The blonde man sat there looking down at her. He reached up and stroked his smooth chin. “Youse will stays heres and gives mes sons.” He said flatly.

  The guy was more lonely than she thought. She forced her features to remain calm and passive. She lowered her chin just a little and looked up at him through her eyelashes.

  Smiling coyly, she asked, “How many sons would you like?”

  This caused the man to smile broadly. He stood up and stretched his back, looking down at his supposed prize. He looked over to the door and nodded to himself. “I donts think I will let youse go. Youse will stay here, youse may not be telling the truth. I’ll come back maybe another day and see if you really will stay with mes.” He grabbed his heavy furs and threw them over his back as he grabbed the lantern and moved back towards the door.

  Michelle almost smiled, but opened her mouth instead in a gasp of what she hoped sounded like disappointment, “But, why?”

  “I donts trusts youse,” he said as he stopped to look at her from the door. “Just like youse don’t really wants mes, not yet. But youse will. Hunger and darkness will break youse, when you realize that no ones is comings to save youse.” He yanked the door open and disappeared back out into howling wind and snow of the storm. The door shut and Michelle was once again alone in darkness.

  She heaved a sigh of relief. For a moment she thought he was going to take his dick out right then and there and shove it into her mouth. That might not be fun for him, being that her throat and mouth were dry as a desert and her tongue felt like sandpaper. Would’ve served him right though, if she could have stopped herself from biting his thing off at the base.

  She took the jar out from between her legs and staring into the void of almost total darkness she worked on the wax seal of the jar. It wasn’t candle wax, it was heavy and almost like rubber. She used her nails to saw against the seal. This would’ve been so much easier with a knife, but her nails, once a point of pride for her, would have to do.

  She sawed back and forth against the jar. She saw only what her fingers and nails felt. It was a perfect picture in her mind. Her nail suddenly scrapped against glass. She laughed out loud. It was working. Taking the small cut, she worked her way around the jar. How much time passed, an hour? More? She didn’t know all she knew was that she was making progress. Slowly her nails worked peeling and cutting the seal away from the lid.

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  Her fingernail finally cut across to glass again. She breathed a sigh of relief. Her head was pounding and her sinuses were pushing needles into her eyes. Her eyes watered and her throat was so dry. She peeled the wax away from the lid and the jar itself until she could twist the lid. She felt so weak and it took her long moments of resting and flexing her fingers before the jar lid actually turned and suddenly it popped off.

  The smell that emanated from the jar made her gag. She thrust the jar away from her as fast as she could as she tried not to throw up. She breathed deeply away from the jar, as she held it out and away from her.

  When her gag reflex settled and she was able to breathe without the threat of throwing up, she glanced back towards the jar. There was only one thing that could smell like that, fish. She had always hated fish and probably after this she always would. She couldn’t see into the jar, of which she was grateful. Of course, she immediately had visions of fish swimming around inside the jar, just waiting to bite her or jump out of the jar and slap her in the face with one of their slimy wet tails.

  Stop it! Just calm down! You know that there’s nothing alive in there. Somehow screaming at herself mentally did little to assuage her fears or her revulsion. She looked back towards where she thought the door to this place was. The thought of her being broken, being turned into a submissive girl that would do anything for a reassuring hand, or kind word from that man was even more of a horrible thought.

  Gathering her courage, she shut her eyes tight and reached a single hand into the jar. Her skin crawled and her face twisted into a horrendous grimace as her fingers dipped into thick liquid. She moaned in disgust as her fingers brushed up against thick, wet, slimy objects.

  Her fingers gripped the first thing they touched and slowly pulled it from the jar. She cupped the thing in her hands. She sat there for long moments. This wet slimy thing in her hands, her stomach rumbling and growling, even as her throat flexed and gagged at the horrible smell. She looked towards the door, then back down to her hand. She couldn’t see anything, but the movements happened almost by reflex.

  She closed her eyes and brought the wet thing to her lips. Trying to let the gross thing touch as little of her mouth as possible she thrust her teeth out from her lips and bit down into the wet flesh of the fish.

  She had to battle every emotion, every instinct of her body and mind not to spit it out immediately. She took quick hard bites and forced herself to swallow as soon as possible. She could feel the flesh slide down her throat and plop down into her empty gut.

  I can’t do this, this is too much. Oh god, please let there be some other way! But she knew there wasn’t another way. If she wanted to get out, this jar of food may be the only way for her and her pack.

  How long was she sitting there? How many bites of the horrendous flesh had she eaten? After every bite she had to stop and just breathe. Breathing helped her and forced the food to stay down. If this was any other time of her life she would have been throwing up by now. But her will to help her pack kept her eating, and forced her not to puke.