Elena The Maid

Elena shivers by the bath, cleansed of the remnants of her stay in the dark room she’s called home for twenty-four hours. It’s obvious her captors have something planned for her, yet questions still swirl in her head. What exactly will happen to her? How will she get out of this?

She thinks of the burly men and what Jess told her. Whatever she’s gotten herself into is bigger than she imagined. Big enough for the powers that be to **** her and whisk her away without attracting so much as an eyebrow from the authorities. But how exactly does her boss fit into it? Donna? It’s like there are pieces of a puzzle lying around, but she doesn’t know which fits.

Her heart burns with anger at her boss for betraying her. The woman she trusted to take care of and look after her, and she turns her over to the people who care for her the least. Not so much as a handshake with Alex. Just passes out and wakes up in some subterranean hell. It’s as though her life is forfeit.

It could’ve been worse. She’d expected Donna to be rough. Real **** stuff, the kind one hears about in dramas and police shows. Yet Donna’s caresses were gentle. They weren’t invited. But they were kind, and Elena saw a side of her captor that was anything but the Saw-type killers she’d grown accustomed to hearing about.

That doesn’t make Donna her friend, or anyone else. So long as she’s here, Elena’s at the mercy of anyone and everyone. Even as she looks over her shoulder at the sleeping Jess, she remembers the cautionary lesson she received minutes ago. She feels guilty for cutting Donna some slack, as though she was somehow less culpable.

Mistress, that’s what Donna called her master. From what little she knows from peeking at one too many of her ex-boyfriend’s porn stash, she knows that means that the visit wasn’t her choosing. She walked in there for a reason. Why she wasn’t more forceful, no one will know.

Jess rouses from her sleep and glances at Elena’s shivering form.

“Still bathing?”

“Huh?”

“I said, are you still bathing?”

“No.” Elena shakes her head.

“Come over here.” Jess motions toward the young woman. “Don’t want you to get sick on us, do we?”

“I’m fine.” Elena replies, remembering what happened when she took Jess at her word.

“Suit yourself. Just remember if you die, it ain’t on my account.”

Elena glances at her calloused feet.

“How do you handle it?”

“What?”

“The uncertainty.”

“You never get over it.” Jess shrugs. “You just learn to expect the unexpected.”

Footsteps reverberate in the distance.

“Sounds like they’re coming for you.”

Elena’s stomach tightens.

“I wish I didn’t have to go.”

“Tough luck.” Jess snorts. “Just remember what I taught you.”

As the footsteps get closer, Elena’s feet shake violently. She doesn’t care if she’s cold or that she might get sick. All she can think of is the men coming to take her Heaven knows where. She spies them walking toward her. She tries to run, but her legs give out. She’s simply too weak.

Jess and the others don’t even lift a finger in protest.

Her eyes flutter as she’s sedated. A burlap sack is placed over her head as she’s bound and escorted. Her thoughts are muddled. Yet she still has the image of the four captives in her mind. The four who never protected her.

She comes to hours later in a bright room. As she shields herself from the light, her eyes are aghast at what she’s wearing. The skirt on the maid’s costume barely stops short of showing her front assets. The thought of complete strangers getting a peek at her breasts and crotch disturbs her. If it weren’t for the bit in her mouth, she’d scream bloody ****.

It doesn’t help that her ankles are bound. Elena can feel the complex knots of rope itching her skin ‘round the back of her feet as she moves. She stops twisting around at last, wincing in pain.

A raven-haired woman steps into view, her curvaceous figure accented by her tight jumpsuit. Her collar is a brilliant checker of black and white. It takes Elena a while to recognize the face, but the almond eyes are unmistakable.

****-Myra.

“On your feet, ****!” She barks as she cracks the wet towel in her hand against the floor. The snapping sound forces Elena to scoot away.

“Trying to escape Fool!”

She snaps the towel again. Elena grimaces as her skin stings. She glances at the welt on ankle.

“That’s what you get for disobeying me!”

Elena begs with her eyes, hoping to reach a part of ****-Myra’s soul hidden by her callous exterior. The woman’s eyes are stoic, betraying no emotion. ****-Myra hands her a nearby bucket and rag, grinding her boot into Elena’s neck.

“For the rest of the day you will treat me as though I am your master. Any disruption will be met with prejudice. You understand?”

Elena nods.

“Start cleaning.” She points toward the hardwood floor. When I come back, this floor better be clean, or else you’ll find yourself in a pickle.”

Elena complies, scrubbing the floor in a circular motion as her captor walks out. As soon as the coast is clear she pulls on the bit, trying to free herself. She feels around the back of her neck, getting a handle on the metal snap. She messes with the various rings and grooves, hoping to unclasp them. Maybe then she can untie herself and run away. Or untie her feet and get the bit off.

Whichever is first.

Her hopes are crushed when she discovers a key lock on the side.

“Looking for this?” ****-Myra dangles a golden key in front of her.

Elena nods.

“I knew you’d try that. They all do at first. That’s why I always take precautions.”

Elena winces again as the towel stings her knees.

“Now stop fooling around and get to work. Or else you’ll find yourself in a real heap of trouble.”

Elena scoots along as best she can, scrubbing the floor in fast circle as ****-Myra watches. Every so often she feels another welt as the latter attacks her neck and back. She moans in pain, growing more spiteful of ****-Myra with each passing minute. She’d rather take this **** from ****-Donna or even Jess. At least they were kind in their own way.

Her knees ache. Her back, her neck, her feet… Elena knows she can’t continue any longer without some risk to her health. She pushes the bucket aside and slumps against a cabinet door, daring ****-Myra to do her worst.

“This isn’t a union job, missy.” The raven haired beauty snarls. “No breaks for you.”

Elena takes several deep breaths. She shakes her head violently. ****-Myra glares at her.

“You want it your way, fine by me.”

She pours water from the tap into a glass and dumps the contents on the floor. She removes the bit from Elena’s mouth, taunting the captive with her eyes.

“Lick.”

Fearful of inciting more ****, Elena swirls her tongue madly around the floor. The cool sensation of the liquid is a welcome relief from the parched atmosphere she’s experienced these last few days. Her mind flits back to summers spent on her grandmother’s front porch in high school, sipping as she watched the neighborhood boys fly by on their motorbikes.

Good times.

She hears the towel drop to the floor, vaguely wondering what's going on. Elena gets her answer in the form of a finger worming its way across the crack of her ass, teasing her bunghole between explorations of her sweet nether lips. She gasps, pensive about the invasion of her backside. The mysterious finger is joined by another and then another, teasing as she continues to lick the precious liquid from the floor.

The teasing becomes a full-on penetration. Yet just as the digits begin to fill her hole, they disappear as quickly as they arrived. Elena finds herself growing annoyed at the game, feeling led on by ****-Myra’s touch.

“****-Myra…” She whispers.

“Shhh.” The captor admonishes her between gentle licks of her bunghole. Elena whimpers.

The licking turns into a tongue lashing as ****-Myra attacks Elena’s cooch, ravaging her with each turn. Elena shudders as her sex grows wet, spurred on by ****-Myra’s expertise. She gets close to the edge, but the latter retreats, leaving her panting.

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg if you’re a good girl.” ****-Myra kisses her ass and lower back. “Are you a good girl?”

“Yesss…”

“I’m just the help around here, but my mistress speaks highly of you. What’s that phrase she said the other day? Oh, right. You have what she calls…potential, raw potential.”

Elena mewls.

“She personally asked me to see to your training. This is a very sensitive assignment, so any mess-ups you have will reflect poorly on me and you. You don’t want that, right?”

“Nooo…”

“We only have a few weeks, but if you play your cards right you can open up some doors around here. That’s more than can be said for the other slaves who’ve passed through here. But you’re not just another ****, right?”

“Nooo…”

“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. This isn’t a democracy. It’s a tiered hierarchy, but who knows? Someday I may end up working for you. Doesn’t that make you…horny?”

Elena collapses at the thought, spent from her erotic housework.