Chapter 15: Unbroken

Lisa was awoken by a pain in her temples. She shot up instantly, rubbing her head, and looked around. The headache had interrupted a dream she’d been having, about being home for Christmas. The smiling faces of her parents and her old school friends. The snow falling and the fireplace crackling.

And the feeling of fabric on her skin. Against her legs and arms and on her back. The weight of a big winter coat on her shoulders. The tight embrace and support of a bra. Gloves on her hands and a scarf around her neck. All of it, without pain or discomfort.

But it was just a dream. She was still in the witch’s house, and had spent the night on a ratty old mattress, without so much as a blanket to cover herself. She looked down at her unsupported breasts and the spot between her legs, where hair was no longer visible. Her “outfit” from last night, high-heels and bracelets, lay in a corner of the room. Her long hair fell about her face.

The headache still raged. Lisa had the intuitive sense that it was Lady Annabelle’s way of calling her to her duty. Duty. No, captivity. She had no duty to this evil woman, no matter what was said to the contrary. The shoplifting had been a mistake, Lisa regretted it, but she had surely suffered enough.

With a grunt of effort, Lisa pushed the heavy bathtub away from the door and opened it. Standing in the doorway, about to step out, she had a familiar moment of panic. She was stepping out into the world with nothing to cover her body. Even after so long, she felt keenly the air against her exposed skin.

“There you are,” said Lady Annabelle. She wore a form-fitting emerald green dress with a plunging neckline, and her red hair was beautifully curled, like a fifties glamour model. “I have a job for you in the basement. Do it well, and you will regain your power of speech.”

Lisa’s eyes widened with hope and she nodded vigorously.

“In the basement, you will find a frog,” Annabelle continued. “This frog was not born a frog, but a man. He brought this punishment upon himself, but has served his term and learned his lesson.”

Lisa nodded again. She wondered how long her own term was to be.

“The curse can only be broken by a kiss,” Annabelle continued. “Not true love or any of that fairy-tale nonsense, just a kiss on the lips. Kiss the frog, and he will become a man again. Hold the kiss through the transformation, and you will regain your voice.”

The idea of kissing a frog, and then basically making out with an unknown man made Lisa wrinkle her brow. But if that’s what she had to do to get her voice back, she would do it.

Lady Annabelle led Lisa to the entrance of the basement, a door in the kitchen. She opened the door, beyond which stone steps spiraled into the dark.

Taking a deep breath, Lisa walked down the steps, the stone cold against her bare feet. She trailed the wall with her right hand as she descended into the darkness.

“Ribbit.”

The sound startled her. It didn’t sound like a frog, but a human being. At the bottom of the staircase, she fumbled against the wall for the light-switch. There it was! CLICK.

A dim bulb on the ceiling flickered to life, illuminating the “frog”. Lisa gasped.

In the center of the basement, a stocky man crouched in a frog-like position, with his fists on the ground. He wore blue jeans and a green t-shirt, and looked a few years older than Lisa. He blinked at her and stuck out his tongue.

“Ribbit,” he said again.

The effect was uncanny. Lisa felt like she ought to be embarrassed in the presence of a fully clothed man, but his dumb, animalistic stare seemed wholly innocent. He really was, at least in his own mind, a frog. Lisa couldn’t decided whether this made her job easier or harder than if she’d had to kiss an actual frog. She took a step towards him.

Looking panicked, the frog hopped away, a clumsy, ridiculous movement to watch a human body make. Catching him would be no problem.

Animated by the goal of regaining her voice, Lisa stomped towards the frog and grabbed him by the shoulder. Allowing herself a brief preliminary shudder, she forced his head around and puckered up her lips. She held his dumb animal gaze for a moment before taking the plunge.

Their lips met, Lisa aggressively holding the back of the frog’s head still. Initially, the frog thrashed against her, his lips unyielding. But gradually he calmed down and leaned into it, lips softened.

Lisa released the kiss as she felt his hand on her lower back.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she said, stiffening and drawing her head back. “Just breaking a curse here.” Her voice sounded hoarse, but she could speak again. The witch had been telling the truth.

The man who was no longer a frog looked at her with a mix of desire and confusion. “Why are you naked?”

Lisa blushed and put an arm across her chest. “It’s a long story.”

“Well, it’s not every day a hot naked chick forces herself on me,” he said. “But it is a welcome change from frog life.”

Lisa took a step back, but not before the man managed to slide his hand down and squeeze her butt-cheek. “Eep!” she yelped.

“Hey baby, you started it,” he said, pulling himself up to from the floor. “I don’t think I’m fully cured yet. Ribbit.” He winked.

Lisa balled her hands into fists and glared daggers at the man.

“You wanna fight? I like it rough.”

WHAM! The sound of Lisa’s fist meeting the man’s cheek echoed across the basement. He staggered backwards, clutching his face in his hands. “Bitch!”

Lisa dropped into a fighting crouch, fists again readied. She felt strong, powerful, more than a match for this dweeb.

The man’s cheek was swollen and his eyes were clouded with hatred. “I swear, I’ll—”

But before he could finish his threat, his face went blank, and he dropped back down into a crouch. “Ribbit.”

Lisa turned around to see Lady Annabelle standing at the foot of the stairs. “Perhaps he hasn’t learned his lesson yet after all,” she said. “I did this to him after he ‘accidentally’ felt up Bethany. Two weeks as a frog was not long enough to give this disgusting little pervert respect for women. Perhaps another month will do it.”

The frog man sat motionless, his face blank of all expression. If he could hear the extension of his sentence, it didn’t show.

“Come, Lisa,” said Annabelle, beckoning her with a finger. “There is much you must do to learn your own lesson.”

“How much?” Lisa asked. The words tumbled out of her mouth, though she’d only meant to think them.

A cruel smile spread across Annabelle’s face. “Did you ever see the play Les Miserables?”

“No.”

“Well, near the start, Jean Valjean is arrested for stealing a loaf of bread to feed his family. He is given five years on the galleys. Every time he attempts to escape, another five years is added to his sentence. I think this is a good model to follow.”

Lisa cocked her head. “I—I don’t understand.”

“Let us must keep in mind the differing circumstances of the crimes,” Annabelle continued. “Valjean stole out of desperation. His family was hungry, they had no food. You stole out of greed. You were not naked, but had many clothes to wear. So your punishment must of course be ... greater.”

Lisa’s mouth fell open.

“And you did not merely steal from my shop. You also broke into both my shop and my cabin, in attempts to steal more. Like Valjean, you have extended your own sentence.”

“H—how long was he in jail for?”

“Twenty years.”

Lisa could feel the beginnings of tears in her eyes. She pointed angrily at the frogman. “B—but that guy only got a few weeks!”

Annabelle put a hand to her chin. “That’s a good point. But I can’t have him living in my basement forever, you know.”

“S—surely you need the spare room too!” Lisa was just saying whatever came to mind now.

Annabelle’s smile softened, and she placed a handle gently under Lisa’s chin. “Oh Lisa, but you’ve been so useful! I do so enjoy having a helping hand around here.”

At this, Annabelle spread her arms wide and pulled Lisa into an embrace. The fabric of her dress was silk against Lisa’s back.

“In some ways,” she whispered in Lisa’s ear, “you’re like the daughter I never had.”

Lisa shuddered.

“But you’re right,” Annabelle continued. “Eventually, I will need the room. Even favorite daughters must eventually leave the nest.”

Hope swelled in Lisa’s chest.

“I’m sure Sydney will be more than happy to take you off my hands when the time comes,” Annabelle concluded, releasing Lisa from the hug. “He’s very good in bed, you know.” She winked.

As Lisa stood in that basement, feet rooted to the floor, perspiring, her future unfurled before her mind’s eye. She would serve in Lady Annabelle’s house, cooking and cleaning and entertaining her guests, going on shopping trips as the strange, mentally deficient daughter. Always naked, with no more than a few bangles on her body.

Then, when Annabelle tired of her, or found a new slave, she would be sold off to Sydney, the nasty, oily old man who spanked her at dinner last night. She imagined herself at the wedding ceremony, naked but for a bridal veil, Sydney slipping a ring onto her finger to claim her as his own.

And then, finally, if she survived as Sydney’s bride, she would be released, a woman of forty. She saw herself, tired, broken, worn out, and still naked, with wrinkly skin and sagging breasts. Released at last after twenty long years of naked servitude.

“It’ll have to be more than twenty years, of course,” mused Annabelle. “That’s far too short. Let’s go with twenty five. That’s a good number.”

Tears rolled down Lisa’s face.

“Come now, Lisa, or I’ll make it twenty six.” Annabelle was already ascending the staircase.

Lisa blinked out the tears and shook the visions out of her head. She could feel anger building inside her. She looked back at the frogman’s face, still badly bruised from her punch. Lady Annabelle appeared not to have noticed it. She seemed to have no idea how strong her curse had made Lisa.

There was a temptation to rush at Lady Annabelle. To hold her down and beat her. To hit her once for every year she planned to keep Lisa imprisoned. It would feel good, even better than it had felt to punch the frogman. But it would be rash.

Lisa climbed the stairs slowly, taking deep breaths in and out to calm herself. As she climbed, she forged her anger into determination. The witch could not hold her for twenty five years. Not even for twenty five days.

Over the next two weeks, Lady Annabelle worked Lisa hard throughout the day. She would wake her up early in the morning and send her outside in the damp dew to tend to the plants and occasionally mow the lawn. Though she got cold and wet, she was grateful to be up too early to draw attention to herself, beyond the double-takes of a few joggers.

Then she would hose the dirt and grass off her skin and drip dry in the early morning sun. After that, she would prepare her lady’s breakfast, and then begin cleaning the house. Through the day, she would prepare lunch and dinner.

About twice a week, Lisa did the laundry. Being forbidden to use the washing machine, she washed the clothes by hand in a bucket of soapy water. Lady Annabelle would watch, sometimes, enjoying the spectacle of the naked girl washing mountains of clothing she couldn’t wear.