Chapter 17
"What do you think, Sweetie"? Patricia held up the sheer blue panties in both hands stretched the thin material a couple of times then let go her grip on one side so that they snapped back upon themselves into a small bundle with a faintly audible twang to dangle like a limp blue flag at the top of its pole on a windless day.
He shrugged indifferently. "Whatever. Bit boring though aren't they. Anyway, I thought you said juvenile, don't think you'd find many moms buying anything that sheer!" He chuckled then looked down past the tangled mass of hairs on his chest and rapped the bobbing blonde head sharply with two fingers. "Slower girl slower. I want to be big and hard, rock hard later for you baby I know your keen but let's not overcook daddies big salami sausage too early slut!".
He flexed his shoulders, moving his head from side to side to ease the muscles in his neck and then settled back a little deeper into his piled down-filled pillows. "A bit slower still bitch" he muttered contentedly "We have got the whole night ahead of us and tonight I feel like I'm gonna be playing at 'pile driver' slut and you know what that means. Deep, deep, hard and heavy" he chuckled wickedly. "Gonna mean bruises gal and not just on the outside, gonna plough your sissy pussy right down to bedrock, just as deep as I can go and you know how deep Mr Mean Meat there that you're sucking so sweetly on can go don't you?" He laughed and added "That's more like it slut, nice and slow and work that sexy tongue good and hard, I wanna feel some pressure. Pile drive me with it girl, work that pretty tongue hard eh!" he chuckled.
Girlie shuddered but didn't reply nor cease the oral homage. No response was necessary, and any break in the rhythm would merely upset his Master, the gloating hairy monster whose huge penis he was so slavishly orally venerating. No, he could not relax, even a minor pause might result in a swift punishment, you never knew when it would come in this hellhole of a house. All you did know for sure was that it would come at some point the only variables being from whom and with what awful implement. Not that it mattered much the results would be equally painful. Not one of them believed in ever sparing the rod.
He licked and sucked, licked and sucked. No, he didn't want to risk that, especially not with that evil heartless sadistic bitch in the same room. Compared to her, the man who claimed ownership of his body and soul, who fucked him remorselessly by day and by night was a paragon of mercy - almost!
Patricia regarded her husband for a moment and then the feminised youth so assiduously slavering noisily away at his task. "That little bitch is getting fat" she noted disapprovingly. "I can see some roly-poly puppy fat spilling over her corset after the last tightening; she's not getting anywhere near enough exercise spending half the day on her back waving her legs in the air! Give her to Alice a couple of times a week; she can run the sissy bitch on the stable treadmill. A few hours on that should get the tubby little whore back in fine trim!"
Her husband laughed. "Yeah, guaranteed what with the exercise and even more I'd bet with the amount of skin Alice's would thrash off her cute little butt."
Patricia frowned at the tone of his retort absently noting the perceptible tremor that ran through the youth. "I don't want the bitch pilling on the pounds sweetie so think on it" her voice took on a harder note. "Fat little sissy bitches don't sell as well as skinny ones so if you want to keep your little playmate, I wouldn't let her value drop too much if I were you!"
"What's with the schoolgirl panties anyway" her husband interjected swiftly changing the subject. "Thought panties and the like were always a big no-no for all the lesser creatures in this household of yours? When did the rules change? Thought you insisted everything on show 24/7 for our amusement and easy access?"
Patricia looked at the delicate garment she was holding. Years upon years ago she herself had worn similar aged around eight or so. Only hers had been a darker blue and made of thick, coarse cotton cloth. Ugly, horrible and about as unsexy a garment as you could imagine she remembered. Unlike this fragile item. Outwardly the same in design but infinitely lighter and sheer. Nothing would be out of sight behind this transparent pair of knickers. Nor would it provide the slightest defence to the wearer against her owners probing fingers let alone any concealing modesty.
"Yeah" Patricia rubbed the wafer-thin material thoughtfully between two fingers. "So, I fancied a change, nothing wrong with a little variety in one's life now and again is there? New bitch to play with both in and out of bed, new rules perhaps and a whole new game to enjoy" She pirouetted around and walked to the opposite side of the enormous bedroom towards the much smaller woman who stood naked with arms raised, hands clasped tightly together on the top of her head.
"Not that all of the rules are new or the that the end game will be so very different. Some things will be just the same as always" she smirked. "My randy pussy has decidedly old-fashioned tastes!"
"Taste being the appropriate word" her husband called from the bed as he shifted his position slightly. Some things never did change! A shudder ran through him, and he stiffened. Almost he thought, nearly, careful now, if he didn't start getting active soon, he'd probably cum in the little bitches mouth, and that wasn't what he had on the agenda for tonight. His wife might have something along those lines planned for 'Aunty', but he was just about ready to get a lot more active, and the first fuck was always the best. 'Seems to keep me fit anyway' he chuckled silently.
Patricia absently ran the transparent garment she was holding through her hands a couple of times as she regarded the smaller woman thoughtfully. A shiver, yes the cute little blonde package was trembling even as she tried to obey and stand rock-still in the presence of the frightening woman who claimed ownership of her.
Patricia wondered idly if that was because she now stood so near her new toy or had she been doing that all along? It hadn't taken her long had it, but then it never did. Three and a bit weeks that's all, airport arrivals hall to standing stark naked and so obediently waiting in one corner of her bedroom, via a couple of weeks in the basement playroom of course.
No, perhaps not quite obediently! The little pussy licker had been told to keep her eyes down while waiting unless spoken to by one of her betters but hers had been flicking over towards the action on the big bed which probably accounted for the look of horror and disgust on her pretty doll-like face. A face that was at the same time both mature and youthful, smooth and almost wrinkle-free, one that complemented the equally delightful soft sexy mature body below it. Then again perhaps a part of that horror was caused by the damage her whips and other toys had wrought upon that petite shapely form. Tools that had shaped but not as yet finished the task of fully moulding this latest tasty morsel to suit her particular palate.
*****
"Whoa, whoa there pony" Eva screamed as she hauled hard on the reins savagely wrenching at her ponies head and brought the near spent and heavily labouring sweat covered mount to an abrupt stop. "Halt you stupid beast!" She hauled savagely on the reins in her left hand and simultaneously swiped downwards and backwards with the long crop in her right striking twice. "Stay, stay" she screeched in a slightly frightened tone.
It was her fault she realised crossly. She still hadn't got one hundred per cent used to the fact that these dumb creatures of Margret's didn't think. They fuckers really didn't. Shit, the fucking thing could have killed the pair of them, and it would have been entirely her own dammed fault. Or would it? Maybe that's what the dumb creature wanted?
She dismounted and was a little surprised to find that she felt somewhat shaky and it wasn't due to the motion of the recent gallop or the way her high perch magnified every movement the beast made to some degree. Margret had warned her that the first few rides might make her trifle travel sick and she'd been right. However, that had been shortly after her arrival a few weeks back, and it was fright, sheer undiluted sudden fear that had brought this bout of the shakes on!
"Stupid Fucking Animal!" she screamed, hanging tightly on the short reins and punctuating each word with another savage blow from the crop as she yelled.
God, she did feel a little sick as she looked toward the edge of the sheer cliffs. Another few strides and the pair of them would have gone straight over that edge, and the drop was...well, whatever it was it was a hell of a long way down with only some sea spray dampened jagged black rocks awaiting.
For some reason, a cartoon style image flashed into her mind. One of those where one character runs across a deep bottomless gorge in perfect safety, followed by the bad guy who is equally safe until they look down halfway across and then...? In the celluloid world, they'd always bounced back a few frames later but in real life! She shuddered.
There was no way she would have bounced back, and it would have been entirely her own fault for not keeping a close eye on where they were going. Her mind had been elsewhere and lulled by the rhythmic sensation of her ride she'd slipped into a sort of daydream only brought out of it at the last moment when her inbuilt autopilot screamed a warning at her.
Eva resisted curiosity and the temptation to lead her mount closer so that she could peer down at the restless white foamed sea breaking on the rocks far below. The vertical cliffs hereabouts ran for several miles in both directions, and she could see as much as she needed from where she already stood still trembling. Margret had a pretty damn near impenetrable borders on the one side and along the bottom part of her estate unless any intruders were top class rock climbers with webbed feet!
Her ponies rapid rasping laboured breathing caught her attention as it stood stock still, desperately sucking air into its lungs, the mares big body shuddering as her lungs endeavoured to pump in enough oxygen to replace that which pace, spurs, and crop had taken out of her. An activity not helped by the hard bit in its mouth. Margret had said that such two-legged animals would normally bend at the waist, hands-on thighs after extreme exertions as they sought to recover. Watch any group of athletes after a hard race.
A luxury these animals were denied. Harness, armbinder, posture and above all training did not permit such a position, nor would it be very seemly or pleasing on the eye. Standard procedure was to rein in for a time and let them recover or dismount for a period, maybe even tether them to a suitable hitching point and do something else for a while. Maybe crack a can open and have a snack or bring a flask of coffee and enjoy a cigarette. Careful, considerate riders, of course, would rarely ever allow them to become blown to that extent but Eva was by nature neither careful nor the least bit considerate, not to creatures such as these!
On one of their longer trips out, Margret had shown her what the cavalrymen had done a century or so back to extend the range and duration of their mounts. They dismounted every so often and walked their horses for a while, so's conserve stamina. That was one fucking problem Eva had found out very quickly. These bloody creatures only had so much strength and once had you used that up, well no amount of cropping or raking with the spurs could replace anything worthwhile back in the useless animal's damned fuel tanks!
It had already become a major frustration for her. Like having an expensive luxury electric car that could just about get you out to the local mall or supermarket and back, then needed at least twenty-four hours to re-charge the battery! Oh well, not much you could do about if that's the way things were. At least down here, there were no shortages of freshly charged mounts to choose from each day. If one of your favourites weren't ready, then another would suffice, usually!
She looked dispassionately at the pony on the other end of the reins. Not numbered among her favourites by any means. It was one of the stables older occupants, a stocky mare of middles years, the high blonde ponytail now flecked with grey, big sun-bronzed udders gone saggy and flat looking covered in a matrix of scars from years of whip and crop. Drooping buttocks thick sturdy thighs similarly covered so that it was impossible to see so much as a square inch of flesh that didn't bear mute testimony to her long residence in the stable. How many times had Buttercup felt the whip Eva wondered idly?.
Buttercup! Strange name for a pony Eva had remarked to her hostess during that first tour of the stable and its reluctant occupants. Entirely so, Margret had told her. The mare had initially come as part of a job lot with two other ponies she'd purchased at auction years ago; her original owner had utilised her purely in a bovine capacity. 'Tried that game once or twice myself in my younger days, never got much juice out of their udders for the work involved though so I gave it up. Too much hassle for too little return so I gave the animal a bridle instead of a cowbell and broke her to the saddle and carriage. Never bothered to change the beasts name though'.
The shock was wearing off, and the sea views quickly palled, so curiosity now compelled her to take a closer look at her mount as one extended finger absently traced some of the cruel marks on the creatures buttocks and breasts carefully avoiding the fresh ones her crop had recently inflicted. It wasn't so much an act of compassion on her part more that she didn't want to get any of the blood that welled up through numerous fresh welts on her expensive Italian leather riding gloves.
The significant stretch marks on the belly of the creature were clearly visible. Margret had put her to stud numerous times and had no fewer than five foals out of her. Two colts and three filly's and none of them wimpy little runts either she had said with satisfaction! All of a decent size and left their mark as you can see Margret had told her as tapped them with her ever-present riding crop. Buttercup here is no lightweight herself, and I had her covered by the biggest stallions I could find. Significant in every aspect she'd chuckled. Did an excellent job on her, gave you a nice big fat belly every time, eh pony she'd said with a laugh slapping the animal lightly on the abdomen with the flapped tip of her crop.
Five foals! Three of them sold Margret had told her and the two oldest now occupying their stalls near their dam! Bluebell, the beautiful twenty-two-year-old female, was one of Eva's favourites, and she'd ridden the filly to near exhaustion only the day before. Thorn, the younger stallion was off-limits to her as were Margret's other three big stallions. He was truculent and unruly, a right handful apparently which was both rare and strange Margret had said considering he'd never known any other life beyond his existence in the stable. Almost worse than a fresh-caught wild one! It was only on account of his impressive 'stallion equipment' that had saved him from being gelded to quieten him down. The stable girls seemed very taken with it and measured him monthly convinced it was still growing. 'That' Margret had told her wryly is probably part of his problem. How can he settle down if they are getting him all het up every so often so's they can measure his damn King Kong dick!
Eva glanced around and then at her watch. There wasn't a damn thing to sit on just miles of windswept grass, scrub and stunted bushes. Shit! Well, she'd given the animal five, no better wait a tad longer, make it ten minutes and then remount. They could take the first few miles at a steady walk and later she'd try and crop the big stupid beast into a gallop again for the final stretch. No doubt that would put her into Prissy Missy Head Girl Heathers bad books again when she saw the state of this useless lump of a carthorse they'd given her today.
Well tough! Miss fucking Heather with her oh so cute soft Scottish accent could fucking well lump it! Eva was an honoured guest here wasn't she not a mere hired hand? Margret might have mildly scolded her a time or two, but that was as far as it went. Margret liked her, thought she was uber-cute so while she didn't have absolute carte blanche, what leeway she had was pretty generous. All she'd have to do was look suitably contrite and give her host that wide-eyed innocent little girl lost look and all would be swiftly forgiven.
The extra five minutes stretched almost to ten as her nasty little mind pictured the various scenarios that she'd personally like to inflict on Margret's head stable girl. None of them enjoyable for the bitch but all of them very satisfying for her. Wishful thinking though. Although it was a case of mutual dislike from that first meeting, the girl was too ingrained into Margret's operation and far too useful to be sacrificed on a whim for her little visitor's vindictive benefit.
It was, Eva ruefully reflected, a self-inflicted injury even if she didn't like admitting it. Heather was the exact opposite of her; she thought everything through, never acted on impulse, never lost it, carried out everything she did with the highest efficiency, ruthless efficiency when it came to handling, training and correcting recalcitrant ponies!
Heather was about six or seven years or so her senior, a pretty, cheerful, open-faced redhead but lacking the usual milky white complexion that went with her deep golden red curls. Hers was a deep natural year-round tan that almost but not quite camouflaged her numerous freckles. What was worse was that the bumpkin could casually munch her way through a vast burger or down a couple of beers without worrying about the aftereffects weight wise.
"Oh, Heather makes a perfect pony rider" Margret had told her. "Never so much as adds an ounce to her weight and so skilled, she can keep one of these beasts totting along for the better part of a whole day if she chooses to!"
That, Eva, reflected grimly to herself was one big part of her problem. By no means tall that oh so proficient bitch was almost a good head taller than her yet hardly nudged ahead of her on the old stable weighing scales. Bitch. No one would ever describe Eva as anything other than petite with a slim and shapely young figure yet...!
Weight, fucking weight was always the critical factor Margret had informed her during that first morning's instruction. Weight far more than size. Ninety per cent plus of the pony scene revolved around ponies harnessed to various carts, carriages or agricultural implements rather than being directly ridden simply because to do so for the majority of people was impractical. She'd paused to laugh at that point. Hell, some of my best and oldest friends in the scene would bring a bull elephant to its knees if they climbed on its back never mind some poor weak-kneed pony-gal! You wouldn't believe the diets some people are on so's to keep themselves in trim. Taint easy gal. However, given the right trained mount plus the appropriate equipment, for a suitable rider it was by no means impossible and indeed in many owners, and scene participants view the most pleasurable way of using the captive beasts.
Margret and Heather indulged in both forms of pony activity. The other two stable girls Margret employed only ever utilised the animals from the driver's seat on one of the numerous carts that were stored in a large shed adjacent to the main stable building. That was when the pair were not employed on the more mundane tasks about the stable a lot of which seemed to involve the unpleasant use of rake, wheelbarrow and shovel.
Eva grimaced. Yeah, that had been mentioned more than once by both her mother and sister, doing her fair share in future as they put it. Yes, her sister was dead right; they should acquire some suitable slave to be utilised around the place for that sort of unpleasant mundane manual activity. Margret hadn't directly insisted but had sort of heavily hinted that perhaps she might like to lend a hand with the chores as it was part of the learning process, an essential and perpetual part of ownership. Reluctantly she had...well had to a token extent and then only when she felt Margret's eye might be upon her. That was another reason for the growing friction between her and miss goody-two-shoes, Heather.
She's didn't mind the grooming, tacking up and looking after aspects so much. That could be fun, especially on the newer more skittish animals and would certainly be useful once she took full responsibility for her pony. However, the fucking shit shovelling! Yuck, that was an entirely different matter. She loved the thought of it the way the poor creatures had to live like the beasts they now were and all the 'animalisation' it entailed. The resultant practical aspects as they might affect her were less welcome!
"Weight. Fucking weight" she muttered to herself again as she eyed the speck of a ship on the horizon with unseeing eyes. It wasn't as if she was some huge lithesome amazon or squat heavyweight dwarf. Well, she was here to learn wasn't she so that she could get the best out of her pony. Learn how to extract everything the creature had to give daily and yet still leave it sufficient in reserve so's to aid its quick recovery.
Margret had said she would draw up a suggested schedule once they became more familiar with her chosen ponies individual potential. However, based on her experience and given the look of it and its age and evident fitness level there should be no problem in Eva riding it every other day so long as she didn't go too crazy. Even a short daily outing was unlikely to trouble it too much providing she toned down her over-enthusiastic tendency to put spurs and crop to pony hide!
The alternative Margret had sternly warned her would be a very short period of ownership. I have seen many a poor pony give out on the spot when too much has been asked of it. You can only use the whip so much. Use it to encourage and cajole, not to punish when riding out. If you want to punish the animal walk it back to the stable, let it rest for thirty minutes or so to reflect on its behaviour and the inevitable consequences to come. Then you can usually thrash them to your heart's content!
However, try it when the creature is totally knackered from carriage or saddle, and you'll soon be walking home dragging a dead pony. I know, I have done it myself but only the once. I have seen it happen to others though and on more than one occasion. There are some I could put a name to that will never learn. The fact that they can afford to replace the wretched animals is no compensation believe me. You get a whole lot more satisfaction from long term ownership and use of these beasts gal than from short time, believe me on that one. In any case the fact that those owners have the means to buy a replacement does not mean that they can. Ponies are not as easy to come by as a new car after all!
"Mmmm" she muttered to herself looking down at her expensive riding boots that matched her gloves. That killjoy Heather had insisted she remove her spurs today. Told her that Buttercup was far too long in the tooth for that sort of treatment nor was she likely to do anything to merit it and it wouldn't make much difference anyway. Bitch no doubt still had the hump about the state of Bluebells thighs when she'd reined her in yesterday afternoon back at the stable. Eva couldn't resist a wicked smile at the thought and an electric tingle shot through her crotch. Sheesh, the way that pretty filly had squealed into her bit and bounced her sadistic little rider every time those wicked devices had raked its thighs! Well there would be no pedantic over fussy head stable girl around when she got her own 'trained' pony back home would there?
She smiled smugly to herself and looked at her watch again. Ok so back to the stable, maybe she should have a few lettuce leaves for supper and at least pretend to do a bit more shit shovelling. She half-raised her left foot towards the dangling stirrup readying herself to heave up and throw her right leg over the saddle as the well-trained pony automatically bent and braced itself to take the weight. She paused then changed her mind.
A moment later she was walking the surprised but grateful animal back towards Margaret's old manor house and attendant complex of complimentary outbuildings. Better keep in with the Flower of Scotland otherwise known as Heather the 'over fussy' ponygirl trainer she reasoned as she walked, bring this one back in good, she looked the mare quickly over, ok then, at least in a reasonably acceptable condition! She'd walk as far as the top of that small hillock up ahead then once she could see her destination she'd mount up and ride the beast home but only at a leisurely walking pace and keep the crop unused much as that went against every instinct!
That should earn her a few brownie points, and she needed to keep on Heather's right side to a certain extent. Margret had delegated the responsibility for breaking and training 'Patootie' to her head stable girl much to her disappointment not to mention anger. Though there were conditions that had been imposed by her indulgent mother, Eva could assist if...and only if Heather needed it or when she felt it appropriate but otherwise she should concentrate on building up her riding skills and the other aspects associated with two-legged equine ownership on the more docile occupants of the stable.
Margret had been very firm about that from day one. If you merely want to amuse yourself young lady making some hapless creature scream under the kiss of your whip I'll quite happily buy you a worn-out old nag or useless slave dear, she'd told her. Yes, you could train your pony that way to a certain extent, but it will take you months, and I expect, the result wouldn't be at all satisfactory. After all you want to ride the animal don't you, to walk, trot, canter and gallop. Believe me there's a whole world of difference between having a well-trained frisky mount between your thighs and some dull over brutalised beast more suited to plodding along for hours dragging a farm plough!
Curb your usual impatience dear and those sadistic little impulses of yours, let us do it my way and leave the necessary spadework to Heather, she knows what she's doing. I have yet to come across a better one than her. After all you brought us a very fit, healthy young ponygirl straight from the wild, didn't you? Heather will see you go home with a very healthy fit but saddle trained ponygirl. You will get a double dose of fun out of her though pet. She won't have been here long enough to have become totally biddable so there will be more than enough spirit left in the creature for your crop and whip to quell over time. Indeed, I expect that you will have to give it a taste every time you propose to throw a saddle over its back for some time to come, but at least the animal will have been professionally broken to that saddle! No one ever got from A to B by flogging a dead horse my girl, keep that firmly in mind!
*****
"Open wide again for me, wider I said" the soft yet menacing voice commanded.
He obliged immediately stretching his jaws as wide as physically possible because he recognised and feared that note of sudden irritation in her voice. He knew from experience not to cause that brief spurt of annoyance to grow any greater, not unless he wanted a repeat of what she'd done to him only a little earlier. Patience was not her strong suit.
He shifted his position slightly as he remembered that painful interlude wincing slightly, partly because of the tortured squeak of plastic as his baby pants rubbed against the hard-wooden seat of his highchair. Mainly though because of the tender bruised flesh on his bottom that 'big sister Alice' had unceremoniously thrashed less than half an hour previously.
"Down the hatch baby," Alice said as she emptied a heaped spoonful of the muck into his gaping mouth, "all the way it goes plop plop down to belly belly town".
She smiled wickedly and paused to momentarily dab some spilt drops off his chin with a tissue before turning to scoop up another spoonful of the disgusting tan coloured muck out of the pink plastic bowl. Pink! Always fucking pink! The dish was pink the plastic spoon was pink even that tasteless brownish yuk being spooned into him seemed to have a pink tinge to it. Maybe that was just his imagination or had he gone colour blind in some way? It wouldn't surprise him he'd been looking at fucking pink for so bloody long now!
His eyes followed every movement as though mesmerised. Spoon to the bowl and back again and then once more head back and jaws agape, like a bloody baby bird in its nest or a Pelican swallowing a fish he thought. God, a fish, fish and chips, something anything to get his teeth into. Steak! Oh god a rare bloody steak. Food, real food not frigging thick creamy milk out of a bottle and spoon-fed liquidised muck out of a pink plastic bowl covered in Disney Princess and fairy Tinkerbell stickers!
It took the better part of ten minutes by his reckoning. He'd taken to counting the seconds silently to himself to break up the monotonous routine. It was getting quicker he noted. Originally that little bitch Eva had taken forever to feed her 'big baby girl ' no doubt relishing in the cruel novelty of his helpless predicament. Embarrassed, feminised, forcibly regressed and utterly humiliated for her insane amusement. Latterly though his meals hadn't been quite so regular he thought, and the feeding routine was definitely more hurried much more hurried. First with his young mummy and now with either her mother or older sister.
He'd begun to wonder what that portended plus the fact that he'd hadn't even seen Eva for what now seemed a long time. A very long while. He had neither watch nor calendar, but he somehow knew the little teenage sadist had been gone weeks rather than days. That was highly unusual, not to say disturbing. The little wretch had never failed to spend several hours a day making his life miserable for months now, either gloating endlessly over her helpless large adult captive in the infantile hell she'd created or more often applying some punishment or additional torment to his miserable existence!
The spoon scraped noisily around the bowl and then hovered over his mouth again. "Just one more Babykins, one big girl gulpy swallow and all done till nappy and bottle time."
He accepted the last spoonful and swallowed it down. The pink tissue wiped his mouth and lips clean and then she produced the big pacifier that he so hated. He automatically opened his mouth again to accept it not that he dare do otherwise, not with those cold cruel eyes upon him and the total control she exercised. He'd noted earlier that she had not hung the punishment paddle, Mrs fucking Beater back on its hook.
He felt her hands quickly fasten the strap behind his neck then she made a minor adjustment to the device. Her lips curled contemptuously as she looked at him then around the room. The room, the nightmare nursery his damn pink jail cell.
"You can stay in your highchair, for now, baby," she said then turned to look at him. "You know this is all beginning to get a trifle tedious, at least for me it is" She leaned forward, and he was conscious of the hunt of perfume about her and warm womanly smell. She was a beautiful girl, and despite his innate fear of her he felt his captive penis give a twinge. He froze trying to hold himself still and stiff. God, please don't let the bitch notice that he prayed.
He needn't have worried at least not about that gross misdemeanour. Her mind had been on other things, and now her mouth twisted slightly as her face took on a thoughtful expression. "I don't know about my little sister but the novelty of fucking around with oversized plastic pants and big baby girls shitty diapers every day has certainly worn off for me. Likewise spending half a day opening baby cans then spooning it down your ungrateful throat fuckface"
Fuckface! That worried him even more. That was the first time ever he'd been sworn at like that like he was an adult which of course he was. Always before it had been some sickening sweet endearment, baby, girlie, cutie or whatever and never anything coarse
She stood up and looked about the room again. He heard her mutter to herself. "First few months were fun but now...maybe its time to mothball all this stuff till the next time...." Her voice trailed off, and she turned to stare down at him.
He quailed under that steady, thoughtful gaze and quickly turned his head away. A chill ran through him. He was suddenly frightened, and what was worse, he didn't know why! He heard her laugh and then she gently patted him on the top of the head as she headed towards the door. She stopped when she reached it and turned back to face him.
"Tedious baby, tedious. Yep. I reckon when that lazy little sister of mine gets back, she may feel similar. A fact I can virtually guarantee! Maybe time for a big change baby, time to perhaps reverse things and put some muscle back on you, your gonna need it I reckon to earn your fucking keep and keep the skin on your back" she finished with a nasty laugh and departed slamming the door hard behind her.
He stared at it as he unconsciously sucked on the big rubber teat that filled his mouth just as his young mummy had so painfully taught him. Earn his keep, what did that scary bitch mean by that? He continued to subconsciously suck and to stare at the closed door for a long time after the metallic sound of her heels tip-tapping on the hall tiles had faded away.
*****
"Now these" Patricia ordered removing the wrapping tissue and tossing the shoes down at the woman's feet. Small dainty feet, she noted. Then again everything about this delightful little doll of a woman was small and neat but perfectly formed. Better still some things like those delicious udders on her and that sexy rump were formed a little bit out of proportion but so exquisitely on the more generous size.
The woman knelt down and began to hastily buckle the shoes to her feet no doubt conscious of the dog whip she so casually held doubled up in her hand. Twice it had already snaked out and across her latest clit lickers sexy bottom and doubtlessly the bit of fluff had no wish to feel the agonising burning fire of a third stripe.
Watching her, Patricia couldn't help thinking of the daughter now undergoing what was no doubt a very rigorous and intensive 'reprogramming' session courtesy of her good friend Margret and her capable staff. Would the daughter prove as easy to break as her mother had been? Hopefully Eva was learning a lot down there, perhaps the little darling would realise that there was more to owning a pony than just harnessing it up and flogging it for disobedience. Well she'd told Margret to make sure the lazy little brat pulled her weight, but she had suspicions as to how strict along those lines her friend would be.
"Up" she snapped, "stand straight, hands back on top of your head bitch. Next time I will expect you to put them on in half that time unless you want another taste of this beauty!" She brandished the short vicious dog whip in the woman's terrified face. "No" Patricia purred, "I didn't think so, I don't think dolly does want that, does she? So, stand straight girl, show me those nice tits of yours" she broke off with a nasty laugh and reached out to tap the fold of her whip against a quivering naked breast that jutted over the rim of the tight controlling corset. "Whoops, silly me, we both know whose tits they are now don't we girl! Well, girl, you may speak, who owns those fine udders of yours now?"
"You do Mistress Patricia," the woman said quietly with a stifled sob.
"That's right bitch, I own them, tits, cunt, fat arse and every other damn bit of you and if you ever forget it, my supple black leather friend, here or one of its nasty buddies will soon refresh your careless memory, and we both know how you feel about those lessons after the last few weeks don't we dolly?"
"Yes, Mistress Patricia" she replied with a shudder, but her frightened eyes darted elsewhere.
Patricia smiled down at her smaller victim. "That's right girl " she purred. "You've graduated from my private playroom but don't ever imagine that you've said a complete goodbye. Let's say you are out on parole. One fucking major slip, maybe even a small one and I'll drag you straight back down to your cage so we can spend another week together. There are games I can play that you couldn't even begin to imagine!"
The woman shook, and tears started to flow down her face. An extra loud squeal bordering on a scream from the bed momentarily diverted her attention.
"Face the front!" Patricia screamed suddenly enraged simultaneously slapping the smaller woman hard across the face with her palm. Her eyes flashed dangerously making the smaller woman flinch and start to tremble all over. "I am your Mistress, your owner, your goddess, the centre of your fucking universe. You don't ever; I repeat ever deny me your full attention. Not ever. That noise over there where your wimpy sissy little nephew slut is getting fucked good and hard by his master's enormous cock is nothing to do with you period. The only thing your tiny little mind has to focus on is me your mistress, and I expect that focus to be two hundred fucking per cent 24/7 so get that firmly fixed into your empty little head girl!"
Tears, Patricia thought. Well that was only to be expected at this stage, and if anything, it added to her delightful childlike vulnerability. How the hell had this little dolly produced that great big strapping amazon of a daughter she wondered. God, you'd have thought that she must have rutted with one of those vast American footballers. Her first husband though had been a bank clerk in England, and she's only ever slept with two men, and only then after marriage.
Patricia had learned a lot about her newest toy during her ' initiate' down in the basement. Answering questions, even highly personal intimate ones delayed the pain for a little while, provided her mistress was satisfied with the answers: only two, almost a virgin in terms of experience, just two cocks up her tight crack. Well her dildo collection had already upped that total plus her probing fingers had recently added a lot more flexibility to her dolly's underused love slot!
Quite a prudish little madam all told and enchantingly skittish still when her new owner felt the urge to caress the flesh of her quivering oh so exquisite latest acquisition. So delightfully pussy tingling that reluctant puritan streak in her, one to be nurtured and enjoyed many times over the coming months rather than brutally crushed as she crawled up the bed to pay homage to that sweet spot that was now the centre of her new universe!
The little dolly looked a perfect picture though now attempting to stand there so stiff and still, hands on her head fully dressed now. The glossy patent leather Mary Jane shoes, the white knee-length cotton socks, the ultra-short low-cut gingham apron dress, the transparent knickers that revealed her plump shaven pubes, the barely concealed braless udders, the hair ribbons to match her dress. Why had she never done this before she wondered? That little minx looked good enough to eat, who needed black suspenders and stockings to get a predatory bi dyke's clit all hot and wet?
Patricia half turned around, but the question died on her lips replaced by a slight frown. No point is asking that oaf what he thought, one glance towards the big bed told her that she could have shrieked 'fire fire fire' at full volume and the pneumatic thruster over there would be oblivious. No wonder little Dolly hadn't been able to resist sneaking a forbidden peep in that direction.
The source of most of the noise was on her back now black stocking clad legs wide apart waving in the air like a couple of broken windmill sails in a howling gale! Those shrieks were hardly ones of delight either as her bitch cunt received those vigorous deep probing thrusts. Every so often she got a brief reprieve as her skilled master stiffened, skilfully holding his climax back his large hands immediately seizing the opportunity to seek out and cruelly squeeze the small bud-like breasts, his greedy mouth clamping down upon and momentarily silencing that of the squealer writhing pinned beneath him.
The male animal at play Patricia sneered, and it was not a pretty sight either. That fucker could probably hold it back a least once more, maybe be twice before flooding the bitch with his slimy seed. Perhaps she could drag 'Auntie' over to lick the little fuck sluts bitchboy cunt out? Then again maybe not, Auntie had a long way to go yet before she could be relied upon to be that complacent. Her new submissiveness was still fragile. Besides, trying to force the bitch would involve too much hard work she decided settling down into her recliner chair plus more importantly her own needs were much more immediate.
Dolly, she decided suited her new little play pal better than Auntie. That's was what she was, after all, a cute little dolly who was going to get very well played with in the months to come and probably a lot longer. She had a hunch that she would prove to be a lot more entertaining than her sister once they got to know each other 'better' of course.
She reached out and rapped the woman on the thigh with her whip. "Go over to the dressing table Dolly and fetch me that cane laying on it. Crawl over there, pick it up with your teeth and crawl back to me with it in your mouth, bitch!" She spoke slowly and firmly finishing with a snap of her fingers. The woman hesitated, hesitated far too long that would cost her Patricia noted, then did as she was ordered. That cane would be a more suitable and flexible tool to encourage once the bitch was busy between her owner's legs.
Patricia watched her progress and wondered if she ought to introduce her to the remainder of her family? She'd already met her youngest nephew, but that was inevitable given their assigned roles in her house. How would she react to Baby, to Fido or Moonglow? Should she tell her about her own baby now living a life infinitely crueller than that of her mother, bad as that might feel right now. The woman turned cane in mouth looking for all the world like an unhappy little poodle! No, she concluded, let us wait until Eva returns with the newly transformed animal. I'll take her over to the stable, no better still, I'll wait till Eva comes trotting back from a nice energetic ride and she can see just what has become of her nosey inquisitive daughter as mine proudly reins in her sweaty well-whipped beast before mummy's horrified eyes.
The grunts and shrill squeals from the bed started again. Male animal was right. The lazy unshaven bastards buttocks did resemble a horizontal piledriver! Just look at the mass of black hair sprouting out of his arse crack and over his lower back below his corset. Hell, if you added that to his, arms, legs, chin, chest and crotch, it was no wonder Alice occasionally made sardonic reference to our 'Resident Gorilla!'.
Patricia watched dispassionately for a few moments. Didn't Margret mention once that she had some friends in Spain she visited occasionally. The ones who maintained their unique private zoo of 'exotic' two-legged birds and animals. Did they have a monkey house she wondered? She wasn't quite ready for him to follow the path of his predecessors, not yet, but it was a thought to keep in mind.