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A look of indignant anger flashed ever so briefly across her face, but a glare from him made her look away as she hauled herself to her feet.

Taking her arm, he pulled her along to the wall with the spigot and hose. As he uncoiled the hose, he directed, “Stand with your arms extended over your head and your legs spread wide.”

When she didn’t move fast enough, he jerked her arms up and kicked at the insides of her ankles until she spread her legs properly. “Don’t move until I tell you,” he ordered.

She was trembling but she stayed in position while Robert went to the supply cabinet to retrieve a bar of soap and a towel. Returning to her, he turned on the hose, aimed the spray nozzle at her skinny body and pressed the trigger. As the cold stream hit her, Jane, predictably, squealed and twisted away.

“Back in position,” Robert snapped. “Brenda’s watching, and she’s going to whip the shit out of you for that. Don’t make it worse than it has to be.”

Clearly terrified, the girl forced herself back into position, water dripping from her slender body. They were always more scared of Brenda than him, but that suited him. He was the good guy, the one they turned to for comfort.

He sprayed her thoroughly and then rubbed the bar of soap over her body and in her hair. Then he sprayed her again, including her face. He laughed as she sputtered and squeezed her eyes closed as the cold water splashed around her.

“Turn around and bend over,” he commanded. “Grip your ankles and stay that way while I wash your ass and cunt.”

The poor thing blushed beet red. She’d get over that silly modesty soon enough. Once she had assumed the awkward position, he ran the soap between her legs. Using his fingers, he took his time to make sure she was extra clean.

She was shaking the whole time, but damn if he didn’t feel her little clit harden as he stroked and teased it. All women were sluts if you pushed the right buttons, even skinny little frogs.

Satisfied she was clean enough for their purposes, Robert turned off the water and recoiled the hose. “You can stand up,” he informed her as he tossed the towel in her direction. “Dry yourself off. Then it’s time to play.”

Leaving her a moment, he went out to the storage space just off the main room to find the inversion table. Lifting it, he carried it into the space and set it down.

“Get over here,” he snapped. “Leave the towel behind.”

With obvious reluctance, the girl dropped the towel and made her way toward him.

“Lean back against the table while it’s still upright and place your feet against the sides of the frame. I’m going to strap you in.”

He’d cleverly modified the apparatus, adding Velcro cuffs at various strategic points to properly restrain his subject.

The girl was compliant as he strapped her wrists and ankles into the cuffs and secured the belt around her waist, though, from her expression, you’d think he was strapping her into an electric chair.

“Stop looking like I’m going to kill you, girl,” Robert said, mildly annoyed. He flashed a grin, bringing his hand suggestively to his crotch. “I just want to get to know you better. See what you’re made of.”

She turned her face away, but not before he saw the genuine fear flash across it. His cock stiffened with excitement.

Satisfied she was secured in place, he gave the table a push, moving it on its apex like a seesaw, until her body was at a forty-five-degree angle to the ground, her wet hair brushing the concrete, her legs in the air, her cunt on full display.

He crouched beside her and took her face in his hands. Dipping his head, he kissed her mouth, which remained closed in a tight, rigid line as she squeezed her eyes shut.

Pulling back, he said, “You like it with your eyes closed, huh? That’s a great idea.” Going to the supply cabinet, he returned with a sleep mask, which he slipped over her face. Some girls got more frightened when you blindfolded them. They felt more out of control. Others were able to relax more, because they couldn’t see what was happening, and were able to go with the flow better. He was curious to see which type Jane was.

Not that it mattered. He would do what he liked no matter how she responded.

“Are you scared?” he whispered close to her ear.

Jane jerked and gasped at the sound of his voice. “Yes,” she croaked, just like a real frog.

Robert smiled. “Good. A little fear is good for you. Heightens the senses.” He stroked her small, firm breasts, enjoying the softness of her skin. “You might as well try and relax. You’re going to be strapped there a while. But it’s not all suffering and pain here at our house, you know. There is some pleasure too. I’ll show you.”


Tags: Claire Thompson Romance