Drink the tea to appease him

You bring the tea up to your lips and the man's expression immediately brightens. The tea is overly sweet and has a cloying herbal taste. All the same, it does warm your body as you drink it. Soon, you have finished the tea, but as you stand up to leave everything feels wrong. The room begins to spin around you and your legs wobble.

"You feelin' okay, Keyla?" asks the old man, standing up and tossing his tea cup into the jumble of furniture. You notice nothing spills out of the cup. You try to say something, but your words come out all wrong. He smiles and takes your arms. "Come on, sweetie, grandpa has a nice bed where you can lie down."

He shoves aside some of the broken furniture and reveals a door to the cellar. Warmth and cold terror mingle in your hazey mind as you are brought to the staircase. Murt holds your hands as you descend with only the light of a candle to show the way. You see moldy dolls and jars filled with dead insects covering the shelves down here. Murt's hand is sliding around to your breast and squeezing it through your gown, which seems a strange thing to be doing.

"Here we are," he says. "A nice plan for you to rest, sweetie."

He opens a heavy iron door and lights another candle in a room even smaller than your cell at the abbey. The floor and walls are carved into the dense clay of the earth. The floorboards over your head have been covered with iron bars, which seems very strange. You try to say so and the words come out as a single open-mouthed vowel.

"Shhhhhhh," says Murt. "Here we are. Just lie down here."

He pats a filthy straw mattress and pile of stained blankets. Your legs are barely keeping you on your feet, so you have little choice in the matter. You almost fall and Murt catches you, setting you down easily into the mattress.

"Let's get these soaked clothes off you," he says.

As if in a dream, the old man begins to undress you, peeling away your wet gown and moaning as his hands begin to roam everywhere on your body. His fingers slip under your sling and fondle your breasts and pluck at your nipples. He pulls the wet sling away and his hands shuck the soaking underclothes down your thighs. You feel him clamping something around your wrists and dully look up and see irons closing tight on your wrists.

"That's a good girl," he says and stretches out atop you, kissing your neck and running his tongue around your ear. You feel sickened by his touch, but you cannot even lift your legs to push him away. He sucks at your shoulder and his fingers stroke your slit, rubbing in your hot folds and finding your clit. You begin to whimper and squirm, thrusting your cunt against him because it feels so nice.

"That's it," he moans. "You go on and cum for grandpa."

He sucks your breasts as his rough fingers stroke you closer and closer to an orgasm. You arch beneath him, straining against the shackles and crying out as waves of hot pleasure crackle through your body. You relax again and the old man begins to move his kissing lower, down from your glistening breasts to your swollen fuckslit. He begins to kiss you there and tongue your virgin opening. He makes lewd slurping sounds and you realize he is stroking the withered red length of his cock in one hand as he licks your slit.

Through the haze of the ****, you realize he intends to fuck you. He might in fact be intending to keep you down here and fuck you for a very long time. You struggle to fight off the stupefying poison so that you can somehow escape old man Murt's dungeon.