Sit back in the hay

Much as you might like to escape you are even more afraid of the fate that would await you if you were caught trying to flee. The wug at least promised some degree of comfort. You sit back down amid the straw and recline, stretching out your long, shapely body and finding the bite of the ropes on your sensitive mound slightly pleasant. You do not sleep, but you lay back dreamily, listening to the croaking of the wugs waking up in the surrounding village. After a time the flap separating your chamber from the tunnel is opened and a wug enters.

It takes you a moment to realize that this is the same wug that brought you into captivity. Its wet eyelids sweep across its bulging, amphibian eyes and it approaches you with a slight hop to its gait. The wug wears a necklace of teeth, thankfully they are sharp and do not belong to humans. The wug carries a leathery water skin stoppered with a cork.

"It is good to see you have relaxed," the wug wraps its fingers around your rope and gives you a tug. You are brought up to your knees, the rope digging roughly between the lips of your pussy. "I have brought you sweetmilk to drink. Turn up your face to me and show me your tongue."

The wug stands over you, so close that the cool flesh of its thighs brushes against your dangling breasts. Your nipples harden in response to the contact. You do as you are told, turning your face up towards the wug and opening your mouth wide. The small chamber is charged with the recent memories you have made with this creature and your subservient behavior. The wug unstoppers the skin and holds it to your lips. Lifting it above you produces a gush of warm, creamy liquid. It is thick and so sweet you **** a bit on your first swallow. The wug pauses and then resumes feeding you the sweetmilk.

The milk is quite delicious and as you drink you feel warmth suffuse your body. You realize it must be contaminated with the aphrodisiac venom of the wugs, though in a less intense amount than you received earlier. Milk spills down your chin and drips across your heavy breasts. The milk is delicious and the more that you drink, coating your throat and filling your belly, the more you desire to drink.

The wug squeezes the last white drops from the skin and you lean up, running your tongue across the opening to capture the last pearly drips. The wug hangs the empty skin from its belt and takes hold of your ropes once more.

"Present yourself to me," the wug commmands and urges you with a pull of the ropes. You follow his guidance, turning away, lowering your shoulders so that your face and breasts are in the scratchy straw and your ass is thrust upwards. You quiver with fear and excitement. Is he to take you here? Fill you with his seed?

The wug drags a clammy finger across the honeyed slit of your mound. You shudder at his touch. The warmth of the sweetmilk has spurred your lust and you want him to thrust his finger inside you. The wug croaks, possibly laughing, and carefully spreads your sensitive lips open. You moan at the air against your moist inner lips. The wug dips a finger inside you, but the touch is fleeting. You groan with unsatisfied lust and work your hips as if already mounted from behind.

"Your eagerness is pleasing to me," says the wug. "I would quench myself in your human warmth but it is not the time for your first clutch. Perhaps tomorrow or the next day."

"Ohhhh," you cry with disappointment.

"I would have you satisfy me." The wug pulls you up with the ropes cinching tight on your cunt. The wug is lifthing aside its loincloth, exposing the smooth, clammy flesh of its cock, the pink inner member visible. "Return to your knees and satisfy me as you can. I will not pollute your loins again until the time has come for breeding."

You look up at the wug, feeling a wave of revulsion penetrate the milk-fueled lust. To pleasure the wug seems another step in your slide to absolute slavery. If you must pleasure him, how will you satisfy his lust?