Caught: Punished by Her Boss by Claire Thompson Page B

Jessie opened her eyes, squinting. She had no idea how many hours had passed. Since he’d left her, she had drifted in and out of troubled sleep. When she was awake, she tried to plan her escape, but mostly she just cried, too scared and miserable to think properly. She supposed she should be grateful he’d provided the urinal. Though it had been awkward to use without being able to sit up properly, at least she didn’t have to add a bursting bladder to her list of woes.
    Now she gripped the bars, listening as Eric came down the stairs. Please let him have food and water. Please, please, please.
    He appeared at the bottom of the stairs with a tray in his hand. Jessie’s mouth watered and she licked her dry, chapped lips. She stared at the tray, on which there was a sandwich on a paper plate and two bottles of water.
    Yes!
    The tall, burly man sat down cross-legged in front of the cage, placing the tray next to him. He was dressed in shorts and a tank top, his feet bare. She had never really appreciated how muscular he was before he’d imprisoned her, his body hidden beneath his suit and tie at the office. Now she appreciated it all too well.
    Her focus shifted from his body to the food. “Good afternoon, J.,” her jailer said. Was she supposed to answer?
    God, the sandwich looked good. She could see peanut butter and jelly oozing between the pieces of white bread. Not her favorite, but right now she would do anything to have it.
    The water looked cold, beads of condensation on the plastic. Her tongue felt thick and sour in her mouth. She was thirsty, so thirsty.
    She realized Eric was staring at her. What did he want? It was so hard to think. Not only her body, but her mind, too, felt empty—hollowed out. He had greeted her. He was waiting. Did she dare speak? He hadn't given her permission. He hadn’t asked a question.
    Hungry, thirsty, hungry, thirsty. Give me that food. Water, water, water .
    “When I greet you, slave,” Eric said slowly, as if she were a stupid child, “you greet me in turn, with the proper respect.”
    And then she could eat?
    “Good afternoon, sir.” It came out as a croak, barely intelligible, even to her own ears. Her eyes were glued to the tray. Please, please, please .
    “Have you learned your lesson, slave?”
    Lesson. What lesson? The fucking rules? Rule one…rule one… Where was that paper? Her mind refused to work, her body screaming for the food and water. She could smell the peanut butter now, so rich and creamy. She could almost taste it, blending with the sweet preserves, exploding against her teeth and tongue as she bit into the soft bread surrounding it. Lifting herself, she leaned forward, trying to reach through the bars. There was a strange, distant whistling in her ears and black spots danced before her eyes. Her head was spinning…
     
    “J. Slave. Jessie! Can you hear me?”
    Jessie opened her eyes. Eric’s face was close to hers, no bars separating them. “Wha…?” Some of the fog that had been swirling through her brain lifted, and she realized she was lying on the carpet, her head cradled in Eric’s lap.
    “You passed out,” he said, his tone almost kind. “Your eyes just rolled right back and wham, you were out like a light. Are you okay?”
    What kind of a stupid question was that? She was terrified and starving, naked and held prisoner in her former boss’s basement, for fuck’s sake. Was she okay ?
    “Yes, sir,” she said. “Thank you, sir,” she managed to add.
    She was rewarded when he reached for the bottle of water. He helped her to sit up and then put the bottle to her lips. She wanted to hold it herself, but didn’t dare. He tipped it, letting the cold, delicious water spill into her mouth. She drank greedily, nearly choking as the water gushed down her throat. He let her finish the bottle, the last bit dripping down her chin and onto her chest.
    As he placed the empty bottle on the tray, the smell of the peanut butter and jelly wafted