Frog ~ Excerpt

Jane got the shopping cart with the wobbly wheel. It veered to the right and she had to keep pulling to the left to stay straight in the aisle. Why did that always happen? More importantly, why didn't she get another cart? But she had already chosen this one, and something of her dogged determination in the face of difficulty made her keep it. She was almost done with her shopping anyway. How long did it take to buy the few items she needed? Food didn't interest her; she ate to stay alive, and her choices reflected her lack of enthusiasm - frozen vegetables, a bag of carrots, two cans of peaches, some pre-formed hamburgers, a plastic bag of buns, a jar of instant coffee and a quart of milk. Plain food for a plain girl.

Now Jane pushed her lank pale hair back from her forehead with one hand, while she unloaded her cart onto the conveyor belt. A pimply-faced boy rang up her purchases, looking bored, not noticing Jane at all. No one noticed Jane. That's what she thought. She was wrong.

"That's the one, Robert. She's the one." The tall woman gestured by jerking her head in Jane's direction. Robert, not quite as tall as his wife, but large and strong, looked in the direction she pointed.

"The skinny girl? Why her? She looks so, I don't know, boring!"

"Look in her cart. She's definitely buying for one. Lives alone. No ring. No makeup, no hairstyle to speak of. No one to try and impress. Alone, Miss Lonely Hearts. Perfect."

Robert stared a moment longer, and then nodded approvingly, a slow mean smile spreading on his fleshy face. "Yeah, you're right, babe, as usual. Yeah." They hung back, watching Jane pay for her paltry purchase, watching as she took the two plastic sacks she had packed herself, watching as she carried them out to her car, a Ford Escort with a dented back fender. Abandoning their cart, the pair followed her out into the lot and Robert said, "You're on, Brenda."

Brenda swung her dark auburn hair back, smiled and headed confidentially toward Jane. As she approached Jane's car, Brenda knit her brow and assumed a troubled expression. When she was close enough she called out, her voice trembling slightly, "Excuse me, ma'am?"

Jane didn't turn around at first, as she fumbled with her car key. She was still hoping that whoever it was wasn't talking to her. But Brenda came closer and said, "Um, miss, excuse me?" Jane looked up reluctantly, her mouth pursed uninvitingly.

"Yes?" Jane's voice was cold.

"I'm so sorry to trouble you, ma'am, but my car? It won't start and it does this sometimes? I was hoping maybe if you didn't mind giving me a jump start? My husband will kill me if I'm late again. He, um," she bit her lip, and real tears sprang to her eyes as she finished in a whisper, "he drinks and, sometimes he gets, well, you know." She trailed off, looking so miserable and embarrassed that Jane suddenly felt horrible for being so rude. She hated strangers approaching her for any reason. But this poor woman was in a jam. That was clear. It wasn't like Jane had anywhere to rush off to. Just her little apartment and a boring night with the T.V.

"I guess I could help you," Jane said, smiling tentatively.

Brenda sighed histrionically with relief and then gushed, "Oh thank you so much! It won't take but a second. My car's over in the next lot. If you wouldn't mind we could ride over together."

Jane looked unsure, but Brenda's eyes filled again. "Oh, well, I guess I could do that," Jane said, and Brenda suppressed a grin. She climbed in next to Jane and directed, "Just in that next lot, around the corner there." With her direction, Jane ended up behind a small building. Brenda's car was the only one in sight. It flashed through Jane's mind for an instant that it was kind of odd that Brenda should have parked in such an out of the way place. Just as she was considering asking Brenda about this, there was a sharp rap on her window. As Jane turned in surprise at the sound, Robert pulled open the driver door.

"Out you go, girlie!" he said, grabbing Jane's arm and roughly hauling her out of the car. Jane was so startled she barely had time to squeal as Robert shoved her into the back seat of an old station wagon, circa 1972, with bald tires and rusted paint. He slid in next to her, still keeping an iron grip on her arm. Brenda grabbed Jane's keys from the ignition, her purse from the floor of the passenger side, and scooted out to take her place in the driver's seat of the old car. It has all happened in seconds.

Brenda was already driving out of the parking lot when Jane finally managed to sputter, "What's going on! What is this? My God, let me go!" Her voice was pitched high with fear and confusion.

Brenda laughed and said, "We got you! That's what! We did it, Robert! We got little Miss Lonely Hearts! She fell for it, lock, stock and barrel! We're almost home free. Go ahead, do it now. Just gotta do the trade off with the car and then the fun begins!"

"You are so right, Brenda. This little cunt is going to work out just fine." He pulled Jane closer to him, still holding her arm in his meaty, strong grip. She tried to wrestle herself free, panic rising in her like an acid balloon, but with his other hand he grabbed the back of her head and pulled her face to his, kissing her roughly on the mouth, forcing his tongue between her teeth, shocking poor Jane into terrified silence. His breath was sharp with stale cigarettes.

Finally he let her go, forcing her head down onto his lap, so her face was mashed into his zipper. Holding her still with little effort, he laughed and said, "I think she liked that, Brenda! The little frog was just waiting for a prince like me to kiss her!" He laughed loudly at his own joke. Brenda rolled her eyes, but smiled indulgently at her husband. She concentrated on the road, driving carefully so as not attract attention. She was eager to get home so they could play with their new toy.

Still holding down his squirming, squealing charge, Robert got out the chloroform-soaked rag he had prepared for this moment. He had kept it in a zip lock bag, which was waiting at his feet. Holding her by the back of her neck, Robert placed the rag over Jane's nose and mouth, forcing her to breathe in the noxious fumes. After just a few moments, he felt her go limp in his arms.

They pulled in at the abandoned factory on the edge of town. Luck was with them as they parked behind the dilapidated old building. A lone car waited, out of place in the parking lot now overgrown with weeds. Parking the old car next to a new shiny Lexus, Brenda moved from one car to the other. Robert got out and then managed to heft Jane's now limp form out of the car and into the back seat of the second car. If anyone had seen them leave the supermarket parking lot, they would be looking for an old junk heap, not Robert's new model Lexus pride and joy.

Once they were driving again, Robert adjusted Jane so she was lying on his lap, her eyes closed and a peaceful expression on her face. "She doesn't look as ugly when she's sleeping. I would say from the looks of her that she hasn't been getting any for quite some time! If ever!" Again the cruel laugh. He spoke now to the unconscious woman. "Well, your days of waiting are over, cunt. You have just been selected to be our sex slave, our love tool, our personal piece of ass." With one strong hand he grabbed Jane's blouse and ripped it open, causing the buttons to spray against the soft leather of the car seat. Next he used his pocketknife to slice through the practical cotton bra that covered Jane's smallish breasts.

He held the silver blade close to her neck, fantasizing for a moment about slicing through the jugular; watching the blood spurt in a stream from her throat. Almost reluctantly, he closed the knife and slipped it in his back pocket. If he killed her now, they would have to find someone new. And anyway, he would never do that to his new Lexus.

Instead he focused his attention on her chest. "Ah," he said, as he stared at her naked torso, the little nipples a dark pink against white skin. He could see pale blue veins through her porcelain flesh. Brenda glanced in the rearview mirror at the scene in the back seat. She drove faster, wanting to get home quickly so she could join in the fun.

Robert, with Jane's head still resting on his lap, lifted himself to unzip his jeans. Using one hand, he pulled his large thick cock out of his pants. He wasn't wearing any underwear so it was easy to do, and he sighed with relief since his erection had been getting painful in anticipation over how they would use this piece of ass they had stolen.

Slowly he began to massage his massive cock, licking his lips as he stared down at the unconscious woman. "You did good this time, Brenda. We are gonna have some serious fun with this one." Brenda smiled, eyes on the road. She would do anything to keep her man happy. Not that she didn't enjoy the game as well. For her the thrill was in the abduction. Finding the target, honing in, making the escape without getting caught. Even now, when they were almost home free, her heart was racing with adrenaline.

And when they got her home, safe in their compound, Brenda's pleasure would center around the control; the torture. Yes, she liked the sex, but that was primarily Robert's domain. He was insatiable and she adored him. If that meant handing over little pieces of ass for him to use and abuse, Brenda was more than happy to oblige. As long as they weren't too pretty. This one would do just fine.

She glanced again in the rearview mirror. Robert was staring down at Jane, pumping himself hard, his mouth open, his tongue out. After a few more minutes he moaned and yelled, "Yes!" as he came, spurting the jism on her face and breasts. Sighing happily, he left his sperm to dry in her hair and on her face and clothing as they finished the ride home. Jane began to stir and Robert quickly held the poisoned rag over her face until she stilled. The next half hour passed quietly, though the air was electric with anticipation.

Jane was still out when they pulled into the long, winding private drive to their house which was set at least a quarter mile from the main road. They had had it built for privacy, including a twelve foot electrified fence that surrounded the five acre property. It prevented anyone from getting in without an invitation - or out.

Robert carried the lifeless Jane effortlessly in his arms. She barely weighed more than a child, it seemed to him. But her tits were ok, not huge, but definitely nice tits. He liked tits. He liked to do all sorts of wonderful horrible things to tits. Jane would learn all about that. He smiled, actually drooling slightly at the thought of what he was going to do to this new piece of ass, this cunt, this little frog. That's what he would call her. Frog. She looked like one, with her rather broad, flat features, and her long skinny legs. And he was her prince. Lucky bitch.

Brenda led the way, opening the door they rarely even bothered to lock. The electric fence and neighborhood security guards were ample protection. Robert followed, carrying Jane in his arms. They entered the large living room, which was two steps down and opened into a wide sunny room with skylights strategically placed to let in light at all times of the day. It was a pretty room, decorated in soft yellows and earth tones. Neither Brenda nor Robert had an eye for such things, but they had let the decorator do as she wished and were happy with the results.

Robert dumped Jane onto the double-sized soft leather couch. He sat down next to her, gauging that the chloroform should be wearing off any time now. After several more minutes, Jane stirred, slowly opening her eyes. She moaned, disoriented. Her head hurt and there was a terrible metallic taste in her mouth. As her vision cleared, she saw Robert looming over her. Jerking upright, she screamed, covering her chest with her hands, trying to back away. Her cry was cut off by Robert's hand over her mouth. "Shut up, frog!" His voice was loud as he clamped his hand hard over her mouth. Jane began to tremble again, and tears filled her eyes, which were big as plates.

"Now listen, cunt. If I take my hand off, you better fucking be quiet, ok? Otherwise I'll cut that little tongue right out! I can't stand all that squealing and shit. That is, unless I'm the one making you squeal."

He shouldn't have said that, because poor Jane's eyes rolled back and she went limp against the couch. Robert noticed with disgust that she'd wet herself. "Jesus," he swore, "Good thing that couch's leather!" as Brenda came to stand beside him.

"Robert, you're scaring the piss out of her, literally! Ease up, man. Look, why don't you go get us some lunch, and I'll deal with her for a while, ok? Let's not give her a fucking heart attack before we've even gotten to have any fun! Ok?"

"Yeah, ok, whatever," Robert grumbled, but he listened to Brenda, as he usually did. Brenda looked down on the poor woman, on the disheveled, lank hair, now sticky with cum, her ripped blouse and the blue jeans stained with fear. Almost as strong as Robert, Brenda leaned down and lifted the thin young woman into her arms, carrying her into the small room that would become Jane's bedroom, or more accurately, her prison.

There was no bed in the room, but rather a large cage with thick metal bars at two-inch intervals. It had some old blankets inside of it, and would hold an adult if that person curled up or lay on their side. A large water bottle was secured to the side, with a little metal straw hanging down, like in an animal cage. On the walls of the room were various hooks and manacles, placed to secure a person against the wall at varying heights and angles. There was one small window high in a corner, through which a blood red sun was setting.

The room wasn't large. In the corner opposite the cage newspapers were spread, as if indeed an animal would be staying here. Near the newspapers a small drain had been set into the floor. Pulleys and hooks were embedded in the ceiling, and hooks were set here and there in the floor. The floor was actually slanted slightly, toward the drain. This way they could hose down their prisoners without flooding the house. Chains and rope were neatly coiled and hung on hooks too high to reach without a ladder. There was no furniture in the room.

The cage door was open, and Brenda set Jane down inside of it and then quickly secured the latch, locking it with a key she kept round her neck. Reaching up to a small video camera in the corner of the room, she removed a protective lens and then smiled for the camera, as if posing for a picture. Taking a last glance at the still unconscious Jane, she left the room to join Robert for lunch.

When Jane awoke again she was first aware of her pounding head and that sickly sweet metallic taste in her mouth. When she tried to move; to stretch out and assess any damage, she found that she was cramped. She tried to sit up but realized she couldn't. She was in some kind of cage! As she came fully, painfully awake, she realized she had wet her pants, and it all came rushing back to her. The terrifying situation hit her with a force that would have knocked her down if she'd been standing. She lay still for some minutes, trying to control her rapid breathing; trying to assess the situation.

Moving carefully, Jane flexed various limbs to determine if there was any damage. She seemed to be all right, at least physically. She remembered the abduction and the horrible car ride with the large horrible man who had frightened and hurt her. She remembered the sickening nausea, the blackening of her sight, the ringing in her ears as she had passed out. And coming to again with the big man looming over her. That time she welcomed the escape of the darkness as she fell back into a false and short-lived peace. If only she could go back there, escape back to oblivion.

At least no bones were broken. She was in one piece and she was alive, if captive. There must be some way out of this! She willed herself to calm down and slow her breathing. If she could just think. But her head was clouded with fear and confusion.

She moved slightly, uncomfortable in her wet jeans, too frightened to be embarrassed, shifting her weight as she tried to see where she was. Track lighting along the edges of the ceiling lit the room. She would learn that these lights never dimmed. She was always to be visible; always on display. As she took in the instruments of torture, the ropes and chains, the manacles, she drew in her breath audibly. These people weren't just kidnappers. They were insane! They were going to kill her in some horrible, painful way. She started to cry, great noisy gulping sobs of fear.

In the kitchen Robert and Brenda were eating sandwiches. They heard Jane's cries from the microphones hidden in her room. Their eyes turned quickly to the large screen which projected the video image of Jane's room, with her cage the main focus. "Looks like she's up," Brenda noted, her mouth still full of meat and bread.

She swallowed, took a noisy slurp of beer and then continued, "Let's let her stew awhile. We can finish lunch and then see how our new pussy is doing." Robert grinned broadly and stared up at the screen. Jane's cries had subsided to snuffled sobs, her head hidden in her arms.

About twenty minutes later the pair entered the room and Jane's head jerked up. She regarded them fearfully, but her mouth was too dry with terror to speak. "Hi, froggy," Robert said good naturedly, as if greeting a little niece or an old friend. "How ya' like your new digs? Had it refurbished especially for you. Like new. Hope you like it, because you'll be staying there a while. In fact, quite a while. Unless, that is," he paused dramatically, knowing he had her full attention, "Unless you don't cooperate. Fully. Then you'll be out of here in a cocaine heartbeat. If you know what I mean."

Jane paled. She was sure she knew what he meant. She listened to him now as if her life depended on it. "Now, you do everything we ask and you stay alive. You do it well and you slowly earn privileges. Little things, like food and water. You fuck up, and oh boy, are you gonna pay."

Jane looked at him blankly. She seemed to have no idea what he was saying. Brenda said, "Here's the thing, Jane." Jane's eyes opened even wider, and Brenda, responding to her unspoken question, said, "Sure we know you're name. We have your purse. What'd you think, we'd leave it behind for the police? No one's gonna find you. Ever. You belong to us now. Our slave girl. You see," she said, kneeling down beside the shaking woman, "We have stolen you, and we plan to keep you. Forget about your past life, Janie girl.

"From now on you exist solely to please us. To entertain us. And we have kind of, uh, shall we say, bizarre tastes. As you might have guessed from the room here."

"Please," Jane managed to whisper.

"She speaks!" Robert observed.

"Please," she tried again, "please let me go. I'll get you money. I can get money." This was a lie, but now hardly seemed the time to be truthful.

"We don't need your money, frog," Robert said disdainfully. I don't guess you got to notice where you are, but we are what you would call independently wealthy. Brenda's dad made his money in oil, and then had the bad luck to drop dead of a heart attack, leaving everything he owned to dear little Brenda here. We've got all the money we need, honey girl. In fact, we're too fucking rich, and it's made us bored. That's why we need a distraction. A toy. A girl toy to play with. In a word, you."

"Please," Jane began again, but Brenda cut her off.

"That's enough. Stop talking. We don't want to hear it. You're still in shock. You'll figure it out soon. Now, as Robert was telling you before, we have house rules. You start out with nothing. You are a slave. Scum of the earth. Shit. Slowly you can earn your way into our graces. We will set tasks for you, and you do them. You do them well and you are rewarded. You do them poorly, and you are punished. Am I clear?"

Jane only stared at her. Brenda continued, "That was your first transgression. You need to learn from the outset that the first rule here is speak when spoken to, and otherwise shut up. We don't want to hear your opinions on anything, unless of course we ask. Then we expect an honest and immediate answer. First transgression equals first punishment. And ignorance is no excuse. You will never say you didn't know a rule and that's why you broke it. You break it, you pay the price. Period. So your first punishment is no food or water until we say so."

Robert looked impatient. He was less interested in control; in mind games. That was Brenda's forte. He liked sensation. Physical, visceral thrills. He liked to hear them scream. He shifted from one foot to the other, like a little boy waiting for permission to be excused. Brenda turned toward him, smiling indulgently. "Go ahead, I know you can't wait. What's on your list for the frog's first day?"

Robert licked his lips and smiled cruelly. "Janie Frog. You wet your pants. You're disgusting. Take off those wet pants and those nasty panties. Now. From in there. Move it."

Jane was too terrified to argue. She clung to a thread that if she obeyed them they might let her go after a while. After all, what other hope had she? With hands trembling so hard she could barely get her fingers to bend, Jane managed to unbutton her jeans and slide the zipper down. She was contorted on her side, trying to pull the wet pants from her body. Even with the fear of imminent death, she managed to blush fiercely at the knowledge that they were watching her pull down her jeans. She finally got them off. Robert knelt down and unlatched the cage, indicating that Jane should push the pants out. She did so.

"Good girl. Now the panties."

"Oh, God," Jane whispered, pleading in her voice.

"Do it, bitch," Brenda ordered, and something in her tone brooked no resistance. Miserably, Jane pulled off her wet panties and tossed them through the cage door.

Robert reached in now and grabbed Jane's arm, pulling her roughly out of the cage. He pulled her up so she was standing, bare assed, her ripped blouse and cut bra useless. She tried to cover her pubic area with one hand while holding her shirt together with the other, but Brenda came up behind her and pulled back her arms, pinning them behind her back. Jane screamed in pain and surprise as Brenda wrenched them up and back.

Robert stood in front of her, appraising the skinny girl, admiring the lush dark blonde pubic curls. He leaned down, his face close to her mons and then said, his voice dripping with disgust, "You stink! Old piss! What a pig!" Laughing cruelly, he nodded at Brenda, who used one foot to kick Jane's legs far apart. She held Jane tight so she couldn't fall. Robert reached down and pressed a large beefy finger into Jane's pussy. Jane screamed again.

"This is getting tedious, Robert. Do something about her screaming, for Christ's sake." Robert picked up Jane's urine-soaked panties and forced them into Jane's mouth. She spluttered and tried to pull back, horrified, but she only managed to press into Brenda who advised, "Better bite down and shut up, girlie, or you'll really be sorry."

Jane believed her. She bit down on the wet fabric, sobs choking in her throat. Meanwhile Robert continued to finger fuck her. "This bitch is one tight little cunt, Bren. I wouldn't be surprised if she never got any! Who would want her, anyway? Skinny, pale little thing. Not worth fucking, is she? Well, never mind. We can do lots and lots of fun things to get her fuckable."

"Let's chain her up and mark her. I like my slaves marked right away, you know, Robert." As Brenda spoke, she forced Jane over to the wall pressing against her neck so Jane's cheek was mashed against the cold wall. Deftly she placed Jane's wrists into manacles set in the wall, which she adjusted so that Jane was forced onto her tiptoes. Taking a long scarf, she tied it across Jane's face, forcing the wet panties further into the poor woman's mouth.

Robert brought his wife the cane, a long rod of bamboo, bound in black leather with a bright red painted tip. Brenda whooshed it through the air and said to Jane, "Your ass is next." Then she let the cane land, slicing flesh, raising a welt on Jane's small bottom and eliciting a muffled cry of agony from the bound girl. Expertly Brenda wielded the cane, lashing each cheek several times till there was an angry crisscross of red welts on her ass and thighs.

Robert loved to watch his wife torturing someone. It got him so hot he had to unzip his pants and pull his cock out again, massaging it lovingly as Brenda beat Jane. "Her ass must be so hot, Bren. Do you think.?" He didn't finish the question, but Brenda knew what he was asking.

"Go ahead. Fuck that bony little ass, if that's what turns you on, lover. Why not? Just grease it up or you're gonna have trouble with her puny little butt."

Robert nodded, quickly getting the tube of lubricant they kept handy for such occasions. He smeared it on his cock and pressed his hand between Jane's butt cheeks, smearing a glob on her little asshole. Jane was slumped in her manacles, her wrists bearing most of her weight. She was still quiet, and it wasn't clear if she was conscious or not, but Robert didn't care. He just wanted to fuck her nasty little asshole.

Pressing against her, his pants tight around his muscular thighs, Robert put the tip of his cock against her gooey hole. He pressed, gently at first, then harder, forcing himself into her. Jane jerked and screamed into her gag. Her ass felt like it was being split in two. His rough jeans scraped against her bruised and welted skin. Jane writhed in agony, her piercing screams muffled against her gag.

"She's so hot," Robert moaned, aroused by her obvious terror and pain. He eased in slowly, but relentlessly, pushing his way past her tight sphincter. And then he was fucking the hapless woman, rutting into her, using her like a dog. It only lasted a few minutes, because his arousal and need were so great. With a loud groan of pleasure, Robert shot his thick wad of cum into Jane's ass. He pulled out, wiping his cock with the cloth Brenda handed him.

"Got any left for me?" Brenda asked, smiling coquettishly at her husband. Robert turned to his wife, who had unbuttoned her blouse, revealing her own large breasts and erect nipples. Robert grinned and they left the room to have sex together, both wildly excited by what they had done. For the moment Jane was forgotten, or at least not necessary. It was as if the manacled half-naked woman, with the welted bruised ass and semen dripping from her asshole was nothing more than an object. Not a real human, but a toy that existed solely to titillate and amuse its owners. And this was only the beginning.