Taken

“Here’s how the game is played,” Brenda said briskly. “For every smack of the quirt, you earn yourself a bit of food. How much you get to eat is up to you. Depends how many strokes you can take.”

Jane kept her eyes on the ground as she processed Brenda’s words. Hatred welled in her like bile, blending with anticipatory fear of the whipping to come. She reminded herself of her end goal—escape. To have even a chance, she had to pretend to be compliant and obedient. She had to lull her captors into believing she wasn’t a flight risk.

“To make it more fun,” Brenda continued, “the faster you move between us, the more food you get. But you have to really make an effort. If I decide you’re going too slow, you just get the quirt—no apple or peanut butter.” She snapped the whip in the air for emphasis, making Jane flinch again. “Got it?”

A direct question.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jane replied quickly. She lifted her head, glancing at Robert. He was grinning at her like a stupid ape, his fingers curled around his obscenely large cock. She looked down again, her heart beating fast. She could do this. Yes, the whipping would hurt, but it wouldn’t kill her. The exercise would do her good, and she needed food for strength.

“On your mark… Get set… Go!” Brenda cried.

Jane crawled as quickly as she could toward her tormentor.

“Offer me that ass,” Brenda barked as Jane approached, scrabbling over the rough concrete.

Jane swiveled around so she was facing Robert, her ass toward Brenda. The whip came down hard and fast against her left butt cheek. It flashed against her skin like lightning. Unable to stay quiet, Jane yelped her pain.

Brenda chuckled cruelly. “Get crawling, little doggie. Go get your bone. Hurry up now, or it won’t count.”

Ass stinging, Jane took off toward Robert, her eyes fixed on the plate of apple slices. As she scuttled toward him, Robert picked up a piece of the fruit and dipped it into the jar of peanut butter. He held the apple piece toward Jane. She swallowed to keep from choking on saliva as she reached him.

He held the apple just out of her reach. “Beg for it, doggie,” he said, grinning broadly. “Get up your hind legs and hold up your paws.”

Too hungry and frightened to even think of protesting, Jane did as he commanded, rising on her knees to an upright position, her hands dangling in front of her chest like an obedient puppy eager for its treat.

Robert held out the apple, bringing it close to her mouth.

Jane could smell the delicious scent of the fruit mingling with the rich, nutty smell of the peanut butter. She opened her mouth wide, desperate for the food.

Robert shoved the entire slice into her mouth. She chewed quickly, afraid they might make her spit it out. Nothing had ever tasted so good in her life and she nearly moaned aloud with the brief pleasure of the experience.

“Get back over here, cunt,” Brenda barked.

Swallowing, Jane swiveled and lowered herself again to her hands and knees. She crawled as quickly as she could, trying to move in a way that wouldn’t scrape her knees and palms quite so much. When she reached Brenda, she swiveled again, offering herself to the lash.

Brenda struck, harder than the first time, across her right ass cheek.

Jane yelped again, tears springing to her eyes as she struggled to absorb the pain.

Robert was dipping another slice of apple into the jar. Focusing on her treat, Jane scampered toward him as fast as she could. One hand still on his cock, he placed the apple on her tongue.

She sighed with pleasure as she chewed. How had she spent her whole life indifferent to food? It was as if her taste buds had been asleep as she’d drifted thoughtlessly through her days. Never again would she eat mechanically, her sole goal to fill her stomach. Never again would she take such a vital and simple joy for granted.

She crawled toward Brenda, dreading the whip but still too hungry to care overmuch. This time the lash snapped painfully against the back of her thigh, making her squeal with anguish as a line of pure fire moved across her skin.

She reached back reflexively, sure she must be bleeding, but her fingers came away clean.

“Move it, frog,” Brenda ordered, punctuating her words with another snap of the quirt against Jane’s ass.

Jane scuttled forward, knees aching, her eye on the food.

Slowly but surely, Jane earned each hard-won slice of apple. Sometimes Robert dipped it into the peanut butter, sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes Brenda shouted at her that she wasn’t moving quickly enough, though she was truly doing her very best. At those times, the apple would be withheld, and she would be forced to scuttle back for another lashing before returning to Robert for a hoped-for treat.