The Random Recollections of Birthday Boy

Recollections part one.

Tomorrow it would be his birthday, his second, or to be more precise, his rebirthday, for that is what she called it, Kelly, the brat, and he wasn’t going to argue about it. A) There was no point, was there? B) He couldn’t anyway; even if he could or were allowed, there would only be one winner of such an argument. Under the circumstances, there was only one winner, and didn’t he know it, for it was never him! He didn’t even figure in the debate as a worthy opponent!

He knew it was his birthday again because she’d told him it would be yesterday. Two years old tomorrow! Two whole fucking years! Two wasted years! Ordinarily, time meant very little to him. Unlike those other days, now both a distant memory almost and yet simultaneously a consistent nagging reminder that tormented him like a painful open sore that would never heal!

She’d even asked if he was looking forward to it like she expected him to be excited or something! Well, she was still of an age when such things did cause excitement, but there was only one thing that could cause him to get excited, and he knew that would never happen, no way! They would not allow him to just walk out of this place and return to his old life, not ever!

Kelly was not typically that loquacious, not with him, but it would also be her birthday, of course! Her eighteenth, and she was full of it, which partly accounted for her unusual chattiness. There would be a party at the weekend, and her parents had booked ‘Tinkerbelle’s’ for the whole evening. How was that for cool, eh? That’s that uber new nightclub in town everyone talks about, she’d told him. Like mega-expensive, of course, but if you’ve got it!

Well, not so much chatting as it was a one-way communication process. When this rare mood was upon her, Kelly had a curious way of part talking to herself and partly to a non-existent third party, which occasionally included him as a dumb helpless recipient! Not to worry, she’d see him alright, although he might have to wait longer than usual for his morning feed. She’d talked about the car she was getting from mummy and daddy as her main present. How much it had cost and the ridiculous amount the stupid company had charged for her insurance! Like she was going to do something silly straight off. Kelly had sounded highly indignant about that!

He'd only been half listening to the excited girlish steam by that point as she ran the damp sponge over him. Feed! He got fed, a morning and evening feed. Not breakfast and dinner or supper. He simply got fed! His ears, though, caught that last remark. Hopefully, that insurance would be needed and soon. Oh, if only the evil little brat wrapped her new birthday present around a lamp post and broke her damn neck! 

Of course, what might then happen to him was another worry but would it be worse? Her following words confirmed a growing fear. Kelly had added that she’d bought him a special present which thrilled him not one bit, more the opposite! She hadn’t been talking to him anyway, more to herself while she groomed him and ‘his present’ would be likewise. Hers rather than his! The news about the ‘special present’ was particularly alarming. He’d experienced such presents before, and the recollections like the presents were never enjoyable!

He had neither clock nor calendar, only dawn and dusk, day and night, along with seasonal changes and the odd special event such as his rebirthday or Christmas to mark the monotonous passage of time. Another if far slower measure was the temperature; today, he was cold, not quite to the point of shivering but cold. Still, he would be doing so in a day or two as the temperature outside continued to drop as Autumn's remorseless advance towards winter progressed. 

It wasn’t too noticeable for Kelly, for any of them yet, for that matter! Why should they notice that growing nip in the air? They were only here in the daytime or early evening, weren’t they? Plus, unlike him, they were all fully clothed. At some point, the penny would drop, and the heating such as it was would be switched on but probably not for another two or three weeks. Not till he’d suffered numerous sleepless nights, shivering and curled up on the flattened damp straw that was his only bedding. 

Tomorrow he would start his third year in captivity, his what, he did the mental calculation, seven hundred and thirty first day! A thought occurred unless one of the years had been a leap year in that case then, but he abandoned the thought chain as pointless, not to mention depressing. What did it matter? What did anything matter these days? Why bother with things like that!

There had been a time when he’d been just the opposite, desperate to keep his mind focused and alert. Did mental arithmetic, relived old movies scene by scene, books he’d read, in his head, for he couldn’t do it verbally, could he? Not with that cruel thing in his mouth almost continuously bar mealtimes. It was not permitted to make coherent, understandable, comprehensible noise. Oh, no, such a simple thing might cause them to think, consider, and look at him in a different light. Then again, perhaps not; why should it, for this was the life they had so cruelly assigned him! 

The life she, Kelly, his chief tormentor, imposed upon him and did so without a second thought as if it was the most natural thing in the world. So fucking cruel and yet to her seemingly so perfectly ordinary, and had it been since the first day this never-ending nightmare had started! That first day of horror, pain and absolute humiliation. A day of amazement, incredulity and disbelief that had quickly crystallised into a bizarre existence beyond rational imagination!

His mind flashed back two years and a day or so. He didn’t often do that, for the memory was far too painful, too raw, too much of a reminder of how cruel fate could be, of how random life’s throw of the dice could be, of how a simple choice could result in…in the life, he now led if indeed you could even call it a life!

He could have stayed in the small car a bit longer, couldn’t he, but the dog scared him. He’d never liked dogs, not even small ones and the one sharing the cramped rear seat with him wasn’t the least small, a massive German Shepherd. At least it seemed enormous to him and no doubt possessed a mouthful of sharp teeth along with that long slobbery pink tongue that licked his face every few minutes. It hadn’t shown the slightest sign of aggression, very much the opposite, and yet he’d been so uncomfortable, hadn’t he!

The elderly couple in front had been lovely, quite charming in an old-fashioned way. He'd thumbed them down as the second lift that day as he hitched from his base over to his girlfriend’s hometown to attend her belated twenty-first birthday. That had been his first mistake, hadn’t it? Hell, the army paid him well enough, plus he had an armed forces discount rail card in his wallet, so why had he decided to hitchhike? Bloody idiot!

He did it because he liked to do it. Habit even! He’d dropped out of uni after that first boring year and backpacked all over Europe on a shoestring for six months, mainly via sticking his thumb out and never once had the slightest trouble or even felt threatened by anyone! More the reverse, having met many interesting people that way. He’d adopted the practice again during his basic army training and again when doing his trade training. 

With a tour of Afghanistan behind him and now with his corporal stripes, he’d never given any possible dangers a thought. Why should he worry being a trained and battle-hardened warrior! That, combined with his educational qualifications, now meant the possibility of a commission in the offing after completing his next trade advance course. Mick, his best buddy, had laughed and teased him. Officers don’t travel with their thumb out, mate, not very gentlemanly, bad show eh what old chap! He’d still done it, though, without a second thought.

If it hadn’t been for that bloody dog drooling all over him, he wouldn’t be here now, would he? The irony didn’t escape him, for he now spent most of his damn life with a permanent skein of drool oozing from the device in his mouth.

He had stood it for as long as he could, but the big friendly dog made him feel so damn uneasy that he’d asked the old couple to drop him off at the next service station, telling them he needed to use the bathroom urgently. They’d been extremely sweet about it, even offering to park and wait for him, but he’d convinced them there was no need. He felt like a break to freshen up, then get a coffee and something to eat, relax for a bit, politely but firmly declining their offer.

If only he hadn’t done that, then he wouldn’t be here now, would he, as he’d told himself a thousand and more times, cursing himself! Then again, how was he supposed to know? How could he have known? He’d waited till they were out of sight, then headed back to the road by the exit and stuck his thumb out. A mere thirty seconds later, he’d climbed into a big gleaming Range Rover with that distinctive new vehicle smell inside.

They must have been watching and waiting for someone like him, he supposed. Or was he merely a lucky coincidence who happened along at the right time? He did not know but rather suspected that both suppositions were correct given what happened the next day, but of course, he would never know, for they certainly wouldn’t tell him, would they!

That day though, they had been super friendly. The gorgeous woman had even insisted on him going in the front passenger seat as she got out. ‘More leg room for a hunky big young guy like you, she’d laughed, giving him a sultry wink! That ought to have given him a clue for a vehicle like that; a swish top-of-the-range four-wheel drive must have had ample room in the back. Maybe it was because it had started raining, and he was glad to get a lift so quickly and get out of the threatening weather that he’d not thought about it! Then again, why should he have?

They were a good-looking friendly couple, maybe early to mid-forties, and he’d got on well with them. The woman had been a beauty, a real eye-catcher, blonde and sensual looking. Had there been something in that cup of coffee she’d poured him out of the vacuum flask, he often wondered, for he couldn’t remember if they had drunk anything. He’d suddenly become very chatty, which wasn’t like him. 

Usually, he was a reserved, slightly shy guy. That army education Major had told him that was something he’d need to work on and be more outgoing if he was to get that recommendation for a commission. No room for wallflowers in the officer's mess! Odd how he’d given those two strangers his whole life story before they’d gone twenty miles. Shit, there must have been something in that bloody coffee!

Had his runaway tongue sentenced him to this horrible place and the brutal regime he suffered? Why should he have been suspicious, they were friendly people, and the wife was real easy on the eye both in looks and that tight skimpy top with the deep cleavage! He could even remember when it happened, the dialogue, and the exact moment! Strange that given how woozy he felt later, but he could.

It had all seemed so normal, so harmless. He'd been chatting to the guy about football, the premier league title contenders all perfectly ordinary. Then abruptly, the guy had ceased smiling and joking and looked at him in silence and, well, in a ‘funny way’ wouldn’t even come near to describing that look on his face. Sort of odd, like he was seeing something else and not him! Then the guy had said quite clearly over his shoulder,  ‘This is the one, Honey. Perfect, we won’t find a better one for her’. He'd heard a giggle from behind him and then felt a sharp prick in the side of his neck. He’d exclaimed aloud and twisted around in his seat to see her smiling at him with a hypodermic needle in one hand. ‘Don’t worry, I’m a trained nurse, Sleepy bye-bye time, enjoy it while you can because you won’t like it when you wake up!’ 

His last memory of that fateful journey was laughter, both of them laughing, and then the blackness came so swiftly, and after that, well, she’d been one hundred per cent correct. He had not liked it when he awoke and hadn’t liked anything since those first few moments of dazed and bewildered disbelief.

The building's lights suddenly interrupted his troubled memories, and he instantly rolled over and leapt to his feet or rather what had encased his feet for the last two years. The wretched hoof boots forcing him to balance forever on the front portion of his feet—God, how he hated the horrible things even though he was now perfectly proficient in their use. 

Hell, he’d had to learn to be, hadn't he? Learned to walk, trot, canter, and even gallop in the most god-awful footwear ever designed. He even slept in the damn things! The choice had been the same as every other one the same person had given him. Learn and do as she demanded and desired and do it well or be mercilessly flogged until he obediently performed as she required and to the standard she demanded. He had no option other than that dictated via her whip! 

“Good morning, Trooper. I trust my big ponyboy had a lovely sleep. I know I did; that new mattress is so divinely comfortable” she closed the stable door and approached his stall. “That reminds me, I must renew your bedding straw sometime soon. Must keep my big, beautiful animal comfy as well!” 

She smiled sweetly at him as she said it. The bitch often said something like that in the morning, just to emphasise the difference, the vast gulf between them and their respective lifestyles. No doubt deliberately on her part, just another facet of her sadistic nature! It was about the only time she did talk to him in such a fashion as well! To her, he was nothing more than an animal, a mere brute, her prize stallion, and she, the human female that owned him! Not once in the two years since that first morning had she directly recognised him for what he was, and he knew by now that she never would.

“Now, what fun thing shall we do this morning? She pondered, putting a finger to her mouth and looking at him thoughtfully through those big blue innocent eyes that belied her true evil nature. Like she didn’t already know, he told himself. Whatever she had already decided wouldn’t be fun for him. It never was! Arduous, humiliating, demeaning and painful, yes. Fun, no!

“I know” she exclaimed. “You’ve been festering inside for far too long, Trooper, and now the weather is on the turn; a little outdoor exercise and fresh air won’t go amiss before it gets too cold and wet. It’s a touch on the chilly side, but I’m quite sure you’ll soon work up a sweat!” she paused and giggled, making a quick up and down gesture with her right hand. “If I provide the usual encouragement!” 

Oh, at least there was some recognition of the recent drop in temperature. Nor he noted by what she had just said. His young owner was dressed for the weather in a thick sweater, sleeveless body warmer, and tight jeans tucked into green rubber boots. In addition, she sported a woolly hat with a big fluffy white bobble on top and her usual thin leather gloves. By contrast, he was naked, bar his thick leather harness, bridle, armbinder, posture collar and hoof boots. You could also throw in the steel cage constraining his penis as well. None of it could be called clothing!

Kelly put a gloved finger to her lower lip, pretending to think for a moment, then smiled at him. “After that humongous downpour the other night, the grass will still be too wet for pulling the big mower today, Boy, but the big field should be nice and squishy soft. Muddy, but then we’ve both got boots on. We can cross-plough the furrows you made last time, create a pretty diamond pattern in the mud and stir up a few wormsies for the birds, eh? Scrumptious brekkie first, though, for my big boy to keep his energy up. Can’t live on worms like the birdies, eh horsey?”

Half an hour later, he was shivering in the cold breeze as she busied herself harnessing him to the old-fashioned plough. Old fashioned but brand new and purpose-made, his first year’s fucking Christmas present along with the big mower! Summer and winter, Kelly had laughed! Anyway, worms might have made a pleasant change from the cold tasteless, puréed mush she poured into his food trough twice a day. A shallow stainless steel trough that had to be quickly emptied by his eager lapping tongue and licked till not a single morsel remained. No excuses, no refusal permitted if he wished to avoid her displeasure and avoiding that had become his primary goal every single monotonous day!

A shout from the big house disturbed Kelly, causing her to swear and abandon her task. He gave it a couple of seconds, then shuffled slightly, turning his head as far as that horrible high collar allowed, unbidden to watch her run over to where her father waited. Two years ago, he might have risked it, indeed would have attempted it, done something, made some move even if he was virtually helpless and half harnessed to a primitive plough. An object that belonged a half dozen centuries back yet was barely a year old, bought and designed for him to obediently pull under the impetus of her whip!!  

He did nothing mainly because he couldn’t but remained standing and passively awaiting her return. Two years of captivity had taught him one thing: the price of freedom or attempted freedom was too high a price, and he knew what would happen if he failed again. Apart from the inevitable merciless flogging, he’d heard the little bitch tell her mother precisely what she’d do to him if he ever attempted to escape again. She would, too and with a blunt knife! The scars from her whip covering almost every exposed inch of his body bore mute testament to the young monster’s casual savagery!

He watched her share a few words with her father, who raised his hands in the air and shook his head, standing still for a moment. Kelly disappeared into the house while her father headed to the big barn-like stable. He emerged a moment later and walked towards him. The guy stopped behind him and threw something over his head. Then with a couple of tugs, his head emerged through a large hole in the rough, coarse garment Kelly called his winter poncho.  

Her father had said nothing; he never did. No, that wasn’t entirely true, but did those rare monosyllabic grunted orders count? He watched the bastard stroll back to the house, knowing he was in for a long wait in the cold, damp air. His eyes followed Kelly's father, knowing it could be worse. That bastard had shown him that being owned and beaten almost daily by a teenage brat wasn’t the most humiliating thing he could experience! He shivered partly from the chill wind and partly from memory as his mind recalled that first debasing experience.

He’d been incarcerated there; well, he had no idea how long he’d been there when his awful life had descended to an even deeper level of degradation and abuse than he could have imagined. Maybe five or six months, not that it mattered. Time was no longer of any concern, was it? Not the way his days were structured! Inwardly, it did matter, for, in the longer term, he was getting older and going nowhere, achieving nothing! His captivity was like a cancer eroding his life away hour by hour, but what could he do about it? 

Just another day. He’d been standing, fed, watered, as usual in his stall, like he’d anything else to do anyway, willing his life away, anything to relieve the mind-numbing monotony of his existence. Living his life through the freedom of his imagination rather than the grim reality that would face him if he opened his eyes. 

He’d done that as a child, first in the children's home and then in the various foster parent's house’s. Arms behind his head, laying on his bed, staring unseeingly at the ceiling above. The park likewise while waiting for his friends, laying in the grass the blue sky above equally unseen while his latest adventure unfolded in his youthful mind’s eye. Sometimes he was lazy and had merely supplanted the hero in the latest book he was reading, replaying it chapter by chapter.

Happy, carefree days and a world away from the realities of his present miserable existence. He might still have the imagination, but the books, bed, and even the simple luxury of laying down was denied him until he was ‘settled’ for the evening! ‘Ponies don’t lay down, do they? No! They stand throughout the day! Only lazy ponies do that, and we know what happened to lazy ponies, don’t we?’

Yeah, he’d learned only too well what happened to lazy ponies, talkative ponies, disobedient ponies, bad ponies, stubborn ponies, ungrateful ponies and all the other variations on the same damn theme! It was a grim irony he’d once reflected when allowed to lay down that his hands were still behind him, although not like those carefree, happier days!

Kelly had evidently been late and then in a tearing hurry that morning, so his grooming had been so perfunctory as to be non-existent, and he’d had to consume breakfast or, more accurately, his morning feed in double time. Even then, she’d snatched his bowl away unfinished and certainly not to the required licked gleaming clean standard! He’d heard her father shout from outside, ‘Get a move on, Kelly, I can see Marcia’s car coming, and you know how she hates waiting. Come and grab your things; otherwise, you and Helen will be late for school! You don’t want them driving off without you! You know what short fuse your friend's mum has got!’ 

His musings on that particular morning had been interrupted in a manner he hadn’t anticipated nor that the day would bring something different to anything he’d previously experienced. Nor could he have imagined it would be as bad or worse in one way than any humiliation he’d endured to date if such was possible.

The stable door had creaked open, and the lights switched on. He’d turned, expecting to see Kelly, his senses telling him it was still early, but perhaps she had a half-day holiday or something, but it wasn’t her. It was her father. He didn’t even know the guy’s name. Kelly just called him dad, and apart from that first morning, her birthday when they’d given him to her like a damn puppy, the fucker had hardly shown the slightest interest in him.

The guy seldom appeared in the stable and rarely bothered to glance in his direction when he did. Still, he was walking straight towards his stall, opened the low door, released the chains that bound him within his stall, and then hooked a finger through his nose ring, not even bothering to clip on the leash his daughter used.

“Walk on”.

He had no option but to follow; to do otherwise would be agonising, yet it felt even more humiliating than usual to be led by that insistent finger rather than the usual leather leash, likewise, to be handled by another man. Especially this one, the fucking bastard who was responsible for him being here and for everything that had happened to him since he’d foolishly climbed into the guy’s big flashy car.

Worse, he was being led straight to his daughter’s flogging bench. Was it going to be a case of like daughter like father? Why? The bastard had never shown the slightest interest before, had he? No, he never bothered to poke his head around the door, not even when Kelly made him scream the place down!

Her mother, yes, that gorgeous bitch often watched her sadistic daughter in action. He’d often seen her through tears of agony and humiliation, standing nearby as he writhed on the bench. Sometimes even with a mug in her hand as though it was the most natural thing in the world to take her morning coffee while calmly watching her daughter remorselessly torturing a helpless man. Not that any of them considered him to be a man!

It was a new sound that had terrified him that morning and, in its way, far worse than the sound one of Kelly’s bamboo canes made when she swished it through empty air a few times before lacerating his bottom and thighs. It had been the distinctive sound of a zip being slowly pulled down!

A simple and brief sound, yet he had known what it portended in an instant of awful clarity. The bastard had strapped him over that terrible frame that he’d squirmed upon so many times, removed his hobble chain and strapped his legs wider apart. A palm gave his right buttock cheek a slap, neither hard nor soft, followed by the sort of propriety squeeze Kelly often used and then had come that unmistakable sound. The bastard had pulled down his trouser fly.

A moment later, he felt the butt plug that held his tail being twisted and rotated, stretching him even more and mutely cried out against his bit in sudden pain as his abused anus ring objected to this new torture. It had been a long time since he’d wriggled and squealed in agony as he had when that horrible thing had entered his body for the first time-strapped upon this very same bench and violated by a pretty giggling teenage girl in the most horrendous manner!

He had a flashback as that slow circular movement in his rear made him squirm. It was painful, but he no longer suffered quite the same feeling of intense humiliation and hopelessness as he had upon that first occasion on what had been only the third day of his captivity. Back then, at least for the first few weeks, he’d maintained some idea of time before the endless monotonous days ran into each other!

Her fucking mother had been present that time as well, looking damn smart and sexy in a stylish beige trouser suit like she was going to a business meeting or something similar. Kelly had snapped the leash onto his nose ring and led him from his stall, stumbling behind her on those hellish clumsy hoof boots he could barely move in, let alone keep pace with the little bitch.

The pain in his face was so intense it blotted out everything else. Whoever had put that damn ring through his nose had known what they were doing; such was the pain if he tried to pull against that slender leash. The agony was so intense that a three-year-old toddler could have led him around by the nose. Never mind a fucking lithesome teenager only a few days on the right side of being jailbait under other circumstances!

The toddler might have shown him some mercy and leeway, but Kelly never did, not once, not with him and yet she could be sweet and kind. Sometimes her dog, a mournful-looking spaniel, accompanied her, and he’d often seen her make a silly fuss of that pampered pooch. Also, an aged tabby cat occasionally strolled into the stable out of curiosity during his sessions on the bench. She’d once put down the wooden paddle and picked up the cat, cuddling it, kissing it, even sweet-talking to it. ‘Has pussy come to watch Mummy correcting her naughty pony’ before carefully putting the loudly purring creature near his head on the padded bench, stroked it a few more times with a fond smile before picking up her paddle again. 

The cat had watched curiously, its yellow eyes following the rise and fall of the wooden implement until she’d picked up the pace and delivered a barrage of blows alternatively to each of his bruised and blistered buttock cheeks. It had promptly fled as his fresh howls of anguish hit the high notes as he’d thrashed impotently against the straps that held him tight.

The cat, the dog she talked to like any teenage girl, would to her beloved pets and yet to him, never a sweet word or shown the slightest hint of loving affection. She snapped out simple words of command, expected instant obedience and compliance, and punished him severely for the slightest infraction or hesitation. In his brief military career, he’d met a few demanding senior NCOs, especially on the drill square, but none of them compared to this teenage tyrant in her search for perfection. Nor had they the absolute freedom she had in painfully correcting his numerous real or imaginary errors!

He’d still been new to it all that day he got his tail inserted for the first time. Kelly manoeuvred him to that padded bench that he already dreaded the sight of, pushed him to one end and then, still holding his leash, moved around to the other end pulling on it. He had no alternative but to lean forward onto the smooth leather, chest down, butt high as she casually wound the nose leash several times around a little silver cleat embossed with a hand holding a whip. 

He'd absently noticed that small detail as he’d writhed on the bench that first day but only on the second had he realised that they must have bought that leather and steel device presumably from the same supplier as all the horrible things hanging on the wall nearby. Purchased with the full intention that they would be used on some unfortunate wretch, and he was that very person!

He was helpless like a trapped animal, like the animal they fully intended him to become. He couldn’t pull away from that wretched tether not without initiating that excruciating agony. He’d thought himself a tough guy, a professional warrior and yet a simple stainless-steel ring through his nasal cavity and a thin strip of leather held him a helpless captive.

The young bitch moved behind him, removing the hobble chain from his ankles before spreading his legs apart and securing them to the bench's frame. This was the moment, even if his arms were useless and secured behind his back, the moment when she was off guard when he should leap into action, ripping that ring from his nose by sheer brute force, ignoring the pain and kicking the shit out of them. That’s the one thing those horrible boots they’d strapped to his legs should be good for, even if he couldn’t use his arms. Kick the hell out of them and then worry about trying to free his arms.

That had been the plan, but even as he twisted his head to look up at her mother, the agony in his nasal region killed the idea stone dead and then it was too late as first one leg, and then the other was pulled tight by the roller buckles affixed to heavy-duty leather straps. He cursed himself for his cowardice as another strap crossed his back just below his encased, bent and folded arms and pulled extremely tight. 

The click of a cigarette lighter came to his ears, and he slowly moved his head a little more, wincing inwardly as that sharp pain seared his head for a second. His eyes looked up, meeting those of her mother as she inhaled on a cigarette and blew a stream of blue smoke from her nostrils. Those same eyes that had sparkled with warmth when he climbed into her car and then looked upon him with derisive amusement twenty-four hours or so later when he was gifted to her daughter.

Beautiful blue cosmetic-enhanced eyes now regarding him with cold, indifferent contempt as another stream of smoke exhaled from her nose. A nurse she’d said, well, he could guess who’d been responsible for the ring that dangled down on his upper lip and been cruelly threaded through whatever it was that caused him such pain at the slightest hint of pressure, the bitch.

The same impartial eyes that had calmly watched the little bitch deliver that first slow, methodical savage beating, the bruises and marks still extremely painful, raw and oozing blood. Her husband had also watched for a bit, then the bastard had actually yawned and announced he was going in to watch tv! Evidently, something he found more entertaining than the spectacle of his young daughter enthusiastically impressing her new authority and ownership upon the hapless screaming form writhing on a leather bench as its bottom, his bottom was paddled and caned with pitiless juvenile energy and enthusiasm!

He was the first to break off eye contact, partly because he couldn’t help himself and partly in disgust but mostly in despair. He’d hoped to see some sort of emotion, some warmth, some humanity, something, anything to give him some hope that this crazy nightmare would soon be at an end. Instead, he saw indifference with perhaps a hit of amusement at his predicament. Also, something else, a touch of smug self-satisfaction perhaps at having successfully brought about this insane situation! 

If he’d had any hopes that somehow his pathetic visual plea had been received positively, it had died a few moments later when Kelly spoke from behind him.

“Time for his tail, I think, mummy”, he heard the little bitch say. “The sooner the animal gets used to it, the better. Also, the sooner I take full control of its bowel movements, not it!”

“Whatever you decide, darling, I told you, daddy, and I will not interfere in any way unless you want us to, but that seems unnecessary. I’m impressed. You seem to be managing the animal very well on your own already!

Kelly had laughed that silly girlish laugh he hated so much. “Oh, come on, it’s not rocket science, mummy. Look at what I’ve done to it already despite its size. Yes, it may be a big strong feral beast but look at it, all harnessed up and helpless and not going anywhere except where I want. Another month or two, and it will be a very different animal attitude-wise unless it wants me to peel its hide off its strip by strip with my whips!”

This time it was her mother who laughed. “Oh, I’m sure it will soon realise what’s best for it, darling. Absolute obedience unless it wants to spend all day howling its silly head off! You’ve made a pretty good start on it, and it has a certain amount of intelligence. Do you really want to use that tail, though it is a little on the large size? I checked that rear passage out of curiosity when I stripped it, and I doubt it had ever had anything up before my finger!”

“No interference, remember, mummy. Anyway, I like the tail fitted on this one, more body to it, so it will look better once he starts swishing it about for me; plus, the shit chute in the other one is way too small! This is one big pony, a stallion, not a rabbit. I want to see turds, not raisins dropping out; plus, on this one, I can turn this little screw thing here, and bingo, no plop plops for Trooper! One teeny turn here, then soon some very uncomfortable belly aches for my big boy if I allow things to start backing up!“ Kelly giggled. “Total control, mummy, total and absolute control for me and a belly full of agony for this fine animal you gave me!”

“Well, be careful, dear, don’t overdo it, use plenty of lubricant, and I’m the one you’ll expect to sew the damage up if you tear it, and that’s neither the easiest nor the pleasantest place to use a needle and thread, remember! Anyway, I must dash, I’m meeting Moira in town, shopping plus lunch then we will visit Helen and her new baby. I don’t think she and Sam have even named it yet. Take care, pet and don’t do anything stupid. Early days yet, remember, so don’t go cutting corners. As you just said, feral beast and at this stage of its evolution with a capital F.  Double check everything every time, remember!

“Bye, mummy, give kisses and hugs to Helen and baba for me.”

He caught a flash of beige as her mother departed, and then Kelly was in front of him, slacking off the damn nasal tether a little. Baba, hugs and kisses! He had enough freedom now to raise his head and look at her. Blonde, big blue eyes with naturally heavy lashes, pretty as hell with long tousled blonde hair. The face of an angel with the soul of a demon. How could someone of that tender age behave as she did and her fucking parents, how could they…it was unbelievable, un-fucking-believable!

*****

His ordeal had started in earnest that first morning when he slowly awoke to a whole new and extraordinary, not to say bizarre, world. Not that he realised that immediately. His head was hurting with an incessant nagging headache, and he felt nauseous and strangely lightheaded. His nose and sinus region also hurt, and he started to move. He needed to sneeze, and each time he did, he was in agony. He also quickly became aware of several other puzzling things, and none of them made sense. In fact, they were extremely worrying, not to mention thoroughly incapacitating!

One, he seemed to be lying face down on the ground on some soft but gritty surface or at least the surface covering was, but underneath, it was more rigid and quite uncomfortable. Two, something was wedged in his mouth, some weird bar between his teeth and something else was pressing down upon his tongue, rendering him effectively speechless. Nor could he dislodge either of the impediments. He tried, needed to speak, to yell but could only make incomprehensible mute sounds. Three, his head felt strange, constricted as though something was wrapped around it in different places, several somethings! He could even see some of it on either side of his nose by squinting sideways. Four, he was cold, and that was because he was naked, or a lot of him was bare and in close contact with whatever stuff he was laying in or on. Well, he never got to five, for as the first four impressions slowly registered, he raised his head and found he couldn’t. At least he could lift it a few inches, and then his nasal region exploded in pain so bad it made him whimper. Somehow his face was connected to the ground, and the moment he tried to lift his head, the world exploded in agony!

He dared not move for fear of tugging on what connected him to the ground. What was it? His nose hurt like fuck, and there was something else there, something odd and alien. He couldn't move his arms either; they seemed to be folded one above the other behind his back in some sort of, well, whatever it was, there was something around them that held them immobile. He could wiggle his fingers and flex his shoulders slightly, but there was hardly any give in whatever was holding his arms immobile.  

The fug that filled his head was slowly clearing but sadly not that accompanying headache. He wasn’t entirely naked; he could feel, sense as much as feel, tight straps around his torso, one was uncomfortably tight between his legs and buttock cheeks, and his legs and feet felt damn odd. Like he was wearing boots, high knee boots but his feet felt funny, sort of bent and then far worse, he became aware that his cock was hurting as well, and that also felt odd somehow and not normal! What the fuck! Christ, he wished he could somehow move and see what the hell was happening.

What had happened? He’d been hitchhiking the old couple, that big slobbering dog, and then the other couple. ‘Don’t worry; I’m a nurse!’ A needle in her hand, oh fuck! What the hell was this and the stink! Christ, the reek of vomit and shit! Was he laying in the foul stuff, and was it his?

It hadn’t been pitch dark wherever he was, but there hadn’t been much light either, and any further thoughts or recollections were abruptly terminated by lights coming on and the sound of movement nearby. Then they were next to him, two he sensed and smelled that heady perfume from the car. A slim hand, a female hand doing something and then that pain in his face came again, blotting everything else out so that he was virtually unaware of being lifted to his feet, not that it felt like being on his feet, more like standing on tiptoe. Then the voices, first a man and then a woman.

“Was it safe to put that thing in his mouth?”

“Yes, dear, there was nothing left in its stomach to come out. Careful where you tread, though; it’s made quite a mess.”

“Not just his belly by the stink!” The man grunted.

He could see now, look around, see…see the figures on either side of him. He recognised them both, the couple from his last ride, but something wasn’t quite right. He felt somehow elevated and not in the spiritual sense. They were both at a lower level, and his feet, Jesus, his poor feet, what had they done to him?

The guy moved behind him, supporting him as he swayed and tottered; jeez, what did he have on his feet, fucking stilts! He felt all his weight pressing down upon the balls of his feet and nothing on his heels the way his feet were bent. He tried to look down but buckled at the knees as that pain again seared his nasal region. The woman's hand had caused it, and she used a finger to flip something upwards that sent a spasm through his nose again, and with horrific understanding, as his eyes squinted at it, he knew what it was. A large steel ring. He’d got a fucking ring through his nose like one of those piercing nutters, only a whole lot bigger like a fucking animal! 

The woman’s hand came up again, and once again, he felt the brief spasm of pain as something clicked, and he realised with anger and horror that she’d just attached a long thin leather leash to that big ring.

“Walk on!” It was a command, and she emphasised it by pulling that leash. The immediate excruciating pain drove every other thought from his addled brain bar the desire to move forward and take that pressure off his tortured nasal region. He wasn’t even conscious of the hands around his waist or rather around whatever was constricting his waistline from behind, helping him maintain his balance in that strange footwear.

He was so focused on that thin strip of leather and the manicured hand holding it that he noticed very little else. Keeping that leash slack suddenly was the be-all and end-all of his existence to the demise of everything around him as he shuffled forward. His brain seemed to go into reset mode and shut down as he obeyed the feminine hand-holding that tether.

“Whoa” 

The hand released the leash and let it dangle from his nose ring. He gave vent to an audible sigh of relief and then took the opportunity to look around. He was standing in an old building with stone walls and lots of wood, big wooden beams supporting the roof and smaller enclosures down two sides. The place had a sort of earthy countryside smell but musty. A row of old horseshoes nailed along a beam caught his eye along with some mouldy leather harness, a worn saddle, those enclosures like stalls, a stable building?

The woman had picked up something from the other side of the room, if that was the right word, the internal space and was coming back, unfolding it and shaking it. Without a word, she nodded to the man behind him, the husband presumably who had seemed such an affable chap when he offered the lift. 

The hands tightened their grip, and the guy spoke in a very matter-of-fact voice into his right ear. Later he would realise that it was the only time in two years that the husband had spoken to him as a person with a comprehending brain.

“Stand still and don’t move. You’re on parade, soldier, and if I see so much as a twitch, I’ll castrate you and poke your eyes out on the spot, so I’d strongly advise doing as I say. Not one single fucking twitch unless you want things to turn very nasty very quickly!”

It wasn’t just what he said, although that was frightening enough, more the casual, matter-of-fact conversational way the guy said it that was terrifying. That and the growing realisation that he was helpless to do anything to defend himself. Hell, he couldn’t wipe his watering eyes or runny nose, could he? 

Then the hands let go, and everything was immediately blotted out as his wife draped a gold-coloured cloth over him, covering him from head to foot. It wasn’t heavy, but he couldn’t see anything through the material light as it was, so he just stood there feeling sick and so off balance and disorientated but with that quietly spoken terrible threat ringing in his ears. Just what the fuck was going on? 

“Stand, stay!” it was the woman’s voice, an order, a command—cold, hard and not like the girlish giggly banter from the car.

Disorientated, confused, frightened, he did just that, standing still, not daring to move, especially not in whatever clumsy and awkward footwear his feet had been encased within. Way too fucking tight and damn near impossible to walk in. Even standing was a challenge, especially now he had no reference points to see. 

The nausea was receding fast, likewise the muzzy fug in his brain. If only the headache and that band of pain in his face like a terrible toothache would go too, but he felt he was becoming alive again like a long-dormant machine slowly beginning to function after years of inactivity.

Just what the fuck was going on? That was the one overriding question reverberating in his mind, slowly pushing the fog to one side. What the hell? Why was he trussed up like this, and his poor nose, his face, that tug that caused his entire nasal and sinus region to go nuclear? What had they done to him and why!

Questions that seethed as he stood swaying slightly under that golden cover, his anger growing, mounting to match and override his bewilderment. Thinking back. Getting into that car, those cheerful, friendly smiling faces, a drink, that needle, a fucking needle and in his neck! ‘Don’t worry, I’m a nurse’ and awakening to this, whatever this was and then that man’s sotto voiced threat that had frozen him entirely for a second with terror. Christ, the fucker had meant it too!

Hell, this was ridiculous, unbelievable ridiculous. Had he been abducted, kidnapped by a couple of crazies? Then why and why his nose and this strange restrictive kit he seemed to be wearing. He was a soldier, a minor bottom-of-the-heap simple squaddie, not someone with any value. Hell, hadn’t he told them he’d grown up in a care home, so who was there to pay a ransom. This was his own country, not Iraq or Afghanistan, where the real crazies lived, where he might have had some value as a lowly bargaining chip if he was lucky! If you were unlucky, well, that didn’t bear thinking about! Everyone in the military knew what happened to the unlucky ones that got captured!

Ironically although he didn’t realise it at the time, a painfully extended termination at the hands of those religious nutters might have been infinitely preferable to what was to happen to him and what continued to happen to him with no apparent end in sight! Could he hardly count his horrendous daily existence from the moment that golden cover was removed as living?