Taken

“Ha ha,” Robert said in a flat, annoyed voice.

A safe—that’s what that thing set into the floor must be. Jane could only imagine the riches the pair must have stored in there. His Rolex watch alone probably cost more than she earned in a year.

With a sigh, she looked again under the sink, finding and retrieving the toilet bowl cleaner and a scrub brush. When she went into the toilet stall, her stomach cramped suddenly, making her want to sit on the pot. She didn’t dare, however. Ignoring her roiling gut, she squirted the cleanser into the bowl. There were shit smears in the bowl and droplets of dark yellow urine under the seat. And they called her disgusting.

Just then, Robert came up behind her. “Hey, little girl. The master of the household is here to inspect your work.”

Her heart leaping into the throat, she turned toward him. He was holding a tube of KY Jelly in his hand, his bobbing cock already gooey with the stuff. The heavy gold watch on his wrist looked odd, given that he was totally naked.

“Don’t be shy, little French maid,” he said, again affecting his fake accent. He placed a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to turn back toward the toilet. “Keep doing what you were doing. Brenda likes a sparkling bowl. Just bend over like a good girl while you work.” His hand still on her, he forced her to bend over. “Keep your legs straight. Yes, that’s right.”

He flipped up the skirt and pressed his groin against her ass. She could feel his huge, hard cock nestling against her crack. She dreaded what she knew was coming.

Sure enough, he dropped the tube of lube on the floor and spread her ass cheeks. She felt the head of his cock nudging insistently at her asshole. He gripped her hips, holding her in place. She cried out as he entered her.

“Relax, baby,” Robert crooned. “It hurts worse when you tense up.”

He was right. It did hurt, though not quite as much as the first time. She willed herself to relax—to open herself to the invasion, which was going to happen whether she was relaxed or not.

Once he was all the way inside her, he began to rut against her, using her hips to pull her back against him. “Keep working,” he said breathlessly, slamming against her. “Brenda will be very angry if this toilet isn’t spick-and-span.”

Jane tried to move the toilet brush in the bowl while Robert thrust and grunted behind her. The brush fell from her hand when he let go of one hip and gripped the back of her neck, pushing her head down until her face was almost in the bowl. He held her down that way, her hair dipping into the water, as he continued to slam against her.

Thankfully, he was quick. Within a minute or two, he gave a guttural growl and jerked against her in several rapid, painful thrusts. He pulled away abruptly, leaving a trail of goo sliding down the back of her thigh.

Jane’s face burned with fury and shame, but she didn’t dare protest, or even reach back to wipe herself clean. Instead, she retrieved the toilet brush from the floor and swished it in the bowl as she struggled to catch her breath.

Only once he had gone did she dare pull some of the toilet paper from the roll in an effort to clean herself up. She continued working in the bathroom until every surface was sparkling.

When Brenda came in to inspect, she found fault with the way Jane had cleaned the glass walls of the shower and with how she’d mopped the floor, among other things. Each criticism was punctuated with a slap to the face. Cheeks stinging and wet with tears, Jane redid her chores until Brenda was satisfied.

When Robert finally marched her back down to the basement, it was with genuine relief that she curled into her cage, glad when the combination lock was clicked closed, keeping her in, but more importantly, keeping them out.

Chapter 8

When Robert came down the basement stairs after breakfast the next morning, he found Jane clutching the bars of her cage, a beseeching look on her face. Normally, she remained curled up like a puppy when he entered the basement, as if by making herself small, she might somehow disappear.

“Please, sir,” she said in an urgent tone, her face contorting with apparent pain. “You need to let me out. I-I have to go.”

Robert understood instantly what she meant. He’d been wondering when she’d finally loosen up enough to move her bowels. He’d been doing his part by depositing his sperm in that hot little ass at every opportunity, but until now she’d been too uptight.

He’d always got off spying on women doing this very private act. Back in high school, he would sometimes slip into the girls’ bathroom when no one was looking, and then hide out in a stall until a girl came in. Eventually, one of them would have to poop. He would silently jerk himself off while peeking at her through the cracks. There was something so deliciously degrading, so wildly sexy, about their revealing themselves in such a vulnerable way, completely unaware they were being watched.