Kinky Adventurers Ch. 01 Pt. 04

Findrion was scared out of his mind. Unable to see, the halfling stumbled blindly through the high grasses and mucky soil of the swamp, dragged forward by his captors. He, his wife Ulda, and their human assistant Jessica had been making good time along the marsh road to Tristanfell when massive, horrible, bipedal toads burst out of the swamp like monsters from a feverish dream, brandishing crude spears and clubs.

The rest was something of a blur. Their assailants had pulled Findrion and Ulda from the driver seats of the wagon that carried their merchandise, wrapped damp strips of cloth over their eyes, and bound their hands in front of them. Findrion assumed they had done the same to Jessica, though he was so paralyzed with fear at the time that he hadn't noticed what they had done with her. He did remember hearing White Spot, their trusty work horse, whinnying in fear before the sound of galloping hooves receded down the road.

Damnit, Findrion thought. This has already been a disaster for the business, and who knows what horrors are ahead?

Stumbling through muck behind him, he heard his wife grunt and exclaim as she slipped and slopped her way forward.

What do they want with us?

Findrion had heard tales of giant frogs living in the Festering Marshes, but in all his days running merchandise between Tristanfell and the towns of the Sunshine Coast he had never encountered any. He had chalked the stories up to rumor and the way tales grew with time and repeating, especially when lubricated by a mug of good ale.

Now he knew better.

"Small prisoners must walk faster."

Findrion started in surprise, losing his footing and falling face first into shallow water. Sputtering, he had barely gotten his legs under him before he was dragged forward again.

The frog monsters can speak!? As far as Findrion was concerned, this evening couldn't get weirder or more out of control.

Before the end of it, even he would admit he was wrong about that.

"Small prisoners have tiny legs," the throaty, amphibian voice continued, following which a chorus of deep ribbits and bellows erupted.

Are they laughing? Do they all understand Common?

Not daring to say anything in response for fear of angering his captors further, Findrion quickened his pace as best he could, hoping that Ulda could keep up.

*****************

Jessica's breathing was ragged when they finally slowed to a walk. She had tripped, slid, and been dragged through the mud for she could only guess how long. It felt like hours but was probably more like 30 minutes. She hated to imagine the state of her breeches, tunic, and vest.

There's no way I'm getting paid enough for this, she muttered to herself.

The anxious, profit-minded halfling had hired her to help load, unload, and mind his goods on the trip from Meadow Haven to Tristanfell. Despite the low pay and long, hot days, she had taken the job because there were few other opportunities for a young person looking for summer employment. In the spring there was planting; in the fall, harvesting; and in the winter she studied carpentry with her grandfather. The summer was for adventure and earning spending money, but slogging long days in the heat on foot (Findrion never let her ride in the wagon, the stingy bastard) was not her idea of excitement.

On the other hand, being marauded by giant amphibians and dragged blindfolded and bound through a swamp was a bit too much excitement. The worst of it was not knowing what was going to happen next. If the creatures had simply wanted their goods, they could have taken everything and left Jessica and the others at the wagon. She could hardly care less about who owned the goods. Instead, they had taken everything from the wagon and hauled its crew with them.

What do these frogs want with me? Jessica mused, now that she had time to do anything but try to stay upright at least half of the time. Am I ever going to see Tristanfell, she wondered, or are they going to keep me in their swamp forever?

Or is this how my life ends?

The thought was terrifying, but also deeply depressing. She was a young woman of 20. There was so much of the world she hadn't seen, so many experiences she had never had.

Sure, I've had sex, she admitted, but not the way I like to.

Her introspection was interrupted by a sudden, short rise up a steep slope to higher ground. It wasn't much of a bank, but enough that the earth under her feet was abruptly and mercifully dry. She didn't have long to enjoy it, however, before she felt a pair of amphibian hands on her shoulders shove her roughly to her knees.

That wasn't necessary, she groused. It's not like I haven't been compliant.

Her resentment receded a bit when the soggy rag tied over her eyes was yanked off, giving her a view of her surroundings. She was kneeling in the center of a torch-lit clearing. To her left knelt her employers, hands bound in front of them like hers. They both looked scared out of their wits, heads glancing from side to side and eyes darting from armed frog to armed frog. There were quite a few of them.

Directly across the clearing from Jessica, some 15 feet away, sat a massive toad. His moist eyes, bulging from a large, squat head, peered down at them with what Jessica felt was a sort of satisfied malevolence. But maybe she was exaggerating. After all, she was tied up and surrounded by this toad's armed minions. For there was no doubt at all that this fat creature, slouching lazily upon a literal throne of dirt and grasses, was king of this soggy domain.

The king toad shifted his bulk, repositioning his right arm, and croaked deeply to a thinner, stronger looking frog to his left. This figure stepped forward with an air of importance and ceremony and looked about to speak. Jessica, however, noticed the rope the king toad gripped tightly in his right hand. Distracted, she followed it a short length to something she could not believe she had missed until now: an elf, kneeling just to one side of the king, hands bound behind her back. A large knotted cloth was tied between her teeth, effectively gagging her. What held Jessica's attention, however, was the simple fact that, as far as Jessica could tell, she was entirely naked.

And not only that—her body, illuminated in the flickering torch light, was gorgeous.

Jessica stared, transfixed. Her eyes drank in the slave's sensuous figure, sweeping slowly from her naked thighs caked with mud, dwelling for a moment on her almond shaped belly button set in a trim, sweat and dirt-streaked mid-section, up to her firm breasts and large nipples, and ending eventually on her beautiful, strong face.

When she reached the captive's amber eyes, she found them looking straight back at her.

Ashamed, Jessica looked away, casting her eyes down to the empty space of dirt and weeds between herself and the toad king who held her bound. She felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment; she had been caught blatantly checking out that woman's body. But there was something else to the heat in her face that she couldn't immediately name. Her breath was coming shallow and quick, and a heat gathered between her legs as well. Jessica heard Findrion's wheedling whine and the deep, uncanny Common of the frog person, but found it impossible to focus on their conversation. It droned on while Jessica tried to keep her eyes on the ground.

"Of course, your greatness," Findrion assured in a desperate, quick voice. "Take everything we have. Consider it a gift to honor your excellence and pay homage to your majesty." A short pause ensued, then he continued, "we give it freely." The worshipfulness in his tone wavered a bit on this last line, but held up somehow.

The large, strong frog person who spoke Common turned to the toad on the throne of marsh grass and uttered a chorus of ribbits, bellows, and other uniquely amphibian sounds. He seemed to be translating for the king, because after listening intently he uttered a deep, rumble that sounded both satisfied and gratified. To her right, Jessica's boss let out a held breath, shoulders sagging in relief. Next to him, Ulda remained perfectly still, eyes fearfully glued to the toad king.

Jessica, however, found her eyes wandering back to the sexy slave. Without willing it, her gaze lingered on the young woman's belly, where a rope circling her waist plunged down to her nethers. It nestled snugly between the lips of her pussy before disappearing between her legs.

Whoa, Jessica thought, the heat in her own loins increasing a few notches as a familiar, intense energy began swirling deep in her belly. Is that rope connected to her wrists behind her back? Jessica imagined this for a moment, feeling her an itch rise in her own crotch. These frogs really know how to fuck with a captive. Idly, a voice in her mind made a mental note to try the same trick on someone in the future.

"... We are so grateful for your mercy and magnanimity, O mighty one." Annoyingly, Findrion's voice broke through the lusty haze. She glanced to her right to see the halfling bowing deeply, his head touching the ground. His eyes, however, were on Jessica, and they were angry.

"Bow, you dolt!" he hissed. "Do you want to get out of here alive?"

With some effort, Jessica managed to pull her thoughts from slender female figures and tight crotch ropes long enough to realize what was going on. She vaguely surmised that Findrion had "given away" their cargo (which the toads had already taken from them) as ransom in exchange for their freedom.

To her surprise, Jessica realized that part of her wasn't quite ready to leave yet. And without being able to explain why, knew it had to do with the elf captive. Jessica knew she wasn't done looking—she could scarcely keep her eyes off of her—but there was something else as well.

Maybe I'm secretly hoping these frogs will decide to strip me naked, too, and keep me as a slave like her, Jessica mused. She recalled a recent boyfriend who was certain that that's what she really wanted. Jessica, though, wasn't as convinced.

Or maybe I'm all randy because what I really want is to own her like that, another thought suggested.

On its own, her gaze drifted back to the toad king's slave.

I: Emma, make a constitution saving throw for me.

E: Rrmng Phhrmng?

I: Oh, I'm sorry. You're all tied up. Yuna, do you mind rolling for her?

Y: With pleasure! [Rolls.] That's an 11.

I: Not enough. The situation is really turning Kit on, Emma, and it's obvious to Jessica.

This time, Jessica noticed how erect and engorged the young elf's nipples were. She's horny, too, Jessica noted.

Si: [checks Emma's nipples]. Yup, still turned on.

E: Rrmmnff mrmng grnngph.

Y: [pulls on Emma's crotch rope]

E: Mmmmmrng!

Gods, I want to tie her up like that and fuck her. The thought surged unbidden across Jessica's mind.

"Jessica! You stupid wench, show some respect!" As Findrion's loud, angry whisper brought Jessica back to her perilous reality, she realized she had been staring blankly at the elf slave's nipples for who knows how long. She realized with shame that her mouth was hanging open. She glanced up again at the slave's face, only to find her staring right back.

Still bound and gagged, the elf raised an eyebrow.

"Yarngm hrrmnging a ma armngs."

Oh gods, she's talking to me! She's caught me staring at her tits twice now! Jessica's gaze dropped instinctively to her knees as she felt the flame in her cheeks rage. It's so obvious how obsessed I am that she even gag-talked at me!

Deep, rumbling sounds rolled out from the king toad's massive throat, which bulged in time with his laughter. He said something in his language, then tugged sharply on the rope leash held tightly in his right hand. The unexpected yank at her neck caused the elf's abdomen to flex as she tensed to keep herself from falling over. She grunted into her gag, catching her balance by leaning back on the toad king's leg at what looked to Jessica to be a rather uncomfortable (if visually very appealing) angle.

The effect was mesmerizing. The thin sheen of sweat on her naked body glistened in the torch light, beautifully silhouetting the toned muscles along her belly in light and shadow and casting her bare breasts in stunning relief.

Dear gods, she has a six-pack. Jessica felt a part of her begin to drool. At the same time, she felt a very real wetness gather between her legs.

"You gaze with desire at the slave of the Kra'koa king?" The interpreter frog was addressing her directly now in his slow, throaty Common.

Shit. Now I've distracted attention away from Findrion's carefully laid plan to get us out of here.

In the silence after his question, Jessica felt all eyes (including the naked slave's) on her and realized she would have to reply.

"Yes, mighty king," Jessica stammered out, managing to keep it together enough to remember to mimic her boss' obsequious tone. "She is very beautiful and desirable."

Fuck! Why'd I have to blurt that out, like some lustful slut. Panicked that the elf had heard her blubbering, she looked over in time to see her roll her eyes.

Jessica waited in humiliated silence while the interpreter relayed this in croaks to his liege. She didn't dare look at Findrion. Trying to make the best of a bad situation, she continued. "Your greatness must be a mighty king indeed to have... such a magnificent slave to display to your guests."

Part of her was drowning in shame. Another part was drooling. Sneaking a glance at the elf, she found her looking down. Jessica thought her cheeks looked red, though it was hard to tell in the glow of the torches.

The toad king bellowed a throaty laugh, then spoke again.

"You would do well to honor and obey his majesty," the frog relayed. "Or he will make your fate the same as this one."

Another tug on the leash earned the audience the pleasure of another quick tightening of the slave's abdomen and a compensatory motion by her bound wrists. Jessica noted the crotch rope pull and shift against her womanhood.

That must be infuriating, the voice remarked with a mixture of clinical observation and lust-crazed obsession. There's nothing she can do to stop the pleasure and the pain coming from her pussy each time he pulls on her leash. Again, Jessica caught herself making a mental note to try that out on someone.

"Yes, mighty king," Jessica heard herself say, bowing from the waist almost as if on autopilot. What she was thinking, however, was what it would be like to be tied up like that, naked and helpless, in front of random strangers and a whole tribe of frog people.

Might be nice, she concluded, if I got to be tied up next to her.

Somewhere deeper down, another thought floated up. But what would it be like, not to be tied up next to her, but to hold the leash? Jessica felt her nipples stiffen and a certain energy swirl around, deep in her loins.

Filled with these fantasies, Jessica bowed lower, touching her forehead to the dirt as she had seen Findrion do. Holding that position, she glanced over at her halfling boss. He was glaring at her with a mixture of disgust and fury.

Whatever, Jessica thought. The greedy prude can keep his judgement to himself.

"You will tell tales of Kra'koa king's mighty conquests and power to all you meet," the interpreter solemnly intoned as frogs came forward, hauling Jessica and the halflings to their feet and pulling cloth over their eyes again. "And you will tell them of the helplessness of outlanders before his great presence."

The last thought Jessica had as she was hustled away from the most bizarre experience of her life was how she regretted not sneaking another peak at that elf's body before the blindfold took her vision.

***********************

Kit leaned back against the toad's massive, sinewy leg. Not by preference, mind you, but by virtue of the rope leash around her neck pulling her in his direction. Her new master's leg felt bumpy and rough against her bare skin, like thin sandpaper. It was not a sensation she appreciated, but she could also sense the thick cords of muscle within his giant appendage and knew that attempting to resist in her current state—bound and gagged, wearing nothing but a now-filthy thong—wouldn't get her anywhere.

Kit felt more embarrassed than she had in a long time—or ever, for that matter. Part of the reason behind the heat burning in her cheeks was obvious: she had just been captured, relieved of her clothes, and been made to sit naked at the feet of this minor amphibian potentate, gagged with a rag and tied up in a very effective, sexually humiliating manner. She was, as his interpreter had announced, one of this guy's "mighty conquests." Kit certainly felt like a "helpless outlander" who had wandered too far into someone else's domain.

But Kit had to confess, that wasn't all of it. That curious trio had just been marched off, back in the direction of the road, but even though all three were blindfolded before departing Kit could swear that the girl had turned her head to look back in her direction.

That girl couldn't keep her eyes off my body for more than a couple of seconds at a time, Kit groused, even blindfolded. Try as she might to fill her thoughts with disdain, though, Kit couldn't deny the other emotions coursing through her mind and body.

I've just been ogled by a nineteen-year-old, Kit thought with a mixture of feelings.

What were those feelings, exactly? Kit found it hard to say. She could identify the aroma of embarrassment in the cocktail, along with the strong flavor of humiliation and the bitter aftertaste of shame. She was used to younger women being looked at, their bodies objectified by those who found them alluring. But to have a girl who, by Kit's estimation at least, was still in her teens look over her body so shamelessly and so freely was an unexpected role reversal that had sent hot blood to Kit's cheeks.

If she was honest, though, it had also sent hot blood down south. Whenever the crotch rope shifted between her legs, Kit got a reminder of how wet she was down there.

What is going on?! Kit wondered in confused alarm. What exactly is turning me on here? Was it being a sexy war trophy, displayed naked and bound to your captor's competitors and enemies as a sign of power and a warning of what might happen to them?

Or was it that girl's obvious, sexually charged attention? Was it the helplessness? The objectification? The submission?

What does all this make me, Kit mused, some kind of submissive slut? Kit felt the ropes tightly binding her hands behind her back and idly watched the torch light reflect off the sheen of sweat on her breasts and nipples. Maybe I've finally found my calling, she groused bitterly, angry at the realization that elements of this really turned her on. With nothing else to do, Kit followed her thoughts down the rabbit hole.

They quickly returned to the scene that had unfolded moments earlier.

Did I want her to fuck me? Kit wondered. I'm certainly wet enough. Specifically, did I want her to fuck me like this, tied up and gagged? Both thoughts sent shivers down her body, from her tits to her pussy. Or did I want her to claim me for herself, to own me? This time, the surge of erotic emotion held a deeper tinge of humiliation—though it was no less potent for it. She thought of being led around town, naked and bound, by a young woman. The fantasy made Kit veritably drip with sexual energy.

Or, another voice offered, am I just aroused by the fact that she saw me like this? Was it just that she could look at everything on display—clearly enjoying herself—and there was nothing I could do about it? Or was it the fact that she saw me after I'd been bested—captured, stripped, and bound?

Kit sighed heavily. Oh gods, this is going to be a messy knot to unravel.