A Tale Of Two Families

Chapter 27

“Who is this pretty little thing” Mistress Claire inquired. 

Agnes giggled and stroked the young girl’s long blonde hair, then ran her hand non to gently over the captive girl’s multi-hued and cane-stripped buttocks. “Thith ith Thabina, theth German, thee don’t thpeak Englith much, but then mother theth we don’t need her mouth for that, do we” Agnes chuckled and bent down to kiss and lick the girl’s ear, making her squirm and wriggle in disgust. 

The door into the next room opened, and two people emerged, the first being the dispirited weedy man known as Wanker and behind him the black-clad, squat, toad-like figure of Miss Primrose. He looked even thinner and more emaciated than when she’d last seen him, and back then, he’d always dressed in that ridiculous schoolboy costume. Now he was almost naked apart from a pair of pink old-fashioned knee-length bloomers with blue elastic around the knees, a short frilly white apron and a pair of well-scuffed pink court shoes with four-inch stiletto heels.

He shuffled past her without so much as a glance and disappeared into the hall, and she noted that the silly-looking bloomers were bloodied and stained where they clung to his skinny buttocks. It wasn’t old either, she realised but damp and very fresh. Her eyes turned to Miss Primrose's long bamboo cane as she advanced to greet and kiss her visitor.

“You should feed that wretch from time to time”, Mistress Claire observed dispassionately, “I can count every rib. He looks like a concentration camp inmate! I trust you’ll take better care of my bitch, I don’t want her looking like that, and neither will my sister, even if she is here just for a week. Open a few tins of dog food if you haven’t anything better to give her! I left Creature in the car. That wretch would doubtlessly regard dog food as a luxury!”

Miss Agnes seemed to find that remark hilarious and chortled with glee. “Wanker hath been a naughty boy again tho heth on half rationth till we decide differently. “She paused and then giggled. “I’ll put thome chocolate in my puthy tonight, and he can lick it out for a treat!” She was about to add something else but broke off and looked at Mumsie and her eyes suddenly widened as she giggled again. “Unleth, I get firth to go with Gertie gal of courth! Gertie loveth licking my puthy lath time, can I pleath?” she shot a look at her mother, who remained impassive.

Mumsie noted that gruesome senior seemed to be lacking that gleeful chummy affability she’d shown previously when visiting the smelly bitch to take up temporary residence. A definite coldness, although Miss Agnes seemed unaware of anything amiss as, despite her huge bulk, she bounced about like an excited five-year-old anticipating a treat!

Instead, Miss Primrose picked up a small handbell from a nearby table and shook it vigorously. It was surprisingly loud for its size, and a second later Wanker scurried back into the room and promptly curtseyed gracefully before his ugly Mistress. His hands and lower arms, Mumsie noted, were wet and displayed some soapsuds that he'd not stopped to dry off in his haste to obey that bell. Mumsie wasn’t surprised. Experience had taught her that mere fractions of a second could be the difference between whether or not you received a beating when summoned.

The variable factor, which was highly variable, was the mood of the person you were hastening to obey. Should you be unlucky, that same factor would decide the severity of such a beating. One lesson she had learned was that the number of days you could go without receiving a beating of some sort was exceedingly rare. That wasn’t counting face slaps, of course!

“Take Gertrude to the kitchen with you, boy and prepare coffee and some tasty dainties for us and our important guest and be quick about it!” snapped the horrid mother and motioned Mumsie to accompany him adding. “Make yourself useful, girl. Idle hands are never tolerated in this house. There is no need to talk either. You can learn fast enough where everything is without wasting valuable time chatting. If I hear so much as a single word, the pair of you will regret it later side by side, and it will be far worse than that tedious little obedience reminder I just delivered to Wankers skinny posterior!”

Mumsie hurried out into the dim corridor hurrying after Wanker, who was virtually running, seemingly not the least bit handicapped by his heeled feminine footwear. Behind her, she heard the ugly toad boasting. “She was called Sabina, but we’ve not decided yet on her new name. She’s so young and soft, isn’t she? Scrumptious! Go on, dear, help yourself. She’s still very raw. We’ve hardly started on her training yet, as you can see. This little bitch is stubborn, but….”

She was tempted to linger and hear more and even subconsciously slowed down, but a frightened Wanker sensed that and instantly grabbed her wrist, hauling her towards an open door at the end of the long, musty-smelling passage. Presumably knocked together at some point, the two run-down buildings were more extensive than they had appeared at first glance. That look in his eyes, terror perhaps more than fright, helped galvanise her sudden movements.

Despite the extra distance, she could still hear the voices because the door remained open—that familiar but hated lisp of Miss Agnes. “Leth, take her gag out again. I love hearing her thcream and thout in German, ith tho funny, pleath leth do that again Mummy, pleath, pleath!”

“Later, Dear. See to Creature first, bring him inside, put him into the basement cage and come back for your coffee, and then maybe you can play with her again. Please be seated, Claire and tell me about this cruise. It sounds so exciting. Oh, and do try one Wankers dainty little cupcakes when he brings them. He is excelling himself in the kitchen these days!”

*****

“So, tell me, Heather. Does Margret seriously intend to branch out beyond ponies? I assume that she…on the table, girl, there and be quick about it!” Patricia snapped her fingers impatiently and stabbed one slim digit towards the low rectangular glass-topped table as Auntie entered the room. “No, leave the tray alone; I’ll serve off it. Remind me later to register my disapproval, girl. When I order you bring coffee, I don’t expect to have to wait half a day! Now go finish your chores with Girlie. I will be checking your combined pathetic efforts against that list later!”

Patricia shook her head and grunted something inaudible as she reached for the coffee pot and poured, then handed the cups to the two girls sitting on the sofa opposite her armchair. Heather had watched Auntie scurrying out, noting the livid marks of a recent caning across the petite woman’s buttock cheeks. 

“Looks as though you already have been registering some disapproval”, she observed before taking a tentative sip from her cup.

Patricia laughed. “Her enthusiasm seemed a little lacking last night when it came to performing an essential duty or did until I persuaded her to put a little more effort into the task. The little bitch had the cheek to tell me she was tired! Tired, I ask you? It’s not like I was making her run a marathon or anything!”

“Licking your pussy for half a night probably feels the same!” Alice laughed, and Heather smiled politely.

“Whatever!” Patricia shrugged, “Perhaps it’s time I took her down to the basement for a little refresher. Anyway, do tell, I’m intrigued, and she’s never mentioned it to me, not once, and I spoke to her only the other day. I thought I was her best friend and confidant! What is it, top secret?”

Heather laughed. “Oh, please don’t get upset about it and no, nothing like that. I believe it was one of those friend-of-a-friend Chinese whispers that reached her ears. You know how she is when a hint of anything interesting sparks her off?”

Patricia nodded. “Oh my goodness, yes. She’d have made a good boss for James Bond, what's that title, Q no M. British intelligence missed a bet with her when it comes to ferreting out secrets once her curiosity is aroused! Her intelligence network is second to none regarding certain captive commodities! How did she find out about this ingenious French couple then?”

Heather chuckled and shook her head. “No idea. Well, I have, kind of” She grinned. “I once asked her a similar question. Know what she replied?”

Patricia and her eldest daughter looked at each other and promptly shook their heads in unison, causing Heather to laugh again, and her grin grew broader.

“Spit it out and stop doing that smug Cheshire cat impression!” Alice growled irritably.

Heather gave her a mischievous wink. “The nosy parker wanted to do a deal with me! Like I would after all these years, she’s never given up! A case of you show me yours, and I’ll show you mine, or in this case, tell! A few of her supposed secrets in exchange for the low down on Jessica, as if!” Heather laughed, then added with a chuckle. “Anyway, I’m not stupid, plus she’s confided in me loads of times and probably forgotten what she’s told me!”

Patricia grunted. “Hmmm, senile decay setting in no doubt. She can be a bit vague at times. Damn shrewd about money, ponies and her business but a little woolly-headed from time to time about other things! So girl, spill the goods as a matter of minor curiosity, even if it is all pure rumour and conjecture.”

Heather smiled. Her host’s seemingly casual interest fooled her not one bit. The woman sensed an entirely new avenue down which she could channel her cruelty and perverse interests, but was she all that different herself? Jessica and the animals she trained wouldn’t think so! Her hunky boyfriend would, but then such information would no doubt take time to penetrate. The poor lamb wasn’t the brightest spark on the planet, was he? But then his other attributes more than made up for that, didn’t they?

“Hoy!” Alice said, poking her friend in the arm. “Your Boss’s wool-gathering seems contagious!”

Heather grinned and shook her head. “Oh no, it’s more than a mere rumour—your right about her intelligence network. Ears everywhere, so it seems and fingers into all sorts of pies! Margaret called in on them when she was over in France last month on business” she paused as a thought struck her. “Or maybe it was the other way around, and the business element was incidental merely because she was over there?”

“And?” Patricia leant forward, her eyes alight with interest.

Heather caught a gesture from her friend unseen by her host. This time Alice was performing the Cheshire cat impression with that enormous gin and making a discreet signal to slow it down, keep her mother on the boil, and let her stew! Heather glanced back to Patricia and decided that wouldn’t be the wisest course of action, even if it would amuse her friend. Besides,  she was the guest, and Patricia was a hospitable host.

“Well,” she shrugged. “Alice has evidently passed on the basics of what I told her. My boss lady was over there for three nights, but I don’t know how much time she spent at that place near Reims. Her other business was with a pony buyer in Paris. I gather this Reim's couple have four animals, hucows in their stable, no barn…”

“Cowshed!” Patricia interrupted with a snigger. “Sorry, do continue, Honey”.

“Yeah”, Heather ruefully agreed, “I should have thought of that one. Anyway, Margret said she saw four hucows. Three female and one male”.

“Male!” Alice interrupted in surprise and then added, after a moment’s thought. “No, maybe they would need a bull! Sorry, do carry on, please.”

Heather pulled a face thinking about it. “Yes, maybe you’re right. I was repeating what Margret told me, and I should have thought about that. Is there such a term as Hubull? Mind you, she should have as well, given the number of mares she’d had covered over the years”.

“That’s something I’ve always meant to ask her “, Patricia noted. “Just how many has she bred? But I always seem to forget once I'm there. Always seem to pick the wrong time to visit as well, so that little Filly of Alices will be the first time for me when she drops. Anyway, sorry, Heather, please continue”.

“Three cows and a bull”, Heather repeated and glanced at her friend. “From what she told me, the bull was a near relation to your Midnight in every respect, bar skin tone”, Heather laughed. “And I do mean every respect. She sounded impressed, and as you both know, Margret has never gone in for small when it comes to finding suitable stud stallions!”.

“Must be an impressive bull then”, Alice murmured half to herself, then thinking of her own massively endowed but undoubtedly frustrated stallion. “Does it get the chance to…” she broke off as Heather nodded and laughed.

“According to Margret, yes, and far too often! Her view on stallions is the same as yours with Midnight. Big and very infrequent, if ever! I gather that, in this case, the process they’ve developed or are developing depends very much on the opposite. At least once a day and preferably more, but I suspect the size element is irrelevant to the process, more for their amusement perhaps  than any other reason.”

“A little reward perhaps for the hucows, perhaps”, Patricia offered.

Heather shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe, but from what Margret told me when she watched, they weren’t the least bit enthusiastic about his daily attention, nor is he allowed to take his time”, Heather giggled. “The moment he’s in, they thrash his rump till he comes. I expect for him, the attraction has long since worn off. I gather that’s a secondary study they are carrying out, just how long he can keep up with the daily physical demands made on him or that part of his anatomy. I mean, he’s not a pony and gets no other exercise, so his stamina isn’t being diverted elsewhere. They mix in Viagra-type stuff in all his meals, or so Margret said.”

“Fascinating”, Patricia mused dreamily, staring into space. “Isn’t there a risk of him impregnating them, though, unless they vasectomised the beast but wouldn’t that affect what they want from him”

“Now you're getting technical”, Heather answered. “Margret asked the same question. The bull is in full working order, but he’s on some chemical treatment that prevents fertilisation or the prospect of full fertilisation via his sperm. They seem to have a whole range of experiments going on at the same time. I gather they were delighted to see Margret. Their biggest problem is their limited amount of livestock for their experiments.”

Patricia raised an eyebrow. “Hmmm, well, I expect that problem has now been solved. Margret has a wide range of contacts, and only the other day, she told me that her stable was a  little overstocked. I’m sure she can find some candidates ripe for conversion to a new role! 

“No?” Heather was shaking her head. “They want fresh animals, not second-hand ponies. Apparently, they spouted a lot of what Margret rather derisively described as ‘mumbo jumbo’ about the individual's physiology and how they thought the results would be far better with a completely fresh animal rather than some other established captive beast or ex-slave. They got one of their hucows from a pony stable, whereas the other two came straight from the wild, like the bull. They showed her a production yield chart, but they are working off a very small sample and have hardly begun calculating the random elements; they admitted that themselves!”

“It sounds fascinating,” Alice said, throwing a questioning look at her mother.

“I agree, Darling. So, what’s the product, the yield? Could you make money from it?” Patricia asked, staring intently at Heather, “or is it just small scale, for fun?”

Heather shrugged. “Like I told Alice earlier, not financially viable on a commercial scale and probably never will be because of the low yield per cow, not to mention the difficulty of obtaining sufficient stock. As a small-scale specialist enterprise, possibly, but you’d have to charge a high price, I expect. Also, you’d only have a very, and I mean a minimal, customer base.” Heather paused and laughed. “I can’t see it appearing on a supermarket shelf anytime soon. How would you label it, genuine hucow titty milk!”

“Plus, the relevant authority would want to stick their nose in where it wasn’t wanted and do all sorts of checks, which probably wouldn’t be a terribly good idea”, Alice chuckled with an accompanying sigh. “Hardly the most humane kind of dairy!”

“Certainly not very ‘free range’ either”, Heather giggled.

Patricia looked from one to the other and clicked her tongue. “Tch, don’t be such silly girls! Next thing you’ll be suggesting, we start a green taxi service or hire our animals out to pull ploughs on organic emission-free farms! I meant, what’s the local yield, home consumption only, I assume?”

Heather nodded, ignoring the amused wink Alice threw at her. “I know where you’re coming from, and I suspect Margret was thinking along the same lines. I got the impression from what she told me that the French couple were purely interested in experimentation rather than anything else. Margret’s felt their attitude toward the animals was somewhat clinical and callous. I mean to us, our unwilling livestock has value despite how we treat them, whereas they treated theirs as though they were just oversized two-legged lab rats!” Heather paused again and grinned. “Well, almost was how she put it, and she got the impression that once they’d finished or grown bored with Hucows, they’d turn their attention to something else that would require similar captive subjects!”

“So, how much?” Patricia asked, pushing the stainless-steel milk jug to the edge of the tray with one finger and tapping the rim with a finger.

“Margret said it varied considerably but, on average, about a quarter to a half of what a normal healthy breastfeeding mother produces daily, but they are convinced they can up that considerably. Sometimes more but never less, I belie…” she broke off as Alice began to laugh.

“Sorry”, Alice apologised, grinning at her mother. “Why do I get this strong impression someone not a million miles away will be calling Margret and suggesting another joint fact-finding trip to France!”

Patricia scowled at her daughter. “Yeah, and maybe some sassy little madam sitting not a couple of feet away won’t get a look in if her mother does decide to expand her interest into additional animal husbandry!” she paused, thinking for a moment. “Even so, just a couple of animals would cover the daily household basics, wouldn’t they” she pondered absently, tapping the milk jug again, missing the cheeky wink Alice directed at her friend.

Alice gave her mother a sweet smile. “Oh, I’m behind you all the way, mummy dearest, only don’t get any idea about using Midnight. He’s a stallion, not a bull, and there’s no way I’ll ever permit my big beast to enjoy himself several times a day!” she broke off and laughed. “Once a year, maybe, but rest assured, the whipping his animal rump receives while he’s performing will be just the same!”

*****

“It’s certainly a dog’s life, eh boy?” He laughed, adding, “for you anyway. I bet it seems like an eternity since you and your dad flagged us down to help you with your car. Bad mistake there, boy, bad, bad mistake!” he laughed and beckoned with his crooked finger. “Here, boy, good doggie, come give your big ooman master a few wet hand licks before we go walkies!”

A little earlier, he’d been in his upstairs den playing a video game when his inbuilt early warning system kicked in, telling him that another of those annoying, not to say exceedingly painful migraines was hovering nearby. He had thus adopted his usual solution of trying to walk it off in the fresh air. It was a warm sunny day, even hot, but there was a persistent gentle breeze to even it out. Pleasant, warm, but not humid or over hot!

It had been a while since he’d suffered the agonies of a full-blown headache and retired to a darkened room and try and sleep the wretched thing off. Not that he had any objection to laying on his back with his eyes closed, doing nothing very much. Marrying Patricia had enabled him to leave the daily commuting rat race and spend his time being indolent, well if not luxury, in exceedingly comfortable surroundings. Not to mention the accompanying fringe benefits!  

The headache, of course, he could forego. There was no one around to offer him any sympathy. Everybody was busy save for him. Even his cute little fuck and suck bitch was fully occupied along with her diminutive aunt on domestic chores. Patricia had given them a massive list of tasks for the day, so the bitch was off-limits until the evening unless he wanted to incur his wife’s wrath. Never a good idea, whatever the circumstances and certainly not with a headache hovering nearby. Patricia could be very shrill when she was angry!

His initial intention had been to follow his usual route and walk down to the main road and back, not that the road deserved to be called main as Patricia did! In official terms, it was an unclassified road, and after the last winter, the potholes seem to have multiplied ten-fold. In his opinion, there was nothing ‘main’ about it, even if it connected a couple of large farms to the nearest village. A rural country lane if ever he saw one. Plus, hardly anybody ever used the damn thing, so the chances of the local authority tackling the damned potholes were about zero!

He stood momentarily outside the big font door musing on the inadequacies of the local council roads department, then recalling the last time he’d intended to walk off an impending migraine, he had visited the stables instead. Then spent some time teasing that big black bastard of Alice’s. That had been later in the day, though, and no doubt there would be some activity going on there. Highly entertaining to watch, but if some wretched bitless pony happened to start hitting the high notes while being punished? He shuddered not out of sympathy for the suffering animal but at the thought of what pain it might bring down on him.

He turned and looked thoughtfully down the long twisting drive towards the gate, and then another idea occurred to him. Why not? Last time it had been a while since he’d paid a visit to the stable, and when had he last visited the smaller building next to it? He cast a speculative eye towards the kennels and their attendant outside runs. Hell, good question. He realised he couldn’t even remember when. Not by himself, anyway. Plus, there was likely to be an absence of domineering females being too early for the evening feed.

He’d noted that Patricia and Alice tended to regard their ‘dogs’ as low-maintenance animals. Feed, let them out in their runs, bring them back in and feed again! Once a week or once a fortnight, they had a wash and grooming session, but that seemed somewhat superficial compared to the care they lavished on their ponies. He grinned to himself as another thought occurred as he started towards the kennels. There was no need for him to take his walk alone was there. He could make himself useful, take a companion with him for his stroll and perhaps earn a few brownie points from his wife. The bitch frequently complained that he was far too focused on his little sissy bitch to the exclusion of her other captive livestock. 

A little unfair, he thought as he slowly walked away from the house. He couldn’t help being so highly sexed, could he? Wasn’t that partly why she’d married him, that along with his rugged good looks? He was under no illusions in that respect. He looked good on her arm at parties and functions and possessed a big cock for her to ride in private! It hadn’t been his wit, charm and overall personality that had attracted the glamorous and highly affluent woman. The only reason that he spent so much time with his sissy little fuck dolly was that the bitch only wanted him when she was in a certain mood, and those moods seemed to have become much rarer, he’d noticed. No doubt once she’d got Mumsie back, they’d get scarcer still once she had two captive over-ripe bitches to entertain her and slake her insatiable sapphic lusts! 

Besides, he could never see the stables or the kennel occupants the same way they did. What they saw as animals, he could only see as people in bondage gear and to him, they only had one purpose, which was denied him, and that’s why he concentrated all his attention on the one little bunny he could fuck!

He thought one good thing about the kennels as he pushed open the door was that they didn’t stink like the stables always did. Even in mid-afternoon, when the enormous double doors had been left open for most of the day, that place still stank. Not that there wasn’t a noticeable animal odour, but it was tolerably unlike that other stench. The dogs, after all, had an outside run with a big sandpit at the very end suitable for bodily waste. Strange, if he went so much as a day without a bath or a shower, his wife would start sniffing and wrinkling her nose and making sarky comments, yet she could spend all day in that stinking stable despite the overpowering reek of captive human equines!

He'd forgotten about that noise as he closed the door behind him. The ponies were all kept bitted and gagged, unlike their two-legged equivalents housed here. The usual frenzy of excited barking and yapping to greet whoever was visiting by both the real and artificial canines. Two-legged! That was a joke, he thought, looking through the bars at the frantically enthusiastic boy on the other side. When had he last walked on two legs, he wondered? Probably not since he’d sat down to drink one of his wife’s special coffees the day he’d towed his father’s broken-down car up to the house.

Utterly ridiculous but also highly amusing how the young man was reacting in his earnest endeavours to imitate the real thing. Scurrying about on those cute little truncated useless folded limbs, ass shaking back and forth to make his stubby butt plug waggle in greeting. Barking and whining like some demented chihuahua or similar breed of yappy little lapdog. Not just Fido, Sultan was adding his quota to the noise, likewise Prince and old Flossie down near the end. They probably thought it was feeding time as well, thus adding to their evident excitement. The highlight of the day both for hounds and wretched human equivalents. What a fucking life!

“Quiet, quiet”, he roared, and the nearest element contributing to the hubbub promptly ceased but not the youth’s massive kennel companions further down. That didn’t matter because he wasn’t interested in them, and anyway, only Alice and Patricia could exercise any control over the two giant beasts. They feared the women, and why not? Every two-legged animal about the estate was terrified of those bitches so why should the real dogs be any different? 

Strange that he mused, looking down at the cowering youth now known as Fido busily licking his outstretched fingers. As far as he knew, they’d never laid either hand or implement on the two big furry beasts, unlike their other wretched captives! Something to do with a natural animal sixth sense, perhaps. All Alice or her mother had to do was shout at them, and they immediately slank away quietly, whimpering and looking fearful. Very odd! He glanced down at that pink tongue rasping over his hand, paying homage to the visiting master. Then again, their whips had thoroughly broken this one proud young man into a grovelling human canine and dogs were not stupid creatures, were they? 

Personally, he preferred not to go near them. His security duties meant that he often had to release them into the grounds at night, which he did as quickly as possible, and he’d never been tempted to stroke one of the brutes. He preferred that his fingers remain on the ends of his hands and not doubling up as a doggie chew snack. He shuddered to think about what they might do to any intruder foolish enough to try and break into the estate while they roamed at night. He’d once mentioned that to his wife, but all she’d done was shrug her shoulders and say, “as long as they don’t manage to get away, I don’t care!” Dogs or intruders, he’d wondered.

 Could anyone they caught get away anyway? He doubted it. Not if both pounced, and how far would they go if they did catch anyone? A question he decided not to put to his wife. He wasn’t particularly squeamish; how could he be living in this place of sadistic debauchery, yet every time he looked at those huge hounds, an image of ‘raw bloody chewed up meat’ came instinctively into his mind that wasn’t very comforting! 

He avoided even looking into their big pen as he walked along to the last one to satisfy his curiosity. He’d already decided to take Fido for a little walk before entering the building, but paying the temporary occupant a social call might be amusing. Alice had mentioned during breakfast that she’d left him there because she might want to amuse herself with him again, and there was nothing urgent she needed him to do. Nothing that couldn’t wait while he recovered task-wise!

Even so, he was surprised to see the poor wretch still strapped securely to one of Alice’s ‘bitching’ benches with a large red ball gag in his mouth. He thought he must have been left like that since the previous evening, opening the door and slipping inside. No doubt Alice had her reasons, and by the look of that big empty stainless-steel bowl, he’d been fed earlier and probably had to lick it spotlessly clean if he didn’t want his well-stripped rump to get an additional helping of cruelty! 

They didn’t go in for second helpings of food here but punishment, yes! Always generous when it came to that. His butt looked like it had received fourths, fifths, sixes and more and in liberal portions! Alice didn’t mess about when she applied the whip and cane, right? Maybe that’s why those two big hounds knew how to behave when their sadistic mistresses were around, instinct! Plus, they must have heard enough howling of another sort since they’d been here, and dogs weren’t stupid animals, were they?

He wrinkled his nose at the smell and could see the puddle. Alice might have fed him, but the girl hadn’t bothered herself attending to any other needs, had she? This pen was twice the size of the singles, the same as the one that housed Sultan and Price. As far as he knew, it had never accommodated a permanent occupant, not in his time anyway. Alice tended to use it as her ‘playroom’ when she was ‘amusing’ herself in the kennels rather than over in the stable. Heather and Alice had been in here the previous evening so doubtlessly, ‘daddy’ there had been the captive centrepiece of the night’s entertainment. 

The man so helplessly positioned on that bench, the two comfortable cushioned chairs, the small table in between for the usual drinks and nibbles for the watching girls. A not unfamiliar scenario to him but a first for that young bitch, Heather, he’d gathered. He frowned at the thought, wondering how long the young redhead would stay. Short of becoming a hermit-like recluse, there was no way of avoiding her. It wasn’t that she was rude or discourteous in any way, although she rarely said anything to him at all, likewise the other way around. 

It was just that look in her eyes whenever they flickered in his direction that disturbed him; sometimes, they lingered, and he’d seen her expression change slightly. The bright open smile might still be there, but he sensed more for herself than for him, and that speculative look in her eyes made him go cold. Alice or Heather didn’t know which of them scared him more and toss his wife and young Eva into the pot as well! That made for a very scary household to live in, didn’t it?

He became aware that the man had twisted his head and was endeavouring to look up at him. Probably not easy nor comfortable the way he was strapped down like that, head low and rump high. The poor bastard doubtlessly wanted to say something as well, but that big red ball rendered him dumber than the ponies with their nasty mouth bits. 

Thinking about it, he hadn’t seen much of him since they’d nabbed the guy and his family. First, Eva had kept him in that hellish oversized nursery of hers and guarded him protectively like a tiger with her newborn cub, so he’d hardly got a look in. Then again, thinking back, he smiled at the recollection he’d been rather preoccupied himself with the bastard's youngest son. Repeatedly raping and breaking in the sexy little bitch. How the boy had squealed! Girlie still did with the right approach and was so delightful to fuck even after all these months. 

Eva had grown bored with him, as they all knew she would and now the bastard’s big, long-legged niece was the focus of her attention, although, from the discussion he’d overheard the other day, she hadn’t entirely abandoned her interest in the nursery. It was on the back burner, awaiting a future occupant rather than redundant. Alice had become this poor fucker’s new custodian, and good luck to him. Knowing that girl, the luckless bastard probably longed to return to his potty, baby bottles, frillies and that pink and white nightmare room!

He grinned, Hobson's choice, and smiled at the staring face that silently and very foolishly seemed to be silently pleading with him. An end to this present situation, his wretched captive life here on the estate or even life itself, he wondered. Not that it mattered, none of the options was on the cards, nor likely to be. No use appealing to him either, for he had no desire to end up replacing the bastard on the girl’s ‘bitching’ bench! ‘Better you than me, pal’, he thought!

How long had the guy suffered? He wondered how long those two evil bitches had enjoyed their cruel debasing entertainment. Thinking of Girlie had given him a twinge that hadn’t subsided, and for a moment, he eyed the emaciated guy’s naked whip-scarred rump speculatively but not seriously. Had Alice already pleasured herself with the wretch, he wondered? That wouldn’t surprise him, for she’d savagely fucked every other captive animal on the estate bar, Prince and Sultan. He suddenly grinned, or was that why the two big hounds cringed, whined and crawled on their bellies when she was around them? Hell, he wouldn’t put it past the depraved young bitch!

Given to the dogs rather than gone to the dogs, eh pal? Looking at all those nasty scratches on the man’s back and rib cage, he’d probably been knotted several times, one dog or two? He doubted Alice would have curtailed her perverse entertainment after subjecting the poor wretch to one such hideous encounter. Not if she was showing off to Heather.   Probably both dogs and at least two fucking’s per dog, which meant his man cunt would still be full of sticky doggie cum like that residue around his butt hole and soiling the bench along with the other foul stuff. The thought of that animal yukky leftovers making contact with his cock made him reject that idea. Maybe Alice had, but no, not with Heather there, and Alice probably wouldn’t fancy taking him straight after the dogs had finished with him any more than he did now. Maybe at some point, but he’d save that growing twinge for another target.

“Tit for tat, eh, Dog!” he observed conversationally, then realised the guy wouldn’t have a clue what he meant. Alice had often talked about what she’d seen at that evil witch, Margret’s stable. Stallions mounting mares and fillies! Last night’s little exhibition presumably was Alice’s way of returning the compliment for Heather’s benefit. In this case, an authentic touch of bestiality, though, and with absolutely zero chance of an end product, unlike Margret’s end goal!

Unless? He pondered for a moment and decided that it was unlikely. Pleasure, sexual pleasure, was a one-way street in this small world, and he doubted that Margret would allow her animals to copulate merely for her own titillation. The woman was probably like Alice. The girl didn’t need to watch two captive ponies screwing to arouse her. The bitch could achieve orgasm simply by flogging some unfortunate, so why should she risk allowing one of the poor fuckers a little fun? They were lucky even to get a sweet or a sugar lump from her when it came to dishing out rewards!

He grinned down at that pathetic face still staring up at him, which must be putting considerable strain on the poor bugger's neck twisting around like that. He turned on his heel, starting to whistle. He was suddenly confident that once again, he’d made it to the proverbial pass ahead of his looming migraine, and a short walk in the fresh air would finish the job off. The bulge in his pants hadn’t subsided and had even grown some surveying that poor bastard and thinking about what the two girls had subjected him to. Besides, he had a solution in mind. Indeed, he’d had it there ever since heading to the kennels.

“We’ll head over that way, boy, I think,” he said conversationally a few minutes later, nodding in the direction of the trees. There was a convenient bench nearby and a couple of tree stumps. One of them would suffice for his purpose, plus it was far enough away from the house and out of sight. What Alice didn’t know about wouldn’t hurt; in any case, they’d never said he couldn’t, had they? Not to his recollection, anyway. He glanced along the leash to the doggie youth scurrying at his heels, wondering why he’d never thought of it before. A little variety now and again never hurt anyone, did it? Well, not him and Fido did have such a cute butt on him, and his feminised younger brother was a first-class fuck. 

He grinned. Who needed pills when other, more entertaining natural remedies for a headache were available, and he didn’t mean just fresh air? Not to mention aiding a considerable swelling in your pants to abate so pleasurably. Well, natural to him anyway!

He increased his pace tugging impatiently on the leash. “Hey, boy, Fido, good doggie. Hup heel, puppy. C’mon, heel, keep up,” He roared with laughter. “Daddies got a nice big bone waiting for you!”