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~*~
Jane sagged against her wrist cuffs, a dark, hopeless fog enveloping her. For a few glorious moments, she’d tasted freedom. She’d actually believed she might escape her tormentors.
When Robert had caught up with her in the water, it was like the last bit of light had been extinguished inside her. After this, they’d probably never let her out of the basement again.
Her body was beyond exhausted, her heart aching with defeat. She was too weary and bereft even to feel frightened of the brutal caning she knew was in store for her. She just wanted Brenda to do it and get it over with and then leave her alone in her misery.
The first slash caught her in a long, fiery line across both ass cheeks. She screamed in shock and pain. The cane whipped again and again across her ass, the backs of her thighs, her shoulders and back.
The pain took her breath away, blanking out her mind, short-circuiting her brain. All that existed was the searing cut of the cane slashing against her skin in a crisscross of pure agony. On and on it went, wrenching cries from Jane again and again as she jerked and writhed in her chains. It felt as if she were being flayed alive.
Finally, Brenda, chest heaving from her exertions, appeared in front of Jane. “Open your eyes, bitch,” she commanded. “Look at me while I’m talking to you.”
Jane somehow managed to force her eyelids to obey. She couldn’t focus on the woman, who wavered in front of her, her image blurred by dizziness and tears.
“You nearly fucked everything up,” Brenda snarled, her face hard. “Apologize for trying to escape, you scrawny little piece of shit.”
Jane tried to speak, but only managed a hoarse grunt. She was thirsty…so thirsty…
Brenda clicked her tongue in exasperation and placed her hands on her hips. “I said, apologize!”
“I’m sorry,” Jane managed to mumble, though it came out more like, “Ah sahh.”
“Not as sorry as you’re going to be,” Brenda retorted. “I’m going to make your life—what’s left of it—a living hell.”
Jane stared at her tormentor as the words penetrated her foggy brain.
“What’s left of it…”
The black spots obscuring her vision multiplied, a peculiar ringing sounding in her ears. Oblivion beckoned, opening its arms to her. Gratefully, she stepped into them, leaving Brenda far behind.
~*~
“Christ, Brenda,” Robert swore under his breath. He’d left his wife relaxing in the Jacuzzi with a large glass of chilled white wine. She’d wanted to let Jane just hang there all night, but Robert had put his foot down.
Of course, Brenda was right to punish the girl. Robert understood that. But this time, she’d really gone too far. How could they play with the frog with her back and ass so torn up? She’d need at least a couple of days to heal. And they didn’t have that much more time.
He moved closer to the inert girl. There was a small pool of urine puddled between her feet. She was sagging heavily against her wrist cuffs, still suspended from the rig. Her head lolled to the side, her eyes closed.
Fuck. Was she dead?
While he knew she had to be disposed of at some point, he didn’t want to actually see it. That’s what they paid Ivan for.
Alarmed, he touched her throat with two fingers, feeling for her pulse. He blew out a breath of relief as he felt the steady thrum of her heartbeat against his fingers. He moved around her, taking in the damage. Dried blood streaked her back and ass, the welts purple beneath it.
Reaching up, he released Jane’s wrist cuffs, catching her swaying body as her arms fell limply to her sides. He set her gently on her stomach on a nearby exercise mat. Sprinting up the basement stairs, he returned a moment later with the first aid kit and a wet washcloth. He dabbed at the blood, gently wiping it away as best he could. Then he daubed an antibiotic ointment over the wounds. He might as well make her as comfortable as possible for the little time she had left.
Jane flinched a little as he worked, but otherwise showed no reaction. Brenda had worked the poor kid over good.
When he was done, he lifted her carefully once more into his arms and carried her to the cage. Crouching, he settled her curled on her side on the blankets. Reaching into the back pocket of his shorts, he pulled out the packet of cookies he’d snagged from the kitchen and set it down beside her.
Her eyes were open now, and she was watching him with a silent, unreadable gaze.
“It’s your lucky day,” he said, managing a grin. “There’s fresh water in your bottle and a whole sleeve of Oreos. Enjoy. I’ll be back in the morning to hose you down.” He left the basement, turning off the light at the top of the stairs before closing the door. He’d done what he could.
