Taken

Crouching in front of her, he unlocked the cage and pulled open the door.

Blueberry pancakes drenched in syrup, butter melting in a pool on top… Jane’s mouth watered, her stomach gurgling with anticipation. Was she really going to get pancakes? And blueberries…plump, sweet with a bit of tang…yum…

What if it was a trick? What if, instead of food, something sinister and dangerous awaited her upstairs? Just the possibility made her shrink back into the corner of her cage.

“Come on,” Robert said impatiently. “Get a move on.” Reaching inside, he gripped her firmly by the upper arm and hauled her out.

“Go do your business,” he said, pointing to the drain. She had yet to poop, but in the past day or so, she’d started to have intestinal cramping. She dreaded the humiliation of being forced to poop in front of her captors but understood it was only a matter of time.

Now she squatted over the drain, doing her best to ignore the big man leering behind her. She used a scrap of newspaper and wadded it into a ball. Robert allowed her to put the used paper into the diaper pail.

She assumed her morning hose-down position without being told—arms extended overhead, legs spread. She closed her eyes, barely flinching as the cold water sluiced over her.

Once she had dried herself with the thin towel Robert tossed her, he placed his big, beefy hand on the back of her neck and pushed her toward the stairs. Keeping his hand on her neck, he guided her up. She was pleased she could navigate them with relative ease, thanks to her constant exercising in her cage.

As they reached the top of the stairs, the wonderful aroma of freshly brewed coffee assailed her, along with the tantalizing smell of fried bacon. The kitchen was huge—larger than her entire studio apartment. It was filled with gleaming stainless-steel appliances and marble countertops.

Brenda stood at the stove, her back to them. She was dressed in a sheer nightgown, naked underneath, her feet bare. She turned as they entered the room. “Ah, you brought the little frog. Are you happy, froggy, to be allowed upstairs?”

Direct question.

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”

Brenda smiled, but it wasn’t a kind smile. A look flashed in her eyes like teeth in a wolf’s mouth. “After breakfast, I’ll give you your task assignments. You need to earn your keep. Since we don’t use the maid service while we have a toy in the basement, you’ll have your work cut out for you.”

“But don’t worry,” Robert interjected. “We’ll make it fun.” His mean grin told her the fun would be theirs, not hers, not that she’d expected anything different.

Robert sat down as Brenda brought a platter of steaming pancakes to the table. Though there were four chairs at the table, it was only set for two. Butter and syrup were laid out, along with a plate of crispy bacon. Mugs of coffee and glasses of orange juice were placed near each plate. Jane stood uncertainly a moment, and then started to slide onto a chair.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Brenda demanded, jerking Jane back by her hair. “You’re filthy and disgusting. Don’t you dare sit on my furniture. Be grateful we allowed you upstairs.” She pointed imperiously to the floor. “Get down there on your knees, hands behind your back.”

If she was filthy and disgusting, whose fault was that? Jane lowered herself to the floor. She looked down to hide the hatred burning behind her eyes and tugging down the corners of her mouth.

“Delicious,” Robert pronounced, his mouth full. “Want a bite, frog?”

Direct question.

“Yes, please, sir.”

Robert cut a large piece of syrup-drenched pancake with a fat blueberry poking out of the top. He held the fork toward Jane.

She opened her mouth, accepting the delicious morsel on her tongue. A bit of the syrup dripped onto her chin as he pulled the fork away. Mindful of Brenda’s directive to keep her hands behind her back, she used her tongue to lick it away as best she could.

The two of them ate noisily, talking with their mouths full and loudly slurping their coffee and juice. Jane barely noticed, fixated on the food like a dog waiting for scraps. From time to time, Robert gave her a bite of pancake or bacon, followed by a sip of his sweet, milky coffee or fresh orange juice.

When the meal was done, she’d managed to get maybe a pancake and a half along with perhaps a whole piece of bacon. While she could definitely have eaten more, it was enough to quell her hunger pangs, and she was duly grateful.

Brenda poured herself another cup of coffee and turned her attention to Jane. “Here’s the deal. You’ll start in the kitchen. Clear the table, load the dishwasher, wipe down the counters and table and sweep the floor. You try any funny business of any kind, and I’ll beat you within an inch of your life. Is that crystal clear?”