Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 48284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 241(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 241(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
When Robert placed the last slice in her mouth, Jane sighed with relief as she chewed. Hopefully, the stupid relay race was done. Maybe they would leave her alone again so she could rest and recover. Though, even as this wishful thought entered her mind, she recognized it was doubtful.
She was sweating , her knees and palms scraped raw, her ass and the backs of her thighs stinging painfully. She started to swivel toward Brenda, who was obviously in charge, to ask if she could rest and have some water.
But Robert distracted her by scooping up a mound of peanut butter and smearing it over his cock. Grinning maniacally, he said, “As winner of the race, you get a prize. You get to lick the peanut butter off my cock. But make sure and clean it good, or else.”
Fucking bastard, Jane thought, rage nearly making her scream it aloud. Disgusting perverted son of a bitch. The sudden anger felt good. It was definitely better than cowering terror.
But she remembered her end goal. Lull them into complacency. Make them think she had given up. Aware she was scowling, she forced her features into neutrality.
“Open wide,” Robert said in a creepy singsong voice, using his hand to waggle his penis at her as if it were a live thing.
Jane approached, opening her mouth, hatred burning inside her. At least she’d get something out of the deal, and maybe the peanut butter would cover the odor of his masculine musk.
When he shoved the head of his cock into her mouth, she sucked and licked at the peanut butter as if her life depended on it.
“Yeah, baby,” Robert murmured in a low, throaty voice. “That feels real good.”
From behind Jane, Brenda called, “Hey! What’s the idea? Are you trying to make me jealous?”
“It’s not me, Bren,” Robert retorted, grinning back at his wife. He placed his hand on Jane’s head and forced his cock back deep in her throat. Jane gagged and instinctively tried to rear back, but Robert held her fast.
As she sputtered and drooled around his cock, he said in a plaintive voice, “This little cunt is the one you should be pissed at. She’s sucking my dick like there’s no tomorrow.”
“She keeps it up, and there won’t be,” Brenda replied darkly, her words making Jane’s blood run cold.
Again she tried to pull away from Robert, but he easily held her in place, his big, hard palm on her head.
This was so unfair. If she pleased one, she upset the other. It was all part of their cruel plan. She couldn’t win, no matter what she did. All she could do was try to survive until she figured a way out of her predicament.
And that, she told herself firmly as Robert shot a glob of goo down her throat, is exactly what I’m going to do.
Chapter 7
Jane stood under the hot shower spray, massaging a rich, sudsy shampoo into her hair. She soaped her body from head to toe, and then climbed into the waiting bath, the water lightly scented with lavender oil. The candles flickered around her as she reached for the chilled glass of white wine…
Jane woke abruptly as her hand collided with the metal bars of her cage. The dream had been so vivid that she reached up to touch her hair, almost expecting it to be wet. But no—it was still the same tangled mess it had been before she’d dozed off. Her welted, bruised skin was still itchy with dried sweat.
With a sigh, she shifted in the cage so she was lying on her back, knees bent. Overhead was a drop ceiling consisting of white perforated tiles set into cheap metal framing. At first the dots had seemed random, but if she stared at them long enough, patterns began to form. There was a man’s face, a rabbit, a truck and various other shapes that would come and go, depending on how she squinted.
When the tiles got boring, she shifted so she could see outside. She’d never really appreciated how many different blues there were in the sky, or all the gradations of color in a cloud, from white to pearly gray to seashell pink. She was able to track the time, in a relative way, by the light or darkness showing through the single pane of her tiny window.
Sometimes at night she could see the moon, other times a sprinkling of stars. She especially loved dawn just as the sun was coming up. The sky would lighten from black to gray to lavender to pale gold and pink and finally to a delicate robin’s egg blue. It was such a hopeful color—a promise of something new and fresh. How she longed to be outside—to smell the pure air and feel the grass under her feet. Imagine the freedom, the joy, of walking outside in the sunshine.