Funny business? Like what? Stabbing you in the throat with a butcher knife?
“Yes, ma’am.”
After doing absolutely nothing but enduring their sex games and torments in the basement, Jane actually found herself looking forward to the cleaning task.
“You can start now while we enjoy our second cup of coffee,” Brenda added, lifting her chin to indicate Jane could rise. “Supplies are in that tall cabinet next to the refrigerator,” she added, waving vaguely in that direction. “When you’re done, I’ll inspect your work. If I’m not pleased, you’ll be punished.”
Glad for something to do, Jane got to her feet and piled the sticky plates and silverware into a stack. As she picked up one of the knives, her hand actually twitched with the desire to plunge it into Brenda’s heart.
Who was she kidding? Between them, they had a hundred pounds on her, not to mention their full strength. She didn’t dare lift a finger against them. Instead, she walked to the large double sink and set the plates inside. She finished clearing the table, save for the coffee carafe and the mugs, which were still being used. She brought the bacon and pancake pans to the sink as well, and set about washing up. As she worked, she reveled in the hot, soapy water. Hoping they couldn’t see what she was doing, she surreptitiously washed her face and rinsed out her mouth in the process.
After a while, she heard one of the chairs slide back, and then the shuffle of footsteps heading in her direction. She didn’t turn around, but kept working on the greasy bacon pan. She startled when she felt the hard press of Robert’s body against hers from behind. His hands came around her body, finding and roughly cupping her breasts.
She dropped the sponge with a cry.
As he twisted and pinched her nipples, he growled in her ear, “Don’t stop what you’re doing. Brenda doesn’t tolerate dawdling while cleaning. She sees you slacking off, she’ll beat you bloody. You can work with a little distraction, hmm?” He twisted harder, bringing tears to Jane’s eyes.
Another direct question. And obviously only one acceptable answer.
“Yes, sir.”
He let go of one nipple and brought his hand lower, cupping her crotch with a hard hand. “Good girl.” He pressed a finger inside her, making her cry out.
“Leave her till she’s done with the kitchen, Robert,” Brenda called out from the table. “You can have your fun later upstairs. Come sit with me while I finish my coffee.”
“Controlling bitch,” Robert muttered so softly Jane thought she must have imagined it. But he pulled his hands from her and took a step back.
“Sure thing, babe,” he replied jovially, though to Jane’s ears the words sounded forced.
Clearly, Robert resented being ordered around by his wife, at least on some level. Maybe Jane could exploit whatever rift there might be between them and somehow turn it to her advantage, though she had no idea how.
When she was finally done washing, wiping and sweeping, she was exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to lie down for a while. The constant deprivation, discomfort and torture had taken its toll. At the same time, no way did she want to be banished back to the basement.
Taking a deep breath, she marshaled what energy she had left. She had to please her captors so they’d continue to let her come upstairs. She returned to the table and stood in front of Brenda, eyes downcast. “I’m done, ma’am,” she said, praying she hadn’t missed anything.
“We’ll just see about that.” Brenda rose from the table and walked over to the counter by the sink, which Jane had just wiped down and then dried with a fresh dish towel. Brenda ran her finger over the marble and grunted.
Jane held her breath. What if she’d missed a crumb? But Brenda said nothing. She looked into the double sink, which Jane had carefully rinsed and also dried to a sparkle once she’d emptied it. Another small grunt, which Jane now understood meant grudging acceptance.
She let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She’d always been a tidy person, and she felt a small jolt of pride at her work as she looked around the gorgeous kitchen. Unlike all the painful torture and weird sex games they’d subjected her to, here at last was something she knew how to do.
Then Brenda took the broom Jane had used and swept at a corner under one of the cabinets. A single plump blueberry rolled out into the center of the floor. How had Jane missed that? Her heart dropped to her toes as Brenda looked up at her with a glare. “What a shoddy job,” she said in a hard voice, a cruel gleam in her narrow green eyes. “You’ll need to be punished for that.”
She yanked open a drawer and pulled out a large wooden spoon. “Bend over and grab your ankles, cunt. Ten swats, and then you’ll sweep the floor again.”