Frog by Claire Thompson

this getup would have thoroughly embarrassed and humiliated Jane. She realized dimly that something was wrong, that she was becoming too indifferent, too willing to obey every command with barely a thought about it. Her main preoccupation was with avoiding pain and getting food. Just like an animal. A part of her whispered, wake up, Jane. You're losing yourself; they're winning! But she was too tired, or too afraid, usually, to listen. She would think about it later.
    Today she was dressed up like a cheap streetwalker. Black stockings and garters, high stiletto heels that she had trouble balancing in, black leather garters and a black bra that was too big on her. Brenda had cut out small circles in the center so Jane's nipples were visible. She wore black crotchless panties. As a final touch, Brenda was applying heavy makeup. "Hold still," she ordered as Jane wobbled on her heels. Brenda was carefully brushing on a thick smear of blue eye shadow. With eyeliner, mascara, deep red lipstick and plenty of rouge, Jane looked garish and haggard. Brenda swept her hair up in a French twist, but tendrils of the flyaway uncooperative hair kept slipping from its pins.
    Brenda stood back and looked her over. "Perfect slut," she said, admiring her own work. The contrast to her own subtly applied makeup and elegant silk pantsuit was lost on neither of them. Let Robert see quality and trash, she thought. He would choose the trash though, because he basically was a slut too, but Brenda didn't mind. Let him rut with this whore and then sleep in her bed. She'd give him

    as many little sluts as he wanted. As long as the end of the day found him with her.
    She nodded toward the camera in the corner of the room, certain that Robert had been watching the preparations. Sure enough, he came sauntering in a few minutes later. "Well, what have we here?" he asked, acting surprised. "Where did you pick up this two dollar piece of trash?" Brenda smiled with satisfaction and pushed Jane forward.
    "Show him what you got, girl. And tell him how much you cost."
    Jane turned around and bent over, as Brenda had instructed her to do. Obediently she pulled the crotchless panties aside to show Robert her ass and pussy. Then she said, "Five dollars, sir." Robert laughed, hugely enjoying the cruel joke.
    "Five dollars! That's a rip-off! I won't pay a penny over two!" Fishing in his pocket, Robert actually pulled out two crumpled bills and threw them at Jane. She felt a creep of indignation but a look from Brenda sent her back to that dangerous zone of complete compliance.
    "Here's what you're going to do, whore. You can have the money, but you have to earn it. You take those dollars and go to the wall there. You have to hold them in place with your forehead, while the john here does whatever he wants to you. If the dollars stay in place, you get to keep them. If they fall, you get a whipping. Am I understood?"
    "Yes, Ma'am." Jane nodded, bending down to retrieve the bills. Slowly she hobbled on the tall heels to the wall, the bills clutched in her hand. Dutifully she placed them against the wall and leaned her forehead against it. Maybe she'd get some food for this. She hadn't eaten yet that day.
    Robert came up behind her. Reaching his arms around her, he tweaked her nipples and then twisted them till they stood erect. "Give me clamps, Bren," he said, and Brenda went to get the nipple clamps. Reaching around, he secured first one and then the other to Jane's nipples. They bit into tender flesh, wrenching a gasp of pain from Jane. But still she managed to keep her head pressed against the wall.

    After a moment, her body was able to adjust to the pinch on her nipples. Robert took the chain between them and pressed it against her mouth. "Hold onto this with your teeth," he ordered. She bit down. What a picture she made, dressed in her garters and stockings, red nipples poking through the black leather, compressed by the wicked silver clamps, pulled up by the chain