Three Weeks a Slave

Author's note: as with my stories in general, this work contains strong non-consensual sexual themes, but little actual sex. If this is not to your tastes, I recommend reading a different story.

Jane was heading home when the hand closed over her mouth, she was pulled into a van, and after a short, futile struggle she was gagged, her hands cuffed and her legs chained, and the van was moving. I've been abducted, she thought miserably. How did it all go wrong so fast? Lying prone on the floor, she could still look up out of the van's windows, but although she tried to keep track of where the van was going, she soon became hopelessly lost. At one point she noticed the van accelerated into high gear, and she realized with dismay that the van had entered a highway. Odds are she was no longer in the city she lived in.

Eventually the van turned, the ride became bumpier, and she started seeing tall trees outside the windows. We must be in the countryside, she thought. Another bad sign.

Then the van stopped and the door opened. A tall, strongly built man lifted her out of the van, and she noticed they were at what looked like a perfectly ordinary cottage. The man carried her through the main door and dumped her unceremoniously on the floor, then he undid her restraints and removed the gag.

"That's her?" came another male voice as she rubbed life back into her limbs.

"That's the woman, yes," her abductor responded.

Jane pulled herself up with a wince. She was in a messy and rather dirty, but otherwise ordinary, living room. The other speaker was a small, bespectacled man. "Hello," he said when he noticed her looking at him. "What is your name?"

"Ja...ne," she stammered.

"Jane?"

"Jane Sawyer," she said quickly, then tensed as she saw the man looking through her purse. Oh no, he was looking at her identity card.

"Punch her once," the man sighed. Without ceremony, her abductor stood her up and landed a solid left-handed blow to her stomach that bowled her over. "Just once," the small man said. Her abductor let her go at that, and she collapsed on the floor, cradling her abdomen.

"Jane Lisa Kendall," the man said. "Don't lie to us."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I ... I'm just ..."

"I know you're scared," the man said, "but if you don't cooperate there will be consequences. Cooperating includes telling the truth." He eyed her steadily. "Any tails?" he asked her abductor.

"Nobody saw me," her abductor responded. "And I turned off her mobile phone like you instructed as soon as I grabbed her."

"Did you leave anything behind?"

"No. I checked."

"Good." He emptied Jane's handbag, looking at the items.

Jane looked apprehensively at the small man. He was the more dangerous of her two captors, she realized. Her abductor might be bigger and stronger, but the small man was shrewder, and the one giving instructions.

"Allow me to introduce myself," the small man said after a pause. "I'm Alex, and he is Bob." Bob started to object, but Alex cut him off. "Of course, those are not our real names. But that's what to call us."

"You are probably wondering why you are here," Alex continued. "See, we liberated some cash from the government a week ago. You might have seen the reports on TV. Our heroics pissed off a lot of people, and the ants are out searching for us. They don't know where we are, but they haven't backed down. These ants get a big red F for competence, but A+ for persistence."

Jane had indeed seen the reports on TV. The reports were understandably light on the details, but they did say that the thieves had almost gotten away when the police arrived. There was a brief firefight, with several bystanders hit in the crossfire, but the thieves escaped. Armed, her captors were armed. And dangerous.

"We've been waiting for the smoke to blow over for a week," continued Alex, "but they show no signs of giving up. We're not short on supplies, but we sure as hell are short on patience. Who knew just living could be so troublesome. It only took a few days for that stack to reach that height." Alex indicated the pile of dirty dishes in the kitchen sink.

"That's where you come in. You will clean the house, cook our meals, wash our clothes, make us comfy. Once the ants go back to their anthill, we'll let you go."

"But I don't know how to cook," Jane blurted. It wasn't exactly true, her cooking was ... edible, but her poor culinary skills were a running joke among her friends. At home her maid did most of the cooking, and the last time the maid was on holiday, her husband had politely ushered her out of the kitchen.

"You mean you can't cook?" Alex sounded surprised, as though he had never considered the possibility before. When she nodded, he exclaimed in exasperation, "Fuck, it's all that good-for-nothing bitch's fault for getting shot. All she had to do was sit in the car, but she had to get out to see the action." He shook his head in disgust. "What good are women if they can't cook?"

Jane winced at the misogyny, but her heart leapt. If they had no use for her, perhaps they would let her go!

Bob looked blank for a moment, then his face lit up. "They're good for fucking," he said with a grin.

Oh no, thought Jane frantically as the two men sized her up. "I mean, I can cook some simple dishes, but - "

Alex cut her off. "You mean, you lied?" When she didn't answer, he sighed. "Punch her again."

She barely had time to squeal before Bob grabbed her and landed another blow to her abdomen. Her still-aching stomach erupted in fresh agony. This time, Bob threw her onto the floor, and her head hit the floor with a thud. Consciousness ebbed and flowed in a haze as her body worked to keep the darkness at bay. It was a long minute before she felt able to push herself onto her elbows.

Alex was staring at her. "The next time you lie to us," he said coldly, "We'll strip you naked and whip your tits. Now tell us true: can you cook or not?"

"I can," Jane said slowly, her mind still foggy. What should I say? If she told them her cooking was terrible, they might rape her; if she didn't, there might still be trouble when they tasted her meals. Why oh why did she not learn how to cook? "It's just ... I don't do it very often."

"I didn't ask if you cooked often," said Alex. "I asked if you knew how to cook. You are to tell the truth, and answer the question that is asked, not the question that you think is asked. Is that clear?"

Jane nodded warily. Alex continued, "Next question. Is anyone expecting you?"

"No," answered Jane.

The small man sighed. "You are also to give detailed answers. Consider this your only warning."

Jane gulped. Still, her stomach reminded her of the predicament she was in. "Nobody is expecting me," she said slowly, wondering how much to reveal. Her throbbing stomach eventually convinced her to hold nothing back. "The kids are at school and my husband won't be home till tonight. The maid's in the house too but she doesn't know when I'll be back."

"A maid?" said Alex, eyebrows raised. It was not that rare in the country to have live-in domestic help, but it still indicated a degree of wealth. "So the alarm won't be raised till tonight?" Alex asked. Jane could see that he was thinking.

"Most likely, yes," she answered. "Please don't hurt my husband."

Bob perked up at that. "Do you want me to bring him here?" he said to the Alex. "Or off him?"

Oh no, Jane thought again, but Alex waved him aside. "We'll give the lady a chance. Jane, we'll let you send a message to your husband. If you can come up with some convincing story such that your husband does not alert the ants, we'll let him live. Otherwise we will have to kill him."

This is going from bad to worse, thought Jane. What could she say? She and Kyle were the most loving of couples. Since their marriage they had seldom been separated from each other, and whenever circumstances forced them physically apart, they would call each other daily. She tried to think. Even if she could fend off Kyle, what about her children or job?

"Can I speak to him every day?" she asked eventually.

Alex shook his head. "No. Too risky."

And I'll be here until the police give up. The thought struck her that she might never make it back, that they would kill her to silence her, but she fought it off. "I could concoct some story about a family emergency," she said eventually. "But he'd surely want to know more, and might even contact my parents. No, that won't work." She shook her head. "I'll have to beg him to not look for me and that I will explain everything when the time comes."

Alex looked at Jane dubiously. She was sure he was weighing up the risks. "Fine," he said at last. "Write your message on this sheet. Remember, we have our ways of knowing if he does call the ants. After he dies, you are next."

Her hand trembled as she picked up the pen. Dear Kyle, she wrote, Something urgent came up and I have to go. I could be away for weeks or months. I love you. If you love me too, please do not look for me. I will explain everything when I return. I love you. Your Jane.

When she had finished, Alex read her message several times. She guessed that he was looking for hidden code words. Not that we arranged any, she thought bitterly. It was another thing she should have done.

Finally, Alex put the paper down. "Weeks or months, you are not an optimistic woman. What's your PIN number?" She told Alex, and he wrote it on the back side of the paper. Then he said to Bob: "Drive somewhere far away and send this to her old man using her phone. Don't turn the phone on before you get there and turn it off immediately afterwards."

"Why don't you do it," grumbled Bob as he left. She was alone with Alex.

Now's our chance! whispered her more reckless side, which she dubbed Jane One. Overpower him, and let's get out of here. But her more cautious side, Jane Two, sent urgent warnings. Bob grumbled, but he still left, it said. Alex is the more dangerous of the two.

We won't get a better chance, Jane One whispered again. We are certainly not overpowering Bob. What are we hoping for, that they both have their backs turned?

Perhaps. Jane Two again. But he could be a trained fighter. He could be armed. We are neither. Even if he doesn't have his gun with him, he's still male and will likely be stronger than us. He did say that he would whip our tits if we lied, imagine what he would do if we attacked him.

How do we know they won't do it anyway? Jane One sounded desperate, as though it was pleading with a stubborn child. They can still beat us, rape us, kill us. Better to try and fail than to not try at all.

Or they might not, Jane Two retorted. We don't know if they will either. They won't kill us as long as they need us. I want to escape just like you do, but surely a better opportunity will arise, perhaps at night.

When Bob gets back it will be too late for regrets. Jane could almost feel Jane One shrugging. Don't say I didn't warn you. Then it went quiet.

Jane blinked. She was once again back in the cottage, on the floor with Alex towering over her.

"Come," said Alex. "I will show you around."

It was not a big cottage, but it was big enough to accommodate three people comfortably. Jane noted that much of it was actually clean and tidy, if a little dusty. She remembered the woman Alex mentioned who had died during the robbery and decided that it was her doing. Who was she, a friend, wife, or mother?

They went to the bedrooms, where Alex indicated a set of drawers. "We'll keep your belongings here," he said as he dropped her handbag into a drawer. "We'll give them back when we release you. In the meantime, you are not to open any of these drawers. There will be consequences if you try."

There was only one bathroom, but Jane was surprised to see that she had her own bedroom. Hope surged - she could escape during the night! - but then Alex produced a pair of legcuffs. "This is to ensure you don't escape," he said matter-of-factly as he chained her ankle to a chair. She quickly discovered that the chair was heavy enough that she could only move around slowly. Alex did not slow down, and she was soon breathless trying to keep up.

Finally they went to the kitchen, the only room in the house that was truly messy. "No knives, of course," said Alex as he removed all the knives from the kitchen. "You figure everything else out. Have dinner ready by 7pm, breakfast at 8am, and lunch at 1pm." He left, leaving Jane to contemplate her new life.

---

The first development happened shortly after Bob returned. "Jane!" called Alex. "Make me some coffee!"

Now I know what it feels like to be a slave, thought Jane bitterly as she hurried to obey. She'd spent much of the previous hour crying, but she was also tough enough to make the best of her situation. The stack of dirty dishes was gone, and she had gained enough sense of the kitchen to know where the coffee powder was. Yet by the time she got to Alex, his face was a mask of impatience. "When I ask for coffee, I expect it in three minutes. You took five. If you are this tardy again, I shall have to cane you."

"It's the chair," Jane pleaded, knowing Alex's demand was nearly impossible even without the encumbrance. "I can't move quickly with it, especially with a full cup of coffee in one hand."

Alex frowned, clearly realizing the problem yet unwilling to wait. "How about we strip her clothes off?" Bob piped up. "Women are uncomfortable being seen naked, so she'll be too embarrassed to escape. We won't need the chair then, and we can fuck her easier too."

Holy shit. "Please no," Jane said urgently. "I - uh ... it's winter right now. It's too cold to leave the house."

"Even better," said Bob brightly. "Strip her clothes off, and if she leaves the house, she'd not get far before freezing!"

"But -"

Alex held up a hand. "Do you have a better idea?"

Jane felt as though her life was flashing before her eyes. "Uh ..." she stammered, trying to think. "Do you have a long rope?"

"No."

"Can you buy it? I can pay."

"No. We're not risking another trip to town."

"Can you buy it online?"

"And have it delivered here? We might as well put up a sign telling the ants where to find us." Alex gave a short, derisive laugh. "What was I thinking, asking a woman for ideas. Get your tits out. Or your cunt, I don't care. No Bob, if we push her too hard she might become uncooperative. We won't fuck her for the same reason, as long as she obeys."

"If she doesn't cooperate, we could shoot her and get another woman who can cook," protested Bob.

Alex shook his head. "Let's not take even more risks." He unlocked Jane's legcuffs. "Well? Do you need help?"

Jane had been motionless in horror, but Alex's words dragged her back into reality. Choking back a sob, she stammered, "No, I ... I will ..." She glanced at Bob, who gave her a grin. If I don't take my clothes off, I will get punched, and he will do it for me, she thought desperately. I don't have any options, do I? She quickly realized there were none. With no alternatives, she forced herself to think about her choice. Being topless must be better than being bottomless, she told herself. She couldn't bring herself to complete the thought, but her hands slowly pulled her shirt over her head, revealing her bra.

"Give it here," said Alex, and she meekly handed him the shirt. "And remember, the order was to get your tits out." Wordlessly she unclasped her bra, slipped it off her shoulders, and deposited it into Alex's waiting hands, while trying to cover herself with her other arm. It was a futile effort, she knew. She was showing more flesh than she ever had in public.

"Put your hands down," demanded Bob, but Alex laughed sardonically. "Leave her be, she can't cover herself forever. You'll get to see her tits eventually." He drained his coffee in one gulp. "Where's the jacket you were wearing when we grabbed you?"

"In ... in the kitchen," she whispered.

"Go get it. We'll put your clothes in the drawer with your handbag. Oh, and make me another cup of coffee. If you're not back here in three minutes, we'll know you lied about the chair. Do you need a reminder of what we'd do the next time you lied?"

She didn't. She ran for the kitchen, one arm wiping away tears, the other still covering her breasts.

---

Dinner that night was the most awkward of Jane's life. Fully aware of her lack of culinary skills, she had started early, relied liberally on the microwave, and tried to use simple recipes. She'd discovered Alex wasn't kidding when they said they weren't short on supplies - the larder was stacked. Nonetheless, she didn't have an apron, the lack of a knife precluded her from many options, and things were not helped by the fact that Bob kept trying to watch the topless chef in action. Jane could not dismiss him, but cooking one-handed proved an impossible challenge. She'd done her best to have her back turned whenever she needed to use both hands, but she was sure she'd still flashed a healthy amount of side boob.

When it was done, she'd overcooked one steak, which she reluctantly resolved to eat herself. It was only after they'd all sat down at the dining table that she realized it was not easy to eat a steak one-handed. Bob had stared, Alex had laughed, and she had made a mess, but she managed to eat enough to satisfy her stomach.

She'd been deathly worried about how her captors would react to her cooking, and indeed Bob had reacted to his first mouthful with a grimace. Alex surprised her by pointing out that her cooking was still better than what they had been eating, but even he had made it clear that he expected something tastier the next day. How, she'd wanted to ask, when she had neither teacher nor cookbooks? But she held her tongue, and diligently cleaned up after the meal.

The next development happened that night. She had waited for Alex and Bob to finish showering before taking her turn, and was looking forward to washing away the grease and grime she'd accumulated throughout the afternoon. Then Alex had warned her not to close the bathroom door. "It's to make sure you don't escape," he said by means of explanation. "You are not to lock the bedroom door as well. If we have to break down any doors to catch you, you will regret it."

That turned the shower into a cheerless task. At least the shower itself was not within the line-of-sight of someone outside, she told herself. She hadn't noticed that aspect of bathroom design until then. There was also plenty of soap, shampoo, and even toothbrushes. Alex really wasn't kidding when he said they weren't short on supplies.

She was desperately afraid that Bob would walk in on her, but for once her prayers were answered. She was sure Bob was outside looking in, but even he had the decency not to walk in on someone who is showering. Although the warm water felt really soothing to her tired muscles, she dared not shower for too long lest Alex summon her.

It was after the shower when she realized with a start that she didn't have clean clothes. Now what? she thought frantically. Her trousers weren't too dirty to wear, but the afternoon in the kitchen had left its mark, and she knew it was only a matter of time before they became unwearable. She could wash the trousers, but what would she wear while they were in the washer?

She thought about asking Alex for clothes, but never got the chance. When she emerged from the bathroom, Alex approached her with the legcuffs. "This is to make sure you don't escape at night," he said as he chained her to her bed.