Frog (6 page)

As he left her there, wet and bound, he didn't hear her whisper, "No. You don't."

***

He returned sometime later, ready to play with his toy some more. He untied her and allowed her to dry herself. He allowed her eat an apple and drink a little water. He even tidied her room, wiping down the floor with towels while she rested in a corner, eyeing him carefully, trying to make the apple last.

Then he said, "Time for lesson number two. First, take off my shorts. Do it sexy, like you want to do it. You know you do anyway. No woman can resist my huge cock." Jane would have given anything to be able to resist it, but she complied with his orders. "This time you get to seduce me. You're not tied down. You get a chance to show me what a lover you can be. You can use your hands. Be gentle. Don't go too fast. Take your time. Pretend it's a delicious lollypop. If you do it good, I'll bring you a nice treat." Food is a strong motivator when you're hungry. The apple had only barely satisfied her most immediate need for sustenance. She was ravenous.

Screwing her eyes shut, Jane allowed his erect cock to enter her mouth. She tried to obey his running litany of commands. When she hesitated, he took his cock and slapped her cheeks with it. As he slapped her, he ordered, "I want you to take it in slowly. Like it's a delicate and delicious candy." Reluctantly Jane opened her mouth and Robert slid his cock in. "Yeah. That's it, baby. No! Slow down." He slapped her face with his hard cock.

Nudging it back into her mouth he ordered, "Lick it up and down before you take it in your throat." Jane tried desperately to obey. She must have pleased him because he moaned, "Yeah, oh, yeah. Now, ring the head with your tongue. Ah, yeah." She closed her lips and began to move up and down, creating a little suction with her mouth. "Open wide, cunt. I'm gonna fuck your face." Finesse was forgotten as he rammed his erection down Jane's throat, making her lose her balance as she knelt before him. Grabbing her hair, he held her in place, pushing his cock in and out of her mouth, using her like the fuck toy he saw her as.

He didn't care that he was gagging her repeatedly with his huge cock. In fact, it turned him on. By the time he came, Jane's jaw was aching, tears were streaming down her cheeks and her knees were bruised and stiff on the hard wooden floor. When his hot salty semen shot down her throat, she had no choice but to swallow it.

When at last he left, she waited impatiently, hoping he would return with the food he had promised. Instead, he returned with Brenda. Poor Jane was again ordered to kneel in front of Robert, while Brenda sat off to the side, watching the show.

"Get me hard again, you ugly frog," Robert commanded, "and show me that you
like
it." Brenda smiled, pleased with his choice of adjective, as he had known she would be. Hiding her reluctance, and still clinging to the hope of food, Jane tried to show enthusiasm and excite Robert, while at the same time trying to balance that enthusiasm with care, knowing that jealous Brenda was closely observing her. Jane was more awkward under Brenda's relentless eye, and Robert slapped her repeatedly with his wet cock, humiliating her completely.

Pretending to lose patience, Robert grabbed Jane's head in his large hands. Holding her still and rutting into her face, at last Robert came a third time that day down her raw throat. He pushed her back, causing her to fall backward onto the floor. "About time, cunt," he said, as if displeased. In fact, she really had outdone herself this time, slowly licking and caressing him with her tongue and then opening her throat to his invasion with an almost practiced ease. Still, he wouldn't let Brenda see the pleasure he took from her. Instead, he grinned meanly as she sprawled naked at his feet. "We'll bring you something to eat, since a promise is a promise, little frog."

They left together and Jane lay where she had fallen, tears slipping silently from her eyes. A few minutes later Robert did in fact return with two bananas, a can of cold Coke and an entire bag of Oreos. Jane lay very still where she had dropped, hoping he would leave her there. He did. Brenda was calling him and, after three orgasms, he'd had enough of the frog for the night.

Jane ate both bananas and half of the cookies. Her stomach hurt but she didn't care. At least she wasn't hungry! She hid the other cookies around the room, hoping she wasn't being observed. She also hid the Coke. Her water bottle would suffice for now, though the water that came from it tasted of the plastic it was made of. She had already become adept at sucking on the little metal tube in her cage. She may be treated like an animal, but, she reminded herself, she was still alive. And because they had left her where she had fallen, they hadn't put her into the cage, and they hadn't locked the cage door with her inside. Life, even life here, had its bright points. She had food in her belly and an entire night of freedom in her little prison. She was almost happy.

The problem with getting the food was that her body was eventually forced to expel the waste. She was used to peeing in the drain now, and barely thought about it as she squatted over it and did her business as efficiently as possible, using a small strip of paper from the neat pile she had prepared. But now Jane had to move her bowels. For the first week she had been too terrified and had had so little to eat that she hadn't had to face this issue. Constipation born of clenched bowels and little food had so far spared Jane the embarrassment of being forced to defecate on newspaper on the floor. Now she felt the push of need as her intestines protested for release. She had held it in as long as she could and knew she would have to use the dreaded newspaper and relieve herself. The thought of her shit sitting there for her jailers to see was almost more humiliating than she could bear.

It was early morning, just after dawn, if she could judge by the pale light glimmering in through her window. At least it was unlikely that either of them was up and watching her on the closed circuit T.V. Going over to the newspapers, she squatted tentatively and tried to move her bowels, keeping her legs spread like she was at a campground behind a bush. She managed to relieve herself and was forced to use the strips of newspaper as her toilet paper. She tried to clean herself as best she could. The spigot was off limits without their presence and she didn't dare to use it.

There was nowhere to dispose of the waste. Jane rolled the newspaper up tightly, and used more papers from the stack in the corner to further bundle it. She put the package in the corner and tried to forget about it. When Brenda came in later that morning, she held her nose and said, "Frog, you disgusting little animal! It smells like a pig farm in here!" Jane bowed her head, deeply ashamed, but also enraged that she had been put into this situation. Of course they knew she had no choice, and yet they would tease and humiliate her for doing what her body required. Brenda made an elaborate show of removing the offensive package, dropping it into a large trash bag she brought in for the purpose.

Then Brenda did something Jane didn't know could be done. Using a small stepladder, Brenda climbed up to the window. She fished out her key ring and inserted a key into a small round lock under the panel, set in the molding. As she slid the window silently up she said, "Let's get a little air in here, frog."

Jane, who had retreated to her cage, turned away, hoping against hope that Brenda would leave, and leave the window open! She sensed instinctively that if she seemed to take notice of the lovely fresh air floating into the room that Brenda would take it away by shutting the window. Jane's heart was pounding at the revelation before her, as she tried to appear unaware. As if the gods were intervening on her behalf, Robert called to Brenda at just that moment, and Brenda said, "I'll be right back; don't go anywhere." Laughing at her own joke, she left the room, locking it behind her. Jane waited a few moments to make sure her jailer wasn't coming back right away, and then slowly walked over to the window.

She stood on tiptoe, trying to get a breath of the fresh air wafting in. It smelled so sweet! Like clover and honey and fresh rain. When she had been free, she rarely noticed the weather, except when it inconvenienced her by raining. Now she felt a longing that was physical in its intensity. To leave this little room which had become her shrunken universe. To be free! This window could open! It was a small window, but she was a small person, made smaller still by her

enforced diet. At 5'3" and barely 100 pounds, she could possibly wriggle her way through. If she could get up that high.

How had she missed that little lock before? She examined it now, seeing that it was cut neatly into the molding, very hard to see unless you knew to look for it. She must get that key. Somehow, she must get that key. Somehow, she
would
get that key.

***

Robert liked to watch women take a shit. There was something so degrading, so wildly sexy about their total debasement as he spied on this most private and intimate of acts. Unfortunately, though he had spent many hours secretly watching Jane on the closed circuit T.V., she hadn't moved her bowels in front of him. Then, when she finally did it, as reported by Brenda, she had waited until they were sleeping, the little sneak! Well, today that would change.

This particular afternoon Brenda was busy getting beautiful at the hair salon. To make sure he got what he was after, Robert decided to give the frog a special treat. A lovely bowl of chocolate ice cream. But the syrup he squirted over it was laced with Maltitol, a sweetener with a decided laxative effect. He watched her eat it, though he could see she would rather have been left alone. He would make sure she ate every bite.

Several hours later, he was pleased to observe through the camera that Jane was clasping her belly in seeming distress. Yes, she should be heading to the newspaper soon.

He wasn't disappointed. Slowly Jane rose from her blankets and moved to the paper, still clutching her belly. She squatted and Robert watched with eager anticipation, leaning forward toward the screen. He massaged his cock at the kitchen table, his hand flying over the rigid member as he watched the little slut relieve herself on the papers, just like a dog. Even though she was alone, he saw the dark blush of shame spread along her cheeks. The Maltitol had done its work, leaving her stool a runny gooey mess. She tried to clean herself at the spigot, an act strictly forbidden and which he duly noted. At last she carefully rolled the soiled newspaper and set it against the wall.

To his added delight, she squatted over the drain and peed. Robert spurted then and there on the table, jerking forward as he came hard. Just then he heard the sound of the electric garage door opening. Brenda was back. Quickly he tucked his spent cock back into his pants. Robert was sprawled on the living room couch, and appeared to be engrossed in a novel, sipping a soda, when Brenda entered, her auburn hair highlighted with blonde and her long red nails freshly lacquered.

Though Robert omitted telling Brenda of his use of Maltitol (Brenda found his obsession with feces peculiar), he didn't omit the fact that he had seen Jane taking a dump and then using the spigot without permission. Brenda was eager to make the little bitch pay for that one, as he had known she would be. She seemed to take special pleasure in humiliating the wretched girl.

Brenda changed into 'play clothes' and then they burst into her room, chiding Jane for the smell; shaming her for an act she couldn't control. When Brenda casually informed her that using the spigot without permission was forbidden and that she would be punished, Jane flushed a deep pink, feeling the heat of her shame prickle in her scalp. If they had seen that, they had witnessed what went before it!

"Time for a spanking for that one!" Brenda announced. She was dressed in her favorite red leather, this time skintight leggings that made her look as if her legs had been dipped in shiny red paint. She sported a matching vest that barely concealed her ample bosom. Robert was in jeans, his massive chest bare as usual.

A spanking. Jane's dad had spanked her until she was well into her teens. He let her keep her panties on, but he would use his hand, cupping the palm to make it sting. That didn't happen often though; Jane usually was able to stay out of trouble. She was an expert at melting into the background. But here there was no getting away.

Still, she could take a spanking, she figured. How bad could it be, compared to whips and crops? She was to find out. First they bound her wrists to chains dangling from the ceiling. Then Robert adjusted the pulley mechanism until Jane was actually lifted from the floor, her full weight suspended by her wrists.

They took turns, using their open palms, to smack her small bottom. Each smack resounded with an echo in the empty room, followed by her cries.

When she began to beg for them to let her down, they gagged her, using a red ball gag so that her tongue was thrust back, rendering her mute. Her thin body swayed with each blow, with each hand that left its angry print on her ass and thighs. When at last they stopped, Brenda leaned over and said in a low voice, "Next time obey the rules, cunt. This is what happens to bad little girls who don't listen to their betters."

***

Jane was strapped over a low stool, ass up, head down. Brenda took a small butt plug and greased it with lubricant. "This plug is just the little starter version," she obligingly explained. "Stretch you out a little. Robert was rather brutal with his cock that first day. Trial by fire, he likes to say." As Brenda prattled on, she inserted the plug into poor Jane's ass. It didn't hurt until the last bit, which was flared, slipped past her unwilling sphincter. Jane grunted in pain.

"Hurts? Oh, well. You'll get used to it. Robert does like to fuck women in the ass. I won't let him
near
my ass, so he has to use you little slave girls."

Even in her discomfort and embarrassment at being tied down and reamed like this, Jane had the wherewithal to wonder who the other little slave girls were. Were they still here? Secured in other tiny prisons scattered throughout the house? Or were they gone, murdered after being sexually tortured for days, weeks, months? She shivered at the thought.