Rated X Imagines

The Abducted Clock

Y/n's POV

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I'm so weak.

So physically drained that I could break every bone in my body if I try to stand.

He did this to me. Making sure to feed me every twenty four hours with water and bread with one piece of ham. Raping me when he felt the need to and beating me whenever I disobeyed him.

How long has it been? Why hasn't he come back yet? The darkened room chuckled with creaks at my ridiculous thoughts. Kidnappers don't have timed schedules on when to torment their victims.

He was different.

At the beginning of each day exactly at six, he came in the room; sometimes with a smile, most times with a distant expression, deep into his own thoughts. Bearing new garments to replace the torn blood stained ones, placing them down on the dresser until it was time to clean up. At ten he would unchain me and carry me into the bathroom two rooms down down the hall, undressing me and himself, and bathing me while I sat on his lap in that enlarged tub. Then I'm chained again. By two he has me in the living room, settled in his lap on the couch watching old Lifetime films or the sports channel. He doesn't pay attention though - on most occasions he plays with my hair or kisses my neck for that period of time which only lasts for an hour and a half or two.

Around six I'm back in my chains and he's in the outside world doing god knows what. I've never found it in myself to ask him what he does. I don't really care. Then just when I think I'm going to pass out from lack of food and dehydration, he comes in the room around two in the morning with some stale water in a medium sized styrofoam cup and a sandwich that can keep me fueled until the next day. He does this so I don't have any energy to escape. I've tried, and failed.

I had to look at that dingy old clock hooked on top of the wall in front of the bed for three weeks straight to figure out that time regimen. Everyday it looks like it's going to stop, and maybe one day it will. I think it keeps going for me, somehow knowing what I'm going through.

Today was different though. He hadn't shown up for his six in the morning encounter, so now I'm still in the raggedy button up shirt and worn out under clothes that he put me in yesterday. Dry semen resided in between my thighs, waiting to be cleaned. That visit wouldn't come for another ten minutes and I'm praying it doesn't.

Some part of me has gotten accustomed to him. Craves him sometimes. I can't survive without him.... My body has become dependent on him. It's not like I wanted it to be that way. Being kidnapped for three years can really change a person's perspective. There's just a small place in my heart for him. A gust of air swept into the room, chilling my skin. I watched as he closed the door, with no clothes in his hands or the usual under apparel. There was a small smile on his face once he looked up at me.

"Hey." He spoke, sitting down on the bed next to me. I got up, and automatically sat down on his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck so the chains wouldn't get in the way.

"Hey."

"Sorry I'm late. I was thinking for a while." He exclaimed. A while? Four hours is a while? His lips softly pressed down on mine, kissing me briefly and rubbing his warm hands tenderly on my back. The attraction for him grew as he held me closer, trailing his kisses down my neck.

He wasn't as provoked as he was two years ago. There would be times when he would just hurt me because he felt like it, or like I said when I did something to upset him. But the last time he's laid a hand on me was almost a year ago.

"Forgive me." He silently begged, sucking on my sweet spot.

I hummed in pleasure, tilting my head to give him more access into me. "I forgive you, Diggy."

Daniel was his birth name, but he said his father gave it to him and due to his resentment towards his father he hated his name. I've learned my lesson. One night, in the first months of my capture, I yelled for him to stop kissing me and on accident I used his name. I still have nightmares about that punishment. He only ever let's me call him that when he has sex with me.

"I have a question." He sighed, looking me in the eyes.

"Okay."

"Answer me honestly. Please." His voice trembled.

Is he nervous? What in the world is going on with him today? I've never seen him so vulnerable. Well, that's a lie. His vulnerability is what got me kidnapped. I was doing a regular walk to the store and seen him crying in an alley. He looked so lost, so innocent, so beautiful. I was compelled to see what was wrong and if there was something I could do to help him. When I walked up to him, he hugged me and wailed into my neck. All I could think about was how good he smelled and how someone like him shouldn't be crying. Then I asked him, "What's wrong?" And he bawled harder, gripping me with all of his strength. Then I asked him again, "What's wrong?", and made him look me in the eyes. Those glistening, dark almond irises hypnotized me to stare deep within them. Just as it looked like he was going to speak, he held up a smelly cloth to my mouth and nose. The next thing I know, I'm chained onto a bed in nothing but my bra and panties.

With another sigh of uneasiness, he kissed me once again, taking all the air out my lungs. Kissing me always was a stress reliever for him, but for me it was nothing more than forced affection.

"I will." I whispered.

"If...... If I let you go, would you stay?"

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Comment for a part two...... Or if you want me to make this into a story. Your choice!
___ Digxstopher 👍✌️❤️