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.
