Chapter 22
“You know, I don’t believe there is anything funnier than watching a new pony that thinks it can escape”, Eva laughed. She was watching her older sister lead the struggling, kicking Patootie out of the horsebox towards the open doors of the stable building.
“Still as wild as they come, sis”, Alice tossed back over her shoulder, one hand tightly gripping and twisting the ponies bridle tightly. She half dragged, half walked the disorientated and uncooperative harnessed girl toward the lights that showed through the opening. Lights already bright against the looming darkness of the surrounding evening dusk.
“Not for long”, Eva giggled, doing a quick hop and a skip to catch up and at the same time lashing out with her right palm to deliver a slap upon her new ponies nearest as yet unsullied rump cheek. “I’ll soon have it just as docile as that pathetic animal of Heathers!” she nodded in the direction of the open double doors through which Heather and Jezebel had just disappeared, regretting that her riding crop was tucked away in her big bag. “Watch those fucking hooves of hers, though, big sis! She got Heather a couple of times, well, almost got her!”
“Teach your grandmother, kid”, Alice shot back. “Go take Midnight for a little walk if you want to try handling something really dangerous, and you know how long I’ve had that big unruly bastard in harness!”
“My my girls, “Patricia said approvingly a few minutes later as she stood with her daughters looking into the stall at their latest acquisition. “A first classy filly if I ever saw one. She was just born to occupy a stall. I knew the pair of you were right the moment I set eyes on the leggy creature. Still, now we have in it in harness ready to achieve its full potential, I’m almost tempted to lay a proprietorial claim myself as the senior stakeholder in this establishment as it were!” she finished with a chuckle.
“Don’t even think it, mummy dearest”, Eva growled warningly and then turned to scowl at her sister as Alice laughed. “Nor you either! This fucking animal is mine and mine alone, and if you’re not careful, I might cancel those visiting privileges we agreed upon!”
“Visiting privileges!” Heather was dusting her hands lightly together as she joined them from the adjacent stall, having lodged the docile Jezebel within. “That sounds interesting. What are they?”
Alice laughed and winked at her. “Tell you later, although I doubt you’d approve. I know you too well!”
Heather sighed and rolled her eyes. “Oh, I can guess. I know you just as well and also your, er, more unusual indoor riding habits shall we call them!”
Patricia smiled at her young guest and jerked her head. “Jezebel alright, Honey, comfortably settled in?”
“Fine. Everything I need, anyway, and I’m certainly not about to ask Jezebel if she’s alright or comfortable!” Heather laughed. “Besides, comfort is something I don’t do, not with that ageing mare of mine, period!”
All of them laughed at that, and Patricia said, “Well, supper is ready. I suggest a bite to eat accompanied by a welcoming glass or two of something nice to wash it down, and then you can pop back later and check on them if you want. Not that I imagine there will be any problems. Did you give them something to calm them for the journey?”
Heather nodded. “Yup, they are probably hungry, and they need a good hose down, but that can wait till morning. It’s best to let them get the sedatives fully out of their systems overnight. I’ll leave the ring gags in as well; sometimes, they throw up again in the night. There is no need to make unnecessary work for ourselves, double handling the beasts if they mess themselves up afresh! No pony ever died from a temporary coating of its own shit and puke!”
“Quite right” Patricia nodded approvingly. “Come then, girls, nothing fancy, I’m afraid, just a simple, wholesome cottage pie with some fresh locally grown green beans for a welcome home meal. Though the accompanying sparkling wine I have chosen is neither local nor cheap, I think you will all like it.
Heather smiled. “Thank you, and I’m sure it will be delicious.”
“It damn well better be!” Patricia said. “Otherwise, the cook, who’s also our newest pony’s mama, by the way, is going to be a very unhappy little mummy dolly by bedtime. Not to mention being exceedingly sore bottom wise! Leave the lights on, Alice, let the animal get a good look at its new home. Come along now, all of you, while supper’s hot.”
As the footsteps and laughing voices faded, that almost tangible air of tension vanished from the stable as the unwilling occupants housed within its old walls collectively relaxed fervently, hoping that they were now safe till morning. Every occupant settled bar one, the newest two-legged equine stood stock still, ridged with shock, and for once, it was not entirely her predicament causing such distress and dismay.
The chalked name above the entrance door read, Patootie in neat white letters. Inside the spartan stall, Jenny stood trembling and white-faced with shock as those few words of Patricia’s ricocheted around in her mind like a bullet fired inside a steel box. However, unlike a bullet, those words refused to lose their velocity and grew in intensity. ‘OUR NEWEST PONY’S MAMA, LITTLE MUMMY DOLLY‘, no!
Jenny didn’t need time to get a good look at her new home, lights or no lights. A single glance showed it hardly differed from the other spartan space she’d occupied for the last few weeks. A rear wall of old stone sprinkled with a network of dusty spider webs old and new. Either side sturdy wooden partitions high enough to deny any glimpse of her neighbours and a chest-high door secured probably with a simple catch on the other side.
Simple mechanically but as far away as the moon in terms of accessibility! Her arms and hands rendered useless restrained behind her back in that cruel leather binder. The same dirt and sawdust floor, the same rusted little drain cover was emitting a foul smell in one corner at the front of the stall, the same heaped pile of straw to sleep on and the same simple wooden shelf to support her feed and water troughs with just the water one on it at the moment. The familiar winking red light on a camera mounted high up and peering down observing her every move. The same hooks and substantial eyes were mounted in key places to provide restraining points or hang up those horrible whips and similar things.
Ominously four of those hooks were already occupied. A long riding crop, a thin bamboo cane, a rectangular wooden paddle with holes drilled through it and a short leather whip dangled from a neat row on one wall near the entrance beyond the range of her restraining chain. A small wooden sign had been fixed above and read ‘For use on Patootie only’.
Just for a moment, she forgot about those words in her mind as she stared first in amazement, then anger and finally horror at that neatly pained sign. Someone had taken the trouble to have that little varnished board made, professionally done by the look of it. Her emotions turned to fear as she silently mouthed the words painted upon it and the realisation of just who would use those simple yet terrible implements. During her uni days, she’d volunteered every other Saturday morning at a local cat rescue. They had little printed signs like that in some of the chalets ‘for use on X only’, but that was generally for medication or similar, not for, not for awful things like those!
Left to right and back, she took in the four items with a mounting sense of horror. ‘For use on Patootie only’. That was her name, the name that little blonde bitch had given her, that evil little bitch who claimed ownership over her. Ownership, for fucks sake! Like she was some slave. Her eyes moved, and for the first time since Alice had secured her, she looked around the simple stall again in depth and finally back to that sign and the cruel objects dangling so innocently beneath. No, no, she was not a slave, was she? No, life as a slave might be horrible but compared to, to….oh, God no! Those implements of torture dangling there so innocently. They wouldn’t; they couldn’t!
The nightmare was to continue unabated and worse; she knew they could, and they would, especially that little Bitch whose recent palm imprint was still smarting on her bottom cheek! Jenny closed her eyes, and her mind drifted back to the last time she’d been unwillingly thrust into an enclosure such as this one and worse, seen and even felt those same evil implements in daily use!
*****
Jenny looked about her in the dim artificial half-light. The abduction and kidnapping had morphed into a bizarre horror show that steadily got worse, far worse than anything she could ever have imagined with every passing minute. Not only worse but bizarre! She was standing in a small enclosure, looking about her trying to understand what was happening? Trying to reconcile what her disbelieving eyes and other senses were telling her, trying to come to terms with what she could see and hear in that huge evil-smelling building.
Those loud pitiful cries from above had ceased along with the accompanying sharp cracks and the sounds of laughter likewise, mocking female laughter. The noise had softened so that her straining ears could only catch odd indistinct snippets, grunting, a loud giggle, the occasional anguished cry of pain in a male voice and curious rhythmic squeaking sounds that reminded her of something, what? That old metal bed she’d played upon as a child, jumping up and down on its thin mattress as a makeshift trampoline making the old springs squeak and squeal in protest, that was it only quicker and more regular!
Jenny grunted, irritated by her lack of concentration, shaking that silly childhood recollection from her mind as she focused on more immediate matters. Her freedom to explore was limited by a length of steel chain fastened to the collar around her neck. Her wrists remained cuffed behind her back and her legs hobbled by a short length of rope. She had no option other than to shuffle along in small steps, but at least no one was dragging her along now. Apart from those restraints, which hardly counted as coverings, she was still completely nude.
Naked but not cold, although she’d shivered as soon as she emerged from the car into the cool night air. Now, if she shivered, it was from apprehension and fear, not from cold, for the vast building was relatively warm despite all that old stone and aged brickwork.
Jenny walked forward as far as she could, alone yet not alone she realised in that awful smelling building looking about her as far as she could in the dim artificial half-light. The four women had departed chatting about ‘catching up on gossip’ as if what they had just done to her was perfectly natural! Worse, a part of her numbed mind told her that to them; it probably was just how they thought about their strange criminal actions. If indeed they even thought about it!
The sounds from above had gradually ceased entirely or subsided to a level inaudible to her straining ears. Peering into the dimly lit interior, Jenny could make out an enclosure similar to hers opposite. Also, a portion of the one next to it in which a figure's indistinct shape briefly appeared. Or rather the head, shoulders and part of the upper torso, but it disappeared almost immediately. Jenny tried to cry out, but that horrible ring gagging her mouth distorted and muffled her attempt to communicate, and simply making frustrated muted sounds had no effect. That shadowy figure must still be able to hear her, but whoever it was, they did not reappear or respond in any way.
Jenny stamped her naked feet in frustration, driving them through the soft covering of gritty dirt to the solid floor underneath. Her ears and instincts told her that she was not alone in the building; her new accommodation was shared by more than just that unknown figure opposite. Other muted noises, rustles, the rattle of chain against chain or stone, and somewhere nearby, it sounded like someone sobbing softly but strangely muffled and distorted.
She’d been far too confused, frightened, angry, too disorientated and travel sick when they’d dragged her into the building. Now staring over at that other enclosure, she could half recall seeing others just like the one she was confined within as they half marched, half dragged her past them. Worse still, as those hazy images came to the fore in her mind, those other enclosures had also been occupied, hadn’t they?
A cold fear suddenly gripped her, colder and more frightening than anything she had yet felt since this…this crazy, farce, this ridiculous and yet horrifying situation had started. A chilling realisation grew by the second as its shock therapy overrode the drugs that had numbed her mind and body. A mind usually alert, active and intelligent. She hadn’t been under the influence of drugs all the time had she and yet remembered those odd snippets of conversation and specific words, odd words!
Words with animal connections or references had frequently cropped up by her captors as they talked. Words those crazy bitches had used. Pony, udders, harness, beast, animal and the way they casually used them and referred to her as though she was some inanimate dumb object? No, worse than that, not even an object. Like a pet, an animal, NO!
Her mind cleared like a blurry camera lens image snapping into pinpoint focus, and she leapt forward without thinking and promptly crashed to the floor as the chain attached to her collar brought her up well short of the entrance to what she now knew was a stall. A fucking stall in a barn or stable. A place where people kept animals!
Her spirit was willing, as was her body and strong legs, but the steel chain was not, and Jenny fell heavily to the floor with her legs still kicking out vainly towards an exit denied her as her own momentum yanked her backwards to fall heavily in the dirt. Breathing deeply, Jenny slowly regained her feet, telling herself not to panic, to think before taking any action, that she was lucky not to have broken her neck the way she’d been so abruptly jerked off her feet by that damned metal tether. It was probably as well that her long, athletic legs had been denied full mobility by that short hobble, otherwise!
By now, her eyes had become accustomed to the dim light, and she moved about examining the enclosure, the stall for Christ’s sake, that confined her and how much leeway that wretched chain allowed. An examination that was over almost before she’d begun, for there was nothing that her eyes had not already taken in. She could reach either side, the rear wall, the pile of straw, and the shallow water trough shelf but not the simple gate-like door. Nor she realised as she experienced a sudden needful urge, that small evil-smelling little drain to the right of the entrance door!
Once again, she stamped her feet in frustration, strangely an emotion rapidly overtaking that of fear and anger, at least for the moment. There was anger, but that was because she could not use her hands cuffed as they were behind her back and that more than the chain tether made her realise just how helpless her position had become. That door just a few feet away might as well be on the moon, yet surely if she could reach it, there might be some way of escaping this whole stupid business, there must be.
Now the sobbing sound was loud in her ears because this time, she was the one sobbing as she stood with that wretched chain stretching out behind her, that gate so near and yet so far. Involuntary sobs partly of furious rage at her incapacity mingled with returning fear as the hopelessness of her predicament began to overwhelm her. That other urge was now becoming overwhelming, and she started to shout as her need for a bathroom visit grew more and more urgent, and once more, her legs pistoned rapidly up and down, trampling through the dirt but now driven by a different frustration.
That ring gag in her mouth reduced everything to a muted incomprehensible gibberish which only added to her frustrations. It was heard only by those nearby who were in no position themselves to offer her any assistance. In any case, even if they could have done so, none of them would have dared risk the terrible wrath of the stable mistress and suffer the inevitable painful or worse consequences!
Although Jenny did not know it, her antics were not going entirely unnoticed. Over at the house in the big kitchen come dining area that dated back in part to the mid-seventeenth century one pair of not so innocent blue eyes had continually strayed to a nearby monitor. Eva forked another spoonful of delicious homemade pizza and slowly masticated it while watching her pony exploring its new temporary home. Such fun and this was only the beginning, hardly even the prologue! There was no sound coming from the monitor, and even if there had been, she would have taken no notice. The fact that her pony desperately needed to empty its bladder passed unnoticed, and even if she had known it would have made no difference. That was what the dirt floor was for, wasn’t it!
Jenny had inched as far forward as that chain would allow and remained a good couple of feet short of her target. The exit no longer preoccupied her endeavours; instead, she focused solely on that simple grating—a rusted drain covering with a half dozen or so long narrow slots within its six-by-six-inch iron frame. So near and yet so far, and she could distinctly smell that foul odour of old drains that emanated from it that mixed with that other smells that assailed her nostrils.
That drain was the only practical solution she could think of as it was becoming clear that there would be no other assistance forthcoming to alleviate her growing problem. The spartan enclosure offered nothing else, not even a rusty galvanised bucket, which would have seemed almost like a luxury fitting in her present state of mind! She stamped her feet and ratted the chain in a frenzy of frustration. It was like some bizarre puzzle to which there would be a simple solution could she but work it out!
Of course, there was a simple solution, and after the latest bowel cramp and another fruitless bout of foot-stamping, she realised that she’d have to surrender her dignity to the obvious. She glanced up at that impartial camera even as she reached that inevitable conclusion and other crushing and humiliating realisations followed directly behind as though they’d formed a neat queue just awaiting that green light to proceed! There would be no bathroom, no soft lavatory paper, no privacy, no anything! This was precisely what they intended; this bizarre situation was why she was here, why they had kidnapped her, and she knew that there would be no ransom demanded nor anything else for her safe return.
No, these evil criminals already had their foul hands on their prize, hadn’t they? Just as they must have done similar to the other family members, had this been their terrible fate too? Were they locked up in this building just as she was, or were they elsewhere, back where she’d first awoken to the nightmare, perhaps?
Tears began to flow down her cheeks and her body tensed at the humiliation about to come. Oddly the oft-quoted line from Shake spear’s Henry V came to her mind. ‘My kingdom, my kingdom for a horse!’ In her case, a couple of extra feet of old chain would have served the moment. Never would she have believed herself to be lusting after access to such a simple object as that foul-smelling rusted drain cover.
Sobbing with humiliation, indignation and anger, Jenny squatted and relieved the painful pressure on both bowel and bladder to splatter into the dirt at her feet, the winking little red light above her now un-noticed and forgotten in that blissful moment of absolute yet degrading relief. Nor could she hear the loud whoop of delight that startled Eva’s dining companions as the young girl caught the action on the monitor. Her new pony had just taken the first step, even if it was a squat, on its journey to total obedient animalisation!
Three weeks and another long journey later, Jenny now stood feeling drained and sick, blinking back tears as she looked about her new yet oh so familiar spartan home, déjà vu, a growing feeling of dread filling her at the thought of what the next day might bring. Her damp tear-streaked eyes constantly flicked toward that rack of horrors with its simple inscription above. Her feet still hurt so badly from what that Red-haired sadistic girl had done them at that other place.
She stood stiff and silent, alone bar the presence of others nearby; Jenny could sense them more than see or hear despite the occasional shuffle. Even as the tears began to flow again, she wondered for how long she would be left alone, and her family, were they here as well? Jenny was not to know that other members of her family, both near and far, were neither alone nor unemployed!
*****
Her aunt, now known as Gertrude or Gertie, knelt attentively’ hands on head, beside a large, heavy old-fashioned wooden bed. Her eyes were downcast as she waited patiently, ready to serve upon her owners every whim. Her bored eyes roved around the faded pattern on the threadbare carpet and then the nearest bed leg, noting the many small holes evidence of woodworm at some stage in its long life. Everything in the house was old, worn and stale smelling, including the horrible woman laying comfortably on the bed above her reading a book. The very opposite of her chic sweet smelling beautiful if exceptionally sadistic younger sister!
There was total silence other than the occasional rustle of a book page turning and her own breathing, controlled breathing, for she’d already been admonished for breathing far too noisily as though she’d just run a marathon or something! The admonishment had come with more than words in the form of a hard slap to her left cheek. Even then, the bitch had been far too lazy to get off the bed, and she’d suffered the humiliation of having to stand up and then bend over to present her face for the slap!
Marathon, fat chance trapped in this mouldering house of woodworm riddled antiques! No wonder she breathed hard. The two sisters had kept her cooped up indoors for so long that even a walk to the garden gate would probably have exhausted her! Her ears picked up the rustle as another page turned, and she began to think of the world outside the old house. A world she hardly knew only through the grimy unwashed windows, security windows slightly tinted, she’d been told, locked closed and unbreakable.
Why they needed to be tinted was beyond her understanding. Yes, it did mean that no one in the road outside could see her trying to signal for help, but why bother going to that expense when the exterior glass was so filthy no one would have been able to see in any way? The interior surface was immaculate; it had to be, for that was one of her newly allocated tasks, and woe betide her should that lazy bitch find a single smudge on the unbreakable glass. Needless to say, she always did!
Her life had changed much as she’d suspected when the bitch returned from her little holiday and resumed ownership of her borrowed captive pet. At least some aspects of it had changed, for she was no longer treated like a humanised canine crawling everywhere denied the dignity of standing upright. Now she was an overworked housemaid cum cook cum any other job and role going until bedtime when she resumed the lapdog role, literally. Although lapping dog might be more accurate!
Thanks to her previous efforts under the gruesome twosome, the house's interior had been somewhat transformed as she and the hapless Wanker strived daily after ‘lessons’ to remove layers of accumulated dust, grime and general filth. How was he doing she wondered that poor emaciated man? Even though she’d barely exchanged a word with him, a no-no as she’d quickly learned the painful way, she’d still felt a certain sense of kinship with the wretched fellow. Comrades under extreme duress!
Every night she thought seriously about killing the foul bitch and had come up with at least a half dozen ways in which to do the deed. Satisfying as that would be, the drawback would undoubtedly mean a long slow, and unpleasant lingering death for herself through starvation and thirst. Her legs hobbled together as always by a short chain, her arms allowed only so much movement, her wrists attached by locked leather cuffs and short chains to substantial D rings on the punishingly tight leather corselet encircling her waist.
Those impediments adjusted as necessary during the day made her life of servitude also tricky, but she’d learned to cope. Even after the nightly adjustments, she could still have strangled the awful woman or smothered her with one of those lumpy old feather pillows. Old feathers, for God's sake, like those antique things she’d slept on many years ago at her grandmother's house!
Unfortunately, the nightly ‘going to bed ritual’ entailed additional restrictions after she’d undressed her stinking mistress (bathing and teeth cleaning being somewhat occasional random optional extras as the mood took the bitch!). She had to present her balled hands, allowing a pair of thick leather bag like pouches to be locked around her wrists, denying use of her fingers. Then as she knelt obediently by the bed, a length of chain padlocked to her stiff, unyielding posture collar, the other end locked to the old, tarnished brass bedstead.
The same routine every night, and now as always, her knees began to ache. As usual, she started to rock and shuffle slightly, almost imperceptibly so’s to relieve the pressure on her kneecaps without disturbing the figure reclining in the bed beside her. If it wasn’t for that wretched chain, even the leather mitts on her hands could not prevent her from somehow placing and holding one of those pillows over that hated face. That lousy chain with its heavy yet standard padlock. A simple yet effective barrier to her freedom.
The horrible hag might stink, might not give a fig for personal hygiene or her appearance, and was probably one of the laziest creatures on the planet, but she was not stupid. Cruel, cunning, wicked, sadistic, vicious and a whole lexicon of similar adjectives, but stupidity was not one of them. Her last act before climbing into bed every night was to casually toss the little bunch of keys that kept her slave confined onto the top of the heavy mahogany dresser in the far corner.
The ticket to freedom so near and yet so far! Even if she could make the chain stretch that far how could she use them? Hold them in her teeth perhaps and try and fiddle it into one of her wrist locks. Doable, perhaps, just? But there were so many keys on that little bunch! The instinct to turn her head and look over at that dresser was powerful, but she resisted the impulse.
Her eyes drifted slowly upwards instead until they rested on the large padlock that secured her neck chain to the brass rail and an involuntary shiver ran through her body. It wasn’t the lock, though, that caused the tremor but rather the object next to it. A simple crook handle old fashioned school rattan cane. A cane that she was already far too familiar with and the hand that wielded it was indeed a firm believer in the old proverb about never sparing the rod!
Her ears caught new sounds and instantly lowered her gaze back to the floor, hoping her transgression had passed unnoticed. Those noises were something she hated and dreaded even more than the uncomfortable and sometimes lengthy periods of bedside kneeling. Those sounds heralded her final task of the day, one she would never get used to performing nor the loathing and nausea that accompanied it as always with this foul harridan!
The initial noise had been the soft snap of the woman above closing her book, followed by the grating one as she opened and then closed the drawer in the bedside table as she put it away. Then the clink of a glass as she sipped her water followed by the chorus of ancient bedsprings protesting as she shuffled down the bed a little seeking a comfortable position for her stinking body on the lumpy old mattress. Any moment now, the fingers would snap?
“Girl, Gertrude, get yourself up here girl, I need a little tongue loving to relax me before I go to sleep. Get up on the bed, girl, now! Quickly and make it good if you don’t want to feel the kiss of your little bamboo friend hanging here yet again!”
Gertrude hardly heard the last part, not that she needed to, for she’d listened to the same thing in one form or other many times. She was already burrowing under the stuffy bedcovering and lowering her head towards her mistress and owners stinking crotch. The sooner she started, the sooner it would be over, and she could return to her previous location, retrieve her dusty blankets and filthy coverless pillow from underneath the bed and curl up on the threadbare carpeting till morning.
A morning that all too frequently started with an almost mirror image reversal of the going to bed routine! The only exception was the book's omission, but the crawl under the stuffy bedcovering and what followed was identical!
Back at the big house, unlike his distant mother, curled up and shivering under her thin blankets or his newly-arrived cousin in her bleak stall, the youth known as Girlie endured in far better accommodation. He at least had the advantage of lying full length on an enormous comfortable bed in a large, warm, scented, softly decorated feminine room. The Master bedroom of his owners where the word master took on a whole new meaning, at least for him!
A bedroom that was considerably more spacious than his allotted accommodation. That over-scented, feminised claustrophobic little cubbyhole! His was more a walk-in wardrobe with the addition of a hard, narrow bed and a sizeable dressing table rather than a good-sized bedroom.
That’s not to say he was in any way comfortable, far from it. His bottom was smarting from the hard hand spanking and paddling he’d received less than thirty minutes before, and his rectum hurt from the short but excessively vigorous fucking it had just hosted! ‘A little early evening loving sweetie’, his Master had whispered in his ear as they’d gone upstairs. Hot eager hands alternatively clutching then slapping at his buttock cheeks and propelling him upwards quickly with an urgency which from experience the youth knew didn’t bode well.
His apprehensions had proved correct, for no sooner had they reached the bedroom than he found himself hauled over his master’s lap as one hand spanked his bottom, the other twisting and holding one of his arms behind his back pinning him down. Even as he lay there desperately trying not to scream and cry out, he was aware of something beyond the fiery pain spreading across his bottom cheeks.
A something he was very familiar with beneath his naked belly, down in its cloth lair, he could feel the first stirrings of the monster that dominated his entire life! The harder and faster the hand spanked, the more the beast greedily fed off his pain and anguish and as he began to shout and shriek and scream. That terrible appendage stiffened and pushed against upwards in its eagerness to escape and once more assault the flesh writhing above it! Nor had that greedy organ long to wait!
Twenty minutes later and sated for the moment the monster, as he thought of it, the dreadful thing had subsided, emptied its horrible payload into his anal passage. No doubt to trickle slowly and humiliatingly out and down his thighs and stocking-clad legs should he be required to resume a vertical stance any time soon. That he thought was unlikely under the circumstances, wishful thinking. The last thing his Master had grunted when his crushing weight had finally rolled off him was, ‘keep them spread bitch; you’re in for a long hard night, plenty more shots left in my magazine, cunt!’
Girlie wasn’t to know that his Master had earlier declined an invitation to join his wife and her two daughters for a late supper chiefly on account of their young guest. Out in the big ensuite bathroom, the master of the household that wasn’t stood before the toilet holding his semi-flaccid cock in one hand, emptying his bladder and scowling down at the green-hued lightly pine-scented water in the bowl below him.
Patricia’s husband did not get on well with Heather’s employer, and his relationship with her youthful head stable girl was no better. In fact, ‘get on well’ was a considerable understatement. It would be far more accurate to say he did not hit it off with Margret at all and the feeling of intense dislike and loathing was mutual. Likewise with her young protégé. In addition, they both frightened him, plus he’d also seen Heather's ponygirl, Jezebel, on several occasions and didn’t at all care for the speculative way the redheaded girl looked at him sometimes. Worse, it wasn’t as if she was even discrete about it!
They were both like that, Heather and her employer, Margret. They were outwardly polite enough but in an unconvincing off-hand sort of way, plus they both shared that same predatory way of looking at him that he found so disturbing. No, make that scared the shit out of him! If those two ever had their way, they’d have him harnessed and stalled before he could so much as blink an eye in disbelief. He had no illusions as to the sort of treatment he’d receive from them either. He knew how Heather treated Jezebel and had seen the other wretched occupants of Margret’s stables more than once.
His damn wife had only told him a short while ago that Eva and Heather would be arriving soon, bitch! There was no time to shoot off elsewhere for a few days, and that was never easy anyway and took some cunning, careful planning. Patricia was a controlling, possessive woman. Whereas she allowed her daughters a considerable degree of leeway, he often felt that he was as much on a leash, albeit an invisible one, as her fucking dogs over in the kennel!
The idea of seeing that nasty speculative avaricious gleam in the young red-headed bitches eye did not appeal to him one bit. He’d grumpily told Patricia that he’d have a snack and retire early with Girlie to help him relax. ‘Been feeling a bit tense recently, also a bit under the weather of late, love, might sleep in as well tomorrow and have a late breakfast, been overdoing things a bit recently’. His wife had raised her eyebrows in mock astonishment that was not entirely mock at that last remark. Patricia had laughed before pointedly reminding him that Heather, the delightful girl that she was, would be staying for the week so he wouldn’t be able to avoid her forever!
Worse, the bitch had chuckled and said, ‘Really darling, you should try and make friends with Heather. She’s a lovely girl when you get to know her, and who knows when that might be useful to you?’ she’d laughed again when she said that, but he didn’t find it the least bit funny!
He realised that he had finished and absently shook the last few golden yellow drops from his bulbous penis head. ‘Lovely girl’, hell, he’d seen that Jezebel of hers and also observed the ‘delightful’ little bitch at work more than once. Was that last statement of Patrica’s some sort of a veiled threat? ‘Who knows when that might be useful to you?’ He turned to stare moodily at himself in the big bathroom mirror. Was there a hidden meaning to her words, he wondered as he stared at his reflection. Was she getting tired of him, were his days numbered?
He had few illusions left about the beautiful, mysterious woman he’d met at a private, very upmarket and exclusive New Year fetish party. The followed romance had been brief and something of a whirlwind roller coaster as she revealed more and more of her unique lifestyle to him. A regime both terrible and wicked yet so bizarrely fascinating and compelling that he became a willing accomplice almost overnight. Every day brought new cruelties to those unfortunates who were in a far less favoured position in her household, and he constantly marvelled at the casual, seemingly indifferent way she ruled her little empire of pain and humiliation!
Before meeting her, he’d thought himself something of a strict masterful dominant, but he’d soon realised that he barely qualified for novice status compared to her. He still wasn’t quite sure why she’d married him, Patricia naturally being the one who’d proposed and had taken the lead role throughout their brief courtship. He’d hardly known many of the people at that party. Still, the invitation had been so compelling he couldn’t resist besides as a young and upcoming wannabe executive in the financial world, he knew the sort of people who attended such functions would be those worth meeting!
Patricia certainly had been, at least for the last few years, he thought, staring pensively at his reflection for at least a minute as a fit of slow anger grew within him. He was an appendage, that’s all, wasn’t he? A peripheral factor in this matriarchal household! When had he last made an important decision or even been consulted on one? He was a handsome face with a big dick, and not much more, wasn’t he. A prize bull! Come to that, when had Patrica last made use of what he had to offer, weeks ago! He was as much a pet as her others, albeit one with vastly more freedom!
It wasn’t the first time he’d had such thoughts but tonight seemed to transcend all those other times of doubt and, if he was honest, added something that he could not shake, a touch of fear. It wasn’t just Heather, and her boss was it either. That fucking lesbian bitch Alice was just as bad.
He paused thoughtfully, wondering if she was a lesbian. As far as he knew, she’d never had a boyfriend, but then again, the same applied to girlfriends, at least in the romantic context. Heather was a good friend, but then Patricia had told him once that the girl had a massive hunk of a boyfriend squirrelled away somewhere to keep her happy in bed. Maybe she went both ways? Alice, now he thought about it, certainly did the bisexual bitch. Male or female, she used them both for her pleasure, didn’t she but did she even see them that way or merely as helpless sexless animals to satisfy her perverted lust?
That rage within him grew more potent as an image suddenly popped into his head. Naked, helpless, and harnessed, he was the one stretched over that hurdle in the stable with Alice poised strategically behind him, naked apart from her boots and a damn great strapon! He grunted, balled his fists in frustrated anger and charged out of the bathroom, staring almost unseeingly about the bedroom for a second and then focused on the pathetic lingerie-clad figure laying on the big bed.
His cock stirred immediately at that tempting sight while his anxious fury died almost as fast as his massive erection sprang back to life. His foul brooding mood demanded some form of action, instant action to elevate his…his what? A feeling of inadequacy? No, not quite that but that horrible gnawing sense of irrelevance, of impotence, of being emasculated in his own house. But he wasn’t, was he. He was all man with the means of proving it again and again, unlike some!
He gave Girlie an evil grin that grew broader as his now terrified little bunny slowly bum shuffled up the bed towards the oversized padded headboard. His eye caught sight of his wife’s bamboo cane hanging by its crook handle on her side where she’d left it after encouraging her Dolly’s tongue to more outstanding efforts the previous night. His big evil smile grew broader and his boner taller as all other anxieties momentarily forgotten, swiftly banished by more immediate primal urges of virile masculine desire and the means to sate them was so conveniently to hand!
Elsewhere and unbeknown to Jenny, others she had searched for were also beginning another night of captivity. Although she didn’t know it, her oldest cousin, the youth know known as Fido to his owners, was also desperately trying to control the sound of his breathing just as his distant mother strived to do the same.
Strangely he wasn’t uncomfortable, which was a little odd given his predicament. He was strapped face down upon one of Miss Alice’s narrow angled padded bitching benches. Tightly strapped down to the point where he could hardly so much as twitch, let alone do anything else and yet he wasn’t uncomfortable. That he suspected was more a design accident and perhaps his body shape rather than anything intended by the evil sadistic bitch who’d put him there!
The bindings that held his limbs permanently bent double no longer bothered him. The pain and discomfort had long since disappeared, or almost had unless he thought about them too much, or so it seemed to him. Maybe it was the other way around, and he started thinking about them when they hurt him? His chief worry was what they were doing to his body in the long term, for they hadn’t been loosened or removed, not once since that evil bitch Alice and her equally evil mother had fastened them about him!
Day and night, that worry gnawed at him like cancer, making what was already a hideously boring and humiliating life even worse. Indeed, could anything be worse than what fate had already condemned him to. At school, he remembered his horror in history lessons when learning about the cruelty of the Middle Ages and burning people alive at the stake. At the time and for years afterwards, he’d had a fear of fire. A horror of being trapped in a building or a burning car but compared to his present life, such as it was, at least those poor devils had an exit. Excruciatingly painful undoubtedly, but only for a relatively brief period whereas…..
A single unbidden tear trickled slowly down his left cheek, followed a moment later by a second. He blinked back the third. Ironic, he thought, for he’d probably shed more tears in the last few months than he’d done throughout his entire childhood. The last time he’d seen that other little sadist, Eva, she had taken him ‘walkies’ along with her mother and Floppsy, one of the other wretches imprisoned in this hellish mockery of a dog pound they’d created for their perverted amusement.
Watching the pair of them go ‘poopies’, Eva had casually asked her mother about those limb bindings that so worried him, asked the very question that tormented him. What happened when they were removed? Would he return to normal? Would he be able to walk upright again like a man? Patricia had just laughed; she would, he’d thought, the cruel, heartless bitch! There was not an ounce, no not even a thousandth of a gram of sympathy in her evil black heart!
Her mother's answer had amused her nasty little daughter, of course, but it terrified and crushed him. After she’d laughed, the woman told Eva that she couldn’t say, for she had never removed the ‘puppy bindings’ on her dogs, nor had she heard of anyone who ever had. Occasionally yes, but only for some vet treatment or to replace them, but why should she and anyway, would they even want her to after a few years? They were dogs now; not people don’t forget that, honey and valuable dogs at that. Of course, just like the ponies, the foolish creatures still think like people, as you know but who gives a damn about that! Then they had both laughed.
He’d been crushed and by the end of ‘walkies’ also black and blue from the savage toe of Eva’s trainers and the inevitable quirt she carried. His brain had gone into a state of numb limbo and taken what little coordinated movement his truncated limbs had with it. The bitch had just dragged him along by his leash while applying multiple doses of additional motivation. Even now, he still carried the diminishing marks of those beatings and the pain from her vicious kicks was not entirely just a memory.
Another tear escaped. So was this his life now, his future, to be no more than a captive pet! A very un-pampered pet owned by a crazy woman and her terrible daughters? To be kept for their perverted amusement and not, he shivered as a creaking sound came to his ears, not only for their sole entertainment! He stiffened in terror as that creaking crackling sound was repeated, followed by a heavy snuffling sound. No, not again, he screamed inwardly!
Alice had amused herself with him earlier in her usual depraved way. He’d been dozing, happily dreaming of things now unobtainable when she crashed into the kennel building in her customary door banging manner. He looked up, instantly reminded as always of his ridiculous and humiliating position and lowly place in her world.
She looked her usual gorgeous self dressed in a pair of abbreviated denim shorts like those her younger sister frequently favoured. A simple knotted white blouse, thin leather gloves and a pair of mud-splattered riding boots and naturally the obligatory riding switch in one hand. The girl was at most only a year or so older than he was and yet the gulf between them felt wider than the Atlantic Ocean!
She regarded him with regal contempt for a moment, and he found himself edging backwards towards the false security of the rear wall of his pen. His apprehension was not relieved when she disappeared for almost immediately, he heard the scraping sound of her moving heavy objects around further down the building, and he knew what that portended. His sinking feeling grew, and he began his customary prayer that if ‘chosen’, it would be to service her wanton sexuality with his mouth and not something vastly more demeaning, not to mention unnatural, painful and frightening!
Another door clanged further down, and he heard her voice, loud and impatient. “Move stupid mutt, move”. He listened to a plaintive female squeal as that switch of hers found helpless flesh to bite. He cringed, further pressing himself hard against the rough wall, willing himself through it and wishing they’d left the door to his outside run open. They hadn’t, though, and now she was back unhooking his leash from its peg and opening the door. Her fingers snapped, and one slim leather-covered finger pointed down towards her boots while the other hand readied the catch on his lead. There was no escape, nowhere to run, not that he could, so he shuffled towards his young owner’s imperious finger and those filthy boots his tongue must pay respectful homage to before her fingers snapped a second time and then used that vicious switch upon him!
The bitch hadn’t bothered to return him to his pen after she’d had her fun. He’d drawn the short straw, for she’d chosen Floppsy’s tongue to assuage her sexual lusts and condemned him to the ‘entertainment’ role purely for her sadistic amusement and arousal! All Floppsy had to endure was a few whacks with that long switch from time to encourage her oral efforts while he suffered first one and then a second assault by Sultan, one of the two enormous real dogs they kept supposedly for site security.
They might well keep the terrible creatures for additional security, but the evil bastards also kept them for another far more sinister purpose. Not only were the damn things well-fed on real red meat and other tasty titbits and treats and spared physical chastisement, but they also left their ‘big doggie boy bits’ as they called them, untouched, unneutered and free, unlike his caged penis.
Twice, the hairy beast had ‘bitched him’ in Alice’s terminology. He’d almost thrown up before the second mounting as he watched her force poor Floppsy to arouse the already randy beast with her mouth and tongue while that switch ensured she did so with gusto! How low could some people sink on the morality scale to take pleasure from making anyone do such a disgusting thing? Worse still, as he’d twisted his head around to watch, seemingly unable to resist the awful spectacle he’d managed to catch Miss Alice’s eye, and she’d promptly licked her lips then deliberately smiled at him and nodded at the pair engaged at her feet. ‘Soon Fido, soon boy, be patient!’. The bile had risen in his throat at that. What did she mean? He knew that in a moment, she’d release that randy beast once more to sate its unnatural lust in a wholly abnormal way, but did she also mean in future? He wanted to vomit as he saw the thick angry red tube thrusting into Floppsy’s mouth. Not that, no way!
Twice he’d suffered that humiliating and exceeding painful bestial sexual assault, his helpless body, used in such a vile manner. Mated like a bitch purely for a pretty girl’s sadistic visual entertainment and sexual arousal, watching a giant hound empty its pent up sexual needs deep into his abused rectum. Twice he’d been bloodily and painfully raked by the creature’s blunt claws as it reared up and gripped him tightly with its front legs in a crushing grip. Blunt those claws might be, but they still tore his skin to shreds, not that his tormentor cared one jot as she writhed in orgasmic ecstasy in her chair only a few feet away.
Once she’d recovered herself, the bitch had put Floppsy back in her pen; no sooner had she returned for him than her cell phone had gone off, and after a brief conversation, she’d hurried out, leaving him still strapped down upon that damn bench. Worse still, his recent hairy lover was also still present, curled up in a big basket over in the far corner, seemingly sated and snoring softly, oblivious to anything else now.
He wasn’t gagged or muzzled as they put it in their stupid canine terminology; he rarely was these days. Their whips had effectively silenced him bar the obligatory doggie noises! The lights had abruptly gone out, followed by the sound of a door slamming shut. He’d risked it, the beating he’d get for using human speech, but he was panicking! He didn’t want to be left alone, not with that hairy monster without any supervision, not when he remained on that bench completely helpless, no way! He knew how randy the damn things were. He called out, called again louder and then shouted in panic, but to no avail. Alice had gone elsewhere.
He had lain in the dark, quiet and still for what he judged to be several hours now. Even his breathing had sounded unnaturally loud to his ears, and he’s striven in vain to control it. The more he tried then, the louder it seemed, so he’d given up. Then had come the moment he’d been dreading. That snoring from the corner suddenly grew louder, less regular, then terminated abruptly with a couple of loud snorts followed by a sort of hiccupping snorting cough and then the sound of lips being masticated and some heavy panting. The monster dog was awake!