Thread: A Christmas Gift (randomname98766789 and KatherineMinola)

Wake up, Jenna, came Mrs. Adams's voice through a hazy cloud of drug-induced sleep. The 18-year-old blinked, her emerald eyes cloudy from the cocktail the woman and her husband had given her last night. It was the same routine every day wake, eat, use the bathroom, be tied up and gagged and put in front of the television for a few hours before repeating the routine hours later, followed by a cocktail that drugged her to sleepiness. Jenna didn't know how long she'd been down here, but it had been several days, based on her chipped nail polish and need for a long, hot bath. The last she remembered before winding up in this basement was studying for her Chemistry finals in her dorm room at Standard University was hearing a knock on her door, opening it, and a handkerchief a bitter odor being pressed against her nose and mouth. The next she knew was being awaked in the basement. It's Christmas morning, Jenna. Rise and shine! came the sing-song voice of Mrs. Adams. The woman was perpetually happy, and so was her husband. That was the most disconcerting part in all of this. They weren't mean to or rough with her. They just acted as though she should be happy to be a prisoner here. Dearest, you go on upstairs while I give Jenna her bath, she said to her husband who hovered nearby. You can make blueberry waffles for Bryce. They're his favorite. Okay, muffin, the older man replied, kissing his wife's cheek and placing a white cardboard box on a nearby table. See you both upstairs soon, he said before climbing the stairs and locking the door behind him. Mrs. Adams led Jenna to the bathroom where a steaming tub of rose-scented water waited her. Her heart skipped with joy at the prospect of feeling clean again. The lady untied her ropes and removed the gag, clucking around her like a mother hen as she removed her garments and tossed them into a hamper. I'll wash those for you, dear, the woman explained, guiding the girl into the bathtub. She scrubbed Jenna with a sugar scrub that left her fair skin feeling soft and smooth and washed her hair with floral shampoo. Next, she handed the girl a razor and cream. You'll want to shave up real nice, dear. Don't forget the pubes! she sang out, leaving the girl alone as she carried the soiled garments to the washing machine. Jenna's movements were sluggish and slow, but she obeyed, unsure why today was different from any other day of her captivity. She lathered and shaved her underarms and legs, then went to work on her mound, blushing that the woman thought to tell her to groom herself there. Mrs. Adams was a strange woman, indeed. Jenna finished and rinsed then stood and wrapped a thick towel around herself. The 18-year-old wiped the condensation from the mirror and looked at her reflection. She looked the same--pale skin, dark green eyes framed by black lashes and well-shaped eyebrows, long black hair falling in waves down her back and around her shoulders to curve under her right breast, lush curves--but she wasn't, not inside. She was a quivering mass of fear inside, fear of the unknown. She blinked back tears and dried her hair, combing away the snarls until it was nearly dry. Jenna, come out when you're finished and open your Christmas present, called out Mrs. Adams. The girl jolted at the voice and sighed, placing the comb on the counter and turning out the light. She glided to the table where the woman stood beside the white box. Mrs. Adams grinned, her voice giggly with excitement, Well, go on! Open it! Jenna eyed the woman warily and tugged the ribbon from the box then lifted the lid. Amidst the frothy tissue paper lay a sheer nighty shot through with glints of silver and a tiny red thong and matching red stilettos. Nervousness traipsed down her spine, and she lifted her eyes to the older woman who was grinning. Here, I'll help you, dear, she said, yanking the towel from Jenna. She handed the thong to the girl and then slid the shimmery nighty over her body before slipping her slender feet into the heels. She took a step back and grinned, glancing over the girl. My, what a vision you are, dear. There's only one thing missing. Mrs. Adams picked up the ribbon from beneath the box and wrapped it around Jenna's waist, typing a big, red bow there. Yes, that's just the touch. Muffin, is she decent? called Mr. Adams down the stairs. His voice brought the aroma of fresh blueberry waffles, and the girl's stomach growled. Yes, come on down, love, the woman replied, winking at Jenna. When the older man descended the stairs and spied Jenna, he stopped in his tracks, his eyes bulging. Well, I do think that's just the ticket, he finally said after clearing his throat. He will love this year's Christmas gift, and that's a fact. Without another word, Mrs. Adams covered Jenna's mouth with duct tape, and her husband bound her wrists behind her back. The couple led her up the stairs and into the living room, which was decked out in holiday cheer. Mr. Adams pushed her toward the tree and guided her to lie on her stomach he tied her ankles together and then lifted her until she rested on her side. Mom? Dad? came a familiar voice, and Jenna's eyes darted around the room to find the speaker. In here, Bryce! called Mrs. Adams, and a young man around her own age entered the room, his hand tousling his sleep-mussed hair. The moment his saw her, he stopped, staring at her in obvious surprise, and hope burgeoned in Jenna. Maybe he would help her escape. He looked from her to his parents and then back to her. I know it's overwhelming, son, but just take a moment, said Mr. Adams, chuckling at Bryce's shock. We knew how much you liked Jenna, and we thought wed give you the best present possible. We love you son. Shes yours now. Yours forever to do whatever you want with.