{"id":1271,"date":"2023-01-30T02:00:44","date_gmt":"2023-01-30T02:00:44","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/kinkhouseofo.com\/?p=1271"},"modified":"2023-01-30T13:24:10","modified_gmt":"2023-01-30T13:24:10","slug":"my-captivity","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/kinkhouseofo.com\/index.php\/2023\/01\/30\/my-captivity\/","title":{"rendered":"My Captivity"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

For context: This was written on Nov. 1 2015, about 2 weeks after my experience in captivity. <\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Last weekend I was kidnapped and locked in a small room over a 30 hour period by two Sadists who I’d only met once before. This had been planned over several months and while I knew the basics of my captivity, I knew little of the details, and trusted them to take me as far as they could without completely breaking me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

During my captivity, I was given little food and kept awake by strobe lights and loud music or horrible sounds. I was beaten mercilessly and without warning. I was tortured through electricity, drownings, waterboarding, rape, and humiliation. I was shamed. Deeply shamed. I was called names. I was left chained to a bed frame with no mattress. I was cold. Alone. I cried. I was interrogated. Beaten again. I begged for it to stop. I had ice water poured on my face. I was left in my own filth. Drowned in my own piss. I was spared no mercy and shown no affection. This wasn\u2019t easy. it wasn\u2019t fun.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But it was powerful. It changed me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the beginning, I was afraid. For a long time I didn\u2019t see anything. My captors never spoke to me – just beat me without relief, never letting me know when they were in the room or not. Eventually, they broke me down. Through humiliation and torture they moved me from a place of fear, to a place of acceptance. A place where I understood my fate. I was theirs to be used. And there was nothing I could do about it. By then I had been ground down to something less than human. Left in a cage to rot. I no longer knew what time it was, what day it was. My body was no longer mine.
I tried to hold on to piece of me. A scrap of clothing. A piece of bread. Anything to keep me from sinking further away from reality.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But they took it all. The scrap of bread..they wretched from my hands. The clothing\u2026ripped from my body. Any moment of intimacy\u2026denied.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And that was the hardest part for me. Not the beatings or the torture or the rape or the shame.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was the cruelty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My captors rarely allowed a moments reprieve from the ongoing torture. When given water, my jaw was held open, forcing me to drink more than I needed. When being beaten, I grabbed for a leg, to steady myself; only to have it kicked away. A blanket was given to me for a time\u2026only to be ripped from me but left close enough to see\u2026forcing me to lie shaking in the cold. Every beating was hard. Every new torture exacting. I told them I\u2019d do whatever they want – they said they were already doing it. They rarely spoke to me – only threatening me, interrogating me, or telling me what a shameful whore I was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And they were right. I was a shameful dirty whore. Because I wanted all of it. I wanted to lie face first in a pile of my own filth. I wanted to be humiliated: raped until i squirted over and over again, only to have the dirty condom thrown in my face. I craved human touch so badly that I would hope they were coming in to rape me. Because that meant a level of human closeness I desperately needed. But I loved the degradation\u2026the shame. I was constantly soaking wet. When something especially heinous would happen, they would check and feel my desire: laughing and disgusted at the dirty little toy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When thinking about this weekend, I thought I might be bored. During the times in between. Because there were lots of those too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I never even came close. Pretty early on, I started to go in to a trance like state when they left me. The crying would finally stop and my breathing would calm. I would zone out, sometimes worrying my captors with how still I had become. And I never thought about anything but right there. That room. That moment. I didn\u2019t worry about what had just happened. I didn’t think about my home or my dog or my life outside those walls. Quickly, the walls became my only reality. The bed my new home. The only thing I really thought about was when they would come back next. And at first I was scared. I didn\u2019t want them to come back because I knew they would hurt me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But slowly\u2026that changed. I started desperately hoping they would come. Because I needed them. I wanted to show them I could be good. And maybe I could even touch one of them\u2026or pleasure them. Maybe they would let me touch them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the end of it all, I was left for a long time. Laying face down and not moving. Wherever they\u2019d leave me I\u2019d stay in that position. I didn\u2019t want to anger them. I wanted to show them I could be good. And I was laying there for a long time. And then there was light. And someone came into the room. And they told me I was free.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then they left.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And I laid there. Cold, shivering, alone. Finally free.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But I couldn\u2019t move.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

A brief side note: This was an incredibly powerful and horrible and sexy and dirty and wonderful experience for me. I think I might even still be dropping a little bit but I have nothing but warmth in my heart for my kidnappers. They gave me exactly what I wanted (and way more) and I am so fucking lucky that they were willing to make this filthy little toy’s dream come true. So yea. Thanks.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

For context: This was written on Nov. 1 2015, about 2 weeks after my experience in captivity. Last weekend I was kidnapped and locked in<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":1284,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[43],"tags":[54,56,57],"class_list":["post-1271","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-thoughts","tag-captivity","tag-cnc","tag-degradation"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/kinkhouseofo.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1271","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/kinkhouseofo.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/kinkhouseofo.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kinkhouseofo.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kinkhouseofo.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1271"}],"version-history":[{"count":9,"href":"https:\/\/kinkhouseofo.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1271\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1283,"href":"https:\/\/kinkhouseofo.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1271\/revisions\/1283"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kinkhouseofo.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1284"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/kinkhouseofo.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1271"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kinkhouseofo.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1271"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kinkhouseofo.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1271"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}