

“You think I don’t know what you’ve been doing to the food you stupid bitch cunt?” he whispered in my ear. “You scream and I’ll fucking slit your throat. Now turn over and look at me.”

I whimpered and quietly did as I was told. I may not like what was done to me when he was in this mood, but it was better than fighting it.

“And keep your fucking eyes open or I’ll staple them to your forehead,” he said as I closed my eyes to block out the pain and the image that always got stuck in my head. “You think I don’t know your tricks? I’ve had you for 2 years now… I’ve learned them plenty well enough. You’re gonna feel, see and like this.” He growled as he ripped the thin blanket off my shivering body and ripped at the thin shirt I was allowed to wear when I was feeling sick.

He climbed on top of me and knelt with one knee on each side of my body. He grabbed at the belt he always wore and pulled it off and threw it down next to the bed. Within reach. I cringed. He pulled his grey stonewashed jeans off and threw them across the room. This was going to be a long night. His boxers came off and got shoved into my mouth… for the time being.

I knew what was coming. First the slapping. The beating and the name calling. Then came the forced oral sex. Then more beating. Then I got tied to the four corners of the bed and was used in whatever way he felt like. Every hole in my body was violated except for my ears and nose. Usually he stayed away from my eyes as well. I was not allowed to climax until the end… if he was feeling generous. And then I was beaten some more. If I made even one scream or noise that he didn’t approve of, I was chained to the ceiling with my mouth gagged with whatever was handy.

He was angrier than usual. This was going to take a while. And if he was particularly unhappy, several people would be involved.

I sighed and accepted my fate.