Taken

Jane’s chest was heaving, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks as she breathlessly counted to ten, twenty, thirty…

Robert’s cock had hardened again to steel. He needed somewhere to stick it. But for now, he contented himself with stroking it to take the edge off, his hand in his shorts. This was foreplay for Brenda, but she needed cock. He knew he would be the main attraction.

Brenda moved to stand in front of the girl. Taking a step back, she raised her arm and let the flogger fly. Jane squeezed her eyes shut as the leather tresses crashed against her small, pretty tits.

“I didn’t hear you count, stupid girl. Now we start over.” Brenda struck again.

“One,” Jane squealed.

Brenda struck her again and again, flogging her front side as methodically as the back, not stopping until she’d again reached fifty.

When she finally lowered her whip arm, Jane looked like a boiled lobster, her skin reddened from shoulder to knee. She was sweating visibly in the cool, humid air of the basement. She sagged against her wrist cuffs, her head hanging, her leg muscles trembling. She was whimpering, her eyes still squeezed shut, as if expecting another blow at any second.

Robert felt almost sorry for her.

Brenda reached for the girl’s face again, this time gripping her chin and raising it. “Thank me, little cunt. Thank me for punishing you for coveting my husband.”

Jane’s big blue-gray eyes sprang open.

Letting her go, Brenda took a step back and put her hands on her hips. “Go on,” she said testily. “Say it.”

Jane’s glance flitted briefly to Robert, as if he might do something to protect her. He just shook his head. The sooner she learned to obey Brenda to the letter, the easier things would go for her.

Her eyes returned to Brenda. In a mechanical voice, she muttered, “Thank you for”—she drew in a breath—“for punishing me for…” Again she paused.

Brenda stepped into the pause, irritation in her voice, though Robert knew she was having as much fun as he was. “For coveting my husband. Say this, exactly: ‘Thank you, ma’am, for punishing me for coveting your husband. I am a dirty, nasty whore who deserves whatever she gets.’”

A mutinous look passed over Jane’s face, surprising Robert. He hadn’t thought she had it in her. But a glare from Brenda made her start again. “Thank you, ma’am, for punishing me for-for…

“Coveting your husband,” Brenda prompted.

“Coveting your husband,” Jane parroted. She drew another breath, the words forced between clenched teeth. “I am a dirty …” She trailed off, her eyes suddenly beseeching. “I forgot. Please,” she begged. “I’m sorry. I forgot what to say.”

“I am a dirty, nasty whore who deserves whatever she gets,” Brenda snapped, her irritation real now.

““I am a dirty, nasty whore who deserves whatever she gets,” Jane repeated, the words tumbling over each other in their haste to get out of her mouth.

Brenda nodded, a satisfied smirk on her face. “That’s right. And don’t you forget it.”

She turned to Robert, her face creasing into a broad smile. “Let her down and put her back in her cage. Then let’s go upstairs, lover.” Her voice had eased into a low, sexy purr. “I’m ready to ride my big, strong stallion.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Robert replied with an answering grin.

Chapter 6

Jane awoke with a sobbing cry, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it. It took several seconds to come to her senses as she gasped for breath, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“It’s okay,” she whispered breathlessly to herself. “It was just a bad dream. It’s not real. You’re alive. You’re okay.”

In the nightmare, she’d been trapped in a box the size and shape of a coffin, bound and gagged. The lid was lowered slowly, blotting out the light. Then came the tap, tap, tap of a hammer, nailing the coffin shut with terrifying finality. Then the box was lifted and lowered into a shallow grave. She’d jerked awake at the sound of heavy mounds of dirt being shoveled over the coffin.

“You’re okay,” she repeated soothingly to herself, throwing back the hot blankets. She lifted her head to reach the metal spigot of the water bottle. She sucked several mouthfuls, which soothed her parched throat, but also made her aware she had to pee.

How long had she been lying there?

She shifted again so she could see the small, high window that offered a glimpse of the world beyond her prison. It was twilight outside, the sky deepening from blue to purple. They’d left her alone since late morning. While she was grateful for the respite, she was also stiff, sore and very hungry.

What if they never came back? What if they were going to leave her there to starve in that little cage, lying in her own filth?

“Stop it,” she murmured aloud. “That’s not productive thinking.”

She needed to figure things out. She needed a plan.