Read Online Caught: Punished by Her Boss by Claire Thompson - Free Book Online
Authors: Claire Thompson
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could murder her in cold blood down here in this soundproofed basement, and probably get away with it, too.
Yet if he were going to kill her, wouldn’t he have done so already? From the crazy way he’d been talking, he clearly had plans for her, long-term plans that involved extensive slave training. She’d gotten the feeling from his ramblings that he had no intention of letting her out any time soon. There was no way he’d let her back into his office, where she might tell Tony and Blake about the blackmail and the rape.
But he couldn’t keep her down here indefinitely, could he? Didn’t he have friends, family, a girlfriend? Someone was bound to wonder what he had down here, wouldn’t they? People didn’t just hide other people in their basement for days, weeks, years on end, did they? And when he was tired of her, what then? The thought terrified her and she began to cry again, great, noisy sobs, only there was no one to hear.
Eventually she must have drifted to sleep due to sheer exhaustion. She awoke suddenly and completely at the sound of the door at the top of the stairs opening. The light flicked on overhead and Jessie tensed as she listened to Eric thumping down the stairs. At the smell of food, her stomach, which had twisted into a hard, painful knot, awoke with a vengeance and growled. Reaching for the sheet, she pulled it up to her chin and waited, every muscle in her body, even her jaw, clenched in fearful anticipation.
She saw his bare feet and muscular, hairy calves appear in front of the cage. He squatted down in front of her, placing a tray on the floor beside him. The smell of bacon and eggs assailed her nostrils, along with toasted bread and melting butter. She began to salivate, nearly choking on her own spit as she gripped the bars, leaning toward the tray. She saw a tall glass of orange juice beside the plate heaped with food and nearly started crying.
She bit her tongue to keep from begging, remembering just in time his rule about speaking only when spoken to. Hunger had made her wits sharp, and she swore to herself she’d play his game, at least long enough to get at that food.
She waited as he unlocked the padlock and lifted the cage door. “Good morning, J. Sleep well?”
“Yes, sir,” she forced herself to reply, her eyes fixed on the food.
“Hungry?”
“Yes, sir,” she answered, not giving voice to the rest of her thought— pinche idiota, hijo de puta, pendejo.
“Come on out then and have some breakfast.”
Jessie crawled from the cage, moving gingerly. Her body felt bruised and battered and she was weak with hunger. She pulled herself into a sitting position beside the food, wishing she had something to put on. She wasn’t at all shy about her body, but she resented the shit out of the power play Eric was pulling by keeping her naked.
Still, she wouldn’t focus on that now. There was food and drink in front of her, and unless he was setting her up, it was for her. She looked at the tray, which contained the plate and the glass, but no silverware. Looking over at Eric, she asked, “No fork?”
“Slave girls don’t get forks and knives. You’ve got toast. Use that.”
Slave girls, my ass, she thought, but only nodded and grabbed the bread, scooping a large portion of scrambled eggs onto it and shoveling it into her mouth. She ate as fast as she could, following each bite with a large gulp of juice, afraid he’d decide at any moment that she’d had enough. But he didn’t stop her. He just remained crouched beside her, watching her with those piercing, cold blue eyes, his lips curved in an amused, disdainful smile.
Only when she’d consumed every crumb and drunk every drop did she let herself relax. Her stomach, empty for so many hours, was now uncomfortably full, but she didn’t care. Who knew when this crazy man would let her eat again?
“Thank me for the food, slave,” he said.
“Thank you, sir,” she replied. She could play this game.
Nodding, he
Yet if he were going to kill her, wouldn’t he have done so already? From the crazy way he’d been talking, he clearly had plans for her, long-term plans that involved extensive slave training. She’d gotten the feeling from his ramblings that he had no intention of letting her out any time soon. There was no way he’d let her back into his office, where she might tell Tony and Blake about the blackmail and the rape.
But he couldn’t keep her down here indefinitely, could he? Didn’t he have friends, family, a girlfriend? Someone was bound to wonder what he had down here, wouldn’t they? People didn’t just hide other people in their basement for days, weeks, years on end, did they? And when he was tired of her, what then? The thought terrified her and she began to cry again, great, noisy sobs, only there was no one to hear.
Eventually she must have drifted to sleep due to sheer exhaustion. She awoke suddenly and completely at the sound of the door at the top of the stairs opening. The light flicked on overhead and Jessie tensed as she listened to Eric thumping down the stairs. At the smell of food, her stomach, which had twisted into a hard, painful knot, awoke with a vengeance and growled. Reaching for the sheet, she pulled it up to her chin and waited, every muscle in her body, even her jaw, clenched in fearful anticipation.
She saw his bare feet and muscular, hairy calves appear in front of the cage. He squatted down in front of her, placing a tray on the floor beside him. The smell of bacon and eggs assailed her nostrils, along with toasted bread and melting butter. She began to salivate, nearly choking on her own spit as she gripped the bars, leaning toward the tray. She saw a tall glass of orange juice beside the plate heaped with food and nearly started crying.
She bit her tongue to keep from begging, remembering just in time his rule about speaking only when spoken to. Hunger had made her wits sharp, and she swore to herself she’d play his game, at least long enough to get at that food.
She waited as he unlocked the padlock and lifted the cage door. “Good morning, J. Sleep well?”
“Yes, sir,” she forced herself to reply, her eyes fixed on the food.
“Hungry?”
“Yes, sir,” she answered, not giving voice to the rest of her thought— pinche idiota, hijo de puta, pendejo.
“Come on out then and have some breakfast.”
Jessie crawled from the cage, moving gingerly. Her body felt bruised and battered and she was weak with hunger. She pulled herself into a sitting position beside the food, wishing she had something to put on. She wasn’t at all shy about her body, but she resented the shit out of the power play Eric was pulling by keeping her naked.
Still, she wouldn’t focus on that now. There was food and drink in front of her, and unless he was setting her up, it was for her. She looked at the tray, which contained the plate and the glass, but no silverware. Looking over at Eric, she asked, “No fork?”
“Slave girls don’t get forks and knives. You’ve got toast. Use that.”
Slave girls, my ass, she thought, but only nodded and grabbed the bread, scooping a large portion of scrambled eggs onto it and shoveling it into her mouth. She ate as fast as she could, following each bite with a large gulp of juice, afraid he’d decide at any moment that she’d had enough. But he didn’t stop her. He just remained crouched beside her, watching her with those piercing, cold blue eyes, his lips curved in an amused, disdainful smile.
Only when she’d consumed every crumb and drunk every drop did she let herself relax. Her stomach, empty for so many hours, was now uncomfortably full, but she didn’t care. Who knew when this crazy man would let her eat again?
“Thank me for the food, slave,” he said.
“Thank you, sir,” she replied. She could play this game.
Nodding, he
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