Broken Birthday Girl

[SoftGameHunter]

Teaser: The girl in the cell is allowed a snippet of information about her life, but it gives her no pleasure. A cruel and dark tale is here.
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The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.

The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only. It depicts nonconsensual sexual acts between adults. It is in no way meant to be understood as an endorsement of nonconsensual sex in real life. Any similarities of the characters in the story to real people are purely coincidental.
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Title: Broken Birthday Girl
Author: SoftGameHunter
Content Warnings: I don't use 'warning' labels like harsh and cruel to draw in more readers like old posters of film nasties. This one is mean and some may not like it. Others will.
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Broken Birthday Girl


Quivering in the cold cell, no tears left in her eyes to cry. The countless days ticking off into her past. Two things scared her the most in a life of pure fear and pure pain. The man who talked. And the man with the needle. The man who talked wanted to hear her talk back, and he wasn’t kind when she didn’t have much to say that he liked hearing. As for the man with the needle, he just killed her a little with each new injection.

Today they both walked in together at the head of a column of men eager to play with her naked and well-worn body.

“Good morning, sunshine,” the man who talked said to her, his voice as fake cheerful as ever, maybe even more so.

“Good morning, masters,” she recited back. The man with the needle leaned over and jammed it deep into her emaciated breast, going in through her nipple where it hurt the most. He pressed slowly down on the plunger, pushing the large volume of fluid into her system. Sometimes he sought the vein. Sometimes not. She never knew what to expect. As her body began to tingle and sweat, she wheezed inside. It was the pain drug. The drug that the man with the needle explained to a crony once “makes her care even more.”

“That’ll keep the cunt awake for another day or so,” he said. She heard his voice reverberating in her head, cruel and mocking, cutting her to her core.

“Oh god,” she leaked out inadvertently as her body vibrated and twitched. They were surrounding her, looming extra-large. She was extra small. The brick floor was extra cold and rough on her blistered ass.

“Do you know what today is, girl?” the man who talked asked her.

She didn’t know! She stared up at his looming face, utterly uncomprehending what he wanted. She didn’t know what to say, how to answer. She didn’t know! His eager faint smile faded, first, and then reversed into a faint frown. The man with the needle just glared down at her from high above.

“I don’t know the day,” she squeaked out in terror. They were going to make her hurt again. She knew it. It was going to be punishment time for sure. Not punishment!

“It’s okay, girl,” the man who talked said with a cloying, phony smile. “Girls have trouble with brain things, don’t you?”

“Yes, masters. I’m a girl. I have brain problems,” she repeated back, trying to keep her words in the right order. It hurt so much to speak, though her listening was crystal clear, and her skin was inflamed with every wound from the last week that still festered on her body.

“Today is two special things,” the man who talked said to her. “Today is your birthday, girl. Today is your twentieth birthday!”

“Today?” she asked, trying to reply. Her twentieth? That was impossible. They’d already lied to her once, about her nineteenth birthday. She couldn’t spend birthdays in this horrible place of pain and bone failure. It was too awful. And if she couldn’t be nineteen yet, she certainly couldn’t be twenty. That would mean a year had gone by trapped in that brick cell as a fuck toy and blood donor. A fuck donor. A blood toy.

“And,” the man who talked continued, “Today, whoever fucks you first, is going to be your five thousandth lay since you got here.”

“Which means her five thousandth, period,” the man with the needle said, looking somewhere else.

“Five thousand periods!” one of the men in line said, laughing with his buds.

“Five thousand fucks in twenty years,” the man who talked said. “Back loaded, of course.”

She blinked at his looming apparition. She could feel every air current in the room, every grain of dirt under her ass, and each cut on her body was throbbing individually. Why were they telling her this? And why were they all gathering together whips? Prods? Needles? Brass knuckles? There were more men than usual in line outside. Much more. They were ready for war, but seemed happy about it, grinning, laughing, leering.

“I fucked, thousand, five,” she said in response. She had the right words, probably. The man with the needle just laughed. They turned away from her.

“Don’t let her responses fool you,” the man who talked said, not to her. He wasn’t talking to her anymore, however loud and booming his voice was in her ears. “She’s as fragile as ever, even if she doesn’t pass out.” The two men she knew walked out. The first few men walked in. One of them grabbed her feet and pulled her from the wall, as far as her collar and chain would allow, scraping her burning ass along the rough floor, choking her tiny throat. They slammed her down to the floor. They parted her thin legs. And they began to celebrate her birthday all over her.

[Shocker]

Now this is harsh,but you make this horrid vision coming to life very well. But for form sake she is at least wearing the proper birthday suit to celebrate her birthday.

[SoftGameHunter]

Birthday suit. I didn't even think of that. I must be slipping.

[JTCK]

Too short for my taste, but I like it. Especially how hopeless she is. And how she is forced to say what is desired. I would have liked to read more specifically about that — how ‘the man who talks’ spends more time with her. And has conversations with her while doing so