Author's Note: This is my first story, so please allow me a little leeway. My command of written English has never been that good! It is intended to be a tale of dark BDSM, non-consensual fantasy involving two families. One unlucky enough to fall into the hands of the other.

Chapter 1 - Baby

It was the growing day light that woke him. It automatically triggered a switch in the dim night light which then turned off with an audible click as the dawn light grew stronger. That and the increasing and uncomfortable pressure growing in his plastic pants. He would try not to move although he knew he would have to soon. He found it difficult to remain in any position for too long, and his restless legs would soon begin to cramp up. However, any movement in his present condition was dangerous as he'd first discovered to his cost many months ago and numerous times since. Movement sometimes encouraged seepage from the tight elastic seams that secured his plastic pants around his waist and thighs.

Such seepage was not welcome. Seepage was bad. Seepage was dirty. Seepage smelled. Accidental leaks that soiled him, his attire, his mattress and could drip to the carpet were not allowed even though it was not his fault. He no longer had any control over anything, they had seen to that.

It had been easer in the early days when his bodily functions still responded to his will, but even those basic control normally so essential to human dignity had been taken from him. Just like they had taken his liberty, his family and almost his sanity in this place of suffering and humiliation. The first few days he'd been able to offer some measure of resistance as his body still responded to his will. That ability to his humiliation and shame had swiftly evaporated. He'd surmised that they must be putting things in his food or milk, maybe both. Whatever it was, some form of strong laxative he assumed, it worked well, too well. He no longer had any control of his bowel or urinary functions. Once it's journey through his digestive system was accomplished it came out and filled his diaper and then his pants.

If it stayed in he was fine but if anything should come out would be his fault for not being 'a good little girl' and keeping still till Mummy came and changed him. He should know that by now. She would sniff then snigger then chide him for being such a careless and 'pongy baby girl.' Consequences depended on her mood. If she were in a rare good mood, nothing would come of it. She might even, as she had on one or two occasions, given him a big hug and a kiss. If she was in a bad mood or worse if it was her mother or sister who came instead....

His eyes strayed to the nearest wall. The light was outside was gradually growing stronger, and between the thin steel bars that confined him he could make out the various items in the room. Everything was grey, 50 shades of grey in the early dawn light but this was no romantic bdsm tale. His existence was a bondage nightmare way beyond anything any sane person could ever conceive!

He lay flat on his back in what months before, he'd briefly assumed, was a steel cage made with the bars ten centimetres or so apart, a steel mesh top, bottom, sides, back and front. It had the same approximate dimensions as a very narrow domestic single bed. Possible a tad longer than the norm but somewhat slimmer which gave him some leeway but not much, after all, he was or had been, six feet one, not that he had allowed to stand erect for a long time.

Soon the light that filtered under and around the heavy curtains that covered the French windows would begin to reveal the monotonous colours scheme of this hellish prison. Pink. Pink and cream but predominantly a pale soft pink in various subtle and not so subtle shades. No blue or green or black or red - just pink and cream. Even this, this cell he was in, was painted pink. He privately always thought of it as a cell, his cell within a larger prison. In reality, he now knew it was a baby's cot, a disgustingly pink, oversized steel replica of a baby's cot.

It stood on short legs so his 'mummy' could have easy access to her baby via the fold-down sides. Unlike a real baby's cot, this one had a steel mesh top that allowed him to sit up but no more. At either end above the mesh stood a squat headboard and footboard adorned with cartoon images of pastel-hued smiling fairies and princesses to mock him. It might be meant to function as a baby's cot, and indeed it did, but in reality, it was nothing more than a garishly coloured cage to humiliate and imprison him!

The growing light would soon reveal more of that hated room that he knew so well. The pink girlie wallpaper of unicorns and yet more fairies and princesses. The oversized 'high chair' where they fed him, the changing table near the wall with the shelves stacked with various bottles of oils, lotions, powders, and the like. The big pink and white cupboard whose mirrored doors were covered in yet more childish cartoon stickers and the shelves and racks inside contained his hideous wardrobe.

Even the thought of it caused him to shudder in shame and embarrassment. The pink romper suits and onesies, booties, bonnets, frilly little dresses that barely covered his bottom and matching frilly panties, invariably in a shade of pink. They spared him nothing. Another large mirror covered part of the adjacent wall, so he could always see himself dressed in all his 'baby girl' glory.

Baby girl. Right from that first day they had referred to him in that feminine fashion. Not once had there been any reference either to his age or sex or his past existence. As far as he was aware he did not even have a name now. He was just 'baby or girlie or some other sickeningly sweet name' to them and he'd long since learned not to try to find any answers to anything. His mummy's mummy had seen to that.....

His eyes roamed again passing briefly over the large pink plastic baby bath next to the...the large pink potty! God, how he hated that potty and the humiliations that went with its use. He focused on the two objects hanging from hooks above it, and a spasm of fear ran through him. Please let her be in a good mood he mouthed to himself. He dared not speak. He knew if he did it would be recorded or heard on the baby monitor just as every movement of his miserable existence was constantly viewed and recorded by that camera mounted high up on the far wall.

His eyes had flickered momentarily to the camera but then back to the objects hanging on the wall and felt his customary tremor of apprehension. The innocuous-looking length of thin flexible bamboo; its leather handgrip adorned with a pink ribbon tied in a bow. Next, to it, the wide paddle in pink leather with the remnants of yet another cartoon sticker of a fairy tale princess stuck to it. The sticker had originally been pristine but frequent contact between the paddle and his arse had all but obliterated it. He shuddered again. He knew them both well, too well. Miss Biter and Mrs Beater, his Mummy, called them. He knew that if his Mummy was upset with him or if he leaked, his intimate and all too regular acquaintance with one or more likely both would soon be renewed.

There was no clock in his prison - or nursery as THEY called it. Babies presumably did not need to know the time. His only clock was the cycle of day and night and the regularity of his daily routine. Likewise, he knew not what day of the week it was or what month or even how long he had been in this dreadful house of horrors for he knew that his miserable existence was but one of the evils perpetrated by his jailers and that others suffered equally. His own family almost certainly unless something even more sinister had happened to them. His rough guess was that he had been held captive for around four months, but it could have been longer or shorter. When you were in hell did one day matter any more than the next, and he had long given up any hope of being rescued.

In the beginning, he had fought of course. Oh, how he had fought but to no avail. The restraints they had placed on him back then were still in place, a constant reminder of his helplessness. He was also now much much weaker physically. He had not stood upright for months - not since that last time he had been dragged down to the basement by his Mummy's mummy. That was his third and hopefully final trip to that hell-hole. Never again would he be stupid enough to do anything to merit a return there. Miss Biter and Mrs Beater could do their worse every day - better that than five minutes with the lady of the house with her toys in that hellish dungeon.

His belly and bowels rumbled and gurgled. He was frightened. His diaper and pants were already stretched and uncomfortable, and he knew from experience that if anything else came out, he would definitely leak and then suffer the inevitable punishment. There was no way of reliving the pressure or of adjusting his garb. He shifted slightly on his squeaky plastic covered mattress. He hated that mattress as much as he hated everything else. He couldn't move without making a noise, and his nursery prison was always too hot so that he frequently perspired too much and stuck to its surface.

He slowly turned his head. It was a lot lighter now, and he could see his reflection in the big mirror. Were those his eyes looking so hopeless and resigned staring back at him. No one who knew or had known him would recognise him now. Gone was the thick head of rebellious shaggy black hair and the permanent five o'clock shadow. Not a single hair remained on his entire body bar his eyebrows - and his mummy regularly and somewhat brutally had a habit of plucking those. How they had done that he knew not, but he was as bald as a newborn baby.

His face was a puffy pasty white bordering on looking unhealthy. He'd put on weight even though that muck they fed him seemed to have little body to it. Three times a day they gave him his feeding bottle. He hated it but had long since learned the futility of trying to resist or of not draining it of every drop as he earnestly sucked on its rubber teat. It tasted so...so sweet and sickly and thick. Every evening he was put in that damn oversized high chair, strapped in with his feet sticking out and spoon fed his supper. He yearned for something to bite into something to chew, but every meal was the same, a puree of some sort and sometimes a mix of several flavours but always somewhat boring and without much taste or substance.

Nevertheless, whatever they used was certainly adding a few pounds to him, and what was worse it was weakening him. Day by day his strength had diminished. They were adding some drug or maybe even a cocktail of drugs to his food that was sapping his strength, wasting his muscles. He doubted if he could even stand now had it been allowed. Once out of his cage like cot he could crawl as was required but even that had started to tire him sometimes. A while back when the weather had been warmer, his Mummy had put a set of baby reins on him and made him crawl into the garden a few times encouraging him now and then with cuts from the ever-ready 'Miss Biter'.

Moodily he continued to survey himself in the mirror through the bars of his cage. He refused to call it a cot. He could see the spring-loaded catches that held the side in place to imprison him. Had he had the use of his hands it would have taken but a second to thread his hand through the bars and work the catch. His hands encased in pink mittens made of thin leather but also stiffened with an integrated inflexible metal plate were ineffective. There was no give in them nor would they fit through the narrower openings at the top of his cage. They were useless for anything other than supporting his front when he crawled along the floor. They were locked at the wrist and were removed once a month when his mummy trimmed his fingernails and bathed his hands. One hand at a time and even then, it was handcuffed to one of the bars of his cot.

His feet were equally useless, strapped as they were into some pink leather footwear that reminded him of the slippers he'd seen ballet dancers wear, but these were more robust more boot like and forced his feet to curve so that there was no way he could have stood erect had he even been allowed. Like the mitts his footwear was removed once a month, so his toenails could be trimmed, and his feet bathed.

They had dressed him, if you could call it that, in one of his least favourite outfits. Not that he really favoured any of the numerous items in his wardrobe. They were all equally ridiculous, degrading and humiliating. Last night they had put him into one of the pink frilly baby dresses that barely covered his rump and matching pink frilly panties. Both items had pink and white ponies embroidered on. The only two other items he wore merely added and emphasised his helpless state of captivity. Around his neck was locked a pink leather collar just like a dog might wear although no decent dog owner would subject their pet to something that colour! Like a dog collar, it had places where his young Mummy could attach a leash when required and it even had a tag dangling from it with the word Baby engraved on it in flowing italics.

He could live with that collar unlike one they had used in the early days of his confinement. That one had been made of thicker leather and was more like the old-fashioned military stocks soldiers used to wear. It had forced him to hold his head ridged with minimum movement as well as rubbing his skin raw in places. The only other item could not be seen, but he could feel it and was always conscious of it. Not only content with reducing him to the status of a baby they had also emasculated him. A stainless-steel device of some sort was confining his penis, his testicles dangling loose and vulnerable below it. Unlike his mitts and boots so far this had not been removed. Notwithstanding the confinement, he knew he was still working down there from the futile and painful attempts towards obtaining an erection he experienced on rare occasions when thinking or dreaming of happier times when he'd been a man.

Thoughts about his captive manhood immediately led to a growing awareness of his discomfort. How much longer before something gave. He looked hopefully towards the windows again. The light was growing stronger, brighter, much brighter surely someone would come soon, they always seemed to be early risers in this hellish household. He knew why. He was not the only the only one who would need attention. There were others and from his brief glimpses and overheard snippets of conversation, his life such as it was might even be relatively comfortable when compared to some of the other inhabitants. He'd heard references to the stable and kennel and their naughty occupants. He'd heard his 'mummy's' older sister once say she needed to blister Fido's backside again for messing in his basket again. Who or what was Fido? A dog, a human dog, maybe even a member of his family? He groaned again in misery and despair.

His ears pricked up. Footsteps were approaching. He listened intently. He could hear footsteps coming down the corridor. He sighed thankfully; they were the slower soft footfalls of his Mummy's trainers and not, the quicker sharp tip tap of her mother or elder sisters stiletto heeled boots.


Chapter 2 - Eva

The nursery was situated at the end of the hall furthest away from the staircase and to the left of the impressive front entrance porch. It was one of the larger rooms in the old house and had originally been the drawing room or second lounge. An under-utilised room where in days gone by elegantly clad ladies would have gathered after formal dinners to chat, gossip and play cards while leaving the bewhiskered menfolk to enjoy their port and cigars.

The spacious room had a large bay window to the front and tall French windows on the side, giving plenty of natural illumination. The original wooden frames and glass now gone, replaced with modern plastic covered steel frames, and the glass was a specialised extra thick highly toughened safety glass that obviated the need for crude security bars. No need for the owners to advertise that there were grim secrets contained within the building. Very dark secrets rather like windows that you could easily see out of but from the exterior would reveal nought but your shaded reflection in the special glass.

An old Victorian dark oak combined hat, umbrella and coat stand with a large central mirror stood in the hall just before the door to the nursery. One of the few original items of furniture that remained in the house. Eva paused momentarily to examine herself in the mirror as she did every morning on the first visit to her 'baby'.

The venerable and slightly tarnished mirror reflection showed an extremely petite and slender pale-faced young blonde with strikingly ice blue eyes, full cupid lips and deliberately tousled shoulder-length hair. She pouted her lips and then opened her mouth slightly to wet them a little, her pink tongue contrasting with the brilliant white teeth. That reminded her of something. 'Must give babies teeth a clean again soon'. She turned sideways, smoothed down the front of her white regulation school blouse and thrust her chest out, then sighed. Oh well, she thought. Maybe I should get baby sucking on my teeny tits a lot more - might aid their development a bit. Then again it might make him try to get all horny again and then I'd have to do something serious to discourage that. She giggled at the thought. Not that baby could get very horny while wearing his 'device'.

A door banged open further down the hall, and her older sister emerged. Alice was twenty and almost the opposite of her sister. A tall, slim, tanned, green-eyed girl with dark hair neatly trimmed in page-boy fashion. Dressed as usual in a tight green sweater, even tighter jeans, and a pair of expensive high heeled tan boots. A wicked looking riding switch dangled from one wrist. Eva often wondered if her sister even slept with it, she never seemed to be without it or something similar.

'Mother says you're to get baby fed quickly and then get your breakfast.' She's getting it ready now then she will drive you to school. "She said she will change her for you later."

"What's the rush and why not dad driving, and why is mum getting things ready, not girlie? I thought she was supposed to take care of all the chores while Aunty Clare is borrowing mumsie?

Alice laughed wickedly. "Early dental appointment and evidently Dad was feeling rather randy when he got up this morning, so girlie is otherwise occupied." She laughed again. "He really ought to close the bedroom door though. Judging by the vigorous way he was going at it when I went by and the pained squeals she was making while bent over the end of the bed she's in for another long hard ride."

Eva sniffed. "You'd think the bitch would be used to it by now. He must have banged that lazy sluts man cunt at least once a day for the last four months!"

Alice smiled at her younger sister. "Do you think you'd ever get used to having a cock up your arse daily - especially one as big and thick and demanding as his?"

"I have noooo intention of ever experimenting in that direction, thank you very much," Eva replied rather tartly and drawing the no out somewhat. "Anyway, don't your animals get used to their tails?"

Alice shrugged indifferently. "I suppose so in some ways. However, unlike girlie, they have theirs 24/7, so that is somewhat different, not that they have any choice".

"Maybe you should try that then."

"I have noooo desire to experiment either," Alice replied mimicking her sister. They both laughed.

"Tell mum I'll be there in a couple of ticks, oh and if baby has been naughty and had an accident, you or mum can deal with her for me."

"You need to potty train her. That stuff you feed her on really stinks when it comes out the other end".

Eva laughed, "What and get rid of the diapers, that's half the fun, and she does so hate wearing them. Anyway, what's the difference between that and your dogs and ponies?"

"The dogs know better than to go in their kennels and runs and mucking our the ponies is just par for the course".

"Well, if she's had an accident, let mum do the needful."

Alice nodded and went back to the dining room. Eva pushed open the nursery door, sniffed hard a couple of times and then ignoring the occupant in the steel cot strode briskly to the windows and pulled the drapes open, hooking them back with the embossed retaining ties on either side allowing the bright early morning sunlight to flood into the room.

She went over to the cot and stood for a second or two staring down at the helpless man who blinked fearfully up at her through slightly misty damp eyes. Hers! He or she as she thought of him now, belonged to her and her alone, that always gave her a thrill each morning. Mother and Alice had their 'girls and animals', but she had her big sweet helpless baby! She sniffed again. "So far so good baby, no pee pee or poopies out of baby's diaper and pretty panties." She smiled sweetly and leant forward to gently stroke the man's bald head a couple of times. "Mummy will get babies breakie bottle and then she has to run, or she'll be late for school, won't she?"

The man made a strangling sort of noise, a mixture of gargle and whine. "Pee pee" he whimpered in the high pitch voice he was allowed giving vent to one of the few words, 'clever baby' had supposedly learned and was allowed to use.

"No baby, mummy does not have time to potty and change you this morning," Eva said firmly. "Baby will have to wait patiently like the good baby she is. Granny or Aunty Alice will be along soon to see to you so don't do anything naughty." She smiled sweetly at the whimpering captive. "You know you don't want to upset them do you; you know how cross they can get with nasty, dirty, smelly baby girls!"

The man blanched and visibly trembled. He knew only too well how cross they could get. This nubile sweet looking but thoroughly sadistic pubescent young bitch had blistered his bottom on frequent occasions, but she was nothing compared to her sister and mother. Eva laughed and gave his head a final pat before turning to busy herself at the nearby sink counter.

She first topped up the water in the bottle warmer and switched it on then opened the fridge door. There were several baby bottles in the racks of differing sizes already made up with a creamy, slightly yellowish substance within. She looked over her shoulder to where baby was staring helplessly through the bars of her cot. She picked up one of the smaller bottles and withdrew it, held it up waggling it mischievously a little. She giggled at the look of relief in his eyes which rapidly changed to horror as she swapped it for one three times the size.

Laughing again she replaced it. "ok baby, not the big one then, baby had that for her supper before bedy bye byes didn't she." She took out a medium sized one and placed it in the bottle warmer. "Baby needs this to keep her strength up and to help her grow, doesn't she?" Baby didn't answer. Baby had learned that rhetorical questions did not require answers. Babies only had a limited understanding and should react only to basic needs. Baby had had his face slapped hard and indifferently far too many times to behave otherwise.

Eva took a circular metal holder from a cupboard and hooked it onto the outside of the cot. She then took the warmed bottle from the warmer, squeezed a bright pink rubber teat on to the end and tested it on her wrist. 'Just how babykins likes it' she said as she came back to the cot and fixed the bottle into the rack and adjusted it so that it could be reached to suck upon by the cots occupant.

"There now, all done. Baby can have a nice long breakfast in her own time. Mummy does not have time to watch her feed today, but mummy knows how eager baby is to drink all of this delicious milk which is so good for her". The sweet tone changed to a harder note. "Baby had better drink it all down otherwise people will get cross, very cross and baby knows what happens then. Naughty Baby might even get to go down to dungeon-land again with granny..." She broke off delighting in the look of sheer petrified horror on the man's face. "Mummy would also have to let Miss Biter have some botty time when she got home on babies blistered bum bums - or maybe a swat or three on babies big ballsy bits". She laughed cruelly.

"Be good". She gave him an impish smile that somehow managed to convey a mixture of seductive teenage sexual promise coupled with sheer sadistic delight. Pouted her lips and blew him a kiss then quickly exited the room leaving the squirming man staring hopelessly at the glass bottle with its nauseating thick yellowish contents contrasting horribly with the bright pink rubber teat from whence a small yellowish bubble was forming at the small opening.

The man sighed audibly and gave a strangled half sob his eyes briefly flicking upwards towards the ever-present all seeing all hearing eye of the camera with its winking red light and then moved his head so that his mouth closed around the wretched teat. He sucked hard as he knew by long experience that was the only way to coax all the slimy thick and over sweetened muck out of the bottle. He also knew that it was now a deadly race between his intestines and the stretched elastic around his waist and thighs as to his immediate fate. If the cavalry came too early he would be in trouble for not finishing the bottle if they came late.....well, he dare not even think about that!

Chapter 3 - Fido

He heard feet scrunching on the gravel path. Two figures had emerged from the back door of the house and quickly strode across to the Range Rover that was normally parked near the stable block entrance. He could not see it from his 'run', but he knew where it was kept from his daily 'walkies'. He'd once been told to cock his leg and relieve himself on one of the rear tyres and then been severely punished for the very act he'd just been ordered to perform!

That had been the nasty little blonde bitch. The younger daughter. She was in her school uniform today. Blazer, blouse, silly small tie, short chequered skirt, white socks, and trainers. Eva her name was. He remembered the first time he'd met her. A real cutie pie he'd thought at the time. She must have been coming home from school with her father. They had seen the broken-down car and kindly stopped to help. Kind! Yeah Gods, the devil himself and all his demons might have been kinder than the hell this family had created!

At the time, given that they were miles from anywhere the offer of help was gladly accepted. My father and I had the bonnet up and were poking around rather haphazardly, more in hope than with any real knowledge. "Sorry, no idea either", her father had admitted. "I drive them, but I 'm totally useless and clueless when it comes to mechanics. My wife can change a tyre whereas I am limited to knowing where it's kept and that's about it".

"We can tow them to the house daddy," the daughter had suggested, "they can phone from there. You can't get a phone signal out here you know".

My father waved his cellphone to say that we had already discovered that. "Actually we were on the point of starting walking and trying to find a farm or something, but it all looks quite desolate around here".

"It is, my wife is an artist and wanted a really remote location for her studio". He made a rueful face. "Strictly between ourselves, rather more than a bit too remote, eh Eva?"

Eva laughed. "Well, she does have her little secrets and needs her privacy. There's a tow rope in the emergency pack in the back. I am sure there is, and I know how to fix it, I was with mum when we towed Alice's old banger to the garage last year, remember"

She opened the Rovers rear door and rummaged around for a few minutes treating me to the sight of white panties, and a firm pert bum as her short school skirt rode up as she bent over. My father was looking as well. We caught each other's eye and quickly looked away.

"What's happening Tom? my mother had got out of the car along with my younger sister and brother.

"This gentleman and his daughter have kindly offered to give us a tow to their house so that we can phone the breakdown service from there".

"That's very good of you", my mother said. "I was beginning to get a bit worried".

"No problem", the man said. "One thing we have learned living right out here, you have to help each other out when these little problems occur". He laughed. "Not that there are that many of us in the area".

"My mother will want you to stay and have some tea I expect", Eva said. "She does not get many visitors and always enjoys fresh company". Was it my imagination or did she stress the word 'fresh'? "It will take a while I expect for them to get here after you call". While speaking she quickly, fixed the tow rope to the eye on the front of our family saloon and then to another point under the rear of the Range Rover.

"It will probably be better if some of you ride with us", she said taking charge again. "It will be easier to steer with fewer people in, and we have bags of room in our car".

A few minutes later we were on our way. My father was at the wheel of our car with my sister in the passenger seat whilst I went in the back of the river with my brother and mum.

"Be about ten minutes I expect", Eva's father said. "A few miles down the road and then we turn off. I'm afraid our track is a bit bumpy, keep saying we need to get it surfaced properly but it's one of those jobs that's going to cost an arm and a leg, especially way out here where no contractors like to roam. That's why we bought this beast". He patted the steering wheel.

We spent the drive getting to know each other. Apparently, they lived in an old building that had once been the local Manor House of a private estate. Over time all the tenant farms had fallen into disuse, the land not being suited to more intensive modern methods of farming and the remote existence not very appealing to people. Eva and her father lived there with her mother and older sister.

"Isn't it difficult for the girls?", my mother had asked. "Can't be much of a social life and a long way to the shops and things."

"Oh, they don't mind. Alice and her mother have their interests, and Eva's still at school, so we do the daily run when needed. Holiday time we usually do a big fortnightly supermarket food run otherwise we are self-sufficient.

"Still it must be very boring for a young girl".

Eva smiled. "Not really, my sister has her own way of occupying her time as does mother, I like to help, and soon things will get even more entertaining for us I think". She looked at her father. "You did promise; you said next time I get one for my very own, and the first pick remember?"

Her father nodded. "You are old enough now. We said after your last birthday once the right opportunity came along and you have got everything ready very impressively".

"The power of the Internet", Eva laughed. "Everything is available with a little help from Google".

At the time as I recall we all smiled politely even though at the time we hadn't a clue as to what they were talking about. What a huge mistake.

"Anyway", Eva said, turning around to the three of us in the back. "What about you, what are you doing here? My sister is twenty, and I am sure she'll be glad of some company her own age if even for a short while. How old are you if it's not rude to ask?"

We explained that we were on a family touring holiday. Almost certainly our last as one family. (How ironic that would prove to be). I had just graduated from university at the age of 21 with a degree in mathematics. Sally, my nineteen-year-old sister, was in her second year of nursing study while my youngest brother George had just turned eighteen and was planning a backpacking gap year prior to going to uni.

"And your dad?" Eva asked. "What does he do and how old is he?"

"Eva", her father chided. "Sorry about that", he apologised. "She's been like that since she was little, always wants to know everything about people". He turned his head slightly and gave her a hard look which she indifferently ignored.

My mother laughed. "Tom is forty-six going on ten and a half like most men". She laughed again. He's a manager with one of the rail companies, still playing trains".

"Making the railways run ever more slowly". My brother quipped. "You know, the train now arriving at platform nine and three quarters won't be, because we changed the driver's rosters but forgot to send an owl with a copy to the driver".

Everyone laughed except Eva. She looked thoughtful for a second, I thought, and I could have sworn she mouthed ten and a half and then grinned rather smugly.

We came to a turning, and the car swung off the road and onto a gravel patch. A sturdy steel gate barred entry to the dirt road beyond. Eva jumped out and ran to a wooden box mounted on the right gate post with a phone symbol on it. She took out a phone and spoke for a minute or so before replacing it and opening the gate. Once we had driven through she closed it, climbed back in and we resumed our journey.

"Can't even get the post delivered or the rubbish collected", Eva's father noted. "We have a post box on the other gate post there, and I have to bring black rubbish sacks down once a week and drop them off in the same place ready for the truck to collect, even have to pay extra for that service. We put the intercom phone in, so the house can be contacted if needs be. Eva just let them know we are coming".

"Oh, you really are isolated, aren't you?"

"It has its uses", Eva and her father shared a quick amused look. "I assume you will also want to call the place you were heading for and tell them you will probably be late".

"We hadn't anything booked", my mother said. "We are very much on a go as we please tour, pubs and guest houses mostly", her voice tailed off and then she added, "I hope they can fix the car quickly, I told Tom to get it serviced, but he said it wasn't due for another three months".

Once again Eva and her father shared a glance.

Eva's father laughed. "Oh well, worst case scenario we can probably find somewhere suitable for you to sleep if needs be". He laughed "in fact; I am almost certain my wife will insist on it".

"That's very kind", my mother said, "but we couldn't possibly impose, there are five of us after all".

"No problem", added Eva. "We do have a large house and as my father said, I know we can certainly provide suitable accommodation for each of you. In fact, it will be our pleasure to do so".

Once again father and daughter shared an amused glance. I don't know why but I had a certain uneasy premonition. I noticed that Eva seemed to be frequently twisting around in her seat to look at the car being towed, she had even adjusted the wing mirror on her side so that she could do it. Maybe she was just checking everything was alright; she had organised the tow rope after all. Her father also seemed fascinated by looking behind; he'd also moved the rear-view mirror. I don't know what he was looking at; I am sure my younger brother was probably blocking his view.

The road was certainly quite rough. No wonder they had a four-wheel drive vehicle, it would certainly be needed when the weather turned bad. Eventually after a few more bumpy bits and numerous sharp bends we saw a large grey stone house standing in its substantial grounds ahead of us. A gravelled drive ran to the front entrance but high hedges either side obscured most of the building from view.

The car swept down a gravelled drive and started to swing towards one side of the house.

"No, front door!", Eva exclaimed quickly.

The car braked sharply and skewed towards the open front entrance causing the towed car to brake equally sharply but a fraction too late. There was a dull clang from the rear.

"Sorry, force of habit going around the back", Eva's father said as he got out. We all followed him. "No real harm done, just a minor dent".

"I am most dreadfully sorry", my father said, "I should have been quicker on the brakes".

"I trust no one was hurt"? a calm, cool voice enquired.

Two women had emerged from the front entrance. Both were quite tall and carried themselves with a certain aura of confidence and competence. They were dressed alike, tight jodhpurs, riding boots and sweaters which they wore with a casual, natural elegance.

It was the older one who had spoken. A somewhat harsh faced yet attractive woman with a mass of blue, black shoulder length hair caught back in an Alice band. She smiled and inspected the damage.

"It's only very minor dear", her husband said. He sounded worried. I was going to park by the stable as usual but....".

"Not a very good idea under the circumstances", she said. "We will discuss that, later won't we?"

"Yes dear". Eva's father seemed slightly apprehensive I noted.

'Please forgive my husband's carelessness. We have a stable around the back, and our ponies are rather.....rather special. I would prefer they were not disturbed in any way by unexpected visitors that might chance upon them". She smiled, "my name is Patricia, welcome to my house".

"I love horses" my sister exclaimed excitedly, "I'd love to see them".

The woman looked her up and down for a moment then her eyes flickered over the rest of us, then she briefly looked to the girl next to her, who nodded. "Oh, I am sure Alice here will be only too happy to take you to the stable. I take it that you are not going to change your choice?" she addressed the last remark to her younger daughter, who quickly nodded.

Alice was almost as tall as her mother. A very pretty girl with short dark bobbed hair and a rather mischievous elfin look. "Oh yes mother, I would just love for her to meet Midnight".

"I thought so. Midnight is her prized black stallion". She said. "when she acquired him last year I was initially quite worried, I thought that he would be way too much for her to handle. I needn't have worried as it turned out".

Alice grinned. "Mother is an excellent trainer, so I learned a lot from her when it comes to handling difficult mounts! Come on, follow me, it's Sally isn't it".

"Yes".

Alice led my sister towards an opening in the hedge. "Won't be long and don't worry, you know I can cope". She turned to my sister just as they reached the hedge. "I am really glad you are here I have been waiting months and months ......." Her voice faded away....

"She has indeed been looking for someone around her own age". Patricia said. "Well let's all go in and have a drink, I have prepared some refreshments for you. You might have to wait a while, our extremely rural phone line is acting up again, but it is rarely down for more than an hour or so, this way".


Chapter 4 - Alice

She stood for a moment by the back door watching her mother and sister drive away then strode briskly across the rear courtyard to the dog runs adjacent to the stable block. There were six of them constructed from heavy-duty galvanised wire mesh attached to a sturdy iron framework, each about twelve feet long, four feet wide and around six foot high. The latter dimension was purely for the convenience of the animal's owners as the occupants of the runs could not stand on their hind legs.

At the rear of each stood the kennel block, a low stone building that contained a sleeping pen for each dog plus several utility areas. A simple flat wooden vertical hatch, just a couple of feet high allowed access from the pen to the run, raised or lowered as needed by a simple rope pulley system. No need for anything more elaborate or high tech. A narrow door secured by a simple wooden swivel toggle adjacent to the hatch provided access for the owners. The Kennels more special inhabitants might be far more intelligent than normal dogs but could no more engineer a release from their confinement than could their more conventional canine neighbours.

Three of the low doors were raised giving access to their respective runs. One kennel was empty at the moment, and the other two closed ones belonged to Prince and Sultan, the two enormous Brazilian Mastiffs that roamed the grounds at night to discourage any intruder from taking too close an interest in things that didn't concern them. They served as a useful back up to the more modern electronic alarm and camera security systems installed. Very useful in fact. A camera could not pin a terrified trespasser to the ground and then hold them there until they could be dealt with more appropriately.

Alice snapped her fingers with a loud click, "Kennel," she ordered sharply and without a backward look walked briskly around the side of the building towards the entrance.

Fido reacted immediately as did the occupant of the furthest run. Both scampered forward as best they could, you couldn't call it walking or running although the intent was apparently to move as quickly as possible up the runs and squeeze through the open hatches into their respective 'kennels'.

Alice was already busy in the kitchen unit preparing food. She did not bother to check if her brusque order had been obeyed. She knew it would have been. The time when any of the kennels occupants might have rebelled in any meaningful way was well past, the only danger or perhaps occasional inconvenience was when one of the real mastiffs became over excited and gave someone a quick nip. Usually at feeding time or more often when about to be allowed access to a bitch.

A glance at the wall clock showed she was running about fifteen minutes late today. Not that time mattered that much to her, but it did to the animals. 'Custom and routine' was how her mother described it. The four cardinal rules for training the human beast! Custom, routine, pain, and patience. Apply all four, and eventually, you achieved your objective. A docile, obedient, ever fearful beast that would obey its owners without hesitation. There were limits of course. Overstep them, crush out those remaining elements of individual humanity and you were into 'kicking the dead dog' territory. "Do that, and you have lost all the thrill of ownership once that spark disappears from their eyes," her mother had told her. "I know people who genuinely prefer that, but they might as well get a real dog or a horse from their local charity rescue center. When one of my special dogs licks the hand that feeds, I want to see fear and hatred in its eyes, not mindless dumb apathy!"

She lined up four stainless steel dog bowls, each adorned with a pattern of paws and bones embossed around the rim. One can of dog food was split between two dishes to which she also added a few drops from a bottle of powerful laxative. A full can of dog food went into the other two then picked up a potato masher and gave each bowl a dozen or so mashes before dropping the implement into an adjacent sink. She opened the refrigerator, removing an opened supermarket convenience packet of cooked chicken breast pieces and a plastic bowl half full of food waste, potato, pasta, salad vegetables, bread even some apple crumble and custard. She scattered a handful of chicken pieces into the two fuller bowls and added more rather sparingly to the other two. Four generous dollops of waste food followed. A quick stir with a wooden spoon and breakfast was ready for the hounds.

She transferred the bowls to a small trolley, added a tall jug of cold water and a large plastic container half full of a mixture of dry dog food and well-known healthy breakfast cereal, then wheeled it out of the small kitchen and out into the corridor.

The kennels that lined one side of the passage were nothing like the traditional wooden 'Snoopy dog house'. They were more akin to prison cells, square cubicles made from vertical iron bars a few inches apart. A locked door of similar iron bars giving an entry. Natural light is coming from several high, narrow barred windows set in the thick stone on the opposite wall. The concrete floors slopped slightly to the front of each kennel so that any liquid would run into a shallow trough that ran along the front of all the pens to a covered drain.

The right-hand side of each pen was taken up by a large cage roughly four feet long, three feet wide and three feet high, partially lined with a layer of well-flattened straw. An open grill door faced into the pen allowing the owners to operate the sleeping cage door by a simple mechanical lever system with an external handle.

An excited barrage of barking and yapping greeted Alice's overdue appearance with the trolley from Prince and Sultan who paced backward and forwards expectantly with drooling impatience. She stopped in front of the first kennel, briefly glancing around at small whiteboard affixed to the wall below the narrow window. It was deliberately fixed there so that both owner and animal could see it.

Name: Fido.

Age: 21

Breed: Human, male bitch

Owned: 6 months

Notes: Normal food, 2/24. Daily walk. No litter tray-void on walks. Last mated - 4 days. Still capable of minor aggression.

Minimum notes but all that was needed. 'Still capable of minor aggression after six months'? That was new; her mother must have added that note yesterday evening. She opened the door into the first pen. "Quiet", she snapped at the barking youth. "So, what have you been up to Fido?" Not that she expected an answer. Indeed, it was a rhetorical question. "Been a bad bitch again?" She looked down at the pathetic creature cowering against the far wall, her lip curling in a contemptuous sneer. Its thighs and buttocks were blue-black in places and crisscrossed with a vivid pattern of darkening raised red welts, some still oozing tendrils of blood that showed the kennel cane had seen some action the evening before.

The youth once known as Johnathon whimpered loudly, he knew better than to say anything, way better. He could still speak and think though; he wasn't an animal despite how they kept him and what they did to him, not yet anyway. In the quiet of the night and blanketing darkness, he would often murmur to himself, recite poetry or mathematical formulae, half-forgotten telephone numbers of friends and relatives, historical dates, anything to help preserve his sanity.

Looking down at him, it was a feeling you never tired of Alice thought. Her mother had introduced her to her first 'dog' many years ago when she was very young. Her mother had taken her into the kennel, put her forefinger finger to her lips and whispered, "a big secret, you must not tell anyone or, you won't be able to play with her," and pointed into the very same pen that now confined Fido. Back then the pen had contained a short, plain-faced and rather pudgy young woman of around twenty years of age. "Fit for neither bed, barn or butlering duties," her mother had remarked, so she can live out here with the guard dogs like the pathetic bitch she is!"

Who she was or had been, where she came from, and how she came to be there Alice never knew, nor did it ever even occur to her to ask. When she yowled as she frequently did at first it was in some incomprehensible, probably East European language. She didn't even have a name. Her mother just called her bitch. Alice had called her 'Pimple', although she'd initially named her Spot because of the bad facial acne that continually erupted on her greasy sallow face and it seemed an appropriate name for a dog. Later she had decided she preferred 'Pimple' feeling it more appropriate and subtly feminine

Things had changed a little since then. Pimple had initially crawled around with two sets of steel manacles adorning her wrists and ankles with shorts chains running between them. Two further short chains ran from them to a broad, thick heavy leather belt that had circled her waist. These effectively prevented the bitch from ever standing erect ensuring that she remained permanently on hands and knees unless curled up in her basket.

Fido garbed, no equipped, not too dissimilarly. The wide belt around his midriff was now more of a cross between a belt and a short corset. The heavy black leather held his belly taught and flat and fastened at his back with several straps fed into ratchet fasteners. Every so often the spanner that hung beneath the whiteboard was used to take it in another painful notch. Her mother had a real penchant for slender waists! The dogs, ponies, house 'staff', even her father wore a similar device although her fathers was unlikely to be anything like as restrictive.... not unless he seriously pissed his wife off. It also could be removed for showering and bathing, unlike the 24/7 devices the rest wore.

Alice grinned. Given half a chance her mother would probably even have corseted the two real mastiffs had the prospect been practicable and not involved a fair degree of risk to life and assorted limbs! Thank god she and her sister took after their mother and didn't need to resort to artificial aids to keep in trim.

The manacles and chains had gone, replaced now with bespoke harness items made by a highly respected leather company based in Northern Germany. Most of their products manufactured for the high-end general leather market, bags, belts, coats, etc. Additionally, a more discrete section of the business fabricated a wide variety of quality bondage and similar restrictive items for fetish aficionados. An even smaller offshoot provided a much more specialised service, restraint items made to particular requirements for specific customers with unique needs. Pieces made to the highest standard from the best leather and almost always incorporating a ridged or flexible skeleton of thin ultra-toughened steel reinforcing. These were not your eBay cheapies designed for playful consensual bedroom fun where one good tug would ensure immediate release. These highly expensive items, generally no more substantial than a superior pair of leather ladies' gloves had a strength ratio a thousand times stronger than any online 'play set'.

Like Pimple, Fido was also denied any means of standing erect. However, no clumsy clanking chains and dangling padlocks adorned his youthful limbs. His legs were doubled up, a two-inch black leather band secured ankle to thighs, thin, flexible and yet wholly binding. Supple enough not to cut off any circulation but impossible to remove due to a small ratchet fastening system that mirrored the one on his waist belt. Tightened on a regular basis as his muscles slowly atrophied under its relentless grip.

Its larger cousin fitted snuggly above, and below each knee, this time the restraint resembled the sort of 'stump' harness an amputee might once have worn to protect it or to assist in the fitting of an old-fashioned type of prosthetic limb. The thin reinforced leather 'sock' moulded tightly for six or seven inches around his bent knee and the comparison to a prosthetic limb was very apt for it terminated in a solid rubber foot piece, in this case, an oversized replica of a dog's paw.

Around his neck was fastened a broad collar of stiff harness leather, worn relatively loose to allow him sideways movement but limited the ability to drop his chin thereby making him hold his head at a more elevated and uncomfortable angle. Not that it bothered him too much now. Like the other restraints, he'd fought it at first but had slowly adjusted to them in as far as any human being could. They didn't even need to use the shock system built into it. In the early days, its use had frequently initiated a total collapse, writhing in absolute screaming agony whenever they triggered it. Of late its use had diminished due to their fondness for various physical modes of punishment. The bitches seemed to find that far more entertaining! His resistance had buckled during the second month, beaten and zapped, half-starved, bound, abused and humiliated. The only one who regularly activated the shock collar these days was that little Bitch Eva.

Alice opened the iron door and placed one of the lesser filled food bowls on the floor and at the same time added water to a chipped brown ceramic bowl ignoring the film of dust, dead flies and other detritus already present. She snapped her fingers again and pointed down at the food bowl. "Eat bitch; I want to see my face in the sheen at the bottom of that bowl when I come back from the stables. Otherwise, you'll howl for me just like you must have done for my mother last night!"

He needed no second bidding. He'd scurried forward on hands and knees the moment his owner's fingers moved and plunged his face into the food bowl even as the echo of her finger snap reverberated in his ears.

Alice loved the primitive way the dogs ate, just like the animal they were. Muzzles face down in the bowl, slurping, chomping and gulping it down just as they'd been taught. Not that they had any choice, no cutlery here and no hands or fingers to use them. Fido's arms ended in stiff leather pouches and mittens secured to his wrist, his hands sticking out almost at right angles to take his weight, his fingers trapped and useless, only his 'claws' peeping out, so they could be trimmed as needed. Some owners Alice knew preferred the bent elbow restraint akin to the knee/thigh ones Fido wore. Fine for lap dogs but not very practical. They could only ever waddle on their elbows and knees extremely slowly when out walking, throw a ball, and you had time to read a book almost before they'd retrieved it!

She raised her booted foot and deliberately placed it against the back of his head and pushed down firmly. The animal made a sort of 'mumf' noise as his face was forced into the sloppy contents of the feeding bowl and mashed up against the steel bottom. She held him for a second and then removed her long slender leg. He emerged from the bowl spluttering with food smeared all over his face. Alice loved these little cameo moments. Almost as much fun as giving a good flogging - nearly. "Wipe your filthy muzzle clean when your finished bitch you've got your food all over it, messy hound".

One of her regrets was that so far no one had produced a decent useable headpiece for the dogs. Those that were on the market involved far too much work in putting on and taking off, so they could eat or use their tongues usefully. Inevitably the muzzle part extended to far forward so that although they could look the part, functionality was compromised. Then there was also the problem of facial fur on some of the stupid beasts. They never got shaved. Once a month they received major grooming, bath, 'claws trimmed, facial fur sheared short with a sharp pair of scissors likewise head fur, etc. Weekly just the thorough tooth brushing, tail change and a squirt with the hose plus the stiff bristle brush to remove any accumulated shit from their tails area. Maybe a half face mask she mused. They could have cute floppy ears of different sizes, and it would still leave their faces clear to eat and grow more of their wretched facial fuzz as well as ensuring you could see their so so sad eyes. Talking of tail cleaning...

"Wag" she ordered, snapping her fingers again. Fido reacted instantly. He quickly twisted around to present his rear to her and then obligingly wiggled his arse backward and forwards so that the short rubberised imitation dogs tail his plugged arse sported wagged back and forth. He realised as he performed the hated humiliating act that he'd been remiss earlier and not been frantically doing the same to greet her along with the excited imitation barking. Maybe she hadn't noticed.

Actually, Alice had noticed the omission but chose to ignore it on this occasion. 'Let them have their little victories from time to time', her mother had once said. 'Give the beasts the odd inch occasionally and then snatch a foot back with a touch of the cane later!'

Such power Alice thought watching the frantic movements of the imitation tail wiggling so delightfully before her. She, standing there in her designer jeans and tight sweater, expensive heeled boots, clean, scented and fresh from a recent hot shower, well rested, well fed and in total control able to exercise bountiful kindness or merciless cruelty on that sad squirming smelly wretch before her. To know that she in part was responsible for his condition and to feel neither qualms nor guilt about it nor any degree of sympathy was so utterly delicious.

"Present - stay".

Fido stiffened, the wagging immediately ceased as he pushed down on his front paws, elbows locked, body raised high, chin up, bent and bound rear limbs spread apart the required distance. He waited trembling slightly as he heard a familiar rustle. She was pulling on her gloves, the thin leather pair she always carried in a pocket, and that was usually not good news. She was going to handle him, touch him or beat him, maybe both.

Alice flexed her fingers for a moment to savour the feeling of the expensive thin slightly stretchy leather over her long-manicured digits. She rarely handled an animal with bare hands like her mother and sister frequently did. Helpless, quivering animal flesh was just the same anyway, a delight to touch, feel, fondle, squeeze, mark regardless of your preference. Must take after Aunty Claire, she had a predilection for long kid leather opera gloves.

She bent down and reached between the creature's buttocks, a spasm of disgust momentarily marring her pretty features. One of the drawbacks to human hounds was their physical inability to 'lick' themselves clean. The rubber tail had a thin flexible spring at its core; it bobbled before her eyes as his buttocks automatically clenched and flinched at her touch. A sizeable flanged butt plug held it firmly captive in his anus the tail affixed to the top part and curled upwards along its eighteen-inch length. The plug was partly hollow; a small rotary control allowed an aperture in the flat base under the tail to revolve either open or closed. A leather-clad finger moved the switch so that the device opened, and a thin dribble of disgusting smelling liquid dribbled out.

"Filthy creature," she spat out and sharply smacked his defenseless right buttock with a leather palm. Even as he yelped and bucked the same hand quickly reached roughly between his legs and grabbed at his genitals. His balls swung free, but his penis was encased inside a small curved ridged red plastic tube that prevented any form of an erection. Someone had written the word 'bitch' on it in faded black felt tip pen letters down the length of the tube.

"Your shit chute's now open Fido, but don't you dare do anything, let out so much as one teeny drop before walkies and I'll ask mother to let me make you a real bitch!". She grasped his balls firmly to emphasise the threat. She squeezed a little harder making him yelp and then whine, one from paw scratching frantically in the dirt of the floor.

Alice stood up and gave him a sharp kick in the ribs. "Eat the rest bitch," she laughed and added, "I put a double dose of poo poo juice in your food, so doggie is going to want to go walkies quite soon I expect." She laughed again, and he heard the steel door clang shut as she left the pen to attend to the other inmates.

Fido waited for a second, then wiped a rubber paw over his face removing some of the food smeared on it then reluctantly dropped his face back into the steel bowl. A double dose! He had no chance.


Chapter 5 - Sally

She moved restlessly in the stall. There was no clock, nor could she see outside the building but after six months that instinct perhaps possessed by all living creatures had told her it was time to arise if you could call it that.

In a previous life that was now nothing but a distant treasured memory, she had never been an enthusiastic greeter of the new day. A comfortable bed, soft, warm duvet and the snooze function on a nearby alarm clock had been her allies against the necessary and often obligatory demands that each new dawn would bring.

True, she now had another 'bed' ....of sorts. A vast improvement on the first three months when sleeping semi-upright perched on a narrow wooden plank set against the rough wooden wall of the stall had been the only option allowed. She shuffled around slightly to look at her new piece of furniture, her steel-shod hoof boots scuffing the light covering of sand, straw, and sawdust that carpeted the stall. Her movements hampered by the short hobble chain clipped from one boot top to the other and the long drooping tether leading from her collar to an eyebolt set into the stone wall.

Bed! She would have spat in disgust at the very notion had it not been for the leather bit and tongue pad in her mouth effectively preventing not only that but also any form of comprehensible speech. About the only thing she could do was drool. In the early days she had drooled a lot, she still did but not as much. It was inevitable if one had a variety of rubber or leather bars wedged in your mouth 24/7. At least the overnight one was not as hard or as tight as the daytimes ones were. Strangely enough that thin, almost constant skein of saliva between her restrained mouth and breasts had been a constant source of embarrassment to her in the early days. Odd, given that apart from her revealing harness she was always butt naked and frequently suffering infinitely far worse humiliations than displaying a bit of extra spittle!

The bed was little more than a narrow plank about two feet wide and six long. At the bottom a small ledge just wide enough to rest both booted feet on and that was it. No padding, no memory foam, no springs, just hard varnished wood. It was propped up at an angle a bit steeper than forty-five degrees. She still couldn't lay horizontally of course, but it did mean a considerable reduction on the pressure on her feet which had been the only alternative to that butt busting narrow plank. She was accustomed now to shuffling on and off it and sleeping at an angle, but initially, it was sheer heaven to shift some of her weight a little onto that inclined support.

They had said it was a privilege to have it and only allowed it because of her condition. Well, to be precise they hadn't actually told her that. They never told any of them anything, just issued orders and expected them to be obeyed instantly. She still had ears though that worked and passed information to her brain when she caught snippets of conversation. Even that wasn't allowed in this terrible place. How many times had she heard the phrase "Animals don't think," usually followed by the crack of a whip or crop and a strangled scream, all too often hers!

Her condition; she was always aware of it now. She could no longer see her feet, or rather the horrible hoof boots that covered them. She had not seen her feet since they'd first put those awful boots on her, not even when they occasionally removed them to check her feet and cut her toenails, 'Trimming her hoofs' as they described it in their ridiculous horse terminology. She was inevitably fastened to a wall by a short lead while they stood behind her as she obediently raised first one leg and then the other her when tapped with a riding crop so that they could attend to her feet.

Condition? She was continually aware of it. Her swollen belly was now protruding further than her once perky young breasts had done. How long till, she did not know, had no means of knowing. The bump had grown a lot recently; it terrified her. Likewise her swelling breasts. This hellhole would have been unbearable without the added complication of being pregnant and a pregnancy that had been deliberately engineered through repeated rape! Her frame shook as she gave vent to a long-stifled sob as her mind drifted back to the day she had first arrived in this evil place.

"I love horses; I'd love to see them". That's what she 'd foolishly said as Alice led her away from her family, around the corner of the old house and towards the old red brick stable building. That was the last time she had seen all her family together, standing happily with their new hosts in the golden glow of a late summer evening. She had seen some of them since but in an infinitely less happy state.

"Guard dogs," Alice had remarked nodding in the direction of some wired runs. "Asleep now. Mother likes to keep them for security as we are somewhat isolated here, plus she's into breeding them".

"Do you get many puppies?"

"Hardly", Alice had laughed, "the bitches are not generally very suitable, I think it's more the...the mechanics that she enjoys".

"I don't understand?"

"Don't worry about it; I think you're going to find my breeding program much more entertaining. I know I will!"

"You breed horses here?" she asked following Alice through the door to the stables.

Alice had laughed again and pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Not yet, my mother has a friend who's seriously into pony breeding, and I have always wanted to do the same once the right opportunity arose. This way."

The barn was a substantial weathered brick building which no doubt had once held many mounts and carriage horses plus the conveyances that the latter would pull for the convenience of the gentry. Alice tapped a few numbers into a keypad and then pushed open one of the stout black painted double doors and led the way into the windowless building.

It was dark after the bright evening sunshine outside, and it took a few seconds for her eyes to acclimatise a little to the gloom. The inside of the building was a very large single square room, open to the roof rafters and skylights. There were numerous overlapping smells, hay and fresh sawdust mingled with others less savoury, urine, stale body odour, faeces. There was an extensive open area in front of them, and at the far side, there were several light carriages neatly lined up against end wall, mostly small with oversized bicycle type wheels.

"Stalls all down the left, utility, wet-room and tack areas along the right," Alice said with an indicative wave of her hand. She grinned. "Also, a punishment area for the less obedient animals as needed!"

"What?"

"This way, come and meet Midnight". Alice walked over to an opening on the right. "Take a peek", she invited with a gesture.

Confused and curious Sally obediently walked across and through the doorway into a smaller room and gasped aloud. Numerous images hit her one after the other and none of them pleasant or readily comprehensible.

"Wha.....what....what is this?" she had gasped staring at the contents of the dimly illuminated room in the fading light from the open door behind them. Alice roughly brushed past her rudely elbowing her aside and casually flicking on a light switch as she did so.

"This," said Alice indicating the man now blinking at them in the harsh white light, "is Midnight, my prize stallion and this", she added lifting something down from the wall "is the stable cane. It's used like this." She swished it quickly through the air so that it made a whistling sound and then raising the long thick bamboo rod high brought it down with an unpleasant sounding crack across the man's naked buttocks. The man made an animal like sound and jumped violently within the tight the bonds that held him.

Sally just stared open-mouthed, and horror-struck. The room was not all that large; one wall lined with hooks from which dangled a variety of wicked looking floggers, canes and whips and other equally unpleasant looking things she could not begin put a name too. That was just a small part of it; there was all manner of ominous looking straps, ropes, plugs, phalluses and other leather or metal devices.

A couple of sinister-looking black metal cages stood at the back of the room. A tall, thin one and the other small and squat similar to those people would use for small animals when visiting their vets, only this one was somewhat bigger and could take a large dog, or.... or....

The cane hissed through the air again, and once more the wretched man attempted to make a noise and writhed against the restraints holding him. "I'd only just started giving this stupid animal yet another obedience lesson when mother called me over," Alice stated jabbing at the man savagely with the end of the cane. "and I always finish what I start don't I"? she jabbed him again.

Sally gasped again her eyes bulging in disbelief. What was this? All the torture stuff, the frightening cages and this man.... had she suddenly found herself in some kinky sex place; she was a bit naive about such things but not that naive. She was a nurse after all and fashionable women's magazines these days had moved on from knitting patterns and the like.

She stood almost petrified staring wide-eyed down at the helpless near naked man before her. He was strapped securely across a padded frame, held down by a broad strap across his back, legs apart and his strangely booted feet secured to the legs of the frame. He raised his head, his eyes caught and held hers, gleaming white against his glistening black skin. They appealed silently for help. He couldn't speak. His mouth was open, but something like a gag had been forced between his teeth, various straps covered his whole head. She saw other harness-like straps around his body and frighteningly, no arms, at least that was her first thought until she realised that the leather hump above the strap that secured him to the bench was where his arms must be.

For what seemed like an eternity the two stared at each other, the one pleading silently, the other transfixed with horror. The man was not that old, probably only early twenties, big built and very muscular she sub-consciously noted, a bit like that cute West Indian porter and amateur boxer her bestie had dated during their first year's training. Her eyes opened even wider as she took in something else. The man's buttocks, back, and thighs were covered in a ragged pattern of nasty crisscrossing welts and purple bruises visible even on his ultra-dark skin. Some clearly older and others very fresh, still oozing thin rivulets of bright red blood.

She had broken contact with the man, distracted by a movement from Alice, the girl casually tossed the cane onto a shelf and picked something else up. Sally suddenly found that her stasis had evaporated and promptly bolted back through the open doorway. She almost reached the still open stable door when something hit her in the back, two somethings, tiny dart pricks and then.... Pain, awful, agonising unendurable pain. She had screamed and fallen to the floor writhing in the dirt. Only vaguely did she see Alice approach taser in one hand and a long cattle prod in the other. Alice stood looking down at her for a moment and then casually moving a dial on the cattle prod with her thumb placed the device against her victim's bare midriff. "Welcome to your new life little Filly," she said squeezing the trigger. Sally shrieked once and then went limp as all the lights went out.

"I think you just got lucky Midnight," Alice called over her shoulder. "I'm gonna be kind of busy for a few hours before we get to resume our little obedience reminder. Then again," she muttered to herself, "maybe the flogging bench won't be vacant much for a while!"


Chapter 6 - Girlie (added: 2018/10/08)

His feet hurt although they should have adapted by now, but they hadn't, and they did. It was the shoes that were the problem. Another new pair of four-inch heels this time in glossy pale pink with dainty little leather bows on the sharply pointed toes. He'd long since lost count of how many pairs of shoes, boots, sandals, mules he'd worn. The one thing they all had in common was the inevitable high stiletto heels. Either the three or four-inch ones he wore when engaged in various mundane household tasks, or the five and six-inch killer ones when in the bedroom, what they called his sexy shoes although when he wore those he was not always standing on his feet for very long.

It wasn't even as if he had big feet. He had always taken a relatively small size in the trainers he'd previously habitually worn. 'Dainty feet', that's what his mother had often said. 'Fairy feet' his sister had teased him when they were younger. Good things come in small packages his father had always remarked whenever they had made fun of him over the tea table.

He'd always been conscious of his more modest build. He'd never quite been the smallest boy in any class but his lack of inches, when combined with a lightweight even petite frame, had invariably made him one of the last to be chosen when his peers picked football or other team games s where some degree of physical strength was required. Bullying had of course been a regular occurrence throughout his early junior school days.

The senior school had been different; he'd learnt and so fought them from day one. A much bigger boy had come up to him on the first morning, thrust his face into his, grabbed him by the testicles and screamed, "Knackered a new boy". He'd punched that boy in the face hard 'so hard that it split the skin over three of his knuckles plus breaking his aggressors' nose! They'd banned him for two weeks and when he'd finally returned he found he had a new name. They called him Tiger. No one had bothered him from that day on. Not till recently anyway. No one would call him Tiger now, maybe never again.

Thoughts about his previous life inevitably brought on 'The Misery' as he called it. He tried not to think about it, but it was always there. The triggers were all around him. A stolen glance toward a football match on the TV, a newspaper headline, picking up a discarded pair of trainers, a forbidden bar of chocolate laying on a kitchen work surface, a casual or cruelly often deliberate remark about one of his captive family. How could he forget when there were a thousand little snippets every day to remind him of who and what he once had been. No, who he still was and would be again one day. He was a man; he was called George, he was his own man, a free-born individual with an exciting future ahead of him. G was for George, NOT 'Girlie' "I'm not, I'm not" the words quietly burst out of him as he half sobbed his hatred of the foul name aloud. Unfortunately, the reflection in the tarnished mirror of the old hall-stand belied his anguished statement.

He'd stopped briefly to glance at his reflection in its age-spotted surface. The last six months had taught him, often painfully, to do that. He recalled years ago on a family outing his Grandfather had once jokingly remarked, "you never pass up a public lavatory at my age - might be a while till you find the next one." He now had his personal equivalent. Stopping by a mirror had become automatic. His grandfather had had a choice, so had he - ignore it and risk getting a beating because his appearance was less than perfect or stop, look and if necessary fix whatever minor 'defect' might mar his presence in their eyes.

He stared at his reflection. Mirrors were cruel inventions he mused. They showed reality, not the enhanced perceptions that people had of themselves no matter what their circumstances might be. Outside of the mirror reflection, shorter people were inevitably taller; fat people were always thin, ugly people were beautiful, older were younger and so on. Real men like him wore branded trainers, tee shirts and jeans, sported cool designer stubble and expensive yet artfully casual hairstyles. They were virile, masculine, independent and absolute, masters of their destiny. They were not, repeat not, period, what he was looking at in that old mirror.

Pink was the dominant colour that reflected. Vivid, eye-catching inescapable, humiliatingly feminine in garish shades that only the most depraved or perhaps colour blind whore would have considered wearing. He had no choice. Not of colours anyway. His wardrobes were well stocked and continually receiving additions. His small bedroom was virtually all built-in closets and cupboards, shelves, hanging space, shoe racks and mirrors, the narrow bed with its hard mattress along one wall was almost an afterthought. He probably spent more time anyway perched on the small stool and makeup mirror while carefully applying some of the contents of the myriad pots, tubes, liners, pencils, lipsticks, and the like that were lined up in regimented fashion on top of the dressing table.

In his previous existence he had never been a fussy dresser, didn't own a suit, smart jacket or formal shirt and frequently went about without socks. His daily dress had been distinctly casual and limited, his entire wardrobe including a couple of pairs of trainers would probably have fitted into a medium-sized suitcase. The present collection upstairs would probably need a small shipping container to move it.

Apart from the many pairs of shoes and boots, he had no regular daily or outside clothing. No jeans, sweaters, skirts, dresses, coats, nothing that the average woman or girl would have to hand for everyday wear. Even the numerous pairs of boots and shoes with their inevitable high heels were all more appropriate for long-legged models posing for a top shelf glossy men's magazine shoot or the boudoir rather than practical wear.

He was never allowed out any way other than the occasional trip over to the stable block. He served by day or night, always in his heels, mincing around as was required. Heels that never left his feet, even his daily shower did not allow a respite. He was expected to take it wearing a pair of flimsy rose-hued plastic chunky high heeled open toed sandals. Sometimes he might wear half a dozen different pairs or more in a single day, and there was no relief. Almost every single pair had some form of ankle strap or similar device to be securely fastened with tiny padlocks. Each of his tormentors had a key; they would briefly free him, so he could quickly change into a new outfit and then present himself so that either the same footwear or more frequently a different 'erotic' pair could be locked and worn for their apparent titillation or amusement.

Not even night brought any relief. His shoes almost always remained locked. He lived, ate, slept, worked and got fucked in them. The little locks were more a symbolic addition to his humiliating slavery rather than for security purposes. He could probably have ripped them off in seconds with his fingers alone, but he shrank back from that idea. God, what would they do to him if he did that? Getting a ladder in one of his stockings was a near capital offence!

It was Eva of course who had told him that one day they would not need the locks. "Just a pain for us" she had said. "One day we won't have to bother with this, even a stupid bitch like you will know better than to try and go without your so sexy shoes" She had said that while locking him into a pair of seven-inch pink platform heels she'd decided he would look 'so cool' wearing for her. "Of course, by then you will have learned to walk like the cock hungry whore you are and anyway", she added, clicking the second lock home and standing up, "Mother says your feet will probably no longer work with proper shoes like ordinary people wear in a few more years". She indicated her Nike trainers. "They will be too fucked up ever to walk flat again"!

That had been about three months ago. A few more years she had said. Years! How long was this nightmare going to last? Even if it did, was she right? Surely not, didn't many women wear high heels and trainers and the like, their feet were not altered beyond redemption, were they? But then they did not wear them 24/7 and for years...!!!!!

Heels were not the only thing he had to master. His wardrobe ran the whole gamut of erotic apparel and lingerie. He had garter belts in a range of styles and suspender straps, corsets, waspies, corselets, chokers, teddies, catsuits, ballet tutu's, elbow and shoulder gloves, headbands, baby dolls, harem suits, etc. One significant draw contained nothing but stockings, sheer, shimmering, seamed, fishnet or a combination of features. The one thing absent was any item of panties. They always wanted his captive manhood fully displayed. Anything that might have had a crotch was of course crotchless. The same applied to the other part of his anatomy. Equally his 'bitch cunt' always had to be bare and accessible. Even the limited possibility of covering himself no matter how humiliating or degrading the covering might be was not permitted.

There were no bras either. That was an ongoing casual topic of conversation that frequently terrified him. Young Eva felt he should wear a training bra. "Training what?" her elder sister usually sneered. His Master seemed to prefer him as he was with his flat bitch man tits, but the sadistic tyrant that ruled this place sometimes mentioned hormone treatment or maybe getting some implants. "She'd be worth more if we ever sold her," she'd once mused to add to his horror.

New garments were provided on a regular basis as if the considerable collection of humiliating feminine, frilly items and similar were not enough. Sometimes packages would just be left in his room for him to open and put carefully away in their assigned places. At other times he would be summoned and presented with his latest 'gift'. He would have to smile sweetly, curtsy gracefully as he'd been rigorously taught, or as gracefully as he could manage and thank his benefactor. He would have to open the wretched thing, hold it up for them to see, listen to their comments as to how he would look wearing it. He hated that.

Likewise, during the day he might hear one of them say, "That would suit Girlie or Girlie would look so sexy in that don't you think?" Someone would hold up a magazine or point to something on a computer screen. "Maybe, would come an answer but not in that colour, see if they do one in pink or similar, order one if you like". He would have no say, of course, would not even know what they were discussing, he knew better than to try and attempt to see what his owners were viewing. It was not his business.

Sometimes they did let him decide on his apparel for the day or night. He hated, even feared that. Not only was it grossly humiliating but an unacceptable or unappealing choice (in their eyes) could result in impromptu punishment. In fact, it invariably did. One, two, even three of his captors might ignore him or perchance be too involved in something else to care overmuch. Four, however, was one too many. One, usually his Master of the youngest daughter would decide that they didn't approve, and he would be beaten, or at least face slapped and sent to change. Occasionally it varied, he might get sent to change and then report back for a beating. Either way, he still got the beating or a couple of painful slaps!

His moist eyes stared despairingly back at him, sad, helpless, bowed but not entirely broken. A spark remained a small spark perhaps and for how long he did not know. Maybe ultimately even that would be ruthlessly crushed out of him. He blinked several times to clear his eyes, he didn't dare let his eyes water or worse, cry. The bright blue eyes were his own, the painted mask that surrounded them was not. That had been imposed on him.

Pale foundation cream, eyeshadow, liner, mascara, bright pink lipstick a touch of rouge to highlight his cheekbones even long false eyelashes that curled aggressively outward giving him a permanent look of startled, wide-eyed innocence! That was a laugh. Innocence. His had been brutally ripped from him that first evening of his captivity. His 'new' Master had left him in no doubt as to what his prime role would be. He was not naive, he had or had had several girlfriends. Girls found him 'cute' or, so he'd been told. However, no relationship had ever progressed beyond some kissing and the odd 'stop that', when his wandering hand squeezed or fondled a little too adventurously!

He'd been a virgin sexually, still was and likely to remain one now insofar as any normal sexual activity was concerned. Normal sexual activity! No chance of that with the tight restraining plastic tube they had used to imprison his penis. He'd never been very big, and of course and that was something additional to taunt him with. Especially for that evil brat Eva. Her mother and sister rarely even seemed to notice that he had once been a man, no, correction, still was a man! Eva, however, mentioned it frequently and delighted in reminding him both verbally and physically of his impotence. While his manhood had never been overtly long it made up for it a little in girth, his bulbous penis head being worthy of crowning a more massive organ. It stuck out of the end of its plastic straitjacket like a bald man's head emerging from a very tight sweater and was just a too prominent and tempting target for a casual swat with a suitable corrective implement.

Agonizing, excruciatingly agonising. Sometimes the leather tip of a riding crop would catch him completely unawares, and other times, he would hear that feared command, "present Mr Pee Pee" from the youngest of his tormentors. He would have to face her with arms bent and hands clasped behind his neck bending backwards slightly so that his groin thrust forward. There was always a pause while she savoured the power she exercised over him. She delighted in watching him tremble and the fear in his eyes as he knew what was about to happen. His eyes downcast affixed on her casually held crop or worse, the dreaded cane. It didn't always happen of course. The young sadist was an expert in making him suffer. Sometimes she would laugh and dismiss him back to his domestic duties, other times she would decide she couldn't be bothered and tell him to report to her later or on the next day and leave him to sweat on it. There was one thing certain though, she never forgot. If he were not swatted at once, he would be in the very near future. She loved making 'Little Mr Pee Pee dance' as she put it.

Mr Pee Pee might be imprisoned and unlikely to erupt with pleasure in the foreseeable future or to receive any form of sexual attention. However, the same was not applicable to other parts of his anatomy. Not that any of it was pleasurable for him. He no longer had an anus, he had a bitch cunt, for that was how they referred to his rectum. That received plenty of sexual attention as did his mouth. His mouth, they'd told him, other than eating and drinking, had four primary uses only. Licking, sucking, swallowing, and kissing who, what or where his lips were directed. It was NOT for talking unless asked a question that needed an answer or when given on rare occasions permission to say something. Screaming, however, he'd noted bitterly was always allowed, there seemed to be no restriction on that, and it was all too often actively encouraged!

There were other exceptions to the verbal rule. Automatically curtsying and thanking those who frequently 'corrected' any minor failings was one. Not only could you get beaten into screaming near insensibility, but you had to thank your tormentor for doing it. Another regular requirement was to moan and mouth suitably erotic and endearing compliments and whispered encouragements while engaged in confirming his Master's domineering virile masculinity at the expensive of his own. Not always of course as his Master's mood varied and with it the spectrum of his sexual advances. Sometimes he was taken to bed and treated gently like a virgin bride on her wedding night, on others being thrown down, beaten, clothing ripped off and brutally raped. No loving endearments required for the later, just begging and screaming and the screams were all too often completely genuine. He'd experienced a whole range of unwanted attention between those two extremes almost on a nightly basis.

The painted face was only one aspect of the many humiliations that had been heaped upon him. His dusty blonde hair now hung down nearly to his shoulders. He'd always had a relatively light beard, rarely bothering to shave more than once every four or five days unless there was a particular reason. His hair had always been more prolific necessitating a trip to Tony's unisex saloon at least every three weeks. Both had betrayed him in his present incarceration. He was required to shave every day here, but with little need, his face remained smooth and pale, no blue hint of five o'clock shadow or anything near would ever taint him. His near shoulder length swift growing mane stayed predominantly uncut although he was under orders to brush it a hundred times morning and night. Additionally, once a fortnight he had to submit to a styling session carried out by the older daughter who was training the end to curl inwards.

His hair wasn't the only thing she trained. He had spent days being taught to walk 'sexy'. Every morning with hands cuffed behind his back, she had marched him across to the stable building where a long leash dangling from a rotary device in the rafters was affixed to his collar. Under the painful tutorage of whip and riding crop, he had been forced to walk around and around in an endless circle, his feet locked into a pair of high heeled boots as he learned to walk anew. He minced, sashayed, wiggled his butt, took dainty, ladylike steps in his glossy heels, and frequently screamed when something swished and then bit hard and sharp into his buttocks or thighs when his efforts failed to satisfy.

Alice, the eldest daughter, frightened him. They all scared him but Alice and her mother most of all. They were both so impersonal. They treated him more like an animal or an inanimate object. To them, he was not a person just a thing to be used or taken for granted. At least young Eva treated him as a human being albeit one who could be treated with contemptuous cruelty. Her father, his master and owner, behaved similarly and could sometimes be kind and friendly in a weird possessive sort of way even though he raped and brutalised him daily.

He blinked at his reflection; he dare not give way to tears no matter how desperate or deep his misery ran and today for some reason his usual state of depression was almost overwhelming. Crying, tears, anything that would ruin his makeup was another thing that was not allowed. They always demanded perfection which was why he stopped by every mirror and checked his face and overall appearance. That bitch would be back from the school run soon and not only would she expect him to have finished his first set of chores but could, dependent on her mood, thrash him on the spot if she felt he had so much as a hair out of place!

He took one final despairing glance in the mirror. He could not stand there motionless for too long. The shocking pink leather choker locked around his neck would trigger if he did that. Inactivity was another thing on the endless forbidden list. It wasn't just the awful colour, it actually was shocking or could be when it activated. He did not need the traditional iron ball and chain shackled to his ankle so beloved by cartoonists to render him a total captive, nor the wrought ironwork that covered all the ground floor windows.

The large heavy wooden front door just a few yards away led to freedom. Freedom from humiliation, freedom from abuse, freedom from pain, freedom from repeated rape and sodomy, freedom from high heels and feminine frills, freedom from the vilest slavery imaginable, a release from the black despair that filled his waking hours and haunted his restless nights.

He'd tried it once. Only once but he knew better now than to try again. That humiliating choker around his neck was more than just a feminine adornment. They could and had and did use it to shock him into painful incapacity, screaming, collapsed and writhing in helpless agony on the ground. He knew each level on the wretched device from 1 through to 6. They rarely went above 3, but that time he'd tried to sneak out of the back door a level 6 shock automatically zapped him.

There had been trouble with his mother; she'd apparently attacked the bitch who ruled the roost in this hell hole. In the early days, it was the first time since he'd been there that he'd been left alone and near an exit. That little hellhound in female form, Eva, had been enthusiastically directing his domestic activities in the huge old kitchen with the aid of a long flexible bamboo cane. They had been interrupted by a loud scream of pain and rage from upstairs followed by a cry for help. Eva had instantly rushed to her mothers' aid. He was at the door in seconds, the handle turned, the door opened, no lock obstructed his freedom, he'd made to lunge forwards, and then he remembered screaming, screaming and intense mind-numbing pain then nothing but blissful darkness.

Unfortunately, the darkness had not lasted for very long. He'd recovered consciousness to find his limbs still twitching helplessly and with all four of them standing over him looking down. "Stupid, stupid bitch!" Eva had shouted at him, lashing down twice with her cane before drawing back a foot and kicking him hard in the ribs. He'd absently noticed that the trainer was adorned with faded printed pictures of her favourite boy band members, the ones whose music sometimes reverberated around the upper floor when she was in residence.

"You were warned not to attempt to leave this house", Mistress Patricia had said in a low, threatening voice. "Before I take you down to my basement.... and shut your mouth, I don't want to hear anything from you, you know begging won't make a difference and speaking without my permission will only make it worse!" She spoke slowly and chillingly. "You now know why you cannot leave my house. The doors are all linked to your collar, so are the grounds should you manage to get out. That was a level six shock. I have just adjusted the system. It does not just punish your laziness. Go within two feet now of any external door, and you will get a level nine. Eva here wanted me to give you a taster of it", she smiled sadistically, "however, I want you relatively fit and certainly conscious to appreciate our next few hours together. Experiment in the future if you wish, personally I would not recommend it."

He shuddered at that old memory, cast a last longing glance at the front door and freedom denied, then resumed his morning mopping of the of the faded hall tiles being extra careful not to slop over his new pink shoes. His colourful image in the antiquated mirror gradually retreated.


Chapter 7 - Mumsie (added: 2018/11/10)

It was not a very large house, nowhere near as grand or spacious as the one she had recently been confined in for several long months with all its faded elegance. She was grateful for that as she crawled awkwardly along on all fours behind her temporary mistress, struggling to keep up, her eyes fixed forward focused on nothing but her own defused reflection in the glossy heels of the stiletto boots strutting step by step front of her. She dared not lag, not even for a fraction of a second, dare not let the leash that linked her to the awful woman in front tighten one tiny jot!

The stairs were always the worst part, going up was not easy but descending was decidedly worse. Her balance was all wrong, and body weight tended to naturally propel you forward and once started it would be difficult to stop. She dreaded to think what might happen if she lost control and slid to the foot of the staircase taking her Mistress down with her in the process. At least they were carpeted unlike most of the ground floor rooms. Her knees had begun to hurt with all the crawling constantly. Hurt almost as much as the angry red and purple weals that marked her buttocks and thighs.

They reached the turning point and began to descend. Fortunately, the house although not very big by the number of rooms was old and had quite high ceilings and the rooms were large. One consequence of this meant the staircase slanted at a shallower angle than in smaller more cramped modern dwellings. It was easier for her to control her movement by partially bracing her arms and shoulders as she scurried downwards in obedient response to a slight tug on her leash.

Every morning bar one which she assumed must be a Sunday was always the same. There was a brief pause while her temporary owner casually looped the leash over the bottom balustrade post, crossed to the entrance porch and opened the door to retrieve any mail or circulars lying on the porch doormat visible through the dappled glass panes of the inner door. The mat even had welcome on it in big yellow letters vividly bright against a green background. 'Welcome', she could read the upside down lettering. Ironically, there was even a yellow 'smiley' beaming benevolently in the top right-hand corner. "Welcome", she mouthed silently as the slim figure in front bent to pick up the mail. "Welcome to yet another version of hell!"

She glanced longingly toward the front door. The white PVC door had a semi-opaque pane of glass in the upper half. Almost every day she caught a brief blurred glimpse of another world. Greenery was blowing in the wind and some way beyond, perhaps the other side of a suburban street, the orange-red hued vague shapes of houses. Beyond that door lay freedom, the normal world, a world denied to her incarcerated as she was in a private prison that to an outsider would be like any another house along the quiet road. A place to deliver letters, the local free paper, circulars, charity envelopes and the like.

Initially, she'd thought of screaming or shouting for help, but no, not after the cellar. In any case, the ball gag or similar was never far away and took but seconds to quiet her and what would follow such an attempt she dared not contemplate. That short dog whip was never far away either. Despite everything she still had hopes every time she caught a tantalising glimpse of the outside world, but alas, if the cavalry were out there they never came, and she now suspected that they probably never would.

Her temporary 'owner' turned, shuffling several letters in black-gloved hands as she scanned the envelopes, closed the door, then looking up and bounded forward with an angry expression on her face. A leather palm flashed and made painful contact with the woman's left check making her yelp at the painful blow and recoil sharply until brought up hard by the leash attached to her collar.

"Keep your eyes on the floor bitch!" she snarled, "if I have told you once I've told you a dozen times" She bent down, wrenching on the leather leash at the same time to pull her victims face towards hers. "My sister told me you were almost fully trained," she hissed. "Just a few raw edges to grind down, I think she lied. Do you want to go down to the cellar again and join Creature for a few hours? Do you? It does not get many opportunities to watch others dance and sing for me. Do you want that bitch?" Her voice had dropped to an ominous hissing whisper.

She shook her head frantically from side to side not caring that in doing so she jerked her leash so hard that her owners' hand automatically danced with it. No, no way, no she did not want to go down to the horrible windowless cellar to the two basement rooms that were just a few feet beneath her crouching trembling body.

Her head half turned with an involuntary shudder as she looked towards the narrow brown varnished door that stood out against the rest of the pristine gloss white staircase, the one that led to the cupboard beneath the stairs. Outwardly it looked so innocent, no different to a million or more similar storage spaces in homes throughout the country. In common with all its cousins, it also contained the electric meter, fuse box and the almost obligatory vacuum cleaner. However, unlike others, it lacked the usual clutter, the dusty corpses of long deceased electrical appliances, the bag of remnants saved for the local charity shop, old wellington boots and forgotten offcuts from carpets, saved to come in useful for patching worn areas but never to be utilised.

This cupboard under the stairs differed in one other and much more terrible respect. It camouflaged a sinister dark secret. Unbeknown to the man with the clipboard who came once or twice a year to read the electric meter, below it under a faded tatty scrap of carpet secured with concealed Velcro, lay the trapdoor that covered a hidden staircase. The narrow stairway of cold stone steps that led down to a sturdy thick padded black wooden door at the bottom, and beyond that, the large soundproof room with all its wicked furniture and painful punishment implements. On the opposite side of the private dungeon from that forbidding black entrance door was the second room, the dank straw-lined, foul-smelling brick cell with the heavy iron bars and low crawl gate at the front, the smaller room that was Creatures eternal stinking prison.

She shivered at even the mention of it. The evil bitch had dragged her down there three times already. On the first occasion, it was not long after her arrival. Naked, bound and shivering she had been hauled out from the boot of a large car and dumped carelessly onto the rough, dusty, cold concrete floor of a garage. She'd lain there in there in confusion, still dizzy and sick from the journey while some of her 'travel' bindings were either loosened or removed, and her new Mistress had addressed her for the first time.

The words preceded by a casual kick in her ribs by a booted foot. "Listen to me bitch and listen very carefully. I am not in the business of repeating myself, certainly not to worthless trash such as you". The woman had told her in a slow, quiet and chilling tone. "I have borrowed you from my sister for a few weeks for my personal entertainment and amusement. By now you should know exactly what that will entail! "The booted foot was raised slightly and casually the toe pressed down against her shaven vulva for a few seconds.

"My sister informed me that you are rebellious but adequate, barely adequate. That is unfortunate for both of us. I shall demand and receive a much higher standard of service from you. Fail me, and you cannot even imagine what the consequences will be." She had paused for a moment looking down at the mature terrified woman, then smiled cruelly, licked her lips slowly and continued. "Then again, after the last few months perhaps you can imagine what the consequences would be? In a moment I will take you down to see my little playroom and of course, Creature, my permanent pet". She had paused for a moment thoughtfully then smirked, "Maybe I will even let it have a rare treat before I return you. I would not recommend any rebellion here bitch; I am, nothing like as kind as my little sister and her brood!". She turned back to rummage around in the boot of her car.

'Kind'...'Kind', had she not been silenced by that wretched hard red rubber ball in her mouth she would have screamed the simple word aloud in flabbergasted protest as she gazed up at the cruel lustful expression on the face above her before it turned away. 'Kind!' Her mind virtually boggled for a brief few seconds then it fast forwarded a string of short, horrible cameos each more sickening and degrading than its predecessor.

Coffee, coffee and some dainty chocolate biscuits they had been served in the large lounge by their smiling, charming hosts, talk of getting a couple of guest rooms ready, apologies that there would be not enough beds, would a couple of spare mattresses on the floor be alright? That odd oily taste in the mouth......

Feeling faint, dizzy, falling, falling, darkness and then a horrible muzzy awakening to this never-ending nightmare. Bound and slowly stripped naked by that hellion, helpless, her clothing slowly cut off and peeled away item by item as though the evil gloating bitch were unwrapping a birthday present. Her body violated, squeezed, fondled, stroked, pinched and caressed but not by any tender loving touch. The hands that mauled her were possessive, determined, ruthless as they examined and probed her most private, intimate areas gleefully ignoring her screams and protests.

Then the awful waist corset the evil bitch had fastened around her. The 'tummy nipper', as they all so casually referred to it as if it were some harmless childish garment! The snapping of her fingers that heralded some vile and demeaning order to be carried out instantly without hesitation! "Tummy time". How often had she heard the snap of fingers and those simple words, words that masked so cruel a meaning? She quickly learnt the routine; it was always painful not to learn things rapidly in that hell house.

They meant standing to attention, feet together, back straight, head up, 'tits out' (their term not hers), hands clasped together behind her neck. That dreaded little bent key would be produced, sometimes waved in front of her eyes and sometimes not. "I think we can go down one more notch today Mumsie" that chilling malicious voice would say and then it would tighten and pinch a bit more, gripping her yet tighter in its unyielding smooth steel boned leather grip.

Then the hand or hands coming around from behind her to rub over and over her belly. Those cruel possessive hands, stroking, feeling, smoothing, patting, enjoying. The sound of breathing behind her getting louder, quickening and hot against her ear. A musky female scent and the odour of lust. The hands wandering further, one on her buttocks, kneading squeezing, roughly caressing, the other moving upwards to her breasts, fondling, grasping, hefting. Then the whispered words, you know what happens now Mumzie, you understand how randy I get every time we have another click to trim that fat belly of yours? Then the fingers would snap again, and she would obediently follow her vile mistress to the bedroom.

The wretched garment never ever came off. Not ever, not even in the shower. "Don't worry" her owner had once breathed in one damp ear, "Once it gets too smelly or falls to pieces the next one is even snugger, won't you look so extra sexy in that for me?"

That was another thing she hated. Not once had she been able to enjoy the privacy of a solo shower or bath. The routine never varied, she had to undress her mistress carefully and then remove whatever few garments she might have been allowed to wear. Most of the time that totalled zero bar the mandatory pair of uncomfortable stiletto heels to make her legs look 'oh so sexy'. Then she would enter the shower and adjust the water temperature to one that was comfortable, no matter if it initially spurted out far too hot or cold she was the one who suffered. There was a suspicion in her mind that her Mistress deliberately altered the controls between sessions so she would either squeal with cold or heat!

Her Mistress and owner would then step into the flow and join her. They would soap and lather each other, one being tender and oh so gentle, the other rougher, possessive, rubbing, squeezing, probing. Then she would have to gently dry her Mistress and attend to any of her cosmetic wishes before being permitted to pick up and use the damp discarded towels on herself. Just one facet of the daily humiliations she faced after she'd been trained of course.

She recalled that initial period, screaming and more screaming, the beatings, the pain, the humiliations followed all too often by deceitful soft sugared words of comfort. The hands on her breasts, her nipples, the parting of her lips with a long-forced kiss, tongue sliding into her mouth, probing, penetrating, exploring. The kissing had been horrible, horrible, oral rape that had made her want to vomit but far worse things would soon follow as more intimate violations were heaped upon her.

She'd broken halfway through that second terrible day, body and mind shattered by fear, relentless pain, humiliation and degradation not to mention the worry about her family. That plus a long night spent kneeling in a puddle of her own urine while uncomfortably crammed into a tiny iron cage down in the terrible cellar. The lights had been deliberately left on so that she had had ample time to examine her horrible surroundings, to contemplate the various pieces of 'specialised' furniture and the rows and racks of cruel implements, restraints and obscene sex toys, some of which she had by then experienced.

It had been while she was in the cage that they had brought her poor husband down for his first visit to that awful place. The door had clanged open, her 'tormentor ' and her youngest daughter had appeared half dragging, half pushing a nearly naked man into the room. He was weakly struggling, but the restraints upon his ankles and wrists effectively rendered him helpless. The young girl was cruelly pulling him along at the end of a stout pink leash attached to a tall, heavy pink collar around his neck. Her mother was propelling him along; one hand hooked into the waistband of the only clothing he wore a pair of bulky white towel like underpants.

With mounting horror, she had suddenly recognised him, grabbed with both hands at the barred gate to her cage and screamed hysterically as best she could through the large hard red rubber ball that filled her mouth. "Tom, Tom," she attempted to shout, but her efforts were in vain, likewise the effort expended by her cuffed hands that shook desperately once, twice, thrice at the steel bars to her cage before she slumped again in hopeless exhaustion.

The man did not hear her. He was far too engrossed in his struggles as his captors dragged him to a waist-high leather padded 'table' in the centre of the room. She watched in horror as they pushed him down face first and the young girl swiftly secured a broad leather strap across his back. Her mother, equally adept, bent and quickly secured an ankle to one wooden leg, released the chain between his fetters allowing her to yank the other ankle across to the opposite leg and fasten it with another leather strap affixed there.

"Mmmfff!" She had tried to communicate again. She was terrified. She shook vainly at the iron bars in front of her knowing what was going to happen. Just a short while before she too had been secured over that same whipping bench. That's what it was. 'A flogging bench'. Something out of the Middle Ages, the Spanish Inquisition, the London Dungeon and other similar horrors!

Tom had finally turned his head in her direction at the muted sounds and rattling noise. His eyes widened. "Mmmfff", his effort no more intelligible than hers had been, gagged as he was. His struggles intensified even as the two bitches released the cuffs that locked his hands behind his back. It was no use; they were in a stronger position, his arms were dragged forward and down to be secured tightly against the front legs of the dreadful bench. He was as helpless as she was.

"There, that's nice, Baby and Mumsie want to say hello to each other", the older woman had laughed.

"Cute", her daughter had replied indifferently. She had patted her husband on his head. "I know my big baby girl is going to be so very brave while little wifey is watching her get bum bums blistered for the first time!" she had added with a wicked giggle.

"We will see," said her mother thoughtfully. "It might persuade my new toy to become a little more cooperative. She had turned and walked over to the low cage. "Normally there is no such thing as a 'safe' word in my house. However, just for today, a one-off safe word will be 'lick', Bitch!" she announced. "I am shortly going to give Eva's new baby girl over there a lesson she will never forget. She will not like it, and neither will you. After about thirty minutes, or let's say, hmmm a hundred or so swats, you may use the safe word. I may or may not stop depending on how I feel, how my daughter feels and how much we both feel baby's bad attitude has changed. However, I will if my mood is right, then end this session earlier than I intended so that you can show me how appreciative you are of my kindness".

One finger had gestured toward a large king-sized bed with a thick gleaming black leather covered mattress in the far corner of the room. "You can show me over there". She snapped her fingers and tapped her crotch with a long forefinger. "As I said, the safe word will be lick. I am sure you can guess what my reward will be for being so nice! We discussed it earlier in case you had forgotten when my cane gave you those pretty stripes on your bottom! I get so very horny when I must give these little obedience lessons". She smiled sweetly and bent down low. "I shall expect a lot of enthusiasm from you otherwise you and baby over there will get another chance to dance and sing on the bench for us......and NO safe word this time!"

She had bent down to look thoughtfully into her victims' eyes. "Maybe safe word is not quite right" she laughed and tapped on the red ball gag with one long finger. "A little bit beyond your verbal capability at the moment. When you feel 'baby' over there has had a bit too much 'initiation' you can start rubbing your face up and down against these bars, bang and rub that sexy red gag hard and fast. Show me how enthusiastic you will be when you are allowed the privilege of lapping at your owner's sexy cunt for the first time".

She stood up "Not too soon though or I will be cross, let your new Mistress, mummy Eva and her big bad baby girl have some nice fun first. Don't go and lose count will you?"

Eva meanwhile had pulled on a pair of blue disposable gloves and been busily unwrapping what she had thought were a pair of pants from her helpless husband. "Oh, naughty baby," the young blonde girl had gleefully exclaimed holding up what she now realised was a nappy, a huge oversized nappy! What in the name of hell was going on!

"Wet?"

"Sodden, totally sodden you naughty naughty girl" Eva announced casually slapping one of her husbands' buttocks. "But mummy will forgive you, mummy knows the nasty's got to come out sometime and when you start wearing your pretty plastic panties it won't matter so much".

Husband and wife had stared incredulously at each other in wide-eyed horror. What was this place? Who were these crazies? How long would this nightmare last? Then the next lesson had started.....

A sharp pain in her side had immediately shattered the chain of brief flashbacks to return her to the reality of the present on the cold garage floor. "Are you listening to me bitch?" the pointed toe of a boot had lashed out and caught her in the rib cage again effectively and painfully terminating her brief reveries. "I just said keep your daydreams till you're in your basket Bitch, not when I want you! I haven't borrowed you so that you can spend your time woolgathering!" The car boot was slammed down with a loud clang.

"My sister is relatively easy to please, but then she always was a wet sloppy orgasmic slut. I am not, you will need all your wits about you and a very vigorous tongue to keep me well satisfied and that fat saggy sow of a body free from my whip!"

A leash was promptly snapped onto the collar around her neck. "Follow me, bitch". She had made to rise to her feet, but again a polished black stiletto heeled boot shot out again in another savage kick. "No, bitch, hands and knees only. In the past I have often borrowed one of my sisters' dogs, I see no reason though why a clit licking worthless old bitch like you should be treated any differently, heel, follow!" she had jerked hard on the leash looped around her hand and led the way through a door at the end of the garage. That had been over a fortnight ago, and she had been crawling on her hands and knees ever since.

Never in her wildest imagination could she have envisaged that life could get even worse. Despite all the vile treatment, she had maintained a tiny spark of hope continuously, but now even that was being diminished day by day, replaced by an ever-growing dark shadow of fear. Fear for herself, her family, her poor family what was to become of them, all of them, surely there must be some hope, some chance that this living hell would end?

The horror of it was that she had already seen something of what had become of her family, glimpsed the degrading, vile and perverse rolls to which the various members of this evil family had consigned them. The clicking of steel tipped stiletto high heels on expensive floor tiles sounded loud in her ears. There was another savage tug on the leash. Mumsie stifled a sob as she obediently trailed to heel behind her temporary owners' boots.


Chapter 8 - Dad (added: 2018/11/10)

He was in a thoughtful mood as he slowly munched his way through a leathery piece of cold brown toast. He contemplated calling Girlie and sending her to make a fresh batch. He decided against it, he wasn't all that hungry anyway, and more importantly, the coffee pot was still hot.

In any case, Girlie having already prepared breakfast would now have set about her morning chores and his wife preferred that her regimented daily routine was not disturbed overmuch. ‘All part of the conditioning if she’s to be of any long-term use to us or anyone else’. There were several exceptions of course. Although Girlie was specifically his to play with, she belonged to his wife as did every other slave or animal on the estate. They all ultimately belonged to her, and she always had the final aye or nay in any given situation.

Strange he mused as he slowly spread the thick orange marmalade, he could go and find Girlie and give her a good thrashing or fuck her sissy bitch’s man cunt senseless without any worry because that was the primary purpose of her existence in this household. However, Patricia might go all cold and nasty on him if he merely ordered some more toast and get all sarky about how lazy he’d become! Oh well, that was the way of things in this household and he’d long since accepted his own minority status in the matriarchal pecking order. The advantages far outweighed the disadvantages!

Maybe he’d drive out later to the club and play a round of golf, but then again perhaps not. The weather outside did not look very promising, and he was by nature only a fair-weather golfer. He really did need to practice though; his handicap hadn’t shifted for several years whereas Patricia’s was on the verge of dropping into single figures. Par for the course – pun fully intended!

He sighed deeply. He felt bored, and that was unusual for him. Usually, there was always enough to keep him occupied, but today he didn’t feel interested in anything. He’d completed most of the routine DIY jobs around their small estate and the remaining items mostly involved outside and garden work. There was an initial heavy smattering of rain against the windows. Nope, no point getting the ride on motor mower out today. Maybe, one day, they could get some sort of a manual mower that one of the ponies could pull? Something to mention latter perhaps over dinner. Sort of idea that Alice would be interested in.

Thinking about the ponies he hadn’t visited the stable building for quite some time. Not exactly his thing plus the place permanently seemed to stink of piss and shit. He didn’t know how his wife and Alice could stand it, not only could they stand it they even seemed to relish it. Weird!

Midnight was over there. Alice’s big black stallion. He had a secret lust for Midnight every time he saw that magnificent black oiled body. Generally, that beefy type did nothing for him; he liked his sissy wimpy little girlie types. Midnight had such a fantastic arse on him though albeit permanently covered with the marks left by Alice’s whip. He’d love to plunge his meat into that big brute, make him squeal aloud although maybe not. He liked his holes nice and tight, and Alice had a penchant for the ‘strapon’, he suspected that by now Midnight would be well stretched plus the animals here were always butt plugged, so such invasions were no novelty to them.

Most mornings he could immerse himself in ‘catch up’ sport on tv or browsing around on the internet, he liked to spend time on the BBC and CNN news sites each day, but he wasn't in the mood to sit around now. He felt fidgety and unsettled. He swallowed the last piece of toast and drained his coffee cup. No, he better finish up here and then go and find something useful to do before his wife returned.

Patricia had done the school run with Eva today rather than him. She had an emergency dental appointment, a painful problem with an old filling. No, he better be out of the way when she returned. His wife detested going to visit dentists and doctors probably because the nature of such visits would invariably put her in a more subservient position albeit for a very brief time. Strange he mused again, a slight whiff of a toothache and she became a martyr to pain, yet she could inflict agony equal to or far worse and more prolonged just on a whim or for her perverted amusement!

Hmmm, better to be otherwise engaged and out of range when she returned. He didn’t want to be the ‘chosen sacrifice’ if one was needed to mollify her mood. He hadn’t forgotten last Saturday night nor had his sore buttocks. Now that she’d loaned out Mumsie to her older sister she’d decided that they should have a nice romantic evening together. Her version of one anyway. “It’s been such a long time since we last played ‘fetch the paddle’, darling”, she’d cooed with that sexy, and oh so deceiving seductive sadistic smile.

Brushing a few bread crumbs from his lips he arose abruptly from the table. No, he wasn’t going to hang around here. It was time that lazy little sissy bitch cleared things away anyway. “Girlie” he called. “Girlie, get in here now.”
She came at the run or as fast as she could in the six-inch platform high heels locked to her feet, stumbling slightly into a clumsy curtsy as she skidded to a halt in front of her Master.

He decided he wasn’t in a generous mood. His hand lashed out and slapped her left cheek hard enough to rock her head and elicit a little cry of pain. He reached out again, but she involuntarily flinched slightly, her head moving away from his hand.

‘Snap’, his fingers clicked. He glared at her. “Keep your head still, bitch!” He reached out and grabbed a handful of blonde hair pulling her towards him. “You know better than to move away when your owner wants to touch you, don’t you”, he snarled.

Girlie nodded frantically hoping to avoid a second blow. A vain hope. The hand let go of her hair, backhanded her right cheek and then roughly grabbed another handful of hair and shook her head.

“Well, you better remember in the future slut if you don’t want another blistered backside, hadn’t you?”

Girlie remained silent; she knew no answer was required. The strong hand that held her hair was cruelly twisting it now, pulling downwards, her head dropping to one side. Her eyes started to water and began to blink rapidly. Her brightly coloured pink lips opened to mouth a plea, silent, no words came from her.

He surveyed her as he held her. She looked as though she was about to cry. He liked that; it always made her look so cute and helpless. He liked to make her cry. She had cried this morning for him once already.

He felt a stirring in his loins. He’d woken up that morning feeling randy with a massive hard-on. Patricia being a habitual early rise had already vacated the communal marriage bed even earlier than usual and was up and about, probably making life ever more miserable for one of her wretched animals. Not that for one second had he considered seeking relief in that direction. Not if he valued an intact backside for the next few days…

Sex with Patricia was a rare treat and only when she felt like it and always on her terms. Not that often given she had alternatives of her own. In any case, the sadistic bitch invariably liked to ‘warm herself up’, get the love juices flowing as she put it. That usually meant thrashing someone – hence the ‘fetch’ game with the wooden paddle!

Normal relations between husband and wife invariably came with a price these days, and fortunately, he wasn’t required to reach into his personal wallet all that often. Never the less, he fervently hoped Claire would bring Mumsie back before too long, his buttocks could only take so much. There were times when he actually sympathised with the wretches here that lived to serve their owners knowing how minor and infrequently his posterior suffered compared top them!

Earlier that day he’d yawned long and loud, sat up in straight in the big half-empty bed, stretched and then reached down and felt himself. No way that big stiffie was going to subside anytime soon. Ten and a half inches of thick real man cock straining and eager for a little early morning entertainment. He reached across for the small device on the bedside cabinet, keyed in a call number, switched the punishment level to 1 then pressed the button twice. Room ‘service’ was on its way. Well, it better be if it didn’t want to receive a level five or six summons!

The problem now, only a short time later was that she looked so cute and sexy. He wondered if she’d chosen that outfit herself or had it been chosen for her. It looked like one of Eva’s selections. Unlike other little girls, Eva had never needed a Barbie doll to play dressing games with when she was younger. Patricia had ensured that she grew up alongside the real thing, or things plus she had the means to encourage them to always look their best in whatever outfit she chose even if most of his wife's slags had been a bit on the ripe side. Another one of his wife’s little foibles!

Girlie had answered the earlier summons in the same frothy pink ruffled baby doll nightie she’d been wearing the night before and the six-inch colour coordinated court shoes. Her naked butt barely covered by the ultra-short feminine garment revealed the half-dozen vivid raised red weal’s his wife’s cane had inflicted the previous evening. They must have been effective; her tongue had performed as enthusiastically as her mothers frequently did. The little bitch must have been shattered when it was finally his turn, fortunate for her then that having been a very randy voyeur for the previous hour or so meant he blew his load straight down her throat almost at the first touch of her lips. What a waste!

He’d more than made up for it this morning. She’d barely finished her obligatory curtsey when he’d thrown her down over the bed end, stuffed a pillow under her belly and rammed his manhood into her bitch cunt. He loved the way that she was still tight even after all these months of him fucking her at least once a day. That’s why he never let the others butt plug her. That was his hole, and he wanted its warm embrace to remain a nice snug fit when it welcomed his masterly cock. Butt plugs had their place but not in his sissy little bitch’s tight hole.

Maybe ‘welcome’ was the wrong term. He was one hundred per cent certain Girlie most definitely did not welcome him at any time. However, she had no choice, did she? At any time of the day or night, she could be summoned to satisfy his rampant manhood, to confirm her master’s virile masculinity at the expense of her own diminishing maleness!

So far, he hadn’t tired of her even after nearly half a year. Of course, those first few weeks had been extra entertaining. They always were. A lot of screaming and struggling inevitably but that only added to the fun and games. His wife, he had to admit, was very capable when it came to what she liked to call her ‘little induction sessions’!

Watching his wife dress the little bitches in the early days was always a huge turn-on for him. He’d sit at ease in a comfortable chair in the corner of the bedroom watching as she prepared the new meat ready for his swelling cock to devour. She was an expert ‘tenderiser’. He could testify to that personally, but at least he was spared the worst excesses of the rod. Her victim, face down, hands cuffed together to a central point on the bed head rail was not so fortunate.

A white arse slowly turning pink, then red, then purple, body shaking, writhing, restrained legs trying to kick, angry fouls mouthed protests turning to cries of pain, shrieks and finally mindless screams. Then the sobs and tears would come mingled in with the begging and pleading.

His wife would coo to the victim, speaking softly, whispering deceptive comforts as she ran a hand over that swollen and burning arse. Twin mounds of agony yet not damaged, skin bruised but not broken, not a trace of blood. His wife was an expert with that wretched paddle.

“Tell me what a good girl you’re going to be?” She would be whispering. “What a good little girlie bitch? The soft, quiet words coming as she gently stroked those quivering burning buns. “You want your new Master to fuck you, don’t you…to FUCK YOU, HARD BITCH?”

Almost always the protests had begun again by this point. Breath back, struggles recommenced, the memory of recent pain fading a little. Stupid, because the pain would then start all over again and usually worse!

The second round hadn’t taken long with this one he recalled. Girlie was soon shrieking yes, yes to every question put to her, anything to stop the relentless rise and fall of that paddle. This particular little sissy bitch was so weak she hadn’t needed even one introductory session down in the cellar.

“So, you want me to help you dress for your Master? You want to look like a sexy little bitch all ready and eager to offer up her bitch cherry to her new Master? You know what cherry we are talking about dolly don’t you?”

There had been a silence that merited a few more blows with the menacing paddle to achieve a more enthusiastic response. Patricia often referred to the paddle as one of her primary ‘attitude adjusters’. She had nodded to him while rubbing the hard surface of the implement over the purpling bruised flesh. Almost time but not quite yet.

He’d stood up and moved over to the bed. “Look at me bitch”. Then once the eyes of the tearful frightened youth were firmly focused on him, he slowly removed his clothing until only his damned leather ‘tummy nipper’ waistband and jockey shorts remained, the latter straining to contain a massive bulge at the front.

Patricia gave the boys rump a playful swat and moved over to join her husband. Her hand strayed down to the single button on his fly. “Time to meet your real master Girlie”, she had sneered down at the helpless young man. “Time to see what a real man looks like, not a girly man-bitch with a teeny-weeny winkle”.

One long finger popped the button, and his cock leapt out to stand rigidly to attention. The fingers stroked it and then grasped it loosely teasing its length with a couple of pumps. “Steady”. He’d cautioned, automatically stiffening his whole body, he did not want to cum yet. He was virtually ready, had been for a while, but his load was for that sexy little bitch fastened on the bed and not to be wasted via a casual spurt into the empty air!

“No, please no….” The pleading and whining recommenced. It always did once they saw ‘Mr Cocky’ standing to attention for the first time. A cock they would become intimately acquainted with, literally acquainted with, size, shape, taste, eruptions and ravenous demands. Eyes wide with horror as they gazed aghast as the reality of their situation suddenly took hold.

He’d waited patiently again but with increasing frustration while the paddle rose and fell as it resumed its persuasive duties. ‘No’ was a word soon to be erased from the vocabulary of one-half of the new households’ occupants. Even ‘Yes was a superfluous word. Here one obeyed without question once an order was given, no response was usually necessary.

“Yes, yes please, yes dress me, dress me…. please”

“Are you sure, not just saying that girl because your cute bitch botty hurts?”

“No, no, I mean yes” the young man had wailed. “Please, no more, dress me, dress me, I’ll do it, please….”

Patricia had laughed cruelly her eyes glinting wickedly with callous delight. “So, you want to dress sexy for your Master, do you? You want to get into a sexy girlie outfit to make your new Master extra randy so that he can give you a nice long hard first fuck?”

“Yes, no…. oh god no, please no, don’t hurt me anymore, please………”

“I am not sure I understood your answer girl”.

THWACK, THWACK.

“Nooooooo, no, please. I’ll do it, I’ll do it, whatever you want. Please?”

“Look at your Master girl, look at him, look at his big juicy man cock. Look at it bitch. You know just where that’s going. Don’t you girl? Tell me where it’s going and how much you want it, TELL ME?
TWACK, THWAK, TWACK.

“No, Noooo, I mean yes, yes I want it, I want it. It’s going, no, yes, please, going in my bottom, please no!”

“Please, no bitch? You mean please, yes don’t you?” She’d asked the tearful frantically nodding youth waving the wicked paddle in his face. “Yes, right up your bitch man cunt girl. Never had a cock up there, before have you?”

The terrified head shaking was the answer they’d both expected. ‘Oh god get on with it’ he’d thought to himself. He had to brace his muscles again, hold himself ridged until the spasm passed. If she didn’t move things along right now, he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back.

Patricia was not inclined to hurry overmuch. She was enjoying herself too much, the cat playing with a mouse. Big vicious female cat, small, weak, helpless ‘male’ mouse. She was also hot but not yet at the boil. She’d watch her husband take the little bitch’s cherry and then go down and amuse herself with his mother some more.

“Lay still” she commanded. “Time to start making you look oh so sexy before fucky fucky bitch cunt cherry popping time!”. She moved briefly away from the bed, collected a pile of clothing from a nearby dresser and dropped it alongside the youth.

“Raise your belly” she ordered as she slid the leather waspie under him. She pulled the ends around behind him and secured the straps in the ratchet mechanisms that would painfully tighten the wicked corset around his middle. She leant forward to whisper in his ear. “It doesn’t come off, ever honeybuns so better get used to it, and it will get a lot lot tighter. I like nice trim waists, don’t I?”

The latter remark as she raised her voice was addressed to him. He nodded conscious of the garment that encircled his own midriff and could only be removed for bathing or illness. He hated it probably as much as all Patricia’s other creatures did but at least his was nothing like as constrictive. He still resented wearing it and even more having to ask when he needed it removed. Patricia had a key so had Eva and Alice. It was demeaning and humiliating to have to ask for its temporary removal, and then to ask for it to be refastened. Eva especially could be quite malicious, more than once he’d had to find his wife and beg her to loosen it a bit. Bitch, she always seemed to find that highly amusing.

The captive youth made strangling gasping noises as his wife rotated the little-shaped key around and around the clicking of the ratchets clearly audible as the device slowly embraced its victim in a relentless leather and steel bear hug.

“Tight, too tight, please….”

Smack.

Patricia raised her hand again, and the youth flinched away a red mark on his cheek. “You will soon learn what I think tight means; this is nothing, that fat bitch belly of yours needs some flat tummy training. Goddess, anyone would think you were a pregnant little bitch. I will soon have you nice and trim which is more than your beast of a sister will be in a few months once Alice has fulfilled her ambitions with Midnight!”.

Patricia had glanced over at her husband again to gauge his readiness. She obviously correctly decided that this was not the time to get over-elaborate and spin things out too much, that bobbing specimen of rampant manhood needed to meet its new partner quite urgently. Better not to go overboard on ‘dressing the sissy’ at this stage.
Reluctantly she decided that shoes, garter belt and stockings could wait for another session. It might be even more fun to have the little bitch dress herself for the first time, from what she had seen so far it wouldn’t take much to get her to that stage. One vitally important item could not wait though.

She selected a shiny red tube-like device from out of the pile. One finger reached out and began to massage the little penis between the youth’s legs slowly. He made noises but did not say anything. Despite his predicament, it stirred and grew a little and then a bit more, enough for her evil purpose. She deftly snapped the two halves of the restraint around the growing penis making sure that the thick bulbous head was sticking out of the top. The hinge held it on one side, and the other two edges joined with an audible click as two tiny locks engaged. His balls swung free but no matter how much they wanted to unload their content they never would while that piece of red plastic held his teeny cock captive.

She tapped against the plastic tube with a long fingernail. “No more naughty stiffie squirts for you bitchboy!” and as she spoke she smacked the bruised bottom in front of her quite hard eliciting a painful yelp. “Now turn over girl”. She watched as the youth shuffled himself over onto his back wincing as his bottom slid along the bed, then reached out again and waggled the restrained penis. “You’re going to get a lot of cum from now on, but none of it will be coming out of this pathetic little clit!”

She rose and fetched a wedge-shaped cushion from one corner of the room and a couple of long straps. Her husband came forward eagerly to help. The cushion was positioned under the boys back and bottom so that his lower half was slightly raised. The chain between his ankle cuffs was released and separate straps fitted to each ankle and then back to fixings either side of the bed end and tightened but not too tight.
Husband and wife watched as a degree of awareness entered the youth’s eyes as he realised how helpless he was, and which part of his anatomy was now elevated and exposed, accessible and completely vulnerable. Patricia walked to her dressing table, squirted some cream from a tube onto her hand and then smeared it liberally on the youth’s rectum and then wiped the surplus off her fingers by running them down the length of her husband’s rampant twitching penis.

“Bet you can’t even last a minute” she teased at her husband’s growing impatience as she wiped her hand on a tissue. “Go on then, bust the wimpy little sissy bitches virgin cunt”.

He jerked his mind back to the present. Girlie was standing there patiently, and he still held a handful of silky ash blonde hair. Alice had done an excellent job grooming the little bitches blonde locks. Maybe he’d ask her to stop trimming it so that she could grow it, right down her back? If she was here that long. One of Patricia’s nasty friends might take a fancy to her and make a lucrative offer. It wouldn’t be the first time, or she might swap her for an interesting pony, that had happened before as well.

Blonde hair and pink ribbon, soft pink baby doll make up all fresh-faced and cutie pie perfect. Pink security collar, wet look shocking pink shoulder length gloves, matching garter belt, rose pink latex stockings and the two-inch platform shoes with six-inch heels in shocking pink as well of course. A tiny pink ruffled waist apron the only item of clothing indicating she was on household rather than bedroom duties.
“I suppose Eva told you what to wear,” he asked already knowing what the answer would be. Eva was into pink again especially ultra glossy or shiny pink for Girlie. Her personal attire preferences being a lot more toned down and subtle.

“Yes Master, Madam Eva chose my outfit”.

“Eva has good taste; the little witch always knows what turns me on” He felt his earlier stirrings stiffen to something more demanding and urgent. He knew Patricia would not be happy if she came back and found the dining room like that…. but that would be Girlies problem, not his! He didn’t make the ground rules, she did, and up to now, his prime need had always taken precedence over mere household tasks. The little dolly really ought to be grateful; if it weren’t for his particular little peccadillos the bitch would be wearing a harness out in in the stable or crawling around on hands and knees in the kennel regularly servicing some slobbering mastiff!

“Don’t bother clearing away and washing up just yet, why don’t we both go upstairs and relax for a while cutie-pie, there is a, well…. not so little thing you can take care of for me!” He grinned, releasing her hair, placing the same hand possessively on her bottom, squeezed a sweet firm butt cheek and firmly steered her towards the door.

Déjà vu


Chapter 9 - Patricia. (added: 2018/12/14)

The bastard had lied. Told her it wouldn't hurt, just a tiny prick. Well, it had hurt, three times the white-coated buffoon had jabbed that needle into her jaw and then he'd started treatment too soon before the numbing had fully taken effect. Those tiny needle punctures would hurt again once it wore off, not badly but enough to irritate her. Patricia was not a woman who appreciated being irritated!

She'd arrived there early as well after dropping Eva off at school and then been kept waiting for twenty minutes past her scheduled time while some emergency appointment overran. She didn't know why they even went there. She didn't like the waiting room, the naff selection of magazine or that fat, ugly, and incompetent receptionist. Still, she only had her self to blame; she'd picked the practice simply because it was the nearest, perhaps she should check around a bit for another alternative even if it did mean a longer drive.

The only saving grace was the dental nurse, cute and cuddly in her pristine don't 'mess with me' white uniform, even if she was a tad older than she generally preferred. Mature woman were soooo much more fun...once they had been trained of course, and that was always a major part of the fun. She wouldn't have minded 'messing' with her a bit or more than a bit!

Take quite a bit of 'tummy training to get that midriff bulge off of her, but the nipper plus a strict diet and a lot of enforced exercise, which of course would be fun to enforce would achieve that. She might even be allowed to wear her cute uniform from time to time. Perhaps she should dress Mumsie up in an outfit like that? Much shorter of course and garter belt and black stockings rather than tights. No, white stockings and high white sexy stilettos!

The drive home passed a little quicker as her mind drifted between images of a servile Mumsie in her cute new uniform and the real thing. It had been nearly six months since they'd had that opportunistic bit of luck and collected five prime pristine new subjects. Maybe it was time for an injection of fresh meat? She shuddered. Injection! Wrong word she reflected running her tongue around the numb side of her mouth.

Those sort of opportunities did not come along very often. In recent years there had been the two Australian backpackers picking the wrong vehicle to hitch a lift and the hill walker and his wife losing their way in foul weather. There had been a couple of other possibilities, but they had resisted the impulse to increase their stock. Too many disappearances in the area might lead to investigations and complications. No point in tempting fate when there were better and more discreet solutions available if vastly more expensive.

The Dental nurse? Hmmm, could be arranged, was it worth having a few background inquiries made? Get some basic details and a rough estimate of cost. Was she that interested, yes, no? Perhaps she should call Claire and get mumsie back, possibly she would feel different then. Hindsight was always a problem. Given how randy she had been feeling of late all the time, letting her sister borrow Mumsie when she'd asked had been a mistake. Especially now when she really felt the need to take her temper tantrum out on someone!

The fundamental problem, of course, was only having the one bitch on call. True, they still had Girlie, but that wasn't quite the same. All said and done the sissy little bitch was still primarily a man, at least mentally he probably still retained some small semblance of masculinity despite his 24/7 female existence even though he did now fuck and suck like a fluffy little female nympho bunny at the snap of her fingers.

Maybe that was what she missed; she mused as she turned off the main road and onto a country lane. Rebellion! Mumsie was still a bit rebellious, stubborn, willful.... disobedient. Much more fun. Not a lot of fight left in her but still enough for an occasional flare up and thus make life interesting.... for both of them! Entertaining for one, painful of course for the other.

A harem? She smiled at the ambitious idea. Maybe that's what she needed. A bevvy of willing mature beauties, or rather, 'whip trained' unwilling beauties for her pleasure. Harem? Well, perhaps at least two with a third always as a future additional extra. Maybe she should check out nursie back there after all?

She slowed abruptly, her foot slamming down hard on the brake as a bunch of cyclists appeared in the road as she rounded a bend. Idiots riding three abreast down a narrow country lane! Good job her reactions were not as numb as her jaw. Hello, that little blonde in the tight lycra top looks interesting. Bit old for those pink highlights! Maybe, she'll get a puncture and fall way behind the pack. Wonder why she's not wearing a helmet? She changed into a lower gear and carefully manoeuvred past the group, eyeing the blonde cyclist as she passed, then speeding up resumed her previous train of thought.

Her husband had Girlie to empty his big balls into whenever he felt like it at any time of the day or night. Young Eva was happy with her big baby girl, and she suspected on the verge if not there already, of using its hapless situation as the platform for her first significant orgasmic experiences. Alice was content with the animals, especially the ponies. The dog's tongues came in handy when she wanted some gentle relaxation, and when feeling more energetic, she was an absolute devil with a 'strapon' as all the ponies knew. Male, female seemed to make no difference, but her stallion. Midnight appeared to bear the brunt of it.

Now, so to speak, she thought peevishly, the only one going short was she herself. Using Girlie's mouth or even like the other night, a rare ride on her husband's big cock was not really hitting all the right buttons. Not an adequate substitute for a well-trained submissive (but totally reluctant) mature female tongue. Given her role as the head of her unusual household, this was more than a bit unacceptable. Downright unfair even!

True, she could join Alice in her 'Bestial' activities, but she did not altogether approve of using the animals that way. To her, the dogs were just that. Big sad-eyed pathetic beasts. Half the fun was training them, making the creatures so pathetically submissive. What was the point in dehumanising them if they got 'perks' like that? That was partly Claire's fault. She'd started that practice with the hounds and then corrupted Alice when she was younger.

Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. Her elder sister always maintained that she lacked proper control, was a slut that could cum at the drop of a hat. Not true but not entirely a falsehood either. Thinking about Claire and then Mumsie, her thoughts strayed back a few months to that night she'd taken Mumsie over to the kennels for a visit. The recollection made her squirm on the leather seat feeling more than a little hot and damp.

"If you keep me, super-duper happy bitch, then you can go and see your younger son", she had announced in her bedroom. "I know mummy dearest is so worried about her ickle babies, and since I am in such a good mood, you get a chance. Give me three super orgasms and then later you get to go and say hello to your youngest pup". She had laughed at her own little joke. The poor cunt licking bitch had no idea! "Now crawl up here bitch and get your face between my legs".

Mmmm. That was a good memory. The bitch really had earned her treat that long afternoon. Later after she'd had a nice little sleep, she'd unchained the sow and given her a pair of old rubber gardening boots to wear, (we'll it had been raining a lot, and the yard was quite muddy, and she didn't want any of that muck brought inside). Cuffed her hand behind her back, then snapped a leash on to her slave's collar and led her butt naked across to the kennels, just a red ball gag in her mouth to stop her getting noisy once the evenings fun started.

Oh, what fun there would be when she first set eyes on Fido. Alice had arranged several chairs in the corridor outside a pen with a curtain covering the front of it and a similar one covering the one next to it. A couple of comfortable ones with cushions and one plain one with just a hard-wooden seat and straight back. Mumsie had been pushed down onto the later and Alice dropped a wide leather strap over both her and the back of the chair, then tightened it so that it pinioned her just above the elbows, holding her secure, seated and helpless.

A moment later they were joined by her husband with Girlie in tow on a leash followed by Eva who was encouraging Girlie along with casual swats from the long flexible black rod she carried. As the other members of the family settled at their ease into the comfortable cushioned chairs, Alice brought out a smaller table to place in front of them. A quick trip to the little kitchenette then added a glass for each of them, a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and two plates of expensive nibbles.

Girlie at one end was made to kneel next to her Master. Her blonde hair was growing nicely, tied in two cute baby girl style bunches with pink bows. Her ability to apply makeup was also noticeably improving Patricia noted with approval. The little bitch was looking and smelling quite sexy especially in that outfit. Long shoulder high white satin gloves, lacy white basque with long suspenders holding up her silky white stockings and a pair of four inch heeled white ankle boots strapped on her feet. Slightly mud-splattered boots she noted with a frown. Well, she could lick them clean once she took them off!

Her husband naturally also found the little bitch to his taste. His left hand was continually groping as much of her flesh as it could reach. Not that there was anything new there, he'd been screwing the proverbial arse off the little bitch regularly ever since they'd acquired her. She caught Eva watching him as well. Eva grinned, winked, pouted and placed a finger to her lips licking it enthusiastically then nodded toward Girlie. Yes, Patricia thought, Girlie would probably be kneeling the other way and between her husband's legs before too long. Then again so might Mumsie be doing the same in front of her, but she might need a little persuasion to distract her from Fido's starring role in the forthcoming little entertainment.

The champagne Cork popped, and the 'owners' filled their glasses. They toasted each other to an 'entertaining evening', took a few nibbles and waited for the show to begin. "I might need your assistance with that rod shortly" Patricia noted to her youngest daughter.

Eva grinned wickedly. "No problem mummy," she leant closer and whispered "I expect your big cow will get a bit hysterical when she sees little doggie woggie, Georgie, again. I think I can calm her down a bit for you". She ominously flexed the long thin black rod in her hands.

"I'm sure you can darling. Alright, Alice, I think you can get going now, I am sure the 'Big boys' will be getting impatient if you've primed them?"

"Yuck", Eva interjected. She looked disapprovingly towards her father. He was feeding Girlie titbits, taking nibbles in his mouth then bending forward, twisting a handful of Girlie's blonde hair, forcing her head back and feeding bits of part chewed food into her open mouth.

Patricia smiled. Eva wasn't the only one looking disgusted. Mumsie expression somewhat mirrored her younger daughters. Surprising, after all the old cow had seen her youngest son being soundly bum fucked or sucking avidly on his master's cock often enough. Intimately being fed a few saliva coated titbits came somewhat secondary to all that she would have thought. Hadn't they both spent enough time in the master bedroom entertaining their betters in a nice cosy foursome under the ever-present threat of their mistress's cane?

Occasionally she'd half considered the idea of having Girlie use his little clitty on Mumsie. Might that not be fun? No, far better that they leave things as they were. Girlie's man clit was under lock and key, permanent lock and key, no stiffies allowed, ever. Mumsie might be allowed a bit of fun on rare occasions, but only via her Mistress's strapon or one of her other toys, no more man cock for Mumsie ever again! Not even sucky sucky on her husband. Mumsie was a pure girl toy now!

Alice came back from the kitchen. She'd changed her appearance slightly. Gone was the old baggy jumper and faded jeans she'd been wearing earlier when they had first entered. Her slim figure was now clad in a pair of ultra skin-tight beige pants a 50/50 cross between stylish leggings and jodhpurs, a wide hip belt, a tight white clingy top with an open v neck plus the inevitable pair of glossy black riding boots. Her gloved hand held a vicious looking riding crop.

Patricia smiled to herself as she caught sight of Girlie suddenly shaking. That little bitch was afraid of Alice. All that walking practise she'd given her training the little bitch to shake that sexy arse and walk provocatively in her heels. I wonder where Alice learnt all that? She usually struts around in entirely the opposite way and doesn't give a fig about looking sexy. She does have the ability to install fear though, all the dogs and ponies are terrified of her. Even the guard dogs cringe and grovel when she snaps her fingers and points at them!

Alice nodded and without ceremony reached up and ripped the curtain down to reveal the interior of the first pen she had prepared. They could all see the 'warm-up' act secured face down on the low 'mounting bench, arse raised, vulnerable and helpless. A large mirror had been placed near the victims head, turned at an angle of about forty-five degrees so they could enjoy the facial expressions on the bitches face no matter which way her head turned.

"Floppsy!" Eva snorted scornfully. "Not being very imaginative today are we," She said scornfully to her sister. "We've all seen this bitch get it more than once......... booorrrrrreing!"

Alice winked at her. "Oh, this will be a mite different baby sis, take a closer look".

Eva looked the restrained woman over, the puppy restraints all looked perfectly normal, then. "She's wearing rubber panties" she observed looking closer at the tight translucent flesh coloured garment the 'dog' woman secured to the bench was wearing.

"Yup, a bit of a hassle getting them on her when her legs and paws are bound up doubled like that, but they will serve their purpose".

"Purpose?"

"Wait and see" her sister retorted over one shoulder as she moved further up the passage to open another pen.

"Alice knows what she's doing", Patricia noted absently. Her mind drifting back as she looked down at the 'bitch' secured to the bench. Floppsy, as she'd been named some eighteen or so months ago when the family had returned one afternoon from a restaurant cum shopping trip to find the woman and her husband loose on the property. Naturally, they were not stupid enough to leave anything unlocked or any animal in an area where a chance observer could see it. Still, the very fact that they had got so close to the buildings had been a significant security failure, and her husband had paid the price as had Alice to a much lesser degree.

The alarm system had failed to register their presence due to a power cut and remotely alert them, her husband was responsible for setting and maintaining that system, and backup so paid for its failure big time. Her anger plus her cane had ensured his buttocks were black and blue for a fortnight plus his cock was locked away for a month bar a couple of brief periods of relief, and his 'tummy trimmer' had never been tighter! Also, she had changed her mind about an offer she'd received for little Erica, his resident sissy bitch, and promptly sold her.

Alice had forgotten to release the guard dogs properly from their pen to roam outside. A rare lapse on her part no doubt owing to her last-minute decision to accompany them, but she should have double checked before they left. A weeks demotion serving as Eva's personal maid had ensured she was unlikely ever to forget again. The daily embarrassment of doing her wicked young mistress's bidding, wearing the demeaning outfits chosen for her and submitting to the young tyrant's punishment paddle was a humiliating experience she would have no wish ever to repeat!

Nothing personal the gleeful Eva had continually informed her, but if I don't do it then mummy will, and you wouldn't want that would you? You know how noisy Daddy and the animals can get when she punishes their naughtiness, so you will be a good maid and fetch my little 'botty basher' for me won't you?"

Fortunately for both no harm had been done. Mr and Mrs...Barton....no Barston, Barkston...or whatever, had only been there a few minutes. Soaked through, miserable, lost on the nearby hills one foul wet, windy day they had espied the house and called in for directions. Their map gone, ripped out of their hands by a salvage gust, thermos flasks broken by a fall that left the male half limping they had sought some guidance as to the nearest bus stop having decided to curtail that day's activity. A wise decision but unfortunately one that was to go horribly wrong!

A warm room, hot drinks and the welcome offer of a lift back to civilisation soon encouraged relaxed and revealing conversation with their helpful hosts. They were ever so grateful. They were on a walking holiday travelling light and probably being somewhat over ambitious and underprepared! They'd spent at night in a youth hostel forty miles away, let themselves out very early to catch an infrequent bus from a distant bus stop to their start point and then within a couple of hours managed to become completely lost in the rapidly deteriorating weather situation

No, they were not expected anywhere, and they hadn't told anyone where they intended going. Yes, their plans were very flexible, and they didn't have to be back at work for another week. Initially, they were heading north to the Lake District but changed their plans right at the last moment. "Ambitious, way too ambitious" the male half had said in response to a question. Been too tired even to send a postcard not that they had anyone to send one to other than work colleagues, her mother having died the previous winter, their last relative.

None of her family had looked very enthusiastic Patricia had noted. The woman was plain-faced, mid to late forties, prematurely grey, hard to judge her figure under the shapeless ramblers clothing but on the thin side. Her bespectacled husband was a few years older, thin, balding, and weedy looking. Not so much wearing his bulky outdoor clothing as 'drowning in it'.

"I'll get some more coffee, no it's no bother, you must try this before we run you down to the village, it's an extraordinary blend I have only recently discovered. I am sure you will find it relaxing, very relaxing".

Her family had all looked at her in amazement as she went through to the kitchen. Idiots! OK, so they were very much in the C3 category, but beggars cannot be choosers. You can't expect 'centrefold model types' or 'muscular he-men' to fall out of the sky, you must make the best out of what turns up. Which, given their location whatever came was more than likely to be attached to a woollen bobble hat, rucksack, sensible shoes and probably not A1 in either age or looks.

Lost, no firm plans, not expected anywhere, last port of call forty odd miles away and no witness to their leaving, no relatives, not likely to be missed for a few weeks.... what more could you want. Even C3 gift horses had a use, and value plus an injection of fresh 'meat' was long overdue. They could be trained and traded like any of the other animals, and a pair always commanded a higher price than two singles even if the quality was more than a bit lacking. Anyway, 'fresh meat' was always fun to 'tenderise' regardless of any other considerations.

"Really mother?", Alice had come through to join her.

"Why not, they are here now, and you have been complaining for weeks that you were bored, wanting new stock. Why spend money when you don't have to?"

"But them, they're so wimpy and awful looking!"

"You've all been spoilt. It's not the looks that count, in the end, they all sing to the same tune once you get them dancing at the whipping post. Put them in harness they will provide as much entertainment as any of the other animals did, initially. Anyway, the situation only arose because of you and your father's sheer laxity. Laxity that is going to be severely punished I might add young lady!"

"Me?"

"Yes, you. I am not going to whip you; I'll save my strength for your useless father. I have something else in mind for you, short but not very sweet and I am one hundred per cent sure you won't like it".

"But...."

"No buts girl. Once they are out, and we have got them secured and settled we'll move on to the other matter, now help me with this tray."

A year and a half ago. Alice had been right and wrong. They hadn't exactly been a pair to get the juices flowing once they'd been stripped down. Eva had named the woman Floppsy that very same day. Skinny, no curves to speak off and big floppy hang down breasts. Breasts that looked as though half the contents had been sucked out somehow, flat floppy breasts more in need of a cycle pump than a brassiere!

She might have been mature, but there had been nothing remotely erotic about her to excite her new owner overmuch. True, she'd had fun on numerous occasions down in the cellar introducing them both to her many 'toys' as they danced and sang for her. The pair of them, husband and wife she discovered were devoutly religious and had proved to be two of the most stubborn 'creatures' she'd ever encountered when it came to some serious 'attitude adjustment' training.

Attitudes, however, had been adjusted, eventually. Floppsy celebrated three weeks of captivity almost to the hour by slowly inching her way up a large leather covered mattress, naked, whip marked, sobbing brokenly, tears streaming down her cheeks. Eyes fixed on the long slender finger impatiently tapping on the moist swollen pink slit peeking through a mound of curly black hair at the apex of the open pair of legs she crawled between. Her mouth venting racking sobs, lips silently opening and closing no doubt in wordless prayers for forgiveness for the great sin she was about to commit. The same sin her husband had succumbed to two days earlier with her spouse.

Hubby had also proved difficult but significantly less so than his wife when it came to keeping some unbruised skin on his sparse buttocks. It wasn't anything to do with her 'attitude adjustments' to different sexes. Patricia was an equal opportunities flogger! Male or female came in for the same ruthless treatment. Bony, later changed to Bonbon had broken first and been dragged upstairs, crawling on hands and knees at the end of a leash.

Her husband had been less impressed with their new acquisition. "You expect me to replace little Erica with that! That skin and bones ugly antique skeleton? He'd exclaimed somewhat aghast."

"You'd still have poor sweet little Erica if you hadn't been so damn careless. If you'd paid more attention to the alarm system, you'd have realised that the batteries on some of the units were not recharging! Anyway, its only in the short term until I decide what to do with them".

"You were going to sell her to those two lesbian models anyway weren't you" he'd petulantly accused her.

"Maybe, maybe not, their offer was quite attractive, but I really hadn't made my mind up until you and Alice decided to piss me off with your gross carelessness. How many times have we discussed security - absolute - stringent - TOTAL NEED THERE FOR? Anyway, your choice sweetheart. I can unlock your prick and let you have a couple of nice satisfying fucks and sucks with Mr Skeleton after I put him into his frillies just to break him in a bit more.... or you can sulk and damn well stay locked up and horny for a month.... or more! You choose sweetie, no pressure?"

All in all, Patricia recollected, Floppsy and 'bony Bonbon', despite their apparent initial unsuitability, had provided a nice unexpected little bonus of fresh entertainment and ultimately in Bonbons case, a few extra pennies in the bank when she'd sold him.

She had had her fun with 'Floppy Flat Front' for a while. It had been highly amusing making the pious bitch crawl to her, pink tongue sticking as far out of her mouth as she could manage, frantically wiggling it from side to side to show her Mistress how ready and eager she was to provide 'intimate' service in order to avoid further punishments. Unfortunately, for the ugly skinny cow once the 'newbie induction' period was over her capacity to excite and arouse her owner rapidly diminished. Not even the sexiest skimpiest outfit and exotic makeup could hide the obvious defects in the ageing bodywork. Indeed, such embellishments tended to augment the fact that this model was so long out of the showroom it could be classified as 'vintage' and even when brand new, had hardly been anywhere near the top of the range!

"Told you so", her husband had chortled softly two months later as the auctioneer was unable to elicit more than a couple of somewhat tardy low bids from the small ensemble of prospective buyers seated in front of her. The captive pair had failed even to reach the low reserve price she'd put on them. "Couldn't even give that pair of unsightly derelicts away. Mr and Mrs Righteous, the gruesome twosome".

"I'd be very careful if I were you, dear, I might just decide to take a trip to the ladies room when they put that cute little 'virgin bitch boy' you were pawing at so enthusiastically before lunch. "I may just be out of the room when they drag her on to the block!"

"You promised", he'd wailed. "I wore that damn device for a month except for the times when you made me cum inside that emancipated old bag of bones. You sold Erica, you promised me a replacement, even if that one is just up as a short-term hire lot!"

"True, but I didn't say when or what with though, so I'd behave and keep it shut if I were you sweetie. I might decide to keep Bonbon for now, or maybe buy that old wrinkled sissy Lady P is selling. I rather liked it, and she does look good for her age don't you think?

She hadn't of course. During the mid-sale break for refreshments, the auctioneer had beckoned her over and then introduced them to the elderly silver-haired lady she'd been talking too. Madam T, a dainty, very aged little woman with startlingly blue eyes that crinkled into a warm, friendly smile. Dressed very simply in a cream wool skirt, fawn jumper, twin pearl necklace and comfortable brown brogues and walking carefully with the aid of a plain black ebony walking stick.

"This is my youngest granddaughter, Mary Rose", she had said with a fond smile as she introduced the very pretty, tall teenage girl accompanying her. She patted the girls arm gently. "Hovering attentively to hand in case I decide to take a nose dive again!"

"Gran's just out of hospital", Mary Rose told them. "Three weeks". She made a face. "If I could get my hands on the wretch's who laid those paving stones, they'd need three years in a hospital!"

"Now now dear" her grandmother had chided. "Knowing your enthusiasm for the whip I doubt they'd even last for three days! You still have an awful lot to learn". She turned back to Patricia. "That's why I wanted a word. I'd like to buy the male half of that couple you put up. I'll give you two-thirds of your reserve for him, and we both know that's being generous. I don't need the bitch; I promised young Mary here I'd buy her an early birthday present for all the care and attention she's lavished on me over the last few weeks". She'd winked at Patricia. "Even if most of it was with half an eye on her inheritance".

"Gran!"

Patricia had smiled. "My eldest daughter also tended to get carried away when she was younger. Fortunately, my youngest is far subtler in her approach.

"Quite," the lady said with a glance at her granddaughter. "The application of pain is an art; it should be applied with a delicate finesse like the lightest touch of a master artists brush to his canvass or the maestro's caress of the bow against the strings of a finely tuned violin. NOT" she stressed, "applied like a cheap four-inch emulsion brush on a house wall or a drumstick on a big bass drum!".

"Oh gran", the girl said again, rolling her eyes upwards. "OK, I promise to make this one last a wee bit longer...."

They all laughed.

"So, you only want Bonbon? Can't tempt you with both?"

"I don't have a vacancy or a need for the skinny bitch, way too old and ugly anyway and Mary as yet is only into.... into entertaining more mature men down in the dungeon, aren't you dear?"

"Oh yes, is he a screamer?"

Patricia blinked a couple of times to focus on the present and returned her attention to the restrained figure inside the dog pen. Poor Bonbon, she had few illusions as to his fate. Young Mary Rose had looked to be a very fit young lady, probably played a lot of tennis or something similar judging by her arms and if she liked to use the whip over-enthusiastically, well...

So focused had she been on her recollection, she'd completely missed Alice's return with Prince and leading him into the pen and towards the rear of the helpless woman. Not that she needed to, the huge hound was already straining at the leash and sniffing excitedly at the bitch's helpless bottom. Her scent was in his nostrils now, and there would be no holding him back. The one time they didn't give a fig for Alice and her commands was when they got a whiff of the 'heat scent' Alice had sprayed on the target area once she'd finished binding Floppsy securely onto the low mating bench.

Alice unclipped the leash allowing the gigantic slobbering hound to leap forward and eagerly mount his 'hot' smelling bitch, raising up on his hind legs, forepaws scratching, scrabbling then tightly gripping his victim around her waist, crushing her with his weight, growling threateningly as he prepared to slake his primitive lust.

"Still", Alice snapped lashing out at Floppsy's flank with her crop as the woman attempted to struggle in her tight bonds as the dog's weight crushed down on her. Alice bent her head down close to Floppsy's and whispered to her at the same time tapping her firmly on one flank with the riding crop. No doubt reminding the bitch that she was a dog and had better behave like one in front of the new members of her audience. She could bark, whine and howl and no doubt would do, even screaming was permitted but not human talk. Alice had cured her of that tendency and would be very angry if she reverted to previous bad behaviour and interspersed her screaming with vain pleas for almighty intervention once again! She stood back up watching impassively slowly coiling up the leash she held.

Patricia had seen it before many times. Indeed she was the chief instigator of this and all the other evil practices that went on in the kennels, stable and elsewhere. It always thrilled her and she never tired of witnessing such 'vile' activities. The never-ending buzz of having the power to abuse and degrade another human being in this way. Not that she regarded them as human anymore, they no longer had that status, nor would ever again. The sheer power of total ownership over these miserable animals to use as she pleased was a heady aphrodisiac, one that was already starting to take effect...

She glanced left and right and was amused to see both Girlie and Mumsie staring at the scene in front of them with eyes, and in Girlie's case, glossy pink lipstick lipped mouth, wide open, expressions of absolute horror on both faces as Prince's penis emerged from its furry sheath. Ten inches of rock hard bright red flesh with a huge knot at the base. That's right fuck bitches take a good look; you may have thought your treatment to date was terrible, but there are worst fates here, far worse. At least you are both still human unlike Floppsy there! Better hope I don't get bored with you as I did with the wretched animal your both gawping at!

Floppy was squealing loudly now as Prince's grip on her tightened, his claws digging into the flesh of her skinny waist. She could feel his ridged hard penis thrusting in vain against her latex pants, his claws scrabbling excitedly, scratching, drawing blood as his frustration mounted as he found no open cunt to penetrate and accommodate him. He raised his muzzle in a plaintive puzzled yowl, one that was almost mirrored by the helpless bitch beneath him.

Eva laughed. "I get it now" she chuckled. "First-time rear entry eh Floppsy? That's what the pants are for? The front door is blocked but the back door wide open!"

Alice took pity on the bewildered impatient beast. He'd knotted Floppsy on many occasions thrusting his proud canine 'doghhood' deep into her unwilling cunt and unloading copious amounts of sperm but only after a long hard shafting. Prince had plenty of stamina. Now though he was confused, frustrated and growing angry as his attempts to penetrate her were rebuffed by the layer of latex protection.

Alice reached up with one gloved hand and yanked him backwards a little while at the same time she gripped his giant unyielding cock with the other gloved hand and repositioned his aim slightly. Prince reacted angrily for a second twisting his head around to snarl and try and bite, but she merely dodged and slapped him on the muzzle. He was about to growl and snap at her when he suddenly stiffened; his canine memory clicked in as his cock found another target it was familiar with, maybe not on this bitch but on the male 'bitches' he'd frequently mounted and that would be just as good.

He thrust hard a few times, his paws hugging his bitch even tighter, pushing, pushing and then her sphincter already familiar with the standard tail plugs, granted entrance to this new intruder. The thrusting resumed with extra vigour, his bitch squealing incessantly beneath him and then he was pumping away, making the entire mating bench shake violently and bounce around a little, so great was his enthusiasm to be ramming in and out of the new-found orifice.

Eva was bouncing on the edge of her seat shouting. "Go on Prince, go on boy give it to her, all the way, knot the ugly bitch's bum, make her scream for us!" Girlie was no longer watching the action she'd been turned about and dragged between her master's widespread legs, her bobbing head indicating that another cock was probably going to shed its load soon!

Alice was savagely flogging the bitch's flank as she'd just shrieked some aloud something which she shouldn't have. Incoherent to the audience but not to Alice who was vigorously reminding the shrieking Floppsy that 'human talk' was strictly verboten! That would only be a taster, Alice took such lapses in the animals personally and would take the skin of her rump later, at her leisure when she had more time to correct the unforgivable error her hound had made.

Patricia sipped contentedly at the glass of champagne held in one hand and reached around the chair next to her to fondle a trembling plump mature breast and tickle a nipple. She was very wet, but she could contain herself a little longer, anticipation was a significant part of the fun. After all, the main highlight of the evening's entertainment was still to come, waiting secured as it was in the next pen and for that new 'virgin bitch pup', its 'first-time backdoor experience' would undoubtedly make very entertaining and arousing viewing for all the family, her family anyway.......

Such delightful recollections had made the journey home pass very quickly. She paused at the gate that led up to her little empire. Her fingers tapped in the entry security code activation on a keypad. God, she really did feel randy. She sighed, thinking of the cute little blonde cyclist. Pity, oh well, maybe she could put a leash on Floppsy and walk her over to the bedroom for old times' sake!


Chapter 10 (added: 2019/02/09)

Alice paused for a moment to wipe a couple of streaks of sweat from her face with the back of her hand. It was always hot work mucking out the stable and stalls even this late in the day. She was of the opinion that it only needed doing every other day, but her mother disagreed. It wasn't so much about cleaning but more a necessary part of the conditioning she had explained on many occasions. Repetitive activity is a daily fact of life for our unique dumb domesticated animals. Day after day the same routine, they adapt eventually to their new existence...to a certain extent anyway. Either that or go mad!

The only problem with that was that it also meant a tedious and repetitive workload for those that owned the animals as well. Usually, Alice didn't mind, most days she brushed and shovelled quite happily revelling in her freedom which was so different to the dismal and monotonous existence of her captive 'animals. The thrill of ownership generally made up for the physical downside of constantly looking after them. However, occasionally the 'delight' of shovelling, sawdust, shit and piss-soaked straw into a wheelbarrow and dumping it outside wore a little thin. It was supposed to be a 50/50 split with her mother, but an 80/20 ratio of labour division was probably more accurate, and Alice was just a touch resentful that she was invariably the senior partner regarding workload!

They had discussed in the past adding a general 'work slave' to the household, specifically to deal with those same necessary daily chores in kennels and stable as well as other mundane tasks in the house and grounds. Personally, she was in total favour of the idea as was her father, not that she was surprised by that, he was inclined to be lazy and had frequently paid a painful price for neglecting his assigned duties.

He'd made a right 'pigs-ear' of painting the stable doors the other week for instance. Said he'd had to rush it because the weather looked threatening, looked like rain, nothing to do with the football he'd wanted to rush off and watch on TV! Her mother had not been happy, and neither had she. He got all the fun of rubbing it down and redoing it one hot weekend while she was under strict orders to encourage the 'great lazy lump' with a riding crop at regular intervals.

Eva had always sided with her mother whenever the subject cropped up or had at least ever since she was old enough to appreciate the ongoing discussions fully. Her mother was concerned about security as always. Alice was not stupid, given the somewhat different nature of her family's activities, security was always bound to be a significant concern. However, of late Eva had begun to side with her sister and father. Alice was under no illusions as to why. Since she had acquired 'Baby, the little demon had fully discovered the delights of personally applying the rod to helpless flesh! She also had to come to terms with the limits on such activities particularly within the role she'd chosen for her particular toy. People didn't normally thrash babies, did they! Alice had a suspicion that Baby's days might be numbered, at least in that role. Usually once assigned to stable or kennel there was no going back, but Baby was not as yet in either was, she? Babies tend to grow up so maybe the nursery would lose its inhabitant once Eva lost interest or decided on a new role for her pet project.

Her mother while never entirely against the idea of acquiring a general duties slave was concerned as usual with all the relevant practicalities. Her bedroom bitch and her father's little bitch boy were always safely confined within the main house, the animals equally confined within the stable or kennels other than occasional and strictly supervised outings. A slave used outdoors would need constant supervision, that was her main argument, plus a casual observer might see he or she. Could they rely 100% on the shock collars, no and did they have the time for such constant supervision? Well, at least it was a start. Her mother was no longer entirely dismissing the idea.

Alice grinned to herself as she recollected her mothers' objections from a year or so ago. At one point she'd even started going on about 'it maybe using a lawnmower to cut big letters in the grass and send messages to helicopters'! Her father had found that highly hilarious and paid for his reckless impudence later. You'd have thought he would have learnt to judge his wife's moods and petulant temper by now?

Maybe, just maybe she thought there was a way around it. They could keep the creature in one of the dog pens, turn it into a cell. Put a shock collar on it along with a heavy pair of leg irons to restrict its mobility and then take him (or her) out to work under supervision where and when needed. There were plenty of other things she and her mother could be doing in the kennel and stable weren't there? The animals required grooming and exercising didn't they to keep them fit and healthy, and as needed, extra training when they forgot or occasionally rebelled against their assigned status plus there was always the breaking in of brand-new stock. That could be very time-consuming. Fun, but invariably time-consuming.

"Signalling to helicopters" she muttered to herself, "we'll don't let it use a lawn mower then, anyway dad usually enjoys riding around on the big motor mower cutting the lawns and verges pretending it's hard work!".

She scooped up the last couple of smelly shovel loads from her wheelbarrow and dumped them on top of the big manure pile. You could always attach an extended length of chain as well to the creature's leg irons and then set it to work while you got on with the more critical (and pleasurable) aspects of animal ownership. Hobbled and chained it wouldn't be going anywhere fast, would it? Maybe even a big iron ball like they always had in the cartoons - not chance of it doing a runner with something like that attached. The weight and size would have to be substantial enough to be a handicap yet not heavy enough to hamper its work rate she mused. The casual observer her mother worried about would have to get very close probably to notice that, and it could wear some type of uniform if you didn't want it naked, like an old-fashioned convict maybe to go with the chain, baggy top and trousers that could be quickly shed for the inevitable daily punishments.

She wheeled the barrow back into the stable and lent it against one wall. Alternatively, you could fix secure points around the buildings to attach the chain to, and you could have some big concrete blocks with an eye bolt set in scattered around the grounds near the house as well. That would probably work quite effectively. She banged the brush and shovel she'd been using hard against the stable wall to shake some of the crusted muck off. She'd mention it over lunch later, get some feedback.

No, she reflected. She'd have a word with Eva first. Eva would almost certainly be an enthusiastic alley now. Little sis had reached the stage where she wanted to play frequently with her more 'painful' toys and needed someone to play with. Mumsie, Girlie and the animals were generally off-limits bar a casual swipe or two when merited as to a certain extent was Baby unless her role changed. The idea of 'supervising' a sweaty naked and chained work slave would undoubtedly appeal to the sadistic little madam.

Alice cast a thoughtful glance over towards the stalls. True all of the animals were off-limits in a sense bar the two; she owned Moonglow and Midnight. They were her personal property, and she could do what she liked with them and often did. Moonglow due to her condition was in was in no shape to play with Eva right now, but Midnight? That big brute had been pissing her off recently, and she'd promised it a thrashing it would never forget. You would think that after nearly two years the stupid dumb animal would have learned its place, but no, it continued to cause her problems and try her patience. Up to now, she'd jealously guarded her two ponies, but maybe, maybe Eva might like to assist her? Only last week at breakfast when she's been discussing him with her mother Eva had interrupted. "Let me have a go at him; I bet I can improve his bad attitude a bit".

Neither of them had taken her seriously but then again why not? The beast was always well restrained. If nothing else the sheer humiliation of being of being handled and brutally whipped by the young girl might just tend to curb his arrogant attitude a bit more plus if she allowed it, she'd earn plenty of 'brownie points' with her little sister. She closed the stable door and strolled slowly over to the big house in a contemplative mood.

He could hear the music from his den. It wasn't all that loud, Patricia disapproved of loud music, but its notes relentlessly filtered down to him and was annoyingly repetitive. Swan Lake, Sleeping Beauty, Nutcracker? He wasn't sure - one of those 'posh tunes' anyway. He'd had to accompany his wife to the ballet on a few occasions in the past. Boring, mega boring! He grinned to himself, that last time after a meal and few drinks when she'd been in an amiable mood he'd conned her into a pact. If she dragged him to the ballet again, she had to go to a football match with him. So far, the pact had held, and he'd not had to partner her to a performance for a while. Eva had drawn the short straw instead although no more enthusiastic than him. Long may that run continue.

There was a loud shriek followed by a second one that briefly drowned out the music. The shrieks and screams had not been quite as continuous as the music, but it almost felt like it. Girlie was getting it again. He frowned, he might have to have a quiet word with his wife about that. A diplomatic word, one always had to be diplomatic when querying Patricia on matters of discipline especially when she was the one dispensing it!

Nevertheless, she was far too impatient and enthusiastic for his liking at the moment. Girlie's bottom and thighs had been in a right mess when he fucked her last night. The little bitch had squealed continuously when he gave her the usual hard shafting, and it wasn't his rampant manhood that she was screeching about, we'll not entirely. He'd taken her in the missionary position which meant that her black and blue blistered and bleeding bottom had rubbed hard against the pillows that helped make her 'bitch cunt' more accessible to him. His vigorous thrusts shook her slim frame and rubbed her sore and inflamed bottom up and down the material beneath her. He didn't mind her squealing so long as it was his rampant cock making her do it and not the lingering aftermath of his wife's cane. He felt a little cheated in a way. It made a right mess of the bedding as well; she'd had to change all that after he'd rolled off her and she'd licked him clean.

A couple more shrieks sounded, and his wife's voice raised but indistinct shouting something followed by another scream. He sighed and put the game controller down and switched the big monitor off. He hadn't really been in the mood anyway, and he could feel a potential migraine lurking in the background. Better go and get aspirin or something to try and head it off at the pass. Another shriek rang out, the shrillest yet. He put a hand to his head. Perhaps have a quiet word and then go vamoose somewhere else.

They did not use the topmost floor of the house very much. Probably in the past, some of it might once have been used as servants' quarters. One room he'd converted into his den, his man cave, his little bit of privacy, his personal retreat in what was a one hundred per cent matriarchal household. Most of the small rooms were empty or used to store various odds and ends. One exception was the large room that took up about a third of the available space. Quite why the room was so large and what its original purpose had been for was long forgotten. Maybe a big servant dormitory for seasonal staff or perhaps a recreational space for the normal ones? Unlikely, unless they had exceptionally generous employers!

Patricia had recently converted it into the 'ballet' room or to be more accurate, had told him to convert it. That had been two weeks plus of extra damn hard work. He'd had to remove a filthy eons old carpet, emulsion the walls, sand down the floorboards and stain them and a lot more. He'd mounted a whole batch of mirrors side by side down two walls and affixed a long straight length of old bannister rail to use as a ballet bar.

Ballet! He shook his head. Ballet was that going to be the next phase. They already had a stable and a kennel, what now, their own captive dance troop? That was probably a bit of an exaggeration. Patricia had been a dance student in her youth and attended ballet lessons as a child and maintained an interest hence the odd visit to a performance now and again.

Her interest of late had been rekindled more directly. Ballet she had declared was a perfect way of learning to be graceful, to move with an unobtrusive flow of elegance, to have a fluidity and coordination of limbs that was both pleasing to the observers eye and also banish any tendency toward clumsiness forever. Unfortunately, in Girlie's case, it was likely to take forever to get to that stage. Another shriek sounded. Grace and the flow of elegance didn't seem to be progressing terribly well and hadn't since the lessons had started.

He opened the door a couple of inches to peer into the room. Girlie stood over by the far mirrored wall. Patricia had her standing in a still pose, head tilted slightly to the side, arms arched above her head, pink painted fingernails just touching and her feet, heels touching together, and toes pointed out at a forty-five-degree angle. She caught sight of her Master looking in, and the red blush that spread over her cheeks was not solely due to the light rose blusher she wore.

Although by now long accustomed to his female attire he found the latest costume even more humiliating than usual especially given the reason he was wearing it. A pale pink satin and cream delicate ballerina costume, the top had a deep frilly low-cut square neckline that left his little flat 'bitch tits' exposed - the tightly fitting bodice decorated with imitation pearls and fluffy pink and cream frilly lace roses. From the waist, the skirt flared almost straight out stiffened by the numerous layers of frothy white lace that formed his tutu. His legs were clad in white satin tights but unlike those worn by regular dancers his of course been modified with a few strategic cuts. His welted arse cheeks bulged out of two large holes and at the front, another DIY opening revealed his shrivelled cock in its plastic straight-jacket - everything on view as always to please his merciless owners.

His gaze quickly switched back from his master to the long slender cane his Mistress was casually flexing. Both his buttocks were blistered and bleeding after the many swipes they had received recently. She was merciless, entirely without mercy or pity in her relentless quest for perfection as he learned and performed the required movements and held the positions, she demanded of him. Not once since these horrible lessons had started had she shown an ounce of sympathy to him or cut him any slack because of his total inexperience and lack of coordination. He couldn't help it, he'd never had the sort of coordination that she was demanding, and his wretched footwear only added to his problems.

Ballerinas wore cute silk lightweight dancing shoes or slippers didn't they and tied with long ribbons around their ankles. He was sure they did he'd seen pictures. Yes, they could get right up in their toes but only briefly as they danced specific steps he assumed. He had no choice the latest footwear the bitch had strapped to his feet forced him to perch on toes and teetering heels. Semi-ballet boots she'd called them as she fastened the straps around his ankles. The damn things were all heel and toes there literally was no middle to them.

"Don't think you are escaping your sexy heels for a nice pair of flat dancing slippers. You will never wear flats in my house! These are special, and..." she added "Highly expensive so you'd better treat them as if they were made of gold, bitch. The toes are bigger and much flatter than normal ballet boots because these are designed for practical wear, so you get the chance to learn to move properly and gracefully at all times in them. Later on, we might even get you wearing proper ballet boots and shoes with very fine toes. Normally they are simply used for short-term fetish use, but perhaps you will wear them long term making your nice dance moves for me."

He must have looked horrified because she'd laughed and added "Eva thinks we should make you do all your chores in them...would not that look oh so sexy for all of us seeing you teetering around in them?"

As Dad watched from the door, he felt himself go hard immediately. A huge stiffie stretching against the tight confines of his pants. Oh, gawd, he needed to plunge his big hungry boner into that delightful little bitch but of course, he couldn't. Not yet, not till his wife had finished with his little fuck toy and not till the tasty little minx had got changed. That costume, one of several in assorted but very similar styles and colours had been specially tailored and bought for her lessons. It was not a 'fuck' costume; his wife had impressed that on him. Girlie already had a couple of cheap tutus' in her wardrobe along with all the other erotic outfits for bedroom fun and games.

Girlie wore her hair in the new and obligatory style that Patricia also insisted on for her daily lessons. The long blonde tresses wound into a tight bun, pinned and bound with a pink ribbon just above the nape of her neck. Like a performer on the stage, her makeup was stronger and less subtle than usual. A light foundation, vivid purple eyeshadow with a dusting of a glittery material, black eyeliner and mascara to enhance the eyes. Dark pink lip pencil was used to draw out her full lips, coated with a light candy pink lip gloss. A make-up brush had lightly dusted her cheeks to outline the cheekbones slightly.

He made a mental note. Last night she'd been fucked while wearing one of her many sexy babydoll nighties, but tonight he'd have her in one of the cheap ballerina costumes plus those heels of course. He would make her pose and pirouette so sexily first for him, yes. He coughed to alert Patricia to his presence.

The music ceased as she pressed the pause button. "Yes? I haven't finished with her, yet you know."

"I know dear, I have a headache coming on, so I thought I'd go for a stroll. Please don't damage her too much, will you? When you've finished with her, see that she keeps the same makeup and hairstyle for me will you?"

"She has chores to do after this if you want any supper that is".

"I know, I can wait till later this evening."

Patricia gave him a sly smile. "Well you'll have to won't you darling." She turned back to her reluctant pupil. "You heard that bitch, make sure you are presentable later". The cane swished through empty air to emphasise her command making Girlie flinch. Then the music came back on. "Position four" She snapped releasing the pause button. "Begin again, one and two and one and two..."

Girlie had quickly assumed the appropriate pose as fast and as gracefully as he could. His eyes flickered from the ever-threatening cane to the leering figure in the doorway. The figure grinned, held up his left hand making a circle between thumb and forefinger and then thrust the forefinger of his right hand through the circle several times in an obscene gesture before winking and withdrawing closing the door quietly as he did so.

Girlie almost sobbed aloud it wasn't fair so unfair. He was already in agony from the relentless strokes of the cane and the agonising posture his new boots forced upon him. There was probably at least another thirty minutes of the present torment to endure and then forced labour in the kitchen and dining room. Then he would have to service that monster yet again. That bastard had sodomised him almost every day of his captivity bar a couple of nights when he and the queen bitch were elsewhere. That was no relief because the randy bastard would invariably rape him again on his return and probably more than once. Five times, five times in one day and night was the record so far, and that was wasn't even counting the number of times he'd been made to fellate that monster cock with its never-ending spurts of foul sticky white slime. He suddenly shrieked aloud in pain and again and again as the cane swished and bit, swished and bit. He'd mucked up his steps through being distracted. Concentrate, he must concentrate, get it right, please let him get it right, please.

Strange how still and quiet it all seemed now. How quickly it had all died away like water running out of a bottle, the final grains of sand dropping to the bottom of the hourglass. One moment there was a full-on flow and the next just the odd couple of drops. Even in his present traumatised state, he was aware of the sudden onset of tranquillity. Rationality once again penetrated his conscious awareness with the ability to think, to adjust, to be more than just a wailing mindless mouthpiece. He had become quieter as he paused for breath bar the ongoing subdued sobbing and gasping, his lungs heaving to extract more oxygen from the air making the only audible sounds. The lack of noise now was hardly surprising given that he had been responsible for making almost all of it. No, correction, no not responsible for it. True he had made most of the sound with his screams and shrieks and the pleas which increasingly fell on deaf ears, but the responsibility belonged to the menacing petite figure standing quietly and so unconcernedly behind him.

He hadn't meant to be naughty; he really hadn't. He had more sense. It wasn't even his fault. He couldn't help it could he, not after all this time! It hadn't been deliberate, not intentional, but he was sure she had done it to him on purpose. No, he knew she had deliberately done it to him. It wasn't fair, not fair at all. But then nothing in this house was ever fair, was it?

It was weird how the sound of your own screams seemed to deafen you, maybe it was the acoustics in the room or some other audible effect or perhaps even just a trick of the mind. His mind, maybe he was beginning to lose it now after all these months of constant humiliation and captivity. At any rate, it was the eye of the hurricane. The brief period of the calm before the storm began again. It would start again; he knew it would, it was as inevitable as night following day, no let off, no mercy, not till the little bitch was satisfied...or got bored with him.

He wasn't sure if the second option would be a good idea? His instincts told him that if that scenario occurred too regularly then his life, miserable as it was, would probably get a whole lot worse. Given his experiences to date and what he knew or guessed about this terrible household, he suspected the worst! He hated the room he was confined in with its stupid over the top juvenile pink décor, adult-sized baby furnishings and the endless stink of talcum powder, baby lotion, rubber pants and shitty diapers. Yet that same room where he'd suffered so much and was still suffering was also his sanctuary, and he feared that which might await him in the world immediately beyond the princesses, pixies' and unicorns that decorated the garish walls of his prison.

He glanced sideways fearfully into the big mirror. He could see her standing behind him just a few paces to his rear. She was watching him quite calmly as if in no way had she been responsible for the trauma of the past half hour or more. He had no way of knowing; there was no clock, he'd not seen a clock since he'd been there. Once, just once he had tried to get a glimpse of the chunky man-sized wristwatch with the bright pink strap she frequently wore. All he'd wanted was to see a date, just the date if it had one. A simple thing, an everyday thing in the normal world, harmless, but not here.

He'd been punished for that infraction. Punished severely, that had been the first bad beating his young 'mummy' had inflicted on him solo. "Bad Baby, bad bad baby...babies don't need to know the time; babies can't tell the time, bad baby."

That was the first time she'd made him howl. He'd had the odd smack or spanking from her but nothing he couldn't handle. Before that, the initial terrible 'pain sessions had been in tandem with her mother, that foul older bitch delivering most of the beatings. He'd still retained quite a lot of his strength back then, she couldn't handle him on her own, but her mother and sister had helped. The little bitch had been so enraged with his breach of her rules that she hadn't bothered with any of the usual restraints she'd normally used to control him but just called her family in. They'd dragged him kicking but not screaming over to the big nappy changing table. He couldn't scream, not with the big oversized babies dummy strapped into his mouth. The trio of vixens had laid him face down on the table but not before sliding a cushion under his belly to elevate him slightly and secured him face down and entirely helpless.

"Give us a shout if you need help, afterwards...." Her sister had laughed emphasising the last word.

"I won't need it; I'll handle her myself, baby won't be wanting to be naughty any more after she's had her first big spanking from me!" Eva stated emphatically as she unhooked two implements of pain down from the nursery wall.

The bitches had laughed and left her to it. They left the room casually talking about...about shoes, buying new shoes for some cousins forthcoming wedding as if this bizarre situation were the most normal thing ever. Here he was, an adult male in his late forties, restrained, helpless and ridiculously dressed like a two-month-old baby girl in a bright pink shorty dress, nappy and tight pink plastic pants and about to be savagely beaten by a petite blonde teenager young enough to be his granddaughter!

The sheer humiliation of it. The little bitch then had deliberately placed two evil looking implements of correction down on the table, not three inches from his horrified gaze after first introducing the wretched things by name. "This one" she had said holding up the wide pink leather paddle, "is Mrs Beater. I bet this pretty princess sticker on it won't last long once it starts bouncing on someone's naughty bottom to warm it up!" she placed it down and picked up a long thin length of flexible bamboo with a pink ribbon tied to the leather handle. "And this one" she paused to swish it through the air a couple of times. "is called Ms Biter, she likes to bite into hot red bottoms once Mrs Beater has finished, I don't think you are going to like them very much once you get formally introduced". She giggled in a silly girlish way. "I think you are going to get to know them both very well."

A hand lifted the hem of his embroidered dress and folded it back, then two small hands hooked into the elasticated waistband of his plastic pants, stretched it and pulled them down to his thighs before releasing them with a painful snap that stung. His nappy, still mostly dry was unpinned and removed releasing the usual waft of sweat mingled with baby powder and lotion overlaid with a faint odour or urine.

He trembled as a small hand gently stroked and kneaded his naked buttock cheeks. He heard her giggle. The hand tenderly continued to caress before straying lower pushing down between his thighs. One finger and then a second stroked his scrotum; the pressure increased as one finger pushed harder against the soft, sensitive skin to massage his left testicle. He felt himself stiffen. A finger explored further to find and then gently rub around the tip of his captive cock. He braced himself in his bonds trying to control his reactions. Despite his anticipatory terror, he had no control. His penis tried its best to respond to the cruel erotic stimulation but was defeated as usual by the unyielding plastic prison that confined it. He groaned as he sucked hard on his dummy gag and shivered in his bonds causing her to giggle again.

Then she was by his head, bending over, whispering quietly in his ear using that oh so deceptive tender reassuring tone she adopted, so sweet and so, so insincere! The straps that held his oversized babies dummy firmly in his mouth were released, and it was gently withdrawn, a tissue catching and wiping the usual saliva that drooled from his mouth and lightly padding at his chin. He made his mind up; he'd risk it. He had or rather was allowed, a limited, minimal vocabulary at his disposal; he opened his mouth.

"No babykins, no talking". The tissue pressed firmly against his mouth. "Mummy will be cross if Baby talks. Mummy is already very, very cross with her baby. Baby does not want to make her nice pretty young mummy even crosser, does she?"

Baby didn't answer. He contemplated saying, 'pleeth mummy or niith mummy' or similar but knew it would make no difference whatsoever and might even increase her apparent ire. He sensed that this situation or similar was inevitable, that she'd have jumped on something no matter how trivial. He was already in trouble, and there would be no escape. What was about to happen would happen, no escape, no relief, get it over with, don't make it any worse.

She stood up, and he heard her voice from above. "Baby has been here long enough now. Baby knows the rules; baby does what she is told and nothing else. Baby does not think for herself, does she? Mummy thinks for her big baby and so keeps baby always nice and warm and so so safe from the nasty grown-up world out there.".

A small hand reached down and grasped the handle of the long cane. He flinched, and she giggled again before transferring her grip to the punishment paddle. "Later baby, later, Mrs Beater so wants to meet babies bum bums first to make it nice and hot, then Ms Biter will play....and remind her that watches and clocks and telling the time are for grown-ups and not for girlie babykins."

Then she suddenly thrust her watch directly in front of his face and tapped on it. "Look, Baby, see the big hand here, when it gets over to there mummy will stop the botty botty bam bams, mummy promises."

Fingernails, pretty pink painted fingernails, she'd begun to varnish her fingernails for the first time he absently noted. His last clear thought before the first vicious implement began to do its worst was that not only did the big hand have quite a way to go, but there had been no bloody date window on the damn watch anyway!

More shrieks. God the place was noisy this afternoon he thought as he crossed the hall heading for the front door. He'd descended to the comparative quiet of the ground floor only to find that suddenly shattered by renewed agonised shrieks emanating from the big nursery. Patricia upstairs laying into Girlie and now young Eva evidently doing something similar to her big baby girl. No wonder he was developing a headache.

The front door opened, and Alice entered pausing for a moment to wipe the muck off her boots on the mat. "Noisy" she commentated nodding in the direction of the nursery.

"Very" her father replied, "both down here and upstairs, Girlies having another one of her ballet lessons...." he tailed off.

Alice laughed. "Ah, well that clumsy little bitch certainly needs to improve a lot in the deportment department, I'm hungry, so I'm going to start on dinner, how long is mum likely to be with her 'cultural tutoring'?"

"No idea, at least another half hour I suspect. All this blasted yowling everywhere has given me a wretched headache, going for a stroll, mind if I look in on the animals?"

"Poor dear" Alice replied without much sympathy. "Be my guest; I've just finished cleaning...both my share as usual and..." she paused and looked upwards.

Her father nodded. "I know, maybe we should have that little talk again re increasing the hired, or should we say un-hired staff!"

His daughter grinned at him. "My thoughts exactly father dear, I was on the very same wavelength not five minutes ago. There's some paracetamol in the medicine cupboard if you need something?"

"Nah, I'll be OK once I've got a bit of fresh air and..." he winced as another agonised despairing shriek filtered down the staircase from above. "and found somewhere a little bit more peaceful. Back in an hour or so".

"You're too soft" Alice laughed and headed off towards the kitchen as he went outside and made initially for the stable block humming quietly to himself. He hadn't been in there for a while and as he told himself if you're feeling a bit rough, go cheer yourself up by visiting those whose daily lives are infinitely more wretched and miserable. Better than half a dozen pills and at least it will be peaceful in there. All the cruel witches are busy in the house, and nothing in the stables is in any position to make very much noise, not with those bits in their mouths!

Halfway there he changed his mind and decided to walk partway down the access track towards the narrow country lane that was the nearest public highway. He felt better already and suspected that ten minutes or so of fresh air would indeed persuade his lurking migraine to abandon any attempt to have its evil way with the inside of his head.

Evil way. He grinned as he felt the familiar stirring in his pants. Yes, he was definitely feeling a lot better - a bite of dinner and then a nice early evening with Girlie for company. Maybe he'd borrow his wife's cane; the little bitch hadn't seemed quite as enthusiastic of late. A little private dance session just for him might be in order to rekindle her enthusiasm! Yes indeed, he had a feeling it was going to be a long and pleasurable evening, we'll pleasurable for him as he had his own evil way with her a few times.

He walked as far as the entrance gate to their property stopping en route to check the various discreetly installed security devices. Everything seemed A-OK, batteries charged up, and all the right little LED's showing green and the like - no problems that he could see. Just as well, he did not want a repeat of the last security lapse, be a shame if he lost Girlie, she was the best yet and with a lot of mileage left in her. Barely run in even.

Half an hour or so later he stopped at the top of their driveway to consider the house and the stable building. He made his mind up and headed for the stables. His provisional headache was gone but their evening meal probably wouldn't be ready yet, and he had a suspicion that some of that screaming, and shrieking would still be going on. It wasn't that he was 'soft, as Alice had put it. There were times when he enjoyed watching and listening, and there were times when he'd did not. Today was one of the latter times, anyway if tonight were anything like last night Girlie would probably get quite noisy again once he got going and he'd prefer not to start with a headache.

He slid the heavy bolt across on one of the stable doors and pushed it open, making a mental note to oil the creaking hinges soon and flicked on a nearby light switch wrinkling his nose at the smell as he did so. He always forgot how bad this place smelled. Funny, he thought, it actually did have a decidedly animal stink even though the occupants were not real animals. He frowned, or were they? At what point did they make that transition between human and animal or was it more of a partial half and half change.

He'd never thought overmuch about it as it wasn't his thing. He'd have to have a long talk with his wife one night in bed perhaps. Maybe it was more about the conditions the wretches were kept in? He frowned, unlike the three females of the household he could never quite see the occupants in the same way they did. To him, they were merely unfortunates forever doomed to a miserable, servile existence in one extended permanent roleplay scenario. Whereas to the rest of his family, the unwilling occupants of kennels and stable were nothing but animals in their eyes and treated accordingly. Be interesting to try and get into Girlies mind maybe, was she similar, how did she feel in her enforced role? Then again, they'd hardly got started on her, had they? Six or so months only, maybe in another six years!


Chapter 11 (added: 2019/02/19)

He walked across and peered over into the first stall startling the solitary occupant into sudden frightened movement. She'd been half asleep laying sideways on that uncomfortable looking plank bed they'd given her. The plain wood was now enhanced by the addition of a long narrow piece of bare grey foam rubber he noticed. Another minor concession by her owner to the young fillies advanced condition. He leant over the stalls low door and clicked his tongue at her in a reassuring way, at least that was his intention and used one finger to flip open the rudimentary fastening that secured the low door and went inside.

That simple everyday act always amused him. How ironic, just the most basic of catches held these poor creatures' captive. The main stable door was only locked overnight. All these animals needed would be the use of just one finger for a second, half a second even, not even their leg hobbles would prevent them from making a break (slow and awkward perhaps) towards their longed-for freedom. Fat chance. Not with their hands rendered useless and locked away within the cruel leather and steel arm bindings they all permanently wore plus the long tethers with equally simple catches that secured them to the walls of their stalls. Freedom so near and yet so far. That primary frustration must drive them mad even if nothing else did!

She was quite a pretty little thing. He'd thought that when he'd first seen her all those months ago now. Delicate waif-like looks, pale complexion and big bright blue eyes, frightened moist eyes that peered back at him half lost in the ugly pink harness that constrained her head and obscured a good part of her face. Moonglow, Alice had named her. Strange he mused. She looked almost as frightened and confused now as upon that night when they'd all sat around in their usual comfort to enjoy the spectacle of her first 'covering' by Midnight. He paused thinking back to that night.

Alice had callously dragged the little wench into the centre of the stable and secured her tightly to the 'mating bench,' removed her bit gag then flogged her harshly with a riding crop to quieten her. Apart from the loud and heavy sobbing, that moment had lasted only until she'd led in that huge brute of a stallion to mount her. Poor kid, Alice had cruelly steered the helpless big boy around to face her so that his massive dangling penis was only inches from her horrified gaze. Midnight had been unusually passive, maybe he was looking forward to a bit of long denied 'nookie', or more likely the fresh welts on his rump and the little chat she'd had with him earlier ensured his compliance.

A chat that had apparently run along the lines of either perform as she, his owner required, or be gelded. His choice! She'd gone to visit him with a vicious looking kitchen knife and sharpening steel. No doubt her vivid but offhand description as to how she'd assisted in the castration of an unruly two-legged young stallion during a pleasant visit to her friends stable in the summer had been very effective. Likewise, the casual rasping of steel against steel as she improved the edge of the blade while treating him to the graphic verbal description of the procedures used had also helped!

He always found these little 'entertainments' his wife and Alice arranged so fascinating. Cruel, evil, horrible of course, but absolutely 'rock hard-on' fascinating. The look of sheer terror and revulsion on that kids face. The internal struggle so obvious, she so wanted to shriek, scream and verbally protest aloud as she writhed against her tight bindings. However, her instincts were held in check by the menacing presence of her owner's anticipatory hovering riding crop and the knowledge that she would use it without mercy if she so much as uttered a single audible word. Her harnessed head turned to look at them as she silently mouthed words, no, please, no....

Alice was as usual completely without mercy or pity. Alien emotions to her he suspected brought up as she had been with these 'animals' to use for her own twisted pleasure. Once in her clutches or those of her mother they ceased to exist other than in the bestial roles assigned to them.

One of Alice's black leather gloved hands reached down to stroke her stallions' flaccid cock, one finger slowly stroking up and down and around till it twitched into life unable to resist her (unusual for her) gentle manipulations. Her fingers expertly tickled his scrotum and then back to his cock. It grew and slowly rose to the horizontal then higher to the near vertical like one of those red and white security barrier poles, swelling in girth as it seemed to take on a life of its own. Neither Alice nor the cock were strangers to this ritual. It often amused her to tease her beast into a stiff erection that stood so proudly for her, then swayed and danced back and forth as her whip made its owner prance for her.

This time though there would be a different ending, no need for one or more painful taps with the leather flap at the tip of her riding crop on its bulbous head to cool its unsatiated straining ardour and collapse its proud stance. This time it would for the first time in her care be allowed to function as nature designed it and no doubt those big heavy balls were loaded and ready to fire once the beast worked himself up to the point of release.

Alice had slipped her fingers around the dark shaft slowly stroking and upping the intensity obviously revelling as she always did in her absolute mastery of this creature. Hers to command, hers to reward and hers to punish and punish she would once he'd done what she required. She'd give the brute a reminder that he performed for her pleasure not his and that any such joy came with a painful price - later! How many stokes of the stable cane would depend on how well he performed. He knew that as well as she did for, she'd left him in no doubt earlier about that.

It was too much for those frightened eyes as the thickly veined throbbing monster reared before her. "No, no, please....no.... aghhhhh" Her voice pleaded briefly then rose to a crescendo of screams as Alice angrily released her hold on Midnight and moved to thrash her restrained little filly on her helpless posterior savagely. A dozen time she struck, and each blow seemed harder than its predecessor, each stroke leaving a livid imprint of the crop.

"Silence, silence, silence..." Each and every stroke preceded by that command. The first and most basic rule they enforced on the inmates of stable and kennels. Not entirely true though. Animal noises and a whole range of screams were deemed perfectly acceptable.

Alice had returned to the front of the now distraught and frantic sobbing girl to unclip the 'bit' that dangled loosely from her head bridle.

"I warned you in your stall not to speak didn't I" she grabbed the top of the harness and shook the girls head back and forth. "Animals like you don't talk, ever!" She reached into a pocket and pulled something out and forced it into her ponies' mouth, pausing briefly to deliver a couple more strokes with the crop to encourage her to open her mouth wider.

When she stepped back, they could see that her victim now sported a large ring gag that really stretched her mouth wide open. That must have hurt, somehow that gaping hole looked two, three times the normal size.

SMACK. Another savage stroke of her flexible crop. "Now time to do something useful with that little pink tongue of yours pony, while you've still got it. Pull a trick like that on me again, and I'll cut the damn thing out and feed it to my dogs!" SMACK.

Midnight had squealed with pained protest as she unceremoniously grabbed his massive erection and bent it downwards pulling him forward at the same time to thrust the end of it through the ring gag and into the moist opening beyond. SMACK. Alice bent down to hiss her instructions. "Lick it animal, lick it hard, get it good and wet. Wrap your tongue around it. Drool on it. You know where I'm going to put it next, so I suggest you get it nice and slippery because it's going right up your tight little twat regardless!"

The riding crop struck again, this time on Midnight's buttocks, more of a tap than a stroke. "Steady boy" Alice cautioned as she straightened. "Stop that thrusting, don't choke the little filly. I want you wet that's all. Cum in her mouth and I'll chop it off and find a replacement for you".

They had watched fascinated as Midnight tensed himself, huge bulging muscles tightening, as he so obviously tried to control himself and to resist what all those months of sexual abstinence were clearly demanding of him for a while longer. Alice stood next to him a malicious smile on her face as she flexed the riding crop between her hands, watching her two animals perform for her and the audience.

The crop reached out to stroke her filly's cheek. "That's it Moonglow, learn how to get it wet, nice and wet and slippery". She laughed. "Better get some practice in and get used to it. No more lube for you. Next time I give you a taste of my stallion you can prep that for me with your mouth from now on unless you want a red raw cunt!"

When she judged that Midnight had been pushed near to his limit, she harshly yanked him back, his bobbing prick exiting with a final squelch, a long skein of drool trailing from the head that lengthened and finally parted as Alice propelled him around to the rear of the bench manoeuvring him into position. Once again, a gloved hand reached down to guide him while the other pushed at his back so that he shuffled forward. Moonglow had raised her head as high as she could, her eyes wet with tears staring pitifully and a long-anguished groan of...of anger, rage, fear, terror emerged from the wide opening between her lips, then a sort of yelp as Midnight penetrated her.

They'd all watched with a certain degree of awe as nature, and primal instinct took over. Midnight thrust himself forward a little, back, forward a bit more, back and finally rammed home all the way. Wow did that little filly try to leap in her bonds as the huge cock filled her? If it hadn't been for the straps holding her down, she'd probably have shot vertically upwards like a 'jump jet'. As it was, she began to move across the floor a little with each vigorous thrust as Midnight lost all control, sheer brute strength rocking both filly and mating bench a few centimetres forward every time his hips gyrated. Alice was actively applying her crop to his rump to encourage him, but he was beyond needing that. Indeed he probably was unaware of the pain so focused was he on spending his seed into that tight, unwilling receptacle.

He'd glanced sideways at his wife. She was running her tongue around her lips, fingers kneading one erect nipple through her shirt while the other hand was buried beneath the waistband of her jeans. He was aware of the considerable boner he had in his own pants, and he wondered if his wife was thinking about maybe that huge penis ploughing into her. She wasn't averse to such at times when the mood took her but as far as he knew she'd never indulged herself with one of the animals in that fashion. Eva was seated next to her entranced, eyes and mouth wide open gazing with rapt attention at the spectacle of sheer bestial animal lust being displayed before them.

Three times Alice had that brute rape the little filly for that's what it was. Total and absolute rape. She gave him a breather between the second and third covering, and they opened a second bottle of bubbly and took a few nibbles in the interval. Alice had changed her leather gloves for a pair of thin latex ones. Each time the spent stallion had withdrawn she'd quickly inserted a plug in her filly's saturated vagina - so's not to waste the seed she said, and she made sure with her fingers that the copious amounts of white semen were well pushed deep into the little filly's cunt. Alice was impatient. She wanted a 'fat belly on her little animal as soon as possible.

He'd wanted to excuse himself and get Girlie to bed. Boy was he ready to give her a 'touch of his personal stallion'. He was surprised that Patricia was still there, he was certain that she felt the same and would wish to drag Mumsie between her legs as soon as possible. Patricia said no though. Randy as she was, she wanted to stay till the end of the show, so that meant him as well. Alice had unfortunately for no discernible reason vetoed the attendance of their personal 'sex toys' at this event. Why he didn't know, but then quite a lot of the time he didn't understand some of these bitch's actions in this bizarre household.

Midnight given his prolonged period of denial could probably have gone almost immediately for the third time he was that sort of animal, but Alice wanted to give him time to 'reload' as she crudely put it. She'd hauled him across the stable by his bridle and hitched him to a hook on the wall before joining them for refreshments. "Don't want this dumb animal firing blanks" she'd said. "Nor is he going to get this treat very often, so he better come up with the goods now."

Patricia had demurred. "Oh, I don't know darling. It certainly is a very erotic and entertaining way to spend a few hours, perhaps you should arrange it more often don't you think?"

Alice shrugged, sipped at her champagne, raised her eyebrows and asked. "When did you last let that bitch of yours have an orgasm then, or your dogs or your ponies for that matter?"

"Different situation dear".

"Yeah, well each to his and her own as you always say, your rules mum so I'll play this my way. I checked her out and her time is right. Given the amount of spunk that creature can shoot she should be receptive. I don't want Midnight getting too used to having his dick in her. Once a year maybe if all goes right or maybe even once every nine months. I want that little filly with a swollen belly 24/7!".

"Maybe you should put her on some of that fertility stuff Lucille uses on her mares; I hear she had one drop triplets last year".

"I'm thinking about it. One step at a time. Let me get one foal out of her first and then maybe I can up the game a bit." She put her glass back on the table and picked up her crop. "OK, time for the finale". She paused and grinned. "I'm sure you two are just itching to get back to the house anyway it was so mean of me to make you leave your toys behind, but I wanted no distractions."

He blinked and shook off the recollection. Yes, that evening had undoubtedly been an event and a half! Shame she hadn't been a virgin, that would have added an extra element to the evening's cruel entertainment. Not that it mattered overmuch, boy had she silently screamed and wriggled as the equally helpless stallion let loose a year and mores frustration into her tight little fanny.

To be strictly accurate she had been a virgin insofar as erect living hot throbbing male cocks went, and that night had been her first experience of such and what a magnificent cock for her. He glanced toward the adjacent stall, yes, he'd also go pay Midnight a visit in a few minutes. He hadn't played with that big Black stallion for a quite a while, and the thought of doing so again stirred his own by no means meagre equipment into twitching life.

He clucked his tongue once more at the helpless girl before him. He really couldn't see her as the animal she was supposed to be. To him, she was a very sexy helpless little morsel all bound up in a wicked, cruel pink leather bondage harness. She was quite small in contrast to her colossal neighbour. A fact they'd all noted on the night of her first mating, the contrast between the diminutive helpless little filly and the huge stallion had added to the erotic spectacle they'd witnessed.

Her face flushed pink between the straps of her bridle and she slid awkwardly off the makeshift bed and retreated into the far corner of the stall, turning her back, trying to avoid him. He couldn't help grinning. So stupid, so pointless, where did she think she was going, had the poor thing not learnt by now that there was no escape, no release from this ongoing nightmare? These animals were there purely for the amusement and entertainment of their owners and were in no position to ever deny them anything and modesty of any description was a sheer impossibility as far as they were concerned.

He stood for a moment admiring her shapely young rear still crisscrossed with the faint fading marks of the older daughters' whip. That was unusual. The occupants of stable and kennels invariably displayed fresh repetitive marks of their owner's dominion over them. Alice must be going easier on her now he thought, not wanting to cause any complications before she foaled. Foaled, hmm, he frowned, even he was now thinking like the other Bitches! He wondered how Alice and Patricia would handle that. He noted that the almost obligatory thin leather 'tummy trimmer' corset had been removed, nor surprising given her advanced condition. What would they do about her arms bound behind her back in that horrible harness? Would they release them, and would she even be able to use them after all these months? What about those awkward hoof boots, they only came off once a month to trim toenails and check feet, would they stay on?

He made a mental note to ask later on perhaps at dinner. They'd probably got it all worked out. Alice took after her mother; both were eminently practical types. Young Eva was much more impulsive. Anyway, hadn't Alice frequently visited that stable one of Patricia's friends owned where this sort of thing was apparently a regular occurrence? That's where she'd first got this idea anyway and ultimately doomed poor Midnight once she decided to find herself a suitable stallion.

He yanked cruelly on the strip of extended tethering leather that led from the bleak stone wall to her high collar pulling the captive wench towards him. "Come on little one, that's it, come to daddy. Daddy won't hurt you."

They really were helpless. That aspect excited him, and he wondered why he didn't come in here more often. Over at the house, Girlie and Mumsie could at least use their hands and legs, speak occasionally and function as human beings. Whereas these pathetic, helpless, dumb hobbled creatures were entirely at the mercy of their owners, try as they might at times to avoid them. Hell, they weren't even allowed to talk or think for themselves were they! He yanked on her tether again.

Not that she had any choice as she stumbled forward on her clumsy steel-shod hoof boots. He grabbed hold of her collar pulling her close so that he could run an eager hand over her youthful breasts. Nice he thought, small but perfectly formed and very firm indeed, no trace of milk yet he noted fingering a nipple but not far off I suspect. I bet Alice will be having a few suckles if I know her. Gawd, how humiliating will that be for this poor pathetic bitch.

He tried and immediately failed to put himself in the girl's place. He couldn't; his imagination wasn't up to it. What must it be like for her? Overpowered by a girl hardly older than herself, stripped naked, helpless, and bound into this cruel harness, beaten, degraded and treated like an absolute animal, denied all freedom of movement and the privilege of speech. Never allowed any privacy or the most basic ablution facilities, to drink only cold water and eat revolting mush day after day and to shit and piss where ever you stood. He adjusted his position slightly as he noted the fresh brown stains smeared down her legs his nose wrinkling again at the smell.

No point in getting any of that on his clean slacks. Those tail plugs they'd had rammed into their back passages weren't just there to add to the creature's mock animal-like appearance, they not only supported the long horse-like tails but were partly hollow and what went in loose at one end came out even looser at this end!

Even that fundamental element of control was not available to her. In addition, her young captor had raped her and continued to do so whenever she felt like it. Giving them a regular 'Taste of the Stallion' was how Alice referred to the debasing and brutal act. Oh, how delighted Alice must have been on that first day when her eager probing fingers had discovered an intact hymen. She'd told them about it later but initially kept that little piece of tender, precious flesh exclusively for herself. Tied down flogged and then savagely raped by her young owner's strap-on! No romantic loss of virginity for this little bitch. No tender endearments and kisses or gentle erotic foreplay for her. Just the savage and merciless kiss of Alice's stable cane followed by rough probing hands, then to be torn asunder by a large rubber or plastic phallus. Idly he wondered which one, Alice had quite a collection. Hopefully not the one she regularly used on Midnight, that would have been way too cruel!

He moved his hand downwards to rub slowly over the hot extended soft belly flesh. Big he thought, ...she was getting big, maybe even two little foals in there or again perhaps not. He took no real interest in that sort of thing. He was number two as far as that went. Maybe Patricia's first husband had been present when Alice and Eva were born, he didn't know and on reflection wasn't going to ask. He wasn't going to be present when the time came for this one either, way too squeamish for that. Anyway, he scrupulously avoided any mention of his predecessor, he knew there was some unpleasantness involved, and he genuinely didn't want to know about it.

He might refer to the two younger bitches as his, Patricia liked him to do that, but they weren't. They, in turn, called him dad or father at her behest but always with a certain amused disdain often bordering on contempt he'd noted. Nor when they got the odd chance did, they ever spare the rod on him either!

The more he rubbed, the harder he was becoming. The urge to take this pretty little filly was growing very strong, to take her, show her what a real man felt like, not a rubber dong or a captive animal like Midnight. He could give her a real ride, a gentle, slow loving rogering, a rare treat, a proper male to female fucking, a first thrill such as he suspected Alice had never given her. I'll bet she's never even had a real orgasm he told himself. Alice invariably flogged her victims before amusing herself, so they were probably in far too much pain to enjoy anything assuming they could even get aroused in such a vile situation.

Reluctantly he decided against it. He glanced at the winking light on one of the watchful wall cameras. Big brother or in this case BIG Stepdaughter was possibly watching or would see a recording. Alice was very protective of her two animals, take liberties, and he might find himself in a stall and gelded to boot. He wouldn't put that past the bitches. Patricia might have divorced her first husband, but deep down he knew there was more to it than that! He was almost as much a captive as this poor wretch, held captive in a softer prison by his own unique lusts plus a certain fear of his wife and some of her powerful, not to say potentially dangerous acquaintances!

Regretfully he ran a hand one final time over the soft flesh of her bottom, one finger lingering momentarily over the cruel disfiguring brand still so prominent on her left buttock cheek then he released her and exited the stall, flicking the door catch closed and moving along to the next one. He knew it was identical in size to the one he'd just vacated yet with the hulking Midnight enclosed inside it seemed considerably smaller. Anger was what he felt as soon as he entered the stall and it did not emanate from him - anger not fear as in the previous stall. Yes, there was fear, hell after a year and more under the 'tender care' of Alice and Patricia there was bound to be fear, but there was also vast anger, hostility, rage, just about every antagonistic emotion he could put a name to and probably many more unbeknown to him.

Midnight indeed was a magnificent creature. Maybe it was his colour, perhaps his enormous size, sex, smell or whatever, somehow, he could see this beast as being much more primitive, more animal-like and bestial than its diminutive next-door neighbour. Six foot six even before those hoof boots had added to his stature and built like an American pro footballer, one of the massive bulky, tough ones, he didn't know enough about the sport to be able to name a position, but that's what he was alike. Hell, with shoulders like that he probably wouldn't even have needed any of that padding they wore, who could make an accidental dent in this beast!

It was amazing that Alice had managed to grab him. Talk about David and Goliath! This huge Sampson had been brought low by his eagerness to bed the sexy young Delilah he'd briefly met in a hotel bar. Alice had and not without difficulty apparently, managed to evade his over-eager advances at the time. She had however obtained his cell phone number and using a cheap soon to be discarded one of her own lured the randy idiot three weeks later to his doom.

Alice had been in town to attend an old school friend's wedding and spotted her 'ideal stallion' eating breakfast. The younger son of some rural Nigerian Tribal Chief and minor politician, about to start a course at a London University. It hadn't been hard for her to get the randy stud interested in her, Alice is very attractive after all and in her best finery and makeup for her pal's big day to boot. She wasn't stupid enough to hunt him down then and there though; she was patient, she could wait for her prey and wait she did.

He got the call just after his last class of that particular day as he headed back to his lodgings. Did he remember her? Sure, he did. Well, she was unexpectedly back in town and would he care to go for a drink, she was nearby and had her car and knew a nice cosy little restaurant out in the country aways. She was staying at a friend's place near to it; the friend was away for a few days Alice had added suggestively. Say no more! Poor sap. Apparently, he was a Muslim or purported to be, even had a young wife back home and so he certainly should have turned that unexpected offer of a drink down flat.

He hadn't, and as it turned out, so eager was he to renew acquaintances with Alice, he didn't even bother to take a few minutes to call anyone to let them know he might not (if he got lucky) be back that night. The hapless fool blindly followed the instructions she gave him and didn't get lucky or back that night nor on any other. The drive took him a bit further afield than he might have reckoned on and then after thirty minutes or so Alice pulled into an empty layby because the engine sounded funny to her and she wanted to take a look at it. The poor sap had cheerfully confessed to a mechanical ignorance and quite happily accepted a cup of coffee from a thermos before she went to tinker. Maybe Alice had something else planned if he hadn't drunk that, knowing her she certainly would have. Not needed though, whatever it is that Patricia uses in her coffee worked its usual potent magic. He did wake up before the journey was finished but gagged, chained, manacled, disguised from casual view by a loose blanket, Alice's wide-brimmed wedding hat plus a dark veil, there was not a lot he could do about it.

It was in the papers and even on the television news of course. He'd read that his embassy had kicked up a massive fuss and there was reportedly also a President to Prime Minister call about it on one of those international 'hotlines' but to no avail. The bus driver remembered him getting on his near-empty bus and alighting at the isolated country stop when the driver had indicated. No, that's all he could tell anyone. He'd left him standing by the vandalised bus shelter apparently waiting for someone. A nearby fishing lake was drained much to the annoyance of a local angling club. His cell phone was retrieved miles away by some Thames mudlarks out trawling for historical artefacts, just above the rivers high-tide line a few weeks later. His final call had been to one of his tutor's mid-morning on the last day he was seen, the incoming call he'd received an hour or so later was never traced.

Long before all the fuss had died down and even as the political fallout embarrassed the home nation and his concerned government made threats about a proposed trade deal, Alice had their hapless subject fully stabled, harnessed and screaming in agony as she applied both her brand and an assortment of whips with abundant enthusiasm. His magnificent hide soon carried many painful marks of her ownership as she started breaking the poor beast to her will. A process that seemed to be still ongoing by all accounts. Right from the start he knew that Patricia was more than a little jealous and would have loved to help, but Alice had refused all such offers, she'd caught him in the wild, and he belonged to her, and she alone was going to break and train him, no one else was needed thank you!

Unlike little Moonglow, Midnight did not attempt to hide from him. He stood glowering in the centre of his recently befouled stall. He couldn't have hidden anyway, there was no place to hide, and the two stout chains that led from the heavy posture collar around his neck kept him more or less smack bang in the middle of his simple stall. There was little slack in those chains; he was being punished yet again, sentenced to remain standing and to try and grab what limited sleep he could as he stood. Maybe by now, it was something he could manage - but then again perhaps not?

He noted that his legs were also hobbled quite close together, Good, that meant the brute was safe to approach - no danger of receiving a potentially damaging kick from one of those steel-shod hoof boots. The beast was immobilised, so he dispensed with his cautious advance.

"Been a bad boy again have you Midnight, been a wayward horsey, again have we?".

He laughed as the animal pranced or tried to as much as its hobbled legs would allow, one foot swung vainly a very short distance in a pathetic attempt to kick him. The whole creature's body shook with rage, and an angry series of snorts came from behind the tightly fitting bit that stretched his mouth.

"Naughty naughty" he admonished. "You don't want me to fetch the stable cane, do you?" He threatened knowing full well that he had no authority to do so, but this dumb animal didn't know that? He ducked under one of the taut chains and walked carefully around behind the helpless man to examine him from that side. They were overdoing that waist corset he thought judging by the way it was pinching deep into his flesh. Not that you could see much of it with the heavy leather harness he was wearing with all the myriad straps and buckles.

They'd done something new with his arms he noted. Last time they'd been down his back in a long leather armbinder. Now they were somehow bent double and strapped up his back in what looked to be an extremely painful piece of bondage. "Reverse prayer now horsey" he reached out and briefly grabbed at the binding and shook it making the animal grunt at him again. "Big-time bondage now. Bet that's painful, eh? Someway to go though before they get those elbows properly together, not that it matters, never going to use those front legs again are you horsey. Bet they are totally dead and useless by now or if they aren't, I expect you wish they were with them strapped up in that painful position?" he laughed.

He glanced down. "Stupid dumb beast, never going to learn, are you?" he asked surveying the many whip and crop marks that covered the creature's rump and thighs. "Wow," he added as the beast flinched violently as he ran a rough hand over some of the savage raised weal's both fresh and old. "Still sensitive are we, I'd have thought that by now this big meaty animal rump of yours would be impervious to all of Alice's nasty toys. Evidently not, Good news for Alice but very bad news for you!" he chuckled as one finger traced over several rows of freshly raised welts. "Looks like she likes her rump steak well tenderised eh boy?" he chuckled.

His finger moved on and traced along the ridges of the ornately curved single letter (A) that was cruelly branded into his flesh. Unlike Moonglows this one was more faded, less livid but still just as prominent and disfiguring.

Patricia had argued against her daughter putting such a mark of ownership on him, not out of any merciful or kindly sentiment he'd noted but more for commercial and practical reasons. "They are so hard to cancel or alter darling should you ever want to sell him".

Alice had not been convinced. "He's mine mother, and I'll do with him and to him as I wish. He's not for sale and never will be. He will wear my brand and harness for the rest of his life and dance to my whip and my every command."

The brand had been specially commissioned by Alice, where from he knew not. Nor had any of them been present when she had applied it to the big critters' backside. Another technique she'd evidently learnt during her visits to that other stable he surmised. He grinned to himself. That had also pissed Patricia off somewhat. Even if she didn't approve, she'd have liked to have taken part in that nasty little scenario being the sadistic bitch that she was. God that must have hurt! Bad enough for this big tough bruiser but what that little wench next door must have felt...he shuddered at the thought of it.

He wandered round to face his victim again from the front. "Wow, that's one hell of a dick you got down there boy". He reached out to caress the long thick penis that dangled freely unlike the huge ball sac held tightly captive. Again, the creature shook with rage and growled helplessly at him. He chuckled as he felt some stiffening movement as he continued to fondle, chuckling even more as he bent forward to play with the red and swollen head of his victims' manhood. "Been swatting your dickhead again has she?" he laughed in delight at the creatures agonised response as he cruelly flicked his tender target with one finger. "Well you should learn not to get so damn frisky when she teases you, you know she's not going to let you cum anyway, she just likes to see you big and hard and standing up so stiff and proud for her!"

On impulse, he unzipped his fly and withdrew his penis. "Can't quite match you boy can I, but at least mine gets to play every day. Gonna have three maybe even four nice long hard fucks tonight and squirt a whole lot of man juice." He reached around to fondle and squeeze a helpless whip-scarred buttock again. "Maybe Alice will let me have a piece of this fine ass one day" He hissed pushing his face closer to the angry man's. "Give you a taste of real meat for a nice change".

That set the beast off. It was hopping from one foot to the other snorting away angrily, fear or rage, probably both. That would be the final straw maybe, the one that broke the camel's back, perhaps he should mention it to Alice, he'd always had a yen to enjoy that great big black bitch pussy!

"OK boy, OK, not today then". He slapped the black cock, exited the stall and then turned back to lean over the door. "By the way big boy, I did hear your mistress say earlier that she was planning to give you a lengthy taste of her special stallion again tonight, you know that one you love so much!" he lied.

He roared with laughter at the anguished look in the poor helpless creatures' eyes. They both knew about the 'special one'. Alice had commissioned a couple of exact replicas of her stallions fully erect penis. A slightly cut down one had been fashioned into one of the butt plug tail holders so that the wretched animal was almost permanently stuffed with a facsimile of its own huge cock, the other she used with her strap-on harness. Ironic was it not that a brief respite from one, was merely a prelude to a vigorous painful and humiliatingly deep pounding by the uncut length of the other one as his youthful owner humped herself to multiple orgasms!

He decided not to visit any of the other stalls or the kennels. His budding headache had entirely disappeared plus he was beginning to feel a trifle peckish, also eager now to get dinner over with. Maybe Patricia would let Girlie hold off doing the dishes till tomorrow so that she could indulge him a little earlier with some horizontal dancing. He thrust his semi-hard penis back through his fly and headed cheerfully back towards the house whistling softly to himself. His life certainly did have its ups and downs, but thankfully they were almost always ups. Indeed, he would literally be up a sweet hot little bitch boys tight snatch before too long!


Chapter 12 (added: 2019/03/25)

She'd been wrong so very wrong. This was the second time she'd thought life could not possibly get any worse for her, but it had, or to be precise was going to, she just knew it! So cruel so very very cruel. Initially, she'd been elated for an all too brief moment, or...no perhaps that was the wrong term, how could she be elated at the thought of going back to that hell house and to that terrible, cruel woman who claimed ownership of her?

Her family were back there though, or it was to be hoped they were all still there unless something even more terrible and evil had happened in that awful place. However, if she was back there as well then maybe there would be, could be hope, perhaps not much but better there than here with this depraved mad woman who'd so casually 'borrowed' her just as one might borrow a neighbour's lawnmower!

Conversely, no self-respecting neighbour would ever treat said equipment in the manner that she had been treated, battered, abused, cruelly used and bruised daily! Now the lawn mower was to be in the hands of a third party as once again she'd be passed on for the amusement of another, albeit temporarily and supposedly for her 'improvement'!

"I shall be going away for week or two" the bitch had announced one morning after reading a letter. She'd glanced down at Mumsie who as usual was down on her hands and knees at the end of her leash awaiting her mistress's pleasure and hopefully some breakfast. "I may have to take you back to my sister; the slut was enquiring about you only the other day. I am not sure though that I want to let her have you, after all, she has the means and wherewithal to acquire a suitable replacement, far more so than I. Barely adequate as you are, I am loath to deprive myself of your pitiful attempts to amuse me. I can hardly leave you here on your own though can I, plus of course there is Creature to consider is there not?" Claire had tailed off thoughtfully drumming the ends of her fingers on the glass top of an adjacent coffee table.

"Fetch bitch" fingers snapped, and a hand pointed towards another low coffee table in the far corner. Mumsie knew what was required and scampered over to retrieve a packet of cigarettes and a lighter plus a large cut glass ashtray. She returned crawling as fast as she could now hampered by the items in her hands. At least the bitch hadn't added 'mouth' that command meant carrying things in her teeth and that ashtray was heavy!

"Maybe," Claire said to herself as she lit then inhaled a deeply on a cigarette. "Maybe though there is another solution to our teensy little problem, I shall have to see." She had glanced thoughtfully down at Mumsie cowering at her feet.

Mumsie quailed under that glance fearing that it boded ill for her. Her eyes smarted a little from the cigarette smoke; she hated cigarettes and their smoke. She hated the stench, and it permeated everywhere in this house and worse still it was always on her and in her matted hair. She longed to bathe, but that privilege had been granted only once so far during her stay with his horrible woman. Bathe. She'd been allowed five minutes with a bucket of ice-cold water, a miserly squirt of washing up liquid and an old rag. Bathing!

At least this bitch never kissed her, unlike her sister. Patricia loved to force her lips onto hers, one hand squeezing cruelly on a helpless captive breast the other around her neck pulling her close in a foul parody of a lover's passionate tryst. 'Open bitch open your pussy licking mouth for your Mistress', and then her tongue would plunge deep into her mouth raping it with possessive passion and demanding acquiescent passion in return...or else.

The thought of being kissed by this bitch made her shudder; the idea of those awful yellow stained teeth and nicotine stained tongue entering her mouth made her gag just thinking about it. Paying homage day and night to the bitch's hairy foul-smelling pussy was bad enough, but she could just about cope with that now without retching.

At least here she was also spared that other hated demeaning command. "Spread bitch lay back and spread for your mistress'. She shivered at the thought. That loathsome order was invariably preceded by the equally hated, 'fetch' demand and its vile addendums. 'The big pink one, the black one with those oh so nice lumps and bumps you adore, the big yummy one we both love so much precious, you know which one, or some other obscene imitation phallus'.

She'd never been all that passionate about the physical side of matrimony despite having three children. A kiss and a cuddle, fine, and of course she'd done her wifely duty by her husband in the early days when and as required. There had even been the odd (rare) occasion when she'd climaxed and derived some pleasure from the event. However, mostly it was a case of metaphorically grasping the bedpost and as the Victorian ladies had done, laying back to think of England twice a month!

In recent years even those occasions had thankfully become very infrequent. Paradoxically and she couldn't explain why she sort of resented that neglect. She was still attractive, wasn't she? She took time to look good with her makeup and her figure and got more than a fair share of whistles if she wore her tight jeans and an equally tight or low-cut top and happened to pass a building site!

Sex therefore as such had never been much of a 'big deal' in her adult life, nor to be accurate in her formative years. She'd been a virgin when she married, and up till six or so months ago, her husband had been the only person to penetrate her or to even to touch her body intimately.

Any prudish innocence that she may have retained had been brutally ripped out of her by Patricia in the first couple of weeks of her captivity. That foul lesbian, no she wasn't a lesbian, we'll not a total one, but she might as well be from the incessant way she'd used her for her perverted pleasure! There had been the odd time when she'd seen her 'mistress' her depraved owner actually make love to her equally foul husband. She'd gone on top of course, what else. She would always be on top that one!

She remembered the last occasion husband and wife had played husband and wife in front of her, only a day or two before she'd been loaned out. They'd both had to kneel rigidly 'to attention' by the king-size bed in that huge palatial bedroom, her and her youngest son. Son! She hardly recognised him now, and they rarely looked at each other anyway, both so changed, shamed and humiliated. Captured and capitulated and far too terrified of their respective abusers, so they each existed in their own space aware and yet unaware of each other. Each conscious that to cross that invisible boundary they'd established would make life, such as it was all the more untenable.

Oh yes, they'd been trained well. There they'd knelt, hands clasped firmly together behind their necks, shoulders back, 'tits' out, heads up, eyes down while their betters, relaxing naked on the bed ignored them till needed. They who knelt till required were not naked but dressed in identical fashion again for their owner's amusement and titillation. Frothy transparent pink baby doll nighties, pink headbands, neck chokers and long arm gloves in the same shade of pink and the usual killer heels, pink, what else?

Patricia had been reading, and her husband was watching something on his iPad. Finally, Patricia yawned, removed her reading glasses, snapped her book closed, tossed them both onto the bedside table and reached over to detach her husband's headphones. He nodded, grinned at her and put the device away while Patricia without even looking at them snapped her fingers. "Mumsie to me, Girlie to your Master" she ordered, and a long slender finger pointed down to her crotch. They'd both instantly crawled onto the bed, lowered their heads and set to work in unison while their owners shared a long passionate kiss and let their underling's tongues arouse them.

It had been a long session for them both. Patricia, in particular, had been enjoying herself, and she stopped Girlie before her husband came. "Keep him big, hard and on the boil girl," she'd cautioned "but no more. If he cums, I'll skin the hide off, you!"

In contrast, she'd had to work much harder to give her mistress two orgasms before she decided that it was time for her to roll over, kick her feminised son out of the way, mount her husband's enormous penis. Nor was the wretched evening over even when that beast had emptied himself into his wife's ravenous pink orifice.

More finger clicks and they were both back between outstretched legs, tongues hard at work as large quantities of foul-tasting slimy semen had to be cleaned off penis and licked out of vagina. Patricia had laughed. "Who needs a douche bag when you've got a tongue bag to do the job".

Her husband had laughed at the crude joke then said, "Not sure that letting Eva have her big baby was such a good idea you know?"

"Why not?"

"Something she said the other day to me. I think your little girl was feeling a bit broody. Maybe contemplating the real thing although I can't see it myself?"

"Nor me". Patricia had suddenly laughed. "Well there will be an addition in the stable soon anyway, but I suppose if she really set her heart on it, not that I approve, but miss big tits here is still not beyond whelping is she..."

They'd both laughed at that. How could they find such cruel and crude foul talk so amusing?

Then when they'd been kicked back to their attentive positions and their owners felt rested it had been 'swapsies'. This time they crawled back between the other set of legs, and she'd had to take that huge abominable thing in her mouth. She'd never ever done that for her husband and would have refused point blank had he asked but in that house...

At least here she'd been spared the indignity of the frequent rapes Patricia had subjected her to. God, how many times had she been penetrated by of her owner's large toys, her most private parts remorselessly ravaged by the gloating possessive fiend on top and thrusting between her widespread legs? Oh, how she hated that it was almost as bad as the cane. Well, perhaps not but the sheer humiliation of it. Of late it had become even worse. The evil bitch had started making her choose which 'toy or sometimes toys' they would play with, and it had better meet with her owner's approval or else? She shuddered. At least the older sister seemed to prefer being passive when taking her pleasures.

Not surprising. The bitch was as lazy as fuck! She hardly ever seemed to bathe herself and stank her clothes likewise. Nothing ever seemed to get done around the house, and it was filthy or undoubtedly filthy by her standards, and she was by no means fastidious. She heard the sound of the cigarette being stubbed out. Oh god, please don't let her make me carry that ashtray in my mouth again not with ash and old butts in it.

"Stay" the stern voice from above commanded as Claire rose from her chair and went out into the hall closing the door. A few moments later Mumsie heard her speaking indistinctly to someone on her cell phone.

It was not often that she was left completely alone like that and unrestrained, even her leash lay casually discarded over the arm of the chair and not tied off anywhere. Just for a second, she considered rising to her feet to stand again for even a couple of blissful seconds. She'd done that on a few previous occasions and twice failed to get down again in time and paid a painful price for those fleeting moments of feeling almost human again.

Tears welled up in her eyes at that thought. At least she had only been crawling about like a dog for a couple of weeks, her oldest son what had they done to him. She'd seen him more than once and the horrors they inflicted upon him to the extent that she barely could bring herself to think about it. She dare not, madness lay in that direction if she dwelt on it for too long, she was sure of it.

She stayed where she was; she'd been in the house long enough to know there was no chance of escape. Doors were always locked, and the windows were of toughened security glass with ornamental bars on the outside. Once she'd contemplated smashing a window with a chair or something if she could and screaming for help, but then that bitch would be onto her in a flash and even if someone heard her and came to the door no doubt the foul witch would be able to fob them off somehow. No, desperate as she was it just wasn't worth the risk not with that terrible cellar and its permanent occupant waiting downstairs, no way.

Footsteps on the tiled hall floor then Claire was back in the room with a slightly sinister smile on her thin lips as she looked down. "Suitable arrangements have been made" she announced. "No need, I think to trouble, my sluttish little sister. I am quite sure she has enough exotic amusements on hand to entertain her. I think it is time to change your role in my household. Having enjoyed the services of my sisters' canine pets in the past, I have amused myself with you in like manner. However, I think it may now be time to find a more...a more appropriate and useful role for you, one that will perhaps be of greater amusement and benefit for me in the longer term. To that end, while I am away an old friend will be visiting to house sit and hmm.... shall we say re-educating you. She is very keen on education, and..., and yes, high time that I put an end to this indolent life you have enjoyed since I brought you here!"

She snapped her long nicotine stained fingers and reached for Mumsie's leash. "Yes, even though it is still quite early in the day, thinking about that has made me feel quite...quite frisky. You may follow me upstairs to the bedroom and show me how much you are going to miss me, and I shall expect a lot of enthusiasm. I know my dear friend and her daughter will require and ensure that same level of enthusiasm - in all things once they meet you. Yes, I know they will. Come bitch, heel".

The lights had been carelessly left on when he departed not that it mattered very much to the 'ponies' restrained in their respective stalls. Day, night, winter, summer, light or dark it made little difference for those miserable creatures housed out in the old stable building. They'd all heard the door being firmly closed, so they knew that for a short time they were safe from further torment, pain, abuse and humiliation until they heard it creak open again. Open it would, some dreaded it, some were by now almost indifferent so conditioned had they become to their evil circumstances.

The stable was also reasonably quiet not that such a state was an unusual situation. The occupants were well used to long periods of mind-numbing boredom and near silence bar the occasional rustle as someone moved in their respective stall or the sound and perhaps resultant smell as one of their number relieved themselves into the dirt with that total lack of dignity that was yet another hallmark of their degrading existence.

The long periods of boredom and silence were generally welcome as the alternative was not at all pleasant! Noise and activity meant that their 'owners' were present frequently barking out commands to one or more helpless ponies or worse, applying corrective discipline to a disobedient or clumsy creature. Then it could become very noisy with all the yells and screams - assuming the recipient's mouth had been granted some temporary freedom. The one thing always lacking, of course, was any 'human sound' from the helpless captives. It was hardly surprising given the gags or cruel bits that effectively muzzled most of the occupants while a couple of the older ones had in any case long since learned that only equine animal noises could emanate from their mouths when un-muzzled without immediately attracting a severe and swift response.

Even when there was less activity such as when they were being groomed, or their stalls mucked out, they were never safe from the wrath or spite of their owners. Each and every one of them had suffered on more than one occasion as a particular whim or desire initiated some nastiness on the part of their owners.

Muted sounds came from Midnight's stall; they often did, as the huge human stallion within continued to angrily bang down first one steel-shod hoof boot into the dirt, grinding and twisting it as if his tormentors were underfoot before repeating the action with the other. His strong muscular athlete like legs utilising as much latitude and force as his restrictions allowed as he endeavoured to work off his angry frustrations and surplus energy.

The thin hardened steel chains that ran from his neck collar clinked aloud with monotonous regularity as he twisted his head back and forth, back and forth testing the unyielding restraints that bound him in place, likewise his massive shoulders flexed and tensed as he rebelled against the vice-like grip of the armbinder that held his useless arms captive. Trying and testing them yet again as he had done on maybe ten thousand and more previous occasions and with no more success than on his very first futile attempts to free himself when he'd first been dragged, chained, gagged, enraged and helpless from out of his owners car and into this place of eternal bondage, pain and humiliation.

In her stall, Sally now known as Moonglow was quietly sobbing to herself. Until that recent visitor, she'd managed for the past month and more to sink herself into a constant near comatose state bordering almost on the vegetative. She'd eaten, drunk, voided, slept, been handled and groomed daily virtually without being aware of any of it. Somehow, she had managed to divorce her brain and consciousness away from what was happening so that she'd existed almost in a state of mindless limbo shutting out the daily horror of her unbearable existence in a welcome twilight zone.

The absence of pain and punishment of late had helped as well of course. Apart from a few sharp 'reminder' taps from a riding crop during washing and grooming sessions she'd been spared the callous brutality that was habitually inflicted on the other occupants of the stable on a daily basis. Likewise, she'd been spared the frequent lesbian penetrative rape sessions that had been such a vile and degrading feature of her awful life since first she'd entered this foul building.

She tried and failed to recapture that zombie-like state that had until a few minutes ago made her life so bearable. She sobbed aloud again as she realised that the desirable state of cataleptic blankness was now eluding her. Those words. Those few words that HE had spoken to her, spoken to her as if she was a human being and not an animal! That's what had done it. She had forgotten almost what it meant to be human due to the casual indifference of her owner, to harsh barked commands, to the frequent bite of whip and crop on her helpless body. To the imperious shake of the control rein, as she pranced for them, the total lack of two-way verbal communication, the lack of thought allowed on her part. Obey, don't think. Ponies don't think, they obey, obey or feel the bite of the punishing whip, obey!

How long had it been? She had no way of knowing; there was no clock on the bleak stone stable wall. The permanently closed semi-circular windows set into the tall walls and the narrow rectangular skylights were so heavily grimed that little natural light entered the building making it impossible even to guess the time of day let alone of year, not with any degree of accuracy and she hadn't been exercised out of doors for ages. A creeping numbness seemed to have come over her, one that had now been shattered by the fresh face and voice that had invaded her detached existence.

However, unlike her stable companions, she had her own personal, private body calendar. Her ever-swelling belly gave her a rough and ready count as to how long she'd been incarcerated in this hideous prison. Maybe five months, possibly six, certainly more than four. That first period was such a blur a confused recollection of shock, horror, pain and deep humiliation.

She still vividly recalled the events of that fatal day that now seemed a lifetime ago. Her bewilderment and amazement when she first beheld the massive figure of Midnight tied to the whipping bench, the casual, nonchalant way Alice had told her what she was doing to him. Running, running frantically in sudden panic towards the light streaming in through the open stable doors. Running in terror and from a terror that she as then barely understood but somehow knew was a prelude to an evil like no other.

She hadn't made it and even if she had, could she have got away? She doubted it. These, these fiends in human form had so easily and confidently procured her whole family for their vile depravity and turned them into into...she broke into a series of racking sobs that reverberated against the hard rubber bit in her mouth and sent long skeins of drool dropping down onto her small firm naked breasts.

That bitch, that awful wicked bitch had done something to her before she'd managed to take a dozen paces. Pain, sudden terrible pain and then that demented She-Devil was above her, leering down at her, saying something she knew not what and then more pain and blackness and....

When light and thought and reasoning returned it was, she who was now secured helpless on that same whipping bench, her limbs restrained by cruel tight straps, unable to move anything other than her head as she twisted it first one way then the other in rising panic. No sound could escape her widespread jaws as she half choked on the huge object filling her mouth and that she couldn't eject. Her eyes were wide in fright as no matter which way she looked she saw only rows of sinister looking leather straps and harness and various cruel looking implements of torture or obscene sexual huge plastic and rubber phalluses dangling from hooks on the whitewashed wall.

How long she'd been there, she had no way of knowing it might only have been minutes or it might have been hours. Her head was hurting, her neck ached, her limbs were very stretched and uncomfortable, and her jaw positively ached. She felt nauseous but realised that she must control the feeling, there was no way she could be sick, not with that large object stretching her mouth, she'd choke to death. It felt enormous almost as if someone had tried to stuff an elephant down her throat and a large one at that!

Her body trembled sporadically with growing trepidation and her mouth, her poor jaws ached, oh how they ached with that unyielding lump in her mouth. Then after what seemed a long, painful hour or more, she heard faint noise, footsteps coming nearer and became aware of movement. Voices, female voices. Two of them. They came nearer, standing just behind her out of her range of vision. She jumped in her bonds as a hand suddenly touched her right buttock fondling it through her jeans, making her flinch violently then gave her a light slap.

"Oh, a very nice and responsive little filly," said a soft deep mature female voice.

"Wait till that tight little rump has had a few touches of the stable cane across it!" said another voice, one she instantly remembered. "I think she will be much more than responsive when it's kissed those shapely little hindquarters a few times!"

Once again, she had felt a hand exploring. This time it ran lightly over both her buttocks then up to her waist and around underneath her stomach and then up to her breasts. She squealed in near silent protest as she felt first one then the other breast kneaded and fondled finishing with fingers tweaking at her nipples through her thin tee shirt. She rarely needed to wear a bra, and she was conscious now how much more vulnerable she felt without one.

"They all respond suitably darling...eventually. The cane is a very effective tutor. She's not very big you know, and I don't mean just these tiny udders, nice and perky though they are. I mean overall, are you sure you want her for that big recalcitrant brute of yours?"

"She'll be perfect. I don't share your preference anyway for big boobs, and I've always fancied giving a 'taste of the stallion' to a fresh petite young filly rather than big clapped out old mares. Once I've broken her in a few times I don't think she'll have any problems accommodating Midnight...and as you know his 'recalcitrance' as you put it is, is on the wane a little shall we say thanks to my training methods!".

The older woman had laughed. "Not that she'll have any choice in the matter of course...but her first time should some provide some entertaining viewing, and she's certainly young enough to drop lots of foals over time for you. Do you want a hand in unwrapping and harnessing her?"

"Nope, I can manage that myself. More intimate if it's just the two of us and we shall be having a whole lot of intimate fun together, well fun for one of us anyway". Alice had laughed nastily and then the other woman; presumably, her mother joined in. "You go and play with your bosomy new toy girl; I saw you pawing at her sweater giving them a quick squeeze before we carried her down to the cellar and I'll bet that big randy bastard who shares your bed occasionally is already enjoying his new bit of fluff!"

"No, that particular randy bastard knows better, he has to be patient and wait till I've given it a few obedience lessons and dressed her in some of that 'fluff'. I won't let him off the leash with her until the little minx begs nicely for his attention and looks oh so sweet and deliciously sexy for us both. But your right it is going to be a busy night. I've never had this much new stock in one go. I'd better look in on all of them. We dressed Eva's big new baby earlier, and I expect that by now he... I mean she will be bawling her head off and in need of a firm first dose of 'grannies corrective medicine' to calm her down and make her a bit more tractable. Then I've got my own bitch to strip and then tenderise some nice fresh rump steak with my favourite cane."

She heard Alice giggle. "Rare, medium or well done?"

"Oh, only first night but I am feeling so randy, burned I expect!"

They'd both laughed and then she heard Alice ask, "What about the other brother?"

The older woman had laughed again. "The spare, gone to the dogs!"

Alice chuckled. "Literally as well in time I expect, no doubt our two big randy boys will also soon be enjoying something fresh and tender! Me too perhaps once I teach him what his tongue is for"

"Yuk!"

"Each to her own little amusement! You taught me that"

"Well, you can help me with him in the morning. He's penned in safely and not going anywhere. You're quite sure you don't need a hand with this one?"

"After Midnight this one's going to be a doddle, so don't fret, I know what I am doing so go and busy yourself being nasty elsewhere mummy dearest".

One set of footsteps sounded slowly receding with the sharp tip tap of high heels on concrete, and she heard what sounded like an old door creaking and then slamming shut. Everything was still and quiet for a second then once again she flinched as a hand started fondling and kneading at her buttocks in a very intimate manner and somehow, she knew that this was a different hand, this one wasn't just curious, it was cruel, greedy and possessive!

Ignoring the laboured rasping sobs, Eva calmly regarded the visible results of her recent handy work for a few moments then sauntered across the room and carefully hung the long cane back on its respective hook. It was beginning to fray and splinter a little at the business end she noted. Oh well, Ms Biter had served her well and been a dependable and effective aid and in the business of admonishing suitable physical chastisement to those who needed it. Well maybe in this case just the one and perhaps she didn't need it, but she'd certainly received it whenever her young mistress felt the need to deliver it. She'd salvage the bright pink bow and replace the cane with a new one, perhaps just a little thicker? After all, Baby's botty itself must be a teeny bit more thicker-skinned now after all the attention she'd given it recently!

Personal ownership was a new experience for her. She had of course in the past had the occasional opportunity at times to apply 'the stick' as she'd always called it back then to some of her mothers' pets. In this house, such daily acts were perfectly natural, and she'd grown up frequently watching her mothers' cane doing its vicious work. In those days as she now thought of them, she'd been much younger, we'll younger than she was now and lacking the necessary strength to make the 'stick' bite effectively.

Back then, hair pulling or face slapping had mostly been her weapons of choice. She'd learnt to swing a hefty palm from an early age if she felt someone wasn't pulling their weight or with greater frequency as she grew older, just for her own malicious amusement. Reporting 'false crimes' to her mother had always been another regular nasty but entertaining little trick of hers whenever she felt the urge to watch the wicked cane doing its evil but oh so enthralling corrective work, while some innocent unfortunate sang so sweetly before her sparkling eyes.

Now, of course, she was old and strong enough to apply and thoroughly enjoy the hiss of the cane herself as it swished through the air towards its soft quivering helpless targets. There were other things now to savour as well, things she wanted more of, much more. She turned sideways on to look at herself in the big mirror and ran a hand lightly over the tight cropped pink top she was wearing. True her budding breasts might still be very small firm little mounds, a bit like that pregnant filly of Alice's but they were growing as were her nipples and right now the latter stood out prominently under the thin material like two highly sensitive small bullets as a consequence of 'babies' latest thrashing.

Precocious was a term that had cropped up more than once in the comments of her annual school reports over the past few years. Given the tendency for young people to develop and mature early in so many ways these days perhaps the term was a touch archaic anyway and especially so in her case. Eva sometimes wondered how Miss Henderson, Miss not Ms or Mrs would react if the po-faced ugly old virgin spinster bitch had ever found out about her mother's unorthodox lifestyle? Pity the old hag wasn't better looking.

Eva had often daydreamed her way through one or more lessons at her expensive private school imagining 'that' foul woman crawling naked up her mother's bed toward the dark, moist thatch which greedily awaited the attention of yet another 'unwilling' tongue! Even better if she stood behind her, 'stick' in hand providing suitable encouragement. Ah well, wishful thinking, no way her mother would ever fancy that overweight saggy old harridan - but wait, that friend of her mother's...hadn't she bought her daughter....it was worth thinking about?

She did have a birthday coming up, and there had been hints that they might get her a 'special' pony of her own, maybe she could have something else instead. Then again, she did rather fancy such a pony, who wouldn't, and she'd always been resentful that they denied her regular access and free rein over the unwilling equine equivalents who occupied the stable.

She ran a hand over her tight nipples again to enjoy the sensation both there and the hot wet feeling between her legs that needed urgent attention, she was also beginning to feel that it was high time she swapped her eager fingers and one of her mother's vibrators for something else. Something a little more intimate and stimulating and perhaps a whole lot more relaxing and fun than a pulsating pink plastic tube!

Early development was one thing, but then she'd had the benefit of an infinitely more advanced course than any of her contemporaries could ever imagine in matters of a sexual and also of an extreme, depraved and perverse nature, hadn't she? This was a very open household where almost nothing was held back.

She looked at reflection again in the mirror, pouting her lips and turning her head first one way, and then the other tossing her blonde hair and examining herself critically. She never worried overmuch about her appearance when she was with her baby; she was used to her and anyway it would be far too much of a bore to 'glam up' before every visit to the nursery.

She had a strong yen to visit the kennels' though, a visit in the same way and for the same purpose that she knew her older sister frequently did. She glanced briefly back at the quietly sobbing 'man' tied to the bench behind her. No, that was not what she was for. At some stage, baby might have to grow up, but into what she was not sure and for the time being she would remain a baby girl. Her mother might have some ideas or perhaps that friend of hers the one Alice often went to visit. Some of the stories Alice had told about her palatial estate and its occupants were pretty cool. No, no games or treats of an adult nature for baby.

She pouted into the mirror again. Maybe just a lick of mascara and a touch of pale pink lip gloss, yes, just enough to add an extra bit of allure. A little touch of sexy glam would not go amiss. She was pretty cute and sexy, wasn't she? It was always so much more additional fun to use her youthful Lolita persona to tease and tempt their little bitty locked up do-dahs into some futile attempt to swell beyond their constraints, before cooling their ardour with a touch of the cane. Stupid beasts.

Yes, she made her mind up. It was a beautiful warm evening, just perfect for a walk in the grounds. She'd skip dinner, take a snack and a cold drink and a blanket and she'd take Fido with her for company. A little exercise would be good for him. They'd find a nice quiet spot where he could run and fetch a few sticks to loosen him up before he was called upon to do unto her what her sister had trained him to do for her. He'd better do it damn well because it would be her very first time and to ensure he did, she'd be taking one of the other sort of 'sticks' with her to ensure that he did!

He was quietly skulking that was probably the most descriptive word for it. Lying low or attempting too, better he thought not to attract any unwanted or unwarranted attention given the mood she appeared to be in now. He'd have preferred to have stayed out in his run given how mild the weather was, but she'd called them all in early for feeding, and so consequently they were all conveniently within range should her apparent wrath spill over in their direction.

He glanced to the rear of his sparse pen, the low door that provided access to the run was closed off; she'd dropped them all once they'd obeyed her order to come in. Even if he could have opened it, he wouldn't have. None of them had disobeyed, they never did, they all knew that when Patricia gave a command no dog, human or real would ever dare defy her, the consequences would be unthinkable! Her daughter was bad enough, but the chief bitch was the one they all truly feared. They sensed that there were depths to her as yet unplumbed, dark deeps that they wanted no part of and hoped would want no part of them!

Even those two...he hated to even think about them, those two giant hounds from hell cringed, cowered and whimpered when she was in one of her moods. Normally those foul beasts gambled and frolicked around her legs like a couple of vast over enthusiastic puppies. He'd even seen them playfully knock her over a few times, hardly surprising given their size and enormous body weight, but she hadn't seemed to mind, just laughed as she quickly got back on her feet and scolded them. He could see them now through the bars of his pen, slinking away like him to a far corner of their enclosures, keeping their heads down and looking a little agitated.

He ground his teeth in suppressed anger. Oh, how he hated those huge brutes. Hated them like...we'll like nothing else he could imagine hating. Oh yes, he knew they were just dogs, simple dumb animals only obeying the vile behests of their owners and responding to the primary male instincts within them when aroused and stimulated. Yes, he hated them but more than that...he feared them, oh god how he feared them!

He looked away. He couldn't look down in their direction for very long, not without wanting to retch or worse, start the shakes off again. He couldn't help it; it must be something psychological he'd decided. Every time one of the huge hounds came anywhere near to him now, he started to shake, his whole body trembling quite beyond his ability to control it. He recalled those tall tower like orange jellies his mother had made as a desert when he was a kid, how they wobbled when tipped out of the mould and quivered again as his small curious hand reached out to nudge the dish and set them all of a tremor.

He doubted that the 'shakes' would ever stop now. He was sure of it. Big dog, small dog whatever? The very sight of one would probably set him off, set his mind racing to recall and relive the 'horrors'. Even the cutest poodle or spaniel might conceal something red, smelly and grossly swollen that...that....!

How they all had laughed and jeered that first night, that first time as they all sat there sipping champagne. Champagne! Laughed while he was violated in the most degrading and bestial manner that could only be conceived by the sickest, most perverted of human minds.

They still laughed. They found his 'cute shake's oh so amusing. 'Poor Fido, so scared of his nice big 'doggie friends'. That bitch Alice, 'very big friends with very big bits' she often appended with her own particular cruel innuendo and emphasis. How he hated her, hated, loathed and of course feared her. Not the fear like he felt for her mother, that was a fear of the known but lurking beyond that, the unknown and nameless.

Alice was different. Her nasty little predilections and carnal appetites were well known to him. Whenever he saw her approaching it was with a feeling of dread and anxiety. Would this be just a hasty off-hand feeding and exercise visit, maybe cleaning or grooming? Nothing more required than abject grovelling, whimpering, tail wagging feigned joy, face plunging hard and fast into a bowl of yuk mindlessly emulating his eager slavering companions of a few doors or so further along the passage. Gobbling, gulping, gobbling, slurping, fast, fast, trying not to wretch, keep It all down, gobble. Clean bowl, lick, lick, clean bowl. Prance with excitement waiting for her to open up his run. Tail wag, wag, pat on the head. Yes, he'd learnt, oh how he'd learned to be a good... a good dog for them!

Maybe it would be one of those other visits. Walkies, trepidation at the thought, yet not the worst possible experience. Still, he hated walkies, the leash, the dog whip, the curt indifferent commands. 'Heel, heel boy, stay, back boy, down, or up, keep up, up boy'. On the one hand, it was so liberating, a strange term perhaps given his circumstance, but to be free even for a little while from that wretched run and stark pen with its forbidding iron bars.

It had been hard at first, hard, humiliating and debasing in every way, not to mention the near impossibility of his progressing in a manner and at a pace sufficient to satisfy whichever exacting feminine hand held the other end of his leash. A leash that both demeaned and manipulated him. A leash that decided where he walked, when and how fast and savagely jerked him to a neck-wrenching standstill every so often.

He'd tried his best as he scampered on hand pads and knee pad paws at the best pace his body and the restraints, they'd put on it allowed. It wasn't easy, but he had to do it. They led, he followed, to heel, almost always a booted shiny heel just a foot or so in front of his bobbing head. He dare not do otherwise. His vision was limited in his lowly position, but sometimes he could see, sometimes not but it would be there, it always was, the dreaded whip, crop or worst of all, cane, in the other feminine hand. The bitches carried them as casually as other woman carried their handbags and you were never free from the fear of them - soft hands but oh so cruel.

Free, no. He might in one sense enjoy his brief break from the daily mind-numbing tedium of this pitiless confined canine existence. He'd once read, he recalled a newspaper article about the American super-prisons, the hell the prisoners endured incarcerated for life in their tiny cubicles with the barest minimum of exercise and little or no contact with their fellow prisoners.

Easy, easy he'd thought to himself when he recalled it. Those bastards have it easy. They could talk to their jailers, their lawyers, walk upright on two feet, eat, bathe, defecate like human beings. They had access to television, radio, books. Even the simple relief of masturbation was not denied them!

Easy. They didn't have to go walkies under the threat of a menacing crop or whip, fetch sticks and balls in their mouth, have to sniff, sniff, cock their leg by tree or bush to do their 'business' and sniff again with nose thrust deep into their own mess, then crawl away no matter how soiled their bodies might be! Business that had to be done by the end of walkies or the merciless whip would remind them to make better use of their 'walkies' next time when their kind owner took time out for them!

Even that simple act was sometimes an impossibility. There had been occasions either by design or forgetfulness that the wretched hollow plug stuffed into his anus to hold his tail had been left closed. Five days they'd once done that to him as a punishment or maybe just to empathise the total and absolute control they wielded over him. He knew not which it was and by the time they finally granted relief he was long past caring so painfully cramped had he become internally.

Much as he loved/loathed walkies at least if it was to be that then far far better than the real horror that this hideous place could inflict. The horror that came with that piece of gruesome furniture, the one Alice with such callous cruelty casually called the 'bitching bench'. They had two of them and the one sound every human hound dreaded was the noise of heavy furniture being dragged from its storage place.

Human hounds cowered in terror knowing that it might be their turn again, strapped helpless on that foul device, while the two huge real canines raised their muzzles high upon hearing the sound to bay and yowl with delight at the luscious treat they knew by sound and instinct was soon to come their way.

You never knew though. Frequently they were strapped to it, and then Alice placed her special chair in front so that she could sit close to her captive hound, her legs spread wide, her ever ready cane poised to ply across her victims back and rump. Those times were not so bad, nowhere near as bad as the other times he'd been strapped to that bench but oh how humiliating it was as 'doggie tongue' was put to work, and the merciless cane encouraged and coaxed ever greater effort and enthusiasm!

He sensed something was up, something bad, something that had made the chief bitch oh so very mad - the phone call. Her phone had rung - Greensleeves, that was her ring tone, he recognised it a rare moment of culture in this tedious, mind-numbing existence. Then she'd gone outside with it presumably to get a better signal. He heard her shouting, angry but incomprehensible. He knew as soon as she returned and the door slammed shut, they all knew that she was in a foul temper. They sensed it, and the violent sound of pots and cans being crashed around in the kitchen confirmed it.

The stable door creaked open and looking up he caught a glimpse of pink trainers, very tight ripped jeans and a flash of bare waist twixt jeans and pink going past. He saw no higher nor did he need to; he knew who it was.

"S'up mum?"

"I've just had a call from that bitch of a sister of mine; that's what's up!"

"Aunty Claire bringing Mumsie back for you? Thought that would make you happy?"

"Well she's not, and so it hasn't, the...the greedy bitch."

There were more sounds of things being slammed down and other assorted bangs. He heard the younger bitch's voice again.

"You'll break that if you're not careful."

"FUCK IT. I am in the mood to break something.... or someone!

The youth once known to friends and family as Johnathon quailed in panic at that. There was no way out, no way and his pen was the nearest one to the kitchen, what if...

"She wants to keep her, keep her permanently from what I gathered. Says she got plans for her. Plans, hah. Well, I had plans as well for that bitch!"

"So, what are you going to do, go over and fetch her?"

"Can't, you know we are away from tomorrow. Your thieving Aunt timed her theft well.

"Well didn't you say the other week that you were going to find her someone suitable - just get your self another toy for your bedroom instead, or get her something soon before she gets too attached to Mumsie."

"Bitches like that don't grow on trees you know pet!"

"No, they drive in through the front gate complete with husband and brood! How often have you had five little fly's walk smack bang straight into your sticky web, oh great black widow" He heard Eva laugh? "You didn't have to spend a single penny, throw Midnight in, and you and Alice have had a lot of fun on the cheap, so I don't know why you're getting so mad. You can afford to buy yourself one, two, three even a dozen new clit lickers."

"Don't be vulgar."

Eva laughed again, louder this time. "You said you were going to be seeing Margaret, see if she's got anything for sale. You could always buy Honeypot back from her, that nubile bit of Yankee flesh you swapped for Cowboy and Gypsy".

This time with a certain amount of relief he heard Patricia's laugh. "Alas poor Honeypot, I never did properly break that bitch in did I, but I think I got the better of the bargain, a matched pair. No, I don't think Margret would be willing to give up that particular morsel, she's having too much fun with her, she likes the extra stubborn ones! But maybe your right darling. I'll have another chat with Claire tomorrow; I had actually been thinking of adding one or even two new bitches to our little ensemble anyway."

Eva laughed again. "Greedy, you'll have your own harem soon then!"

He heard some more bangs and the rattling of dishes, more subdued now and then the door to the kitchen must have been closed. He could still hear voices talking but no longer clear, nothing he could make out other than the odd laugh. That had been his mother they were talking about he knew that, but the other names meant nothing to him.

Presently the door opened, and he looked fearfully up to find Eva contemplating him. He noted that she had a small pink backpack slung over one shoulder, a dog leash plus a battered yellow frisbee in one hand and a long thin bamboo cane in the other.

She surveyed him for a moment; tapping the cane against her calf, her tongue flicked slowly around her glossy pink painted lips no doubt relishing the superior position she had over him then she smiled in a sweet but also slightly ominous way, her cold ice blue eyes sparkling. She shook the leash she was holding, "C'mon Fido, Time for walkies!"


Chapter 13 (added: 2019/05/04)

Patricia was driving as usual. She almost always did when they went out anywhere, yet another sign of the strong Alpha female he supposed. He sighed; she also drove way too damn fast and carelessly for his liking.

"Why the sigh?" She asked.

"Nothing, just a touch of wind." he lied.

The car slowed as they approached a sharp bend. On the far side, he saw several old caravans and a couple of small rusty trucks parked in a layby. Hordes of scruffy kids seemed to be running about even though it was not the holidays and a few miserable looking ponies were tethered to the dilapidated wooden fence that divided the pull-in from the adjacent field.

"Gypsies" he noted. "bet all those kids are skipping school".

"Probably, see the horses?"

He nodded.

"Poor creatures" his wife snarled. "I'll bet they are half starved and have never seen a vet in their entire lives, poor creatures" she added again as she pressed the pedal to speed up.

He wasn't surprised although he was slightly amused. His wife held strong views on animal welfare and yet.... his mind drifted to the stable and kennels on her little estate. Apparently, those 'wretched special animals' slotted into an entirely different compartment in her mind. There was that woman who Patricia called in from time to time who'd had some nurse training before dropping out to take up veterinary nursing. That was the nearest her animals got to any qualified medical attention! He thought her attitude odd but not entirely surprising.

That reminded him of something else. "Eva's Birthday, has she mentioned it to you?"

"Yes, you?"

"Uh huh. She hasn't forgotten what you said last year; she sooo wants to get into the stable you know and not just as a spectator or occasional help. You did sort of promise, remember?" He looked sideways at his wife.

Patricia nodded. "I know, it came up again last night in the kennels when I was doing the feeds. Just after Claire rang...bitch!"

He smiled. That particular little family dispute was probably going to run for a while. Not that it bothered him overmuch and anyway, he hated Claire, and she loathed him. It did worry him in one way though, Patricia had taken to borrowing Girlie from him way too often now that her toy cupboard was bare. He couldn't understand why she'd loaned her the bitch in the first place. He sighed, why couldn't she go across to the dogs for relief like Alice?

"I think she's made her mind up."

He looked at her. "About the pony?"

"Yup, so we will perhaps need to keep our eyes open."

"...and our wallets."

Patricia gave a barking laugh. "My wallet don't you mean and my cheque book and my Swiss bank account".

"OK ok, don't rub it in, I'll chip in for half a horseshoe, well maybe even a whole one anyway!"

His wife laughed again and turned to pout a kiss at him briefly. He winced, not so much at the kiss, more the way the car had suddenly veered into the path of that oncoming truck before quickly regaining its rightful position in the correct lane. His wife swore under her breath, something about stupid truckers as its horn blared out. He wisely held his council as his fingers slowly released their sudden grip on his seat cushion.

"I am not too sure" his wife mused a minute or so later. "I think she's been over-influenced by Alice and Midnight".

"How so, surely she can't be serious about something like him?" he was genuinely startled. "Heck that big bastard scares the pants off me even when he's chained up tighter than, than.... well you know what I mean?"

Patricia nodded. "Yeah, I thought maybe we could call in at Margret's...no, don't look like that dear. I won't let her do anything nasty to you, promise".

"That woman scares the pants off me with just one glance!"

"Mmmm, she does tend to have that effect on certain people, probably why she and Alice get on so well. As we will be in that vicinity my original idea was to call in and see if she had anything suitable for sale, she sometimes does....at a reasonable price of course."

"Haggle" he suggested helpfully.

Patricia laughed again. "She'd only do it better than me. You know how competitive she is? I don't believe she's ever come second best in anything. I would probably end up paying twice what I would have done for a straight sale. I even heard of one guy who tried her patience so much with his miserly offers that he ended up wearing harness leather in her stables himself, probably pure folk-law though!"

"Hmm, maybe, maybe not, I could believe anything of that terrible woman."

"Scaredy cat! Anyway, I'd initially thought something well trained and well broken in that would be easy for her to cut her teeth on, but no that's not what she wants at all!"

He sighed again. "So, the little vixen does want her own Midnight then?

"Not quite, but she does want something big or biggish, female and not too well broken in. Preferably a fresh animal with more than a bit of spirit left in it and not too old. Some of those mares in Margret's stable are a bit too docile and long in the tooth these days, and I doubt if she'd part with a filly".

He scratched his chin thinking about it although he knew his wife was merely being polite and making conversation to while away the journey, he would play no real part in the decision-making process. He never did. "Your sort of heading in one direction "he noted cautiously.

"Wild stock, I know. Never very easy to acquire securely and if on the market and available, fantastically expensive! I am hoping that Margret can put me onto something, her contacts are way better than mine, and I'll offer a little sweetener."

"Money?"

"Don't be silly; she could buy up everything I own just with her small change! No, I thought if I find or she finds me something suitable I'd stable it with her for a while...till Eva's birthday anyway. Let her have the first crack, round off a few rough edges so to speak, she will enjoy that".

"How old is not too old then?"

Patricia pursed her lips. "She says around twenty to twenty to five/sixish, maybe a bit either side if suitable. Well-built, athletic and reasonably easy on the eye, more your sort of lithesome muscled Western javelin thrower rather than big beefy standard Russian shot putter, all her words not mine. She wants something that she can throw a saddle on and go for a gallop".

He raised his eyebrows. "Can you really do that?"

"Of course, Margret's got a couple of stallions that she rides regularly. It's just a matter of animal size, rider weight and the right sort of saddle. I'm a shade too big and heavy...no, no wisecracks thank you. Margret is quite petite and lightweight as is Eva. I think Alice has similar long-term plans for Midnight, that's maybe what gave Eva the idea. I know Alice has ridden some of Margret's ponies when she's visited. It's just a matter of size, weight, build and a suitable saddle as I said"

"So, just your everyday athletic Amazon in lipstick then?"

Patricia laughed her deep throaty laugh and licked her lips. "Hmmm, add a couple of years to the spec, and I might find a use for her. I might even join Alice and strap on my own 'stallion' to pay her a visit."

They both laughed.

They drove in silence for a few more miles then he had an idea. "A thought just occurred to me".

"Oh?"

"Eva and Margret have always got on pretty well haven't they. I mean I know that they have not met very often, but whenever they do, I get the impression that they hit it off pretty good, don't they?".

"True, Margret thinks she's uber cute, that last time she stayed over, she spent quite a bit of time with her out in the kennels as I recall. So where are you going with this?"

"I was re-visiting something you said earlier in my mind. Why not kill two birds with one stone so to speak. Instead of getting Margret to do that initial 'breaking and training' which as you suggested, I am sure she would enjoy. If you acquire something suitable why not send Eva down to stay with her for a couple of weeks. Her birthday present, her pony, let her learn directly from Margret, I am a thousand per cent sure your sadistic baby girl would love that!"

"Brilliant!"

"Careful" he shouted as the car careened briefly across and into the wrong lane again as his wife enthusiastically grabbed at him and kissed him fiercely. "Sheesh, watch the damn road you fucking mad woman!"

Patricia laughed. "Brilliant. Brilliant idea, Eva will love that, why didn't I think of it? What a clever little Sissy Bitch Buggerer you are darling".

"Oh, hardly little!" he pretended to protest indignantly. "Just ask Girlie about the size."

Patricia threw her head back and laughed again.

It was so utterly demeaning to be continuously handled like this. By now she should have grown accustomed to it if a person ever could, but in her 'reawakened' state of mind, it was almost as though she was starting all over again despite the long months of mind-numbing captivity already endured.

The wretched routine rarely varied. Day after day with the same monotonous morning regularity either the older bitch or the daughter, frequently both would enter the stable. Their arrival announced by the throwing open of the creaking old wooden doors, a sudden and all too brief influx of sweet-smelling fresh air before the doors closed again, harsh electric lights suddenly illuminating their spartan stalls and then the daily grooming sessions would commence.

One by one they would move along the row of stalls checking each of their captive 'animals'. The simple catch on her stall door was flicked open, and Alice entered. As was her custom she said nothing, no morning greeting, no endearing if belittling comment to her human pony, no emotion whatsoever other than an impatient gesture with the riding crop she inevitably carried. Alice did not believe in wasting her breathe on these dumb animals unless some curt command was needed.

Sally, now known as Moonglow slid awkwardly off her uncomfortable plank bed and shuffled to the centre of her simple stall. A month or two earlier and that crop would have been used instantly, hard and several times to correct her tardiness. A well trained and obedient pony knew it had to be up and standing ready in the allocated space prepared for checking and grooming.

Even in her advanced condition, she was not spared. Discipline in the stable was rigorously enforced, obedience at all times was the prime rule, and recalcitrant ponies soon learned that to behave otherwise only resulted in painful remedial therapy! The crop reached out to lift her chin, head up, up to the required position. Then it lowered, and with a couple of quick flicks, the leather flap at the end left a couple of burning red imprints on her left buttock cheek.

Sally winced into her bit gag. That had hurt, but she knew it would quickly pass. Compared to some of the beatings she's received in the past they were no more than a couple of light 'love pats. The smarting was already fading, just a brief reminder that her condition was no excuse in this hellish facsimile of an equine facility where laziness or disobedience was never tolerated.

Sally blinked back the tears that had begun to form in her eyes staring stared rigidly ahead at the door to her stall. She rarely cried these days, not if she could help it. It was nothing to do with courage or pride or anything like that. If her eyes started to smart there wasn't a damn thing, she could do about it not without the use of her hands. All she would be able to do would be to blink. God, it was hell if you got a speck of dust or something in your eye. Likewise, any sort of a sniffle, all you could do was wait and then sneeze, and if you had a runny nose then it just ran!

She knew every inch of this wretched prison of hers and saw without seeing the old wooden door with its faded and peeling varnish directly to her front. She stood stiff and silent in a classic ponygirl stance. She posed as she'd been whip trained to be on her knee-high bright pink leather pony hoof boots. Legs perfectly straight as she balanced herself. Body leaning slightly forward as her torso automatically fell into that position forced by the cruel binder that held her arms tightly captive behind her back. Arms that she could no longer even feel and that she had not seen since the day the bitch in front of her had dressed her in the various bits of harness.

Dress, that was a laugh. Dress, more like undress. She'd never seen herself in a mirror, but she had frequently seen the stables other captive occupants, and so she knew exactly how she looked. Naked and helpless, bound in a tight pink leather harness, arms pinioned in a binder presumably of the same awful colour, her head captive in a pink leather bridle. Her breasts, shaven vagina and anus permanently on public view. Yes, she knew how she looked the only difference being that her harness was this awful shade of shocking pink rather than the utilitarian gloss black the others all wore.

Alice was behind her. She could feel her hands checking straps and buckles and whatever else they did that she could not see. They loosened something every morning, and she could feel the touch of fingers on her lower arms as though they were checking that her circulation or something similar was still alright. That morning sensation was about all she could feel other than a faint movement when she flexed her fingers in the tight mittens that constrained them.

Once a month, possibly, that was what she assumed, but it might have been more or less or even random as there was no way of knowing, she received a little extra grooming. That's what they called it these foul bitches. Grooming, grooming as if they really were animals! On those occasions, she could feel her hands being briefly released and her fingernails trimmed. God, her poor nails, how proud she had been of them once, how much time spent with a file and the regular sessions at the nail boutique. Now they just got a salvage cut with a pair of scissors presumably snipped back as far as possible. Even worse was the wet razor on her private parts so that the most intimate part of her anatomy was always fully exposed to their view.

Her feet were slightly different. They seemed to receive more attention. Weekly at least she reckoned she was walked over to a 'wet' area in the stable and then fastened like the beast they considered her to be via the top of her bridle to a low hook on the wall forcing her to bend right over. One by one at the touch of a crop she had to lift her 'hoof's as they called them. One boot at a time being removed so that her foot and lower leg could be examined then washed, and frequently her toenails trimmed.

Sometimes they did them as a batch three or even four of them all packed together side by side as they carried out what they considered 'essential maintenance' on their helpless captives. Animals, just animals that's what they were in the eyes of those who controlled them or to quote them, owned them! Even now she could hardly believe it, that anyone could treat their fellow human beings in such a continuous vile way.

Non-humans that's what they were. Neither human nor animal but some sort of betwixt and between hybrid. Not once, not on one single occasion over the long months since she had woken to find herself strapped tightly down on that wretched bench had anyone spoken to her as if she were a person bar that brief visit by the father the other night. Commands, orders, curt single syllable instructions to be learned and acted upon with unthinking blind instant obedience yes, but never a single word addressed as one human to another.

They talked to each other of course. That was another intended or perhaps unconscious subliminal humiliation. Mother to daughter or vice versa. They chatted perfectly normally as if the captives really were mindless animals incapable of understanding a single word and rarely gave the slightest impression that they cared so much as one jot if they did understand such conversations.

It was incredible that they could operate like this. That they could so blatantly house people like this and treat them with such callous indifference in the midst of a highly developed and civilised country. Yet they did, and from some of the conversations she had heard, it was a perfectly normal situation for them and apparently, they were not alone in their obscene perversions. She had heard numerous references to other people who evidently had similar predilections. Someone called Margret cropped up quite frequently.

The worst she found was their 'normal' conversations, mother and daughter chit chat just as she had once enjoyed with her mother. It was crazy, completely crazy she had reflected. Here she was strapped into a horrible leather bondage harness, naked, helpless, gagged, her anus almost permanently filled with a vast plug supporting a false tail. Unable to do a single thing for herself bar stagger about on those awful boots they strapped on her legs. Bent almost double secured to a hook on the rough stone wall.

Callous hands on her body, all over her body, washing her down with a rough cold damp sponge and probing her most sensitive and intimate spots with casual indifference. The same hands that had often added cruel viciously painful welts to her bottom, thighs, belly and even her small breasts. Even her genital area had felt the sting of whip or crop on more than one occasion.

Bound, bent, beaten, bruised and debased she would have no choice but to listen to normality that was the complete opposite to her existence. The pair would casually chat about hairstyles, clothes, TV programmes, shopping trips with total indifference to her or the others. Once when they were discussing the latest newborn addition to the Royal Family, she'd made a noise that to them must have signified interest and understanding. Alice had angrily barked "Quiet pony!" and instantly delivered a swift half dozen savage strokes to her exposed bottom with the ever-ready riding crop. Then and oh so indifferently resumed her conversation as if nothing had happened while Sally sobbed in silent misery.

Alice finished whatever it was she was checking on the harness behind her back, and she felt one leather covered palm slide over first one and then her other buttock cheek. Oh God, how many times had she felt the bitch do that and every time in such a blatantly possessive manner. She belonged to the bitch and was reminded of that fact every single day and each time Alice visited her in her stall. As usual, the hand finished by giving her tender flesh a quick and non-too gentle squeeze before its owner moved around to face her pony.

This time the gloved hand reached out to briefly fondle her right breast fingering and tweaking at her nipple squeezing gently as she looked for signs of milk. Sally knew that was what she was doing because the two bitches had discussed that topic while they both mauled her the other morning, again as if she was not capable of understanding what they said. Once more a sob rose in her throat, but she choked it back down.

The gloved hand moved down to run backwards and forwards a few times over the swollen belly before grasping the crop that she'd tucked under the other arm. The crop reached out to tap against one small pert naked breast twice. "Rump!". Sally immediately bent forward at the waist as she'd been trained and shuffled her hoof booted legs apart.

The crop lifted the long tail that dangled from its fitting in the plug that firmly filled her anus. Oh, how horrible and demeaning this was. Her Mistress, her owner, was inspecting her for signs of soiling when she voided. That damn tube in her rectum plus the awful diet they were fed, nothing stayed in, and she had to be ever alert to the slightest sign that her bowls were about to empty. All too often she missed those faint indicators or perhaps they didn't even exist, and the foul mess just erupted in a sudden semi-liquid stream from the opening beneath her tail plug to soil her arched tail, legs and puddle briefly on the stall floor before the sawdust and dirt soaked it up.

It often happened several times a day, and invariably she would be taken by surprise on one or more occasions with the result that she'd have to spend anything up to twenty-four hours in a stinking stall with the same stinky stuff encrusting on her legs. The bastards only groomed them once a day and paid not the slightest heed to their discomfort at other times, drilling and exercising them as if oblivious to both sight and smell!

She had even heard the older bitch telling her youngest daughter that it was something she'd have to get used to when she visited the stable. "They are just dumb animals precious, too stupid to be permitted any other way, so nature will take its course regardless. Better for them this way, no pointless attempts at a modesty no longer relevant to their animal status. You will soon get used to it, so I shouldn't worry about it!"

Eva had wrinkled her pretty nose up and looked somewhat dubious. "So, you have to clean them up every time they do it then?" she'd asked doubtfully.

"No, of course not dear. Usually, once a day is perfectly adequate although we can't always manage that. Sometimes they might have to stay soiled for a day or even more if we are pushed for time, or even as a punishment if necessary. It doesn't hurt when they are initially being trained to let them stew in their own juices so to speak for a day or two. As good as the whip, better in fact as a practical lesson as to just what their new status is and how it will be for the rest of their miserable lives!"

Sally shuddered at the memory. How Eva had laughed so callously at her mother's horrible remark then said, "Well when I get a pony it will always smell like the piece of shit it is!".

She felt the weight of the tail again as the crop was removed and it dropped down to tickle against the back of her legs. Her owners patronisingly patted her the top of her head a couple of times and then she abruptly turned and left the stall leaving her to stand upright again. She was considered clean enough, and bar feeding would probably be left alone till the next day. A blessed relief in one way but once again another mind destroying empty twenty-four hours of total boredom stretched out before her!

Alice clicked the catch firmly closed on Moonglows stall then gave the top her customary tug to ensure it was fully shut. Her mother was right, no point in ever taking any chances with the stock. Dumb and helpless they might be, but they did have brains. They'd never had one get loose, and she didn't intend to be the first one to be responsible for such an unlikely occurrence.

She paused briefly for a moment before entering the next stall. That actually might be amusing she considered. Suppose she sort of accidentally on purpose contrived to leave Midnight unchained and his stall slightly open, wouldn't it be fun to secretly watch him try to make an escape bid hobbled as he was with the chain between his legs. Let him struggle out of the stable and down past the house for a hundred yards then go after him. Do it one evening when it got dark. Let the dumb beast think for a few minutes he'd been smart enough to succeed.

Then shatter his pathetic moment of imagined triumph. Rope the beast in and drag him back to the stable, strap him down on the punishment bench and flog the shit out of the rebellious bastard. Perhaps that would be the final straw in the ongoing battle of wills between them. One that she knew he had no hope of ever winning!

Fun, she'd keep the idea in mind. Maybe it would that final straw needed to break him, maybe not. In a way, she'd be disappointed once that happened as it inevitably would. A bit of spirit always added to ones delight in owning these wretched creatures and a lot of spirit was even more fun was it not?

Midnight glared at her as she entered, but there was nothing unusual in that. He'd been glaring at her for quite a long time now the insolent dumb animal. The glare had changed though. Initially, it had been pure anger mixed with a strong dose of disbelief at the predicament he'd found himself in plus a certain amount of contempt for her.

Yes, the glare was still in the big beast's eyes, but now it was a lot more sullen. Anger again, but the contempt and disbelief had virtually gone. Hardly surprising as it had hard long enough to find out just what its present situation entailed, and the many hours spent strapped helpless to the whipping bench had cured much of the 'contempt' had it not? He might not respect her, but she didn't care overmuch. Her whips, crops and the wicked stable cane had added one other element to the look in those dark eyes, fear!

Fear and fear would ultimately breed respect would it not? The inferior animal before her might be big and muscular, strong and athletic, robust and powerful, but it was also completely helpless. It might tower above her and weigh many pounds more but only one of them was master here, and it was not the animal! It wore her personal brand burnt into its rump, the harness and chains that she had put on it and displayed the cruel welts and weal's on its hide that her whips and cane had inflicted.

"Good morning Midnight" she smiled sweetly at her pony. "I trust we are feeling grateful this morning?" She glanced up to the hooks high on the right-hand side of the wooden stall and the items dangling from them. "We had such a nice time last night, didn't we?" She laughed. "I did anyway!" She was in a mood to be communicative with at least one pony this morning and with good reason.

She reached up to touch a leather harness with a double penis dildo fixed to it and caressed the outer and considerably larger one fondly. Then with her left hand reached out to grasp the captive man's large limp chocolate-hued penis.

"You know I do believe you are getting a bit too accustomed to yourself. My side is fine for me, but you aren't squealing nearly as much as you used to when I play 'Stallion' with you." She gave his penis a sudden hard squeeze making him gasp into his rubber bit gag. "This floppy thing may be big enough to give little Moonglow a good fuck when I allow it, but I think its twin here is no longer large enough to stretch your pony cunt, eh?"

She took the harness down and waved the large black imitation penis in front of his face. The penis that was a near exact replica when erect, of the one she still gripped in her left hand. "This was damn expensive you know pony but worth it, so time to get us a new one I think". She waggled the black hard rubber object at him. "No point in me fucking you if only one of us is going to squeal is there? Me with pleasure and you with...well whatever! You have been way too quiet, and that's no fun for me is it, boy?"

She giggled. "I think maybe I've stretched your big black pony pussy a bit too much so time to for you to grow a bit, but not down here" she added giving him another painful squeeze. "I'm going to order another one of these today, the same shape because you've got such a beautiful stallion cock, shame you can't use it very often. Never mind though, the new one will be longer and thicker than this thing" Once again she gave a vicious squeeze.

She laughed aloud. Partly at the anguished noise, he made but mostly because of the look of sheer horror in his eyes as he realised what she meant and what it would mean for him next time she 'played stallion'. She hung the harness back on its hook and took down the long thick bamboo cane that dangled next to it.

"Yes," she said standing in front of him and flexing the cane ominously in both hands. "What did I promise you last night? I told you to keep your fucking pony voice quiet did I not when I removed your bit and did you, no you did not! Stupid animal, you wanted to talk, pretend that you were still human and not the beast I have made you into, worse you threatened me. You dared to threaten me your Mistress and owner!"

She stared at him in silence for a moment enjoying the look of apprehension and fear in his eyes, savouring his helpless dread, relishing her power over him. Then she laughed and returned the cane to its brass hook. She saw the look of relief in his face or at least what she could see of his face behind his bridle then laughed again.

"Oh, don't look too relieved pony. Last night I promised to flay the skin off your big meaty rump again and make you howl like the animal you truly are. This is just a brief reprieve; I'll be back later with my little sister. I promised her that she could give you the next flogging. She is so much looking forward to it." She leaned forward looked right up at him. "She asked about limits, so I said limits what limits?"

Alice gave another wicked giggle and skipped out of the stall thinking maybe she'd bring one of the dogs over when she watched her younger sister at work. A bit of extra relaxation might be nice and even more humiliating for Midnight as he suffered while she enjoyed the attention of a soft, obedient tongue.

He strained as hard as he could. It had been a long time since he'd had this problem. That wretched milk and liquidised diet he'd been fed for month after month along with whatever foul additives they added had left him with persistent diarrhoea. His fear for so long had been keeping the wretched, filthy muck in his bowels till he was allowed an opportunity to relieve himself.

All those long months of living in fear lest he soil himself and all those times when he actually had. The humiliation of filling his oversized disposable nappy and plastic pants. The glee or anger when his youthful 'mummy' discovered what he'd inevitably done. The humiliation of being dragged over to be 'changed on that oversized baby table.

To lay face up and helpless while 'she' attended to him. That blonde pretty teenage sadist who supposedly 'owned' him. Her baby, her very own big baby girl as she called him. The bitch! The foul sadistic little bitch. So very pretty but oh so damn heartless and frequently so horribly cruel as well.

He still hadn't got used it. How could any sane person get used to the humiliations heaped upon him daily? He wasn't a 'baby girl' he was a grown man, a grown man in his late forties for heaven's sake, not a 'big and oh so cute but naughty baby girl' who needed a frequent vicious bottom spanking!

Damn it he thought. He had or hoped he still had; a daughter older than the evil little bitch who now ruled his life. Ruled it so effectively thanks to whatever strength-sapping chemicals they added to his food. Food! Baby milk and mush! Nor was it just the wretched food regime that had weakened him. His eyes briefly sought it out and then with a shudder turned away from the thin length of bamboo decked out with a pink ribbon hanging from its hook on the wall. That simple length of flexible bamboo had sapped as much if not more of his will to resist than the horrible food ever could. He feared that simple object more than anything and knew all too well how enthusiastically his young 'owner' liked to use it on him.

He strained again but still nothing. It was the recent change of diet that was doing it to him. He knew his bowels needed to produce something and soon, she would be angry if she came back and found he 'hadn't been' as he should have done. Shit, literally shit shit shit he thought angrily. How many times had he lain wide awake in uncomfortable terror not daring to move lest he did let loose and disgrace himself and now when he had ample opportunity...?

He could see himself in the big mirror opposite that covered such a large portion of that wall. Another aspect of this daily hell, he could not get away from the sight of how pathetic and wretched he'd become. He sat or perhaps squatted would be a more apt term on that enormous pink, and blue 'Dumbo' themed oversized potty. Naked apart from the pink plastic pants around his ankles, pink leather booties on his feet and similar thumb-less mittens on his hands. A giant pink baby dummy strapped into his mouth effectively gagging him.

He was also fat, way too fat. He'd never been a great fan of exercise, but he'd kept himself in reasonable shape hadn't he. Well OK, maybe not in shape as such but he'd never totally let himself go had he? Not using the elevator at work unless he was late, walking from the railway station to his office rather than using public transport, that and numerous other regular ways of holding middle spread at bay. Well, alright, keeping the worst of it at bay, but now....

He shuddered. He was just a lump a big pink and white podgy lump. Gross white flesh bound by tight pink accoutrements. He squatted on that wretched potty like some hideous, deformed candy gnome. Six months or whatever of the awful stuff they'd fed him. Not all of it was designed to go straight through him his obese bulk suggested that just like a real baby, his over rich diet had been planned to pile on the pounds and not only a few of them.

He shuddered again as he looked at his reflection. Hairless from crown to toenails. Shaven, ruthlessly waxed and regularly treated to some other depletory treatment. Only his eyelashes had survived the onslaught; even his once bushy eyebrows were gone. Like a modern-day Samson, he'd been brought so low by a young Delila, aided at times by mother and sister. Even his nose was not spared. The little bitch found it so amusing to use a pair of tweezers from time to time to 'rip the nasty big ugly hairs out of babies cute button nosey'.

Worse of all was the sapping of his strength. Just like the biblical Sampson he had also lost his strength. Not all at once like his hair but on a slow day by day sapping basis. Again, it must be the feed that they spooned or poured into him, some subtle additive that had slowly robbed him of his strength or paralysed his muscles, perhaps a combination of both.

He knew just how much effort it would take to raise himself off the seat of this big plastic potty he sat on. That was assuming he could somehow release the catch of the strap that held him in place and he knew that his mitten handicapped hands would prevent that. His ability was limited to waving a hand at his 'mummy' or putting one before the other as he crawled along the floor. Anything else was way beyond him.

Even if he did get himself up and off the awful object, he would only collapse in a heap on the floor. There was no strength left in his legs to support him standing upright, all he could do was crawl slowly, and that needed some effort. To assist him he now wore an oversized set of baby reins strapped to him. Sometimes his young mummy had the patience just to let him crawl, at others, he was half dragged from A to B despite his growing bulk and to add to his misery, a few hard strokes from that awful cane to add additional encouragement.

He stared at himself in dumb misery. He barely recognised himself any more. A gross pink and white alien lump! Earlier in his captivity, he'd had to wear a tight waist corset, but that had been abandoned as his paunch grew and how it had grown recently. He looked down towards feet that he couldn't see unless he stretched out his legs. He sighed and strained again. Nothing. Oh please, please let something come out, anything. Don't let her come back and find it empty she'll get so mad so horribly mad if she found he hadn't been as required.

He did not know why his diet had suddenly been changed. He still got the baby bottles three times a day, but the mixture now tasted different, less thick and his food was less mush and more substantial. Also, there were now occasions when he was allowed to feed himself rather than sitting in that wretched high chair and being spoon-fed every meal. She still dragged him over to it and strapped him down, but now there were times when a special spoon and pusher were fitted to his mittens so he could get every last bit out of his feeding bowl himself. Refusal, of course, was not an option. He glanced again toward that wicked length of flexible bamboo. No, refusal was never a viable option in this hell hole.

Suddenly his ears caught the sound of soft footsteps in the hall outside rapidly approaching the nursery door. He blanched, and his face screwed up in concentrated anguish as he panicked, vainly endeavouring to squeeze his non-cooperative bowels toward one last productive, significant effort. The door opened, and he knew with a growing sense of dread the feeling of failure, his eyes without conscious thought glanced once more towards that wicked length of bamboo that he feared so very much!


Chapter 14 (added: 2019/06/07)

This sunshine was lovely; she thought, tilting her head upwards. How long had it been since she had last felt its light golden warmth caress her face? Too long, far too long and the accompanying gentle breeze was equally welcome after so many long weeks in the foul fug of that equally foul stable building. Fresh air and sunshine, what more could she want...freedom?

Sally looked sadly around her. Freedom that was a forlorn hope. Nothing had really changed had it, she was still a captive, just as helpless out here as she was back in her wretched stall. That cramped, stinking hovel to which she would undoubtedly be returned once her vile owner had finished whatever new devilry she had planned.

She shivered a little as a stronger gust of wind caught her. That was one problem of being kept permanently naked, she thought. The pink leather harness she wore didn't count as any sort of apparel, its principal purpose was to restrict and demean her, and if anything, it enhanced her most intimate areas no doubt to the delight of those who had bound her in its tight embrace. Not to provide either covering or warmth for the one wearing it!

Quite why she had been brought outside was a question running through her mind. Lovely as it was to have this unexpected change, she feared that there would have to be some sinister reason for it and dreaded what it might be. Acts of kindness were an exceptional rarity in this awful place as she well knew.

Alice had brought her out a little earlier, and as was usual, her Mistress and owner had not deemed it necessary to say anything to her captive two-legged 'animal'. That's all she was in that bitch's eyes, just an animal and she wouldn't waste words explaining anything to a dumb creature like her!

The morning feeding and grooming had taken place earlier, at least in this clockless world it had seemed earlier so when Alice had returned to the stable not long after that...? Naturally, she and all the other ponies had feared the worst. Some horrible activity was probably going to take place, one of their nasty training sessions or similar. Whatever it made little difference, they all knew it would be demeaning, almost certainly painful and for those chosen participants, completely unavoidable!

As was her want, Alice had stalked into her stall, delivered a painful flick to her left thigh as she quickly assumed the required pose when one of the 'owners' entered. Alice had paid no attention, quickly attached a short set of reins to her bridle and promptly led her out of the stall and thence through the old wooden doors and down the gravelled path towards a large grassy paddock surrounded by leafy trees.

Although it was only a very short distance it had been a couple of months since she'd last had to walk further than a few yards and, in the meantime, she'd almost lost the knack of moving quickly in those horrible heavy hoof boots. Not that Alice bothered to take that into account. She strode quickly forward part leading, part dragging her 'pony' and frequently using a long supple riding crop to encourage her to move faster as she staggered along trying to keep up.

Sally was glad when they stopped. Her bottom was on fire from the merciless crop. It hadn't smarted that bad for months she reflected as she sobbed with pain, fear and anger into her bit. She'd had worse far worse and knew that those vicious strokes delivered so indifferently had been given to encourage not punish her. That almost made it worse; the cruel bitch had simply done that because she was in a hurry, a hurry, so she had to suffer for that. It was not fair, so damn unfair...

Again, without word or ceremony, Alice looped her reins over the top of the low wooden hurdle that presumably had been erected by the nearest trees for just such a purpose, tied a quick half hitch and then spun around and strode purposely back towards the stable building without even sparing her a glance.

The cool breeze returned for a few seconds, and above her, the branches and light leafy canopy shook gently. She stared up at the greenery with delight, amazed at how something so simple and basic could thrill her. She remembered one of the favourite books of her childhood, Treasure Island, and she now understood old Ben Gunn's craving for a piece of cheese.

To be out of that hellish stable building, away from that stinking animal stall was like.... well like something she couldn't even put a name too. It was a change a blessed change, and she hadn't realised how badly she had craved for a change and something new to stimulate her, a reprieve from the mindless tedium of her existence.

It would probably come at a price of course. So far thankfully, not a painful one compared to what she'd experienced in the past at Alice's hands. She shuddered at the memory of her first few weeks. No, her bottom might be smarting but the latest kiss of the crop she'd received that morning was as nothing compared to those terrible early days!

Nevertheless, it was so demeaning to be left standing there this. She was an adult woman, an intelligent articulate.... well she had been articulate till they'd strapped a hard rubber bit into her mouth and ruthlessly whipped the desire to communicate out of her! Now she stood patiently beneath a tree on the edge of a grassy paddock. Stood like the captive animal they had turned her into tethered by the short reins tied to a low branch. Dumb and helpless still able to think but to continually fear such lest she show any degree of human understanding. Ponies don't think, don't talk, don't need to understand! Obey, ponies only need to obey and react instantly when commanded, nothing else. Fail to adapt to the mantra and the whip would soon ensure otherwise!

Alice returned this time walking the pair, no need for her to use the crop tucked under her belt for they had long since succumbed to their assigned role. Cowboy and Gypsy, or the pair as she always thought of them. They stepped out briskly alongside their youthful handler, she between them her arms bent upwards as she held the short reins from their respective bridles one in each gloved hand. Owner and owned. The supreme and the subdued. The whip hand and the whipped!

The pair were a familiar sight to Sally, yet she knew almost nothing about her fellow prisoners for such they all were. Male and female somehow connected, married, partners, brother and sister she didn't know? They were perhaps a dozen or more years older than she was or so she thought. Maybe not, god this hideous place would put years on your life, wouldn't it? Each month was like a year, and it was bound to have an effect, wouldn't it?

She knew nothing about them other than what her eyes told her. She could not recollect either of them ever talking when she was present or near enough to hear anything. She'd heard them scream of course but not that often, mostly they endured the harsh discipline of the stable with abject stoic acceptance. Not that they received such all that frequently and usually only when they failed to perform as expected during the interminable training sessions with their demanding owners.

They were both tall and blonde with pale white skins. Nordic perhaps Sally wondered. Impossible to see their faces properly behind bits and bridle straps, was there a family resemblance? No way to tell. Their height was artificially enhanced by the hoof boots and again by their respective hairstyles. The woman had a semi Mohican shaved scalp, but the top of her bridle held a stiff cone of shaped leather, and her remaining hair rose through it in a high ponytail that cascaded down her back almost to her waist. Paradoxically it almost reached the blonde tail that protruded for her anus, and there was no doubting where that blonde tail had originated! Her male partner also had the Mohican cut, but his was arranged in the traditional way, a tall spikey blonde crest running north/south across his otherwise bald scalp.

They dwarfed Alice as she walked so unconcernedly between them. Alice was striding along and her captives performing that ridiculous 'high-stepping' walk they'd all been ruthlessly trained to do. Legs raised high, thighs perfectly parallel to the ground and step, step and step. Then the whip would crack if you failed to get it right the training whip always cracked a lot nor would it be cracking in empty air just for effect!

Alice was striding out, so the pair were virtually trotting beside her their legs rising and falling in perfect uniformity almost as though they were one unit. Two large pale breasts bobbed, and a long flaccid plastic sheathed penis shook as they passed in front of Sally. Her eyes followed them, noting the bouncing heavily whip-scarred buttocks and livid brand that bore mute testimony as to how they had acquired their docility.

They stood in stiff attentive poses as Alice looped their reins to the rail and headed back towards the stable. Neither showed the slightest inclination to move or displayed the same curiosity that Sally was indulging in. They stood like two golden and white giant statues, stiff, mute and clad in their gleaming black leather harness, a silent, obedient testimony to the efficiency of their owner's whip and crop!

Sally watched till Alice was out of sight then jumped up and down, shook herself from side to side and even hopped up and down, throwing out first one leg then the other. Nothing. The pair took no notice of her whatsoever. They ignored her as though she weren't there although they'd surely seen her. She stamped one hoofed foot in frustrated anger. Here was the first opportunity she'd had to attempt some form of communication with fellow captives without being overseen or heard, and she could elicit no response.

"Please, please," she mumbled into her bit. "just look this way, please, just a look, an acknowledgement, a sympathetic glance, anything, please it would mean so much". Neither moved but just stood impassively the tall Mohican cut waving slightly in the breeze. Sally sighed well at least her head had been spared the razor as hers was always pulled into a similar high ponytail. Pulled was putting it mildly, that bitch Alice always tugged it so hard through the band she thought one day she'd pull the whole lot out by the roots.

The rare moment passed as she heard from behind the clip-clop of more steel-shod hoof boots on the gravel and broken tarmac outside the old stable as Alice emerged with another pair. Two more of her mother's captive 'ponies. They were both relatively young Australians; she did know that because she'd heard their strong accents on several occasions. Not that she'd ever had an opportunity to talk with them either and probably never would. She couldn't help hearing them though in between bout of swearing and screaming when one or both were being disciplined. A scream of pain sounds the same whoever is making it, but occasionally there were words as well, angry words as they forgot or ignored the cardinal rule. They had dared to speak and then in the resultant agony and despair often begged and pleaded vainly with whoever was wielding the whip. In their case that was usually the Queen Bitch as both belonged to her and she liked to remove her animals' bits before chastising them presumably she relished the noise, they made for her.

Sally had noticed that of late, the angry swearing had diminished considerably as the harsh routine of the stable began to have the inevitable subduing effect on Spider and Butterfly. They were both young and tough, but you could only resist the unrelenting degradation and savage punishments for so long, then, inevitably you began acquiescing, and their practised captors knew that only too well.

Neither adopted the ridged upright, elegant high stepping gait of the previous pair. If anything, they slouched, resisted and shuffled uncomfortably along in front of Alice. The latter this time walking with measured tread behind the couple holding their long reins in one hand and frequently administering a painful slash from the extra-long thin whippy crop she now held in the other. Each blow drawing a muffled squeal from behind a bit gagged mouth as the recipient was cruelly encouraged to keep moving.

Sally watched the trio approach; she felt a greater bond of sympathy with this pair that didn't extend quite as much to the two older Nordic types. She knew from the titbits of information she'd gleaned that both pairs belonged to the older witch who ruled this crazy world she'd had the misfortune to fall into. Ruled it with a rod of iron, no a ruthless rod of leather or bamboo and displayed a lack of mercy that would have impressed the inquisition.

The one saving grace was that the Queen Bitch related to them purely as animals, dumb mindless beasts to be whipped into total abject submission, to perform to her every command and for her amusement in whatever animalistic way she desired but never for one moment to be granted even the minutest recognition of their humanity!

The bottom line and the biggest humiliation for all of them was the sex element. These filthy perverts got sexual kicks from all their evil deviant practices. That was the prime reason they were here held in such appalling conditions, held captive as nothing more than sophisticated sex toys to pander to the depraved erotic hobbies of their captors. Sally knew that as all of them did. They'd seen and heard that bitch Patricia have orgasms as she whipped and trained them. Their pain and humiliation for her entertainment and pleasure - a very unfair and horrible exchange!

Alice was a little different, but she didn't go without her share. Whereas to her mother, they were animals a hundred per cent of the time without exception. That perverted bitch actively inflicted her particular sexual predilections on every occupant of the stable regardless of sex, age or anything else. Every one of them was regularly treated to a 'taste of her stallion' as she so callously termed the obscene acts of rape and sodomy, she inflicted upon their helpless bodies. In the case of the Aussie pair, she tended to treat them as just that a pair of helpless playthings for her wicked satisfaction the only difference being which of the unfortunates she choose to defile first! Not that it mattered to Butterfly and Spider as neither would be spared.

They seemed to be the exception. Usually when she was 'in the stallion mood' as she put it only one of them would draw the short straw, although there would be nothing 'short' about what followed once she'd chosen her victim neither in time nor in the size of her 'stallion'. Sally had been the favourite for a while, but her present condition had spared her for a while now, but she knew that in the future the rapes would resume with a vengeance. How many times recently had that bitch smiled sweetly at her, patted her swelling belly then maliciously wiggled one of her nearby dildos as an unspoken reminder of times past and times still to come!

Sally was temporarily off limits, and the sadistic bitch also seemed to ration herself when it came to Midnight. Sally suspected she knew why. Midnight was exceptional; the relationship she had with that huge man seemed different. The bitch obviously delighted in her mastery over the huge man, relished her cruel and absolute control of him and seemed to savour every moment she had with him especially. That was Sally's perception anyway, and she would not even let her mother near him. She herself yes, many times she'd been groomed by the top bitch, but she'd never yet seen her handle Midnight. Maybe if Alice was away but even then, she suspected that the big man might be 'out of bound' until his owner returned.

Yes, she thought, Midnight was special. They all knew that when the bitch chose him, it would be a very long evening, and the whip and cane would be hard at work as well as her wretched rubber phallus's. Her own condition thus had meant bad news for Spider and Butterfly. They shared a double stall and at the moment Alice's 'mounting frame now the third permanent resident of that enclosure. The blonde Nordic pair, one or other were occasionally chosen but not very often recently. Maybe their acquiescent acceptance bored the bitch. That just left the poor Aussie pair to 'enjoy' the regular visits from Alice's stallion. Male or female it didn't seem to matter as both squealed and screamed alike on the mounting frame as whip and rubber cock ensured her total mastery over them!

Eva approached the ponies slowly pushing an oversized pink baby buggy; a pink mini backpack slung over one shoulder and a 'dog' padding along beside the buggy its leash stretching from collar to one of the push handles. The large occupant of the carriage was almost hidden behind the lounger and folding table balanced across his lap and casually held in place with a frayed elastic bungee.

"Where do you want me?" Eva asked her sister.

Alice pointed down the field. "About where that last tree is. You bring the cord?"

"Yep" Eva jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the backpack.

"OK, tie one end to the tree somewhere and park your butt about, oh about twenty yards away. You can time them with your phone".

"K sis", Eva smiled wickedly. "Should be fun. Wanna bet on it" she asked coyly.

Alice laughed and shook her head. "Not if you're going to choose Midnight!"

"Spoilsport" Eva shook her head sadly. "No sporting instinct".

"You seem to be getting very attached to that one" Alice noted changing the subject and nodding at Fido who was squatting patiently beside his young mistress.

Eva reached out and ruffled the top of his head. "He's a good boy," she said then giggled and lifted the crook handled bamboo cane that dangled from the other buggy handle. "Does as he's told almost without needing a touch of my stick."

Alice surveyed the shivering youth at her feet "Looks like you still gave his rump a couple of hard touches" she noted clinically.

"Just a couple of quick stripes to get him going that's all, you know how lazy these animals can be. Come on Fido boy, let's go down to the nice tree and you can go pee pee for me before we settle down and maybe you can do a bit of special licking for me as well later on".

She is growing up, Alice thought as she watched her amble off pushing her big baby in his buggy with Fido padding along to heel beside her. Well, it happens to all of us she glanced around at the ponies. Although for some their development abruptly changes track at a certain point! She frowned; her sister was spot-on. Lazy animals was too damn right she thought, Time to give these dumb idle fuckers a bit of good hard exercise and burn some surplus fat off. Also, it would serve to remind them all of their animal statuses. Her mother was too reserved, too focused on only keeping them stabled and docile in that enclosed environment. Alice had other ideas; she'd seen how other people used their ponies and intended to apply it here.

Her mother might enjoy the pure thrill of ownership, of training and breaking the beasts as did she but there was far more to ownership than that, and unlike her mother, she had no yearning for 'mature bits of fluff' in her bed to continually distract her. She whipped them, trained them, fucked them, and now she would use them as they should be used, as beasts of burden to perform whatever demanding and demeaning physical tasks, she put them too.

True, once outside there was always the security aspect to consider but the cameras and alarms, they had were excellent, plus there were more improved and more discrete devices on the market now. They could easily add to and enhance the existing systems and extend their boundaries to quickly alert them to possible intruders and prying eyes, not that there would be many in this remote location. Too far out for casual visitors and not the most popular area for the woolly bobble hat and hiking boots brigade who liked to wander in the wilds. There would be some significant changes in the offing when her mother returned, and she knew both Eva and that randy jerk of a stepfather would back her up. She surveyed her sullen charges for a moment and then went back towards the stable so that she could collect Midnight and add the final animal to her tethered little herd.

Sally wasn't the only one enjoying the sunshine on her face. Eva shook her shoulder-length tousled mane of blonde hair back as she slowly made her way down the cinder path towards the spot her sister had indicated. She wasn't in a hurry; she never was; she wasn't that sort of person. Time her mother frequently complained, meant nothing to her. 'The lazy little bitch would be late for her own funeral!' A pretty stupid remark, Eva always thought. Who the hell would want to be early for their own funeral anyway?

She gave a sharp jerk on the leash. "Faster mutt" she snapped, "unless you want to feel my stick again?" It wasn't so much that the collared youth beside her down on all fours was holding her up, more a case of habit and she wasn't walking all that fast anyway as per her fundamental nature. In any case, the big buggy handicapped her a bit, although even with its sizeable heavy occupant, the design meant that it was not overly difficult to push even on the rough path. The occupant was silent of course with that large baby pacifier she'd strapped into his mouth.

His eyes still worked though, and like his daughter, they'd just passed even if she hadn't seen or recognised him, he was also enjoying this unexpected outing after so long being cooped up in that grotesque oversized parody of a baby's nursery. The greenery, the wind, the sunshine, blue skies, white clouds and fresh smells of the countryside.

His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a ring tone quickly answered, followed by a gleeful whoop. It was one of her friends he surmised. He listened to the conversation; we'll he could hardly avoid listening could he unless he put his captive mitten covered hands over his ears. That probably wouldn't shut anything out anyway, and worse she might not like it. Why so, he'd didn't know? Who the hell could predict how these crazy females would react? Sometimes the most trivial things would produce a reaction out of all proportion, a reaction that would inevitably also result in a flogging!

He continued to brood as the outsize buggy lurched and bumped along the uneven path. The little bitch was cheerfully wittering on about everything and nothing. In the space of a couple of minutes she'd gone from makeup, a new air style via a proposed shopping trip, some boy call Josh to a band where all the guys were just so dreamy cutey cute!

It was so, so, all so dammed fucking surreal! A word that after all these months, he fully understood and one that was never far from his waking consciousness. The whole situation was unbelievable, incredible, a wide-awake nightmare that nothing could banish. No goodnights sleep followed by a wide-eyed re-energised morning awakening could dispel this hideous hell nor the attendant female demons who infested it and inflicted perpetual torment upon their helpless unwilling victims.

Bump, bump, bump, the tree her sister had mentioned grew ever nearer. A couple of times they veered briefly off the path such as it was and onto the rough grass, even bigger bumps! Too engrossed on the damn phone to be paying attention. Girlish squeals of delight about someone called Penny, a right uppity bitch who'd split with her boyfriend and had she been fucking him? Yes, no? More bloody silly squeals and bouts of giggling!

Surreal it truly was. His mind shut her out to drift down a familiar route; a journey travelled many times before and each new trip with that same helpless feeling of total mind-boggling incredulity that never seemed to leave him. Here he was, a fully-grown mature man and what would an independent viewer make of him and his present predicament...not that such a person was likely to appear he knew they wouldn't all be outside their customary secure residences if there was the remotest possibility of that happening.

What would they make of the enormous oversized pink baby buggy? Pink! Always bloody pink. He was laid back at an uncomfortable angle in the wretched contraption; knees bent uncomfortably over the edge rail with his pink booteed feet dangling freely a few inches above the ground as was his bum in the deep nylon seat. Who the fuck made all this oversized horror stuff he wondered? A safety strap around his waist pinned him down probably more as an essential safety precaution rather than a restraint. He no longer had the strength to struggle out and attempt to escape, and he was also beginning to wonder if he even still dared to try? One thing he did know and that was that these people terrified him!

He remembered his first few days when he was still...still a strong, healthy man albeit one that was frequently strapped helpless across that damn whipping bench in the basement. The little bitch who was now pushing him had been flogging him under the direction of her fucking sadistic bitch of a mother. He'd been mouthing off at the pair of them in between bouts of screaming in pain and rage! The mother had suddenly bent down and grabbed both his ears to hold his head steady. "If you continue to use all those nasty words and name calling girl, I'll castrate you. Eva here wants a baby girl, and that's exactly what you are going to be from now on but piss me off much more and...."

She had left the sentence unfinished but released her hold as she stood erect and called to her daughter. "You sure you don't want me to turn him into a real girl for you sweetie?" He still shivered at the memory. The precise unemotional way she'd said it, and he knew she meant it - equally her daughter's nonchalant response. "Nah, not yet, maybe later if she gives me too much trouble, we'll see". So casual, so indifferent and she didn't even pause in the beating, her cane didn't even break rhythm as it blistered his bottom. Christ, yes, no wonder they terrified him!

Another bump. Shit, he hoped she wouldn't hit a big pothole. He knew his bottom in the low-slung seat wouldn't be that far from the ground, and that particular part of his anatomy still smarted very painfully from yesterday's 'behavioural reminders' the sadistic little brat had given him. He did not want it bouncing up and down on that rough gravelled track!

There was a jerk a bump, a pause followed by another jerk as she corrected the buggy and brought it back on track with a couple of muttered oaths. He then heard her say "Gotta go, so see ya", and the pace speeded up a little. Phone call presumably over. He'd lost sight of their destination his view blocked by the pieces of folded garden furniture she'd dumped on top of him, and that threatened to go overboard with every jerk and bump despite their tatty elastic securing strap. He wouldn't miss them as they continually dug into him, adding to his discomfort on this unexpected outing.

He caught sight of a tree trunk on his left-hand side, and the buggy abruptly wheeled around and bumped for a few moments over the grass. He winced, he'd been right, his arse did 'kiss the ground a few times not that she would give a damn about that. Probably just amuse the little devil if she even noticed. She hadn't, and she reached down to pull the brake lever. He felt her pat the top of his head through that ridiculous baby bonnet he wore.

"There there babykins, here we all are safe and sound. Mummy needs to get things set up and then baby can enjoy the sun, can't she. Mummy will rub some nice cream on so baby won't get her delicate skin burnt, we don't want that do we" she cooed sweetly, kissed two fingers and tapped him gently on the nose.

Skin burnt, he exclaimed silently to himself! Skin burnt? What the fuck had she done yesterday to the skin on his arse? Burnt, she'd fucking well roasted that with her damned cane and paddle!

He felt her unhook the bungee strap and then his vision was fully restored as she lifted the lounger and table off him. She looked around and then unfolded them, setting them up nearby making sure the table was nice and low and conveniently to hand by the side of the extended lounger. "Move" she yelled at the cowering youth on the other end of the leather leash and lashed out at him with a pink trainer catching him hard in the ribs. He gave a whining yelp.

"Over there" she snapped her fingers and pointed towards the base of the nearby tree and untying her end of the leash from a buggy handle tossed it at him. "Fetch dog, get your teeth into that, then walk yourself over there and do your business on that tree and be quick about it, now!" she snapped her fingers once more impatiently and made as if to kick him again before turning her back on him. She didn't bother to check if he was doing as instructed; she knew the dumb hound would do precisely as ordered her mother's obedience training was very comprehensive.

Tears formed in his eyes making him repeatedly blink First his daughter standing there virtually naked apart from the bright pink leather harness and those horrible boots on her feet and her head almost hidden behind all those straps. Standing tied to a rail just as helpless in her cruel 'costume as he was in his frilly baby one. He hadn't been able to see her face, but he knew instinctively that it was her and then her belly. Oh god her belly, what had they done to her? They really had hadn't they. He'd heard the little bitch and her mother once or twice talking about 'a pregnant filly'. Filly was that how they saw her. Life was bad enough for him but to be treated like an animal...like his eldest son just a few yards away? His son crawling in grovelling acquiescent fear in response to a mere finger snap from the little teenage tyrant and he could fully understand why. A couple of tears now did run down his cheek. He shook his head. He didn't understand, just did not understand any of it...and where in this crazy version of hell was his poor wife?



***********



Her nightmare also continued, and it wasn't so much a question of where but more one of why? Why and for how long she wondered as she stared at the old blackboard perched a little lopsided on its easel and occasionally wincing as the chalk screeched against its chipped black painted wooden surface. Where was.... well this awful house for both a start and a finish. The location didn't matter much to her at the moment and geography was the last thing she was likely to be interested in.

The why was undoubtedly going to be a much more crucial question not that she dared to let her mind linger for too long on it. Maintaining concentration on what was going on before her was the most important thing for the present. Concentration and participation in this, this absurd charade the latest cruel step in the increasingly bizarre path her life was being channeled along. No, that was not right. Channelled would seem to indicate a degree of active cooperation, even enthusiasm on her part. No, she was being ruthlessly forced along a path she had no desire to tread!

She threw a quick glance left and then right to her two classmates. Classmates! To the left, the small bespectacled figure of 'Wanker' sat rigidly erect on the tall three-legged stool his short, thin legs swinging free below the tall school desk. His eyes behind the horn-rimmed spectacles never left the blackboard his head moving slightly as it followed the rapid movements of that squeaking piece of chalk.

Wanker! Obviously not his real name but the only one he had now and probably she surmised for a long time to come. Despite the lesson, she could not help her mind wandering and wondering about other things. Not a good idea she knew as she shifted a little on the hard stoop to ease the pressure on her sore bottom, but she could not help herself. She froze as the chalk paused its screeching momentum.

"Still girl! Sit still as you have been told" the booming dry voice snapped ominously. "You sit, you sit still, absolutely still and pay attention girl unless you want to come out here and feel my bamboo bouncing on your posterior again! Do you understand wretched girl?"

She nodded rapidly, but that wasn't enough. A piece of chalk flew through the air, caught her on the forehead, bounced off and fell to the floor, breaking into several fragments. "I didn't hear your answer, girl!"

"Yes Miss, yes Miss Primrose, I understand" she hastily assured the frightening woman who glared angrily at her. "I'm sorry, really sorry...my bottom was hurting..." she finished in a whisper trailing off as she wilted under the intimidating stare that woman was giving her.

Miss Primrose sneered as she slowly selected another length of chalk from the box on her desk. "Your bottom is supposed to hurt girl, and it will hurt a lot more I expect before dorm time." She gestured to the bits of chalk on the floor. "The moment the bell goes to end this lesson, I want to see you immediately on the floor clearing that mess up with your naughty mouth unless you want to bend over and kiss my desk again! Do you understand girl?"

"Ye...., yes, Miss Primrose". She nodded frantically and added. I understand".

The nerve-jarring squeaks resumed, and she heard a nasty chuckle from her right. "My turn later to giff you thum bampoo Gertie gal" Miss Agnes hissed maliciously and easily loud enough for her mother at the blackboard to hear not that she took the slightest notice.

Gertrude, recently known as Mumsie shivered but ignored the threatening interruption and tried her best too concentrate on what that booming monotonous voice at the front was saying. It wasn't easy. Gertrude? What a name she thought, why had they suddenly started calling her that and what did it imply and why all this....?

The long thin cane caught her eye and immediately arrested any other thoughts but then she relaxed; it was not threatening her merely being used to tap on the blackboard as various features of the female anatomy on the crudely chalked figure were pointed out by that droning voice. Her attention began to wander again, even though she knew it shouldn't. Shit, it really was like being back at school.

They were at the back of the house in a big old dining room. At least she assumed it had initially functioned in that capacity as there was a small two-door serving hatch set into one wall. It was cold, damp with an unpleasant musty unused aroma. She had not been into it until this new 'crazy' gang had arrived and what few pieces of furniture it had contained had been piled up down one end by the garden window, a table, some chairs and a sideboard. They served to block out most of the natural illumination, and the single low wattage naked bulb in the ceiling rose seemed to add to rather than diminish the gloomy ambience.

They had, it appeared, turned it into a parody of a Victorian classroom. A big teacher's desk dominated the front while three smaller antique wooden pupil desks complete with inkwells and decorated with a century and more of inked and carved graffiti from generations of bored students were arranged in a row before it. Behind the teacher's low desk there was a more modern padded comfortable swivel chair while the three students had to make do with uncomfortable wooden stools although Miss Agnes was perched comfortably on hers courtesy of a thick foam rubber cushion that bulged beneath her weight. Nevertheless, a luxury denied to Gertrude and Wanker.

The black-clad figure to her front had drawn a picture of the female torso on the blackboard and was explaining in great technical detail about the various erogenous zones a woman possessed. Heck, it might even have been interesting under other circumstances and if the lecturer had been a more entertaining speaker. The only advantage toward them paying attention that this one possessed as her dull, monotonous voice continued was the presence of the bamboo cane she was using as a pointer.

No, she didn't want to feel that cane again. That scary woman had already given her a vicious taster of it not long after she and her daughter plus the subservient man they called Wanker had arrived. She had been left tethered like a dog by her leash to an old radiator in another room crouched low on hands and knees. She'd heard them arrive, her present owner's enthusiastic greeting, then mutated voices followed by numerous bang bumps and the screech of furniture being moved on a wooden floor. A couple of times, female voices had been raised in anger, shrieking almost at one point. There had also been several screams in a male voice. Ominously the latter had been immediately after the former.

Then the smelly bitch who owned this house had come for her and dragged her down the long hall and into this room and introduced her to the dear friend who was to be her new teacher for a few weeks. Teacher? The lovely Miss Primrose and her equally lovely daughter Agnes. The weedy looking man kneeling in the corner with his nose pressed to the wall wasn't worthy of an introduction apparently.

Her owner had kissed the gruesome pair, told them she'd wait outside for the taxi so's they could get straight on with things and left them. Lovely was undoubtedly not an adjective she would have assigned to either of them, if anything the 'lovely Agnes was even uglier than her mother, the poorly applied make up detracting rather than adding to her appearance!

The front door had hardly closed before the latest round of insanity had commenced. Miss Primrose had handed her leash over to the daughter then taken a couple of steps backwards to stand hands on her very wide hips examining her. Judging by the look on her cruel face, the impression she made was not favourable!

The woman scared her, all these evil women scared her, but this one she sensed would be the worst of the lot and a shiver of fear rippled through her. She wasn't very tall and almost as broad as she was in height. Black-clad in a severe high ruffed necked black dress and sensible but very scuffed low-heeled black shoes. Her ankles and lower legs under the dress were very fat, swollen almost with pale white flesh bulging out of several runs in her tights or stockings.

How old, how to tell? Could be anything between sixty and eighty, old, wrinkled and ugly with a thin-lipped mouth that revealed horrible yellow and black teeth when she smiled coldly down at her. It wasn't the smile though that chilled her so much as the eyes. Black glittering eyes. Not the rummy watery eyes normal in the old, these were the bright but expressionless black eyes of snake or scorpion. No, not expressionless, there was cruelty in those eyes and something else, cruelty and lust..... The bitch had flogged her of course. She knew that was going to happen from the moment she first stared up into those evil black eyes.

"Why are you not wearing your uniform girl? The others are ready for the lesson, why are you not dressed?

Uniform? What does she mean? The voice was cold, and without emotion, almost robotic like the one voice no one ever uses in a cheap satnav - no inflexion or variety just a flat measured monotone. A pudgy hand flashed, and a hard palm slapped the side of her face rocking her head sideways.

"Dumb insolence eh girl? Well, I have the means at hand to cure that. Kindly put this wayward girl over my desk, Agnes, it would seem that before we can all begin the first lesson, I must deliver a suitable preface!"

The big woman called Agnes used the leash to haul her across to a low desk, pushed her down on it and grabbed both her wrists spreading her arms and holding her firmly as she squirmed on the hard wooden surface. She was wise enough by now to know not to waste energy anymore and to accept the inevitable so after a couple of futile legs kick against empty air she calmed down to await what was to come and hoped that in this case, first impressions were going to be wrong!

Agnes chortled at her struggles and squeezed her wrists even harder, making her squeal as she leaned her face very close to her captives. "Muffer will make you scweam bad girl". Her foul breath stank as she whispered. "Later when we are in the dormy together you can lick my nith hot puthy good or else I'll make you scweam more!"

The sound of a couple of swishes came to her ears, and she knew from experience, unpleasant experiences what they portended. Her wrists were being held in an iron grip that was already becoming painful as she raised her head a little to look around. To the right was a window with old faded red velvet curtains drawn partly across and to the left....to the left comprehension began to dawn as she saw the three old fashioned school desks and hard wooden stools. Uniform, lesson, desks, girl! Oh God, she groaned silently to herself, another game, yet another crazy game.... the nightmare continued!

A little later while outwardly maintaining her façade of rapt attention on that damn blackboard her head moved almost imperceptibly a few degrees a little first one way and then the other, her eyes squinting sideways as she assessed her two fellow pupils.

Wanker was a rather small man who looked older than her but on closer inspection was perhaps younger, maybe only early thirties. The studious thick horn-rimmed spectacles coupled with advanced premature baldness, an unhealthy pale yellowish complexion plus his nervous haggard demeanour added ten perhaps even fifteen to twenty years at first glance. He sat bolt upright on his stool, arms bent, palms flat on the desk about eighteen inches apart.

She studied him curiously wondering who he was and how he came to be here. Presumably, he was a captive just as she was and belonged to the ugly old bitch whose monotonous droning voice she was managing to shut out. He must have arrived with her unless there were more hidden prison cells in this hell house other than the one in the cellar that contained Creature. She doubted that she'd probably have found out about them by now and it wasn't all that big a building. Huge by modern three bedroomed semi-detached 'little box' standards but not for its age and the era it had been built in. Then again, when she thought about it, she'd never been in this makeshift classroom before either, and there were other unexplored rooms upstairs plus a narrow staircase that must lead to a third floor or attic.

Her eyes detected movement, slight movement. He was presumably as uncomfortable as she was but much more practised at shifting his posterior ever so slightly on the hard-wooden seat than she was to ease his discomfort. His eyes never seemed to move fixed as they were on that damn screeching chalk, but he blinked, blinked frequently sometimes quite rapidly for a moment like a young girl fluttering her eyes at a prospective beau. Nerves more likely in his case she decided.

Unlike herself who had to sit there squirming in total nudity bar a leather collar around her neck with a dog leash dangling from it to the floor, he was fully dressed. His clothing, the classroom, blackboard, yes, she now had a pretty good idea of what the next chapter in this evermore bizarre saga was going to involve.

Wanker was of course dressed as the archetypal nineteen fifties ten-year-old schoolboy. A thin maroon sleeveless sweater with a name badge proclaiming his humiliating name to all and sundry. Grey flannel shirt, maroon tie, grey above the knee shorts, calf-length grey woollen socks complete with what looked like elastic garters to hold them up. The tops of his socks were folded over, but she could see a sliver of white elastic and some green triangular cloth tufts poking down. The only items at odds with the traditional nineteen fifties schoolboy look were his shoes. Instead of boy's regulation black lace-up shoes, he wore a pair of patent glossy black Mary Jane girlie flats with a wide buckled strap! The inevitable peaked, cloth button topped schoolboy cap sat neatly on his desk on the opposite side to the Inkwell.

Why was she not wearing her uniform? Because she damn well didn't have one that was why, Miss fucking oh so ugly white powder-faced fucking hag, Primrose! Just a fucking dog collar and long leather leash! Oh, how she wanted to squirm around on that solid wooden stool to see if it helped ease the pain from the six hard cuts of the cane she'd been given. Not fair, not fair at all.

Ever so slowly, she shifted her gaze over to Miss Agnes on her other side. She was the exact opposite of Wanker being very obviously in her late forties or possibly, early fifties, age that the long dirty blonde pigtails, heavily applied makeup and lisping childlike voice she assumed could not disguise.

She was taller and built on considerably more robust lines than the weedy emaciated looking man to her left nor did she have the same 'hang-dog' furtive attitude and fearful demeanour. On the contrary, she displayed a confident if bored approach to the whole business, nor was she in any way, keeping still. She yawned, stretched and shifted position at will, her head twisting and turning as she showed not the slightest interest in the lecture and examined different aspects of her surroundings with a vacant childlike curiosity. Unlike herself or the stiffly rigid figure of Wanker, no admonishments came her way no matter what she was doing.

She also wore a traditional school uniform - a neat pleated grey sixties style gymslip, white blouse and maroon tie. The later in her case only very loosely knotted about the unbuttoned collar and not even straight being somewhat skewed to one side - knee high white cotton socks and the same style Mary Jane shoes. A maroon cardigan lay crumpled on her desk with a large round white badge showing face up - the badge read HEAD PREFECT in big black capital letters. There was more writing underneath, smaller, harder to read; it took a few moments for her eyes to adjust. 'Authorised to beat naughty pupils.

Also, on the desk next to the ink well was a tarnished handbell and a wristwatch laid out lengthways with the strap undone. A timer, a lesson timer, hadn't that bitch in front said something about a bell? So how long would the lesson las.....

"Ough...." She jumped and winced in pain on her stool as the wooden blackboard duster bounced off her head and clattered noisily onto the floor leaving her clutching at the side of her head and coughing in a small cloud of white dust.

"Agnes" screamed the harsh enraged voice, "bring that naughty little girl out here this very instant. I'll show the new girl what happens to students that would rather daydream instead of paying proper attention to their lessons!"

She opened her mouth in horror to protest her innocence but squeaked aloud instead as a hand grabbed and held her right ear in a vice-like grip. She heard a whooping giggle of delight as she was painfully dragged off her stool and propelled toward that frightening black-clad figure by the blackboard, her bony white hands now flexing the cane in a very anticipatory way.

She twisted her head around, ignoring the pain from her ear, but one frightened glance at those eager cold black reptilian eyes told her that any attempt to plead or beg would be futile. Of God, why her?

Why her, why them, where were they all? What had happened to them? To five people? Questions she had been asking herself for months now, continued to ask and asked silently again while she waited. At least he was taking his time; most people just glanced at the photos and promptly handed them back with a negative shake of the head.

His head shook, and hope died as it had on so many occasions but then...he put the photos down on the bar top next to her untouched diet coke and tapped them with a finger. "It's that family ain't it?" he asked thoughtfully. "that one that disappeared up in the Midlands, leastways that's where they found the car, the ones in all the papers".

She was disappointed, just for one brief second there had been a flicker, but it died with his words. Given the publicity, at the time it wasn't surprising. Her aunt's family had been on the front pages of all the papers for a few days, then the inside pages, then the occasionally paragraph and within a fortnight sadly forgotten about doomed to be one of those mystery stories that flared back into public awareness from time to time to then fade away again just as quickly.

"Ethel, Ethel come'ere a minute" the landlord shouted toward the door at the end of the bar from which the smell of food frying in rather old burnt oil emerged.

"Wot?"

"Come here have a look at these will ya. Girl here looking for her family, them as was in the papers n'on the telly news a bit back you recall?"

Ethel appeared wiping her fat sweaty face on her forearm and looking harassed in a plastic apron covered in images of lobsters, crabs, shrimps and other assorted sea creatures. She looked at her husband enquiringly and then down at the photographs on the bar top he was pointing at. She picked one up and then another frowning as she did so, she was about to do the usual head shake as well but stopped and picked up the first photo again.

Jenny held her breath surely not but maybe, maybe finally, maybe? They'd found the families car parked a hundred and fifty odd miles plus from here in a quiet suburban street. All the belongings were still in it, suitcases with a mixture of worn and clean clothing, all the detritus that usually accumulates in a family vehicle present, but no people. No people, no phones, no wallets, no small bags or purses.

The police said it looked like the exterior had been cleaned quite recently probably in one of those coin-opp jet power car washes. That was odd for a start she'd thought. Her aunt was always complaining that while her uncle assiduously cleaned his computer keyboard, monitors and other bits of tech kit, dusted his small collection of antique leather-bound books, model ships and railway locomotives regularly, everything else, his shoes, man-den and the family car received a disgraceful token 'once a year wipe over' at best.

The media had dubbed the disappearance as the 'Mary Celeste of Manor House Avenue mystery', the disappearing family? That being the name of the road where the car was discovered. All the holiday luggage still in the car, the open bag of boiled sweets, even half-eaten sandwiches and a near empty thermos flask of coffee, but not a single sign of the occupants nor clue to their disappearance. Forensic examination subsequently turned up nothing, no sign of foul play, no blood stains, nothing at all out of the ordinary and only the fingerprints of the various family members. The vehicle itself was mechanically sound although it did appear to have had a brand-new alternator fitted recently. The garage that occasionally serviced the vehicle hadn't done it according to their records. The missing occupants were her family members, and she was determined to find answers where the police and attendant media interest had so far failed.

Failed and failed miserably in her opinion. She knew that was probably being very unfair given the police's ever decreasing manpower situation; they couldn't keep officers on the case forever not with the growing crisis everywhere involving knife crime and other social problems. However, she did feel that they could have been a bit more active. True for a week and more there had been lots of activity both around the area where the car had been found and along their presumed route from their last known sighting, checking out after breakfast at a small country hotel. The general public and helicopters had been used to assist in the search, but no trace of them had been found. Now for the second time, she was taking a week's holiday from her job at the gym and spending it looking for those she'd lost.

Ethel stared blankly at the photographs and was about to resume the head shake when her husband suddenly spoke. "Sammy's pictures remember".

Recollection dawned she could see it in the woman's eyes. She turned and pointed to some framed pictures on the pub wall. The misses, she was interested in our Sam's paintings, our second youngest, Samantha, she's up in London at art college. She were quite taken with them, asked if any were for sale".

"That's right, her husband confirmed eagerly. We had to say no a bit reluctant like because our Sam could probably have used a few extra quid, but she'd given em to us for the pub wall. Fact she gave me hell next time she was down for not flogging a few, s'why they got tickets on em now."

"And we have sold a few too, Good prices n'all" Ethel added with a hint of pride. "Thought she'd be wasting her time doing art, not much money in that we told her, but she would go so's maybe she was right and me an her dad was dead wrong."

Bingo! A lead, finally a lead. "I don't suppose you can remember when that was or where they were going when they left?" It was a question that had to be asked, but she knew it would be futile to expect much of an answer. Her fears were immediately confirmed.

They both looked at each other then shook their heads. "No idea miss," the husband said regretfully. His wife looked thoughtful and added. "Must have been a weekday and earlyish, I remember him here calling through that we'd got a food order and to light the stove up. Then I was out to answer questions about the pictures afore I got going. Weekends and Friday afternoon n'evenings thems our busy times, so it weren't then."

"Bob Trotter" the husband suddenly blurted out and then added excitedly "South I saw them go, down thataway" he gestured. He saw their puzzled looks. "I remember. After they'd et the guy asked me which was the best way to the coast road on the way out. I was over by the door telling em when Bob Trotter tried to bring that mangy flea ridden old hound of his in n'had to break off to tell him to fasten it up outside where it belongs. Time I was through arguing with Bob they were off driving down that aways, but I'd give em the gist of it."

He looked pleased with himself for a moment and then worried. "I heard the coppers were looking for em down here but never give it a thought till just now. Didn't even connect till you showed those pictures. The relief couple told us about it all when we got back" his eyes widened, and he snapped his fingers again. Ethel had already disappeared and was back in a moment with a big black well-used diary.

"We was away six weeks; brewery let us save holiday from last year to add to this years, went out to Australia, Melbourne to see my sister." She quickly leafed through and gave her their departure date. "We flew out Sunday night late but a good day to drive all that way to the airport so they must have been here sometime Monday to Friday on them dates".

A few minutes later, Jenny was seated in her car with the engine running. She didn't drive off straight away but took the time to write up some notes in a small red notebook. Useful, very useful this moved the ball a touch nearer the unseen goalposts. It was a new 'last sighting' and she also now knew which direction they had driven off in. She debated whether or not to phone up her police contact on the case and pass on this new piece of information.

The landlord had asked her that very same question a little hesitantly as though he wasn't overly happy with the idea of having a police visit. Indeed, he'd immediately confirmed that suspicion when he admitted that he wasn't too keen on the idea at all having had, as he put it, 'a couple of misunderstandings with coppers in the past like when he was younger' still if it helped, they'd be willing to tell them the same.

She reached for her cell phone, then paused and changed her mind. It could wait. She'd do it later on maybe after she'd found somewhere to say for the night or tomorrow. Yes, she'd do that, she was feeling impatient now and could use all the afternoon for hunting up more information. She thrust the phone back into her bag, looked around, released the handbrake and pulled out into the empty road heading south.

Yes, she had a good feeling, luck was definitely with her, she felt she was getting positive vibes, getting closer, getting warmer. She was quite correct; only she wasn't to know that not phoning her contact immediately would prove to be a huge mistake. Far better had she done so there and then. However, sitting there excitedly in the quiet of the isolated pub's near empty carpark, how could she know that the comfortable feeling of getting warm would very soon turn absolutely Red Hot! Unfortunately, it would quickly prove not to be so comfortable, in fact, quite the reverse for her. If luck could be contained in a bucket, then hers had just developed a large hole in the bottom, and it was fast running out on her!


Chapter 15 (added: 2019/08/25)

Her phone rang, which was annoying. Why did cell phones always have to ring at such awkward movements she wondered as she stretched sideways with one hand to pick the device up while her other pushed down on the head energetically bobbing between her legs.

"Stop, stay still a minute bitch" she cautioned the eager young woman with a couple of hard finger taps. "Yes?"

"It's me, mum, Alice" the distant voice replied. "We may have a little problem this end, we had a visitor earlier today, no don't panic, nothing like that, but it seems she's related to our latest additions, asking questions about her aunts family around the area?"

Patricia stiffened abruptly, sat upright and drew ones leg back, kicking the crouching girl off her bed, pointing to the far corner with one snapping finger. "What did she see?"

"Nothing mum like I just said. She was touring the area, second time apparently she's been down this way, I don't think she buys into the car being found so far away, she's been sniffing around tracing where they stayed on holiday."

Patricia thought for a moment. "So, has she discovered anything?"

"Not really. She came to our gate, and I spoke to her on the intercom and invited her to drive up for a chat. Don't worry. She saw absolutely nothing." Alice assured her avoiding the fact that she and Eva had had all the ponies outside and only a few hundred yards from the front of the house. Need to know she and Eva had wisely agreed!

"You are sure?

"Oh, mother, of course, I'm sure. Anyway, if she had it wouldn't be me phoning you it would be CID or some other police department knocking on your door, wouldn't it? Anyway, cutting things short, she had got as far as identifying possibly the last place they called at, a pub near the coast road. She knows which direction they were headed in. Naturally, she's drawn a blank in finding anywhere else so the persistent bitch has marked a circle on a map and she is trying to go to every damn building on it!"

"That's going to take a while if it's a big circle" Patricia laughed. "One town and a few villages to cover".

"Not really mother dear. She won't waste time with every building, just pubs, Hotels, B&B's, restaurants, filling stations and isolated farms and houses. That cuts things down considerably".

Patricia thought about it. How serious a security risk was it? On the face of it not that bad but...? If the bitch made a nuisance of herself, people might start remembering other disappearances like the time they'd grabbed Floppsy and Bonbon. Just the sort of thing some nosey newspaper reporter might get curious about. Maybe it was bad or bad(ish), not to be ignored anyway.

"You still there?"

"I'm thinking".

"Yeah, well you're not the only one, me and Eva have done a little as well. Can you get back tomorrow by any chance?"

"Why?"

"Because if you can, I have the nosey bitches number and I can invite her back. I fobbed her off before but if I were to tell her I'd since talked with my mother and that you thought that you might have seen them....well I'm sure she'd bite hard on that hook."

"To what end?"

Alice laughed "What end do you think mummy dearest. The bitch got very chatty over a coffee, lives on her own in a small flat and her mother, mumsies baby sister by two years is living over in the states also on her own. First hubby killed in a car accident, second hubby an air force Yank she met over here, now divorced and get this, she's flying over in a few days to see her daughter. She showed me a photo, a nice sweet family photo of all of them together two years ago, she sent me a copy so I could be ever so helpful and show it around" Alice paused to giggle. "So, I will be ever so helpful, hang on, sending now".

The miracles of modern communication, Patricia thought as her phone beeped a second later. Nice, she thought, very very nice indeed. She looked at the group of seven but ignored Mumsie and her brood, concentrating on the other two. Not anywhere near as tall as her sister, that was good, she liked smaller women, blonde, cuddly and decidedly cute, ageing well. No wonder she'd had two husbands probably had another lined up and no doubt a third sniffing around on the sidelines with her looks. Patricia made her mind up, well that was too bad, no more 'man-dick' for this little cutie!

"Oh, and you can forget asking Margret about stock for Eva" Alice broke into her thoughts. "Check out the nosey daughter. Works as a fitness instructor in a gym, tall, fit, nicely toned and long, long, strong legs. Eva took one look and...well, guess what?" she finished with a wicked chuckle.

Patricia made her mind up. Advantages and risks. But the risk of leaving someone loose and asking questions long term might ultimately prove worse than the short-term risk of another disappearance. Besides, the powers that be were still convinced that their efforts around where the families car had been found were the right approach, and that was a long way away. "Alright dear, I'll tell Margret something has come up, and we need to get back early. Make that call and keep me informed. Is she still in the area, if so give her a call as soon as we finish, arrange a meet up in a café or something, ask a lot more questions, you know what I mean and how to play it cool, do it some where suitable and discrete, no security cameras or anything like that"

"OK, no sweat, she's staying in that big cheap static caravan site, you know the one near the old lighthouse on the headland. Big, impersonal and all those foreign workers half of them probably illegal I'll bet. The sort that have short memories when anyone in authority asked questions. I'll meet her for lunch, spin her some story that I spoke to you and you can remember them. No big details but enough bait for the fish to snap at the hook. Trust me" she finished with a laugh. "I've already virtually got the hook on her mouth, just needs a quick jerk and then we reel her or better still them both in!"

"I do pet and thanks....she is a cute looking little bundle" Patricia laughed. "See ya, tomorrow love, bye" She closed the call and placed the phone on the bedside table then looked at the naked girl standing with her hands on her head, nose pressed into the far corner of the room, then at her watch. The girl was way younger than she liked, but she was exceedingly well trained. She could hear certain sounds emanating from the next room. Her husband was already busy shafting the cute gelding Margret had lent him. Poor pony, it was almost certainly in for a busy night!

No point in worrying over much, she thought. Alice was an intelligent girl, not given to panic. Plenty of time for a little relaxation, they could set off early and breakfast en-route. She snapped her fingers and then as the girl turned in obedient response pointed a finger downwards towards her greedy glistening damp crotch. Yup, she shuddered as she felt the first probing touch of a soft, moist well-trained tongue resuming its task, Time for some overdue relaxation. She lay back, stretched her legs and began to fantasise about unwrapping a particularly cute, buxom blonde package.

It didn't have to be her daughter who met her at arrivals in a couple of days, did it? A helpful friend filling in at the last minute. A marker pen and a cardboard sign, a wig, dark glasses, use the daughter's car. Hang on to it this time so the pigs couldn't crawl all over it. Keep it one of the empty outbuildings. The randy bastard in the next bedroom could cut it up bit by bit. He might not like using them, but the lazy bastard was pretty useful with his hands. Nothing left then even if there was a video trace.

Two birds for the price of one and if it killed off the nosy bitches interest to boot? The States? Dead end, she surmised. Maybe a few neighbours and friends over there to ask questions but the trail would go cold in the arrivals hall if anybody bothered. The daughter? Ditto but no dumped car this time, that had been a mistake perhaps. They could clear the caravan out after dark, use the bitches car again. Another dead end for the authorities or worse the fucking press.

The mystery of missing family deepens. A new twist to family tragedy. Alien abductions! Premeditated theory as more family members vanish possibly to join their missing relatives? Exclusive, missing family were Russian agents? No, handled the right way the situation could work to her advantage. She relaxed even more and shifted herself a little further down the bed.

"Slower bitch, slower" she murmured contentedly.

Alice looked thoughtfully at her phone for a moment then grinned and thrust it into a back pocket of her tight jeans. Security cameras! Heck, the local town council was so backwardly low tech that they had banned ATM cash machines as being both an eyesore and unnecessary even though there was only one high street bank left due to cutbacks. The dullards were still arguing about replacing ancient street lighting with something more modern, never mind cameras, and most of the local businesses owners were no better. It was still a cash-only society in that little part of the world with hardly a credit card terminal anywhere! She looked at her wristwatch. Still early, she'd make the call later, let the nosey bitch enjoy a little more freedom, time to feed the animals and muck the stable out. That reminded her of something. "Eva, Eva" She called upstairs. "Eva!"

"What?"

"I need you; I'm going over to muck out the stalls, and you can come and help me."

There was a short silence then a petulant complaint. "I'm busy. I'm seeing to Girlie. Anyway, they are your fucking ponies, so do it yourself".

"Don't swear at me; I know what you're busy with! Leave the bitch alone and get yourself over to the stable....that's if you still want that pony, I just spoke to mum, and the sooner we get through then, the sooner I can be free to start things happening!"

"Really, she said yes?" The tone of the voice floating down changed abruptly.

Alice sighed and shouted upstairs again. "Well she didn't say no, and I sent the randy old bitch that photo, so Thunderbirds are probably about to pass go, you get going too. Close your damn legs, kick Girlie off your bed and set her onto prepping supper, we'll both be hungry by the time we finish. You need to give baby a bottle anyway. Five minutes or I'll crop your damn ass missy!"

She stalked over to the stable building deep in thought. Maybe the day hadn't been quite so much of a washout after all then not with the possibility of a new filly for her to savour in her unique way, plus accruing a few family 'brownie points'. Or again perhaps a whole heap should her mother end up with a new bit of fluff in her bed. Then there was the possibility of additional activity. She knew what Eva wanted, and she wasn't too far off in getting Midnight to the same stage. It might be fun to do it in tandem, and then they could ride out together, maybe even race?

The unexpected arrival of 'miss nosey fucking parker' earlier had interrupted what had up to then been an entertaining and amusing session with the ponies she reflected. The beasts had all put on a bit too much weight, and it was time to start working that fat off. Given the diet, they fed them on she had absently wondered how it was even possible? You'd have thought the opposite would be true given the limited diet and lack of exercise. There was no doubting that they were gaining though, sheesh, last time she'd humped Butterfly she'd been able to grab hold of 'love handles' either side hadn't she while delivering a good hard deep shafting to the stubborn filly!

Those stupid dumb beasts, she smiled to herself at the recollection all standing around without a clue about what was going to happen. Well, they'd soon found out. She'd harnessed Midnight to a sizeable old sledge with wide rusty iron runners she'd resurrected from a junk pile. She could have used one of their little carts parked at the back of the stable, but the old winter toy suited her purpose better.

A little bit of ingenuity, some simple hand tools plus spare harness straps had soon converted it into something that would be far more challenging to drag for the animals than any wheeled carriage. All the more so once she'd added a few loads to it. They did need a general utility slave she'd grumbled while loading the sledge with plastic sacks of sand and shingle. Leftovers from a repair job her father had 'reluctantly' done last year to the kitchen garden path. The idiot had ordered far too many, and her mother had insisted the delivery guys left them stacked up by the gate at the end of their private drive. The bitch had even made her and Eva help the big dicked idiot load/ unload them into the family four by four for the numerous trips required.

If her father had been unenthusiastic Midnight was positively mutinous when she led him over and harnessed the big stallion to it. It was a good job she'd left his hobble chain on, even so, he put up the sort of fight she's assumed was past history. It had taken ten minutes plus a good deal of her strength and a savage cropping to bring the beast to heel. An embarrassment given that her sarcastic little sister would be impatiently awaiting their appearance.

She'd then swapped her customary riding crop for a vicious dog whip and a long slender cane, both of which urged Midnight to make up for the time his truculence had cost her as he dragged the load down to where the others waited. Naturally, her evil bitch of a little sister was with them having abandoned baby and his buggy by the finish line. She'd walked Fido up and was amusing herself by showing him off to his older pregnant sibling and at the same time running her hands all over the helpless beast who wasn't happy but in no position to resist.

"Midnight" still in bed? She'd enquired with an elaborate yawn. "We were so bored waiting, weren't we ponies?"

"Yeah, I took him a cup of tea up" she's snarled back angry with herself for snapping at the bait. "Get your ass back down where I told you".

"My my touchy touchy! C'mon Fido, heel, you can sniff at big sis's fat pony butt some other time ."

They were on the third run when Alice's phone gave a shrill series of warbling buzzes. Spider and Butterfly set a base time spoiled by a considerable degree of early reluctance from Spider. The dog whip had cured him of that and continued to urge the pair down to where Eva waited to record their effort. An effort that Alice wasn't impressed with and demonstrated her displeasure with the cane as Eva delightedly held each pony firmly by the bridle as a half dozen strokes were harshly applied to lazy rumps!

Cowboy and Gypsy almost halved their predecessor's efforts. Not surprising given their level of compliance and the fact that they had been ruthlessly whip trained to work in tandem by Patricia. Midnight to her angsts proved a washout! He was difficult to start, difficult to control and willfully disobedient to the point that an enraged Alice abandoned his attempt two thirds down their improvised time trial course to drag him aside and flog him till her arm ached. Not content with that she told Eva to bring her cane and take over, a command to which Eva was only too delighted to comply with.

Then the phone went off. They both knew from the tone what it was.

"Uh, oh!" Eva said. "Someone down at the gate."

The little estate probably had a better-layered level of security protection than did the old stone-built prison initially built to hold French prisoners during the Napoleonic wars twenty or so miles away. The main difference being that theirs was to keep curious people out rather than the criminally convicted in.

Alice brought up an app on her phone and keyed in a code. One of the motion sensors had been triggered and several years of fine-tuning plus numerous updates to the system had got it to a point whereby such triggering would generally be caused by large two-legged creatures not smaller four-legged ones. Alice's phone gave her access to a couple of cameras as well as the intercom system.

"What does she want?" Eva grumbled peering over her sister's arm at the cell phone screen.

"How the fuck "should I know?"

They watched the tall girl for a few moments as she stood by the closed gate, peering up the driveway. She moved over to read the simple instructions regarding visitors, deliveries and post by the intercom. Hesitated, turned to take a couple of paces back towards her small hatchback, stopped and then returned to the intercom.

"Hello?" the metallic voice came through on Alice's smartphone.

"Can I help you?" Alice replied after looking at Eva, who nodded.

"I'm sorry to bother you. I was speaking to some people at the farm a few miles down the road. They couldn't help, but they said you might be able to as the next place along. I know this is going to sound a bit crazy, but I'm looking for my family, my name is Jennifer Meadows, my aunts family was called....." She gave a name both girls were familiar with.

"Uh ho indeed," Alice said, thinking quickly and looking at her sister who mouthed 'What do we do with her?'

Alice was slightly amused to see how agitated she looked. She made her mind up and pressed a key.

"Hi, come up to the house, the gate is unlatched now, drive through and close it carefully behind you please then drive up to the house it's not too far" She announced helpfully.

"Are you fucking crazy" Eva hissed at her as she cut the intercom off. "Why the hell did you say that?"

"Because I am not fucking crazy and because I think we need to find out just who she is and what she wants and more importantly, what if anything she knows....now if you have a better suggestion missy let's hear it?"

Eva shrugged petulantly. "Well, you're the boss older sister. Maybe your right" she added apologetically after a moments reflection.

"Naturally" Alice accepted the olive branch. " Go make sure baby is secure and tie Fido tightly to that tree with his leash then head to the house double quick and get Girlie out of the way, invite the nosey bitch in and wait for me, make small talk and give her a coffee - no not one of mums specials! I'll secure all these animals and then join you. No time to put them all away."

"Oh, that must be so horrible for you" Eva's voice sounded from the lounge as Alice dusted herself down, checking her appearance in the hall stand mirror. She was amused at the tone of absolute shocked sincerity in her sister's voice. Acting was something Eva was seriously considering as a career, and she'd probably be good at it. Margret had some useful contacts in the states in show business. Contacts of course that in most cases shared the same perverse interests in human livestock that she mainly indulged in.

"My older sister Alice" Eva introduced her. "This is Jennifer. She's a fitness instructor in a gym".

"Hi," the tall dark-haired girl said flashing a wide gleaming smile and held her hand out.

"It's just so awful, tell her Jenny" Eva prompted obviously having established some sort of a rapport with their unexpected visitor.

Jenny smiled at her then turned to Alice her face becoming serious as she told the sad story of her families mysterious disappearance, the finding of their empty car and her attempts to trace their journey through last sightings. The lack of any official success and her disappointment with the investigative process. What she did not see because her back was turned was Eva silently communicating with her sister. Eva winked a couple of times nodding towards Jenny then raised both her hands as though holding a set of reins and pretended to ride.

A nasty grin on her face as she repeated her actions several times along with a whip cracking motion.

Alice half listened to their guest's story, her brain registering the salient points and filtering out others that she was already familiar with. Another part of her mind was processing the girl in light of her sister's apparent interest. Hadn't she and her mother recently discussed Eva's desire for her own pony and adding such to their stable. Patricia had even said she would discuss it with her friend Margret while they were down that way on her present trip.

Jenny was tall, very tall, almost six foot she thought, broad of shoulder trim of waist. Muscled but nowhere near as extreme an some of those hideous female bodybuilders with bulging veins everywhere. Long dark wavy, lustrous hair, strong, shapely legs that emerged from her denim shorts and went on and on. Not too bad looking either. Easy on the eye and with some permanent makeup, Eva had quizzed her several times about the tattooed makeup Margret used to enhance her animals. Tolerable very tolerable.

"I've been working my way along this road" Jenny was saying bent over a map with numerous handwritten notations. Her finger traced the routine. "I plan on going as far as this point then I'll work back along this way."

Alice pretended to take an interest. In reality, she was taking a peek into the girl's cleavage as she leant forward in the rather low-cut tee shirt. A gym instructor she thought to herself. Big and strong. This one she knew could prove as much fun to fuck as Midnight, and already she felt herself lusting for the dominance her various artificial phallus would provide over this creature.

Eva glanced up and saw the look on her sisters face; she knew exactly what she was thinking. A grin flitted over her face for a fraction of a second. Randy slut, well she might soon have a useful future hold over her when big sis got a bit too arrogant. Alice was bored with the blonde pair, no fight left in them. Midnight she rationed herself and Sally was unavailable. Butterfly was well on the way to being too fucked out to care anymore so that only left Spider to fight her rubber and plastic cocks and she wondered for how much longer?

"Will you be staying locally?" Alice thought it was time to delve a little deeper.

"I have booked one of those semi-permanent holiday home caravan things for a week in that big complex by the old lighthouse. Quite cheap compared to hotels and even bed and breakfast. I am trying to visit all the places they may have stopped at within this circle on my map. Hotels, restaurants and the like. I have this photo of the five of them, the one the police and the newspapers used. I have been handing out copies. This is a newer one" She showed them a picture on her cell phone. "That's all of them together with mother and me last time she was over".

"Over?"

Jenny explained about her mother and then at Alice's request forwarded her a copy of the same picture. Alice explained why she wanted it.

"I just thought that perhaps my mother might be able to help you. She has a lot of contacts in this area. She is away but due back soon..." She broke off abruptly frowning. "Eva," she said thoughtfully absently wagging a finger in the air at the same time to aid memory and screwing her face up. "Eva, remember last year, didn't she....wasn't she very late back for dinner that time she went to see Aunty Claire in hospital. You'd made a special dinner and got pissed off, so we started without her....something about a breakdown some people she'd helped, towed their car.....remember?" Eat humble pie kid Alice thought. You ain't the only budding actress in town!

"My special Macaroni cheese," Eva said thoughtfully naming a dish she'd always detested. Slimy slugs in yellow muck! "Yup I was a bit angry at the time I recall and not in the mood to listen when she did finally arrive home, but yeah, she was going on about towing some family, said the guy was a complete mechanical dipstick!"

Jenny laughed, but there was an eager look of excitement in her eyes. "That sounds like my Uncle! Oh gosh, do you think....?"

"Don't get your hopes up, dear?" Alice said firmly. "It's just a vague memory and maybe nothing at all".

"Still?"

"Quite, look I have your number now. My mother's probably on the road driving right now, but I can call her later. I'll call you after I've done that, say sometime this evening and if there is anything to report we can take it from there. If it's a no go, I'll still phone just so's you know."

Jenny was delighted. "Oh, thank you both so much" she positively gushed.

"No problem, honey" Eva smiled and added. "I have such a good feeling about all this" she purred.

Alice showed her to the front door explaining how to exit the gate at the bottom of the drive and promising once again to phone her that evening. She waved as the car drove off then hit the app on her phone and watched till Jenny had closed the gate behind her, double checked it then climbed into her car and driven away.

"Mum will say no of course," Eva muttered coming out to join her.

"Depends on how I handle it" Alice chuckled. "Didn't you see the sister?"

"Sister?"

"On that photo, Mumsie's younger sister.

Eva's eyes widened. "Ah!" Then her expression soured. "She'll still say no I bet though. Security, always fucking security".

"Wanna bet. Secure cannons are better than loose ones you know?"

"Bet, what with?"

Alice pretended to think for a moment. "Hmmm, now that is a fine piece of pony flesh you've got your nasty little eye on. Let's say I get first shot at shafting the big filly, both holes mind you and then visiting privileges any time I want?"

Eva considered. "Mmmm. OK, I'm not into that. Not yet anyway, but no more than twice a week, and not too much hitting, that's gonna be my domain, let's try to keep it a bit fresh, bet?

"Done! Right, let's get back out there and put all the animals away. I'm not in the mood to carry on now anyway".

"Same here. I think I'll put baby to beddy-byes and that mutt Fido back in its kennel. I cuffed Girlie to the bed in my room to keep her out of the way while she was here. Maybe the little bitch might like a change, some light tongue duties before Bigus Dickus himself gets back!" she finished with a laugh.

It had been a long day. A long, painful and thoroughly humiliating day but then that wasn't anything new was it. Every day for months now had seemed endless, and each and every single one involved frequent bouts of pain and relentless humiliation as she was forced to indulge in acts of total depravity.

Lessons over she and the others had partaken of tea in the dining room but not before she'd been introduced to her uniforms! Flogging over she stood stock still, not daring to touch her scalded bottom while the evil black-clad old witch had given her a lengthy lecture on the acceptable behaviour required in young schoolgirls like her. Her cruel eyes glinting as she outlined the punishments that could be expected for any deviation from the rules and emphasised by the constant flexing of the cane she held between her hands.

"Do you understand girl?"

She screamed as the cane lashed out and caught her flank. Stupid, how could she have been so stupid. She'd nodded without thinking. "Yes, Miss Primrose, yes, please, yes, I understand".

The black eyes regarded her coldly. "When I ask a question girl, it is to be answered quickly, truthfully and out loud. I do not accept gestures of any description. Such actions are merely the lazy reactions of an indolent little mind and one of my jobs is to cure such minds do you understand girl?"

"Yes, Miss Primrose, I understand, I really do."

"Well, we will see, we will certainly see how effectively lessons are learned over the next few weeks. Not that I expect any failings on your part! Agnes, fetch that box, this naughty girl needs her uniforms".

Agnes scurried to the back of the classroom and then hurried back with a large brown cardboard box which she placed down on her mother's desk and unfolded the flaps simpering with suppressed glee as she did so.

"Canth she wear her sexy homework uniform now for uth?"

"Certainly not, still too early for her to be doing homework yet. She can try it on though for a fit and also the day one and both her nighties. I trust that we were given correct measurements, if not..." she broke off to glare at Gertrude who shivered under that ominous look knowing just who would be so unfairly blamed if anything didn't fit.

"Wanker" Miss Primrose called. "No need for you to witness this. I don't want that nasty peewee of yours getting ideas above its station, not that it can stand to attention anymore! Not now that Miss Agnes has kindly locked the nasty thing safely away for all our benefit! Go to the corner and get your nose hard up against the wall, hands on head, move boy!" She barked, smacking her cane down hard on the wooden top of her desk.

Wanker moved instantly and so fast that in just a blink of the eye he seemed to have gone from sitting patiently on his stool to standing equally dormant in the far corner as ordered. Gertrude wondered what had happened to him to instil that sort of reaction, then thought stupid, she had a pretty good idea of the kind of things that would have occurred to him to achieve that. All rather unnecessary she thought given that she had sat next to him wearing nothing but a leather collar plus that damned 'tummy trimmer' for several hours.

"When can I let it out again? Queried Agnes petulantly. "I want to bounce up and down on it tonight again for fucky fuck".

"I told you, dear. Not for a week. Not after his nasty little accident last weekend." She turned and glanced at the wretched man. "I think the boy needs reminding of the meaning of the word 'control'. One would have thought by now; further lessons would be unnecessary. However, that is not the case. One week then we will see if he had finally learned that his big flagpole is for our benefit and amusement, not for his regardless of anything else! Now back to business. Daywear first please Agnes."

Under the eye of mother and Daughter, she had to dress in that humiliating schoolgirl outfit. Hers was almost precisely the same as the one worn by Miss Agnes. The exceptions being that her cardigan didn't have a prefect badge. Nor did she have any underclothes, no panties and no bra just the top clothing.

"Next set if you please, Agnes, evening wear when required for homework."

The big woman chortled aloud, then delved into the open box for the next outfit arranging the various items on the desk. It was immediately apparent that they were very different, similar in one sense but vastly differing in texture and function and not worn for the benefit of the wearer unless they had the mentality of a blatant teenage exhibitionist.

"Nice" Miss primrose said and licked her thin lips appreciatively a few minutes later. "A little bit of fluff in the evening can be so delightful for one's eyes after a busy day with chalk and blackboard. It also helps certain naughty girls to get back into the good books of their betters." She paused to give Gertrude a threatening look. "Provided of course, they make every effort to display themselves and their assets to their best advantage!" She made a circling gesture with one finger that would have been bony white but for the yellow overlaying sheen of nicotine stains. "Turn girl, a few twirls if you please, show us your attributes in their new finery. Don't be bashful!"

Outfit number two was certainly not designed for day to day usage at any ordinary school unless it was a school for strippers or lap dancers and the like! Perhaps those nubile young models whose glossy painted faces decorated top shelf magazine covers might be at ease in it, but she certainly wasn't. It was designed for one thing only or perhaps two things. The first being to arouse and titillate those who dressed her in such fashion and the second, well, she knew only too well what would follow on from the first....!

Back in her that other hell house she'd mostly been kept naked. Occasionally as now she'd been granted some underwear designed more to reveal than to cover along with the inevitable uncomfortable bondage of suspender belts and straps. Shoes were invariably stiletto with the highest heels. Now she was back in the awkward heels and similar underwear but for the first time or perhaps second time counting uniform number one, also some top clothes, of sorts?

"Thee's tho pretty, thee is ith'nt thee? Tho thexy effen if thee is tho old?" Agnes exclaimed delightedly clapping her pudgy hands together.

"Pretty? More I think a case of acceptable, just!" Her mother commented coldly. "You can give her a makeup bag tonight when you both are in the dormy, one with lots of pinks I think not the red; then we will see what the slut can make of herself for her homework sessions. Now the nighties and slippers I think. Strip girl, strip!".

Agnes giggled loudly again and once more eagerly dived deep into her box to retrieve the desired garments.

Gertrude slipped out of the ridiculous fetish outfit for that's what it was. A sex-shop parody of a schoolgirl uniform. Transparent white blouse with silly short tie, black garter belt, with seamed fishnet stockings and the inevitable five-inch black patent stilettos, plus a short, very short pleated wet-look ra ra skirt and neither bra nor pants.

"Fold them up you lazy, useless girl" Miss Primrose screamed, and her hand flashed out to contact with a trembling left cheek with a sharp crack. "I expect you to keep the clothes that are generously provided for you in tip-top condition. There is a basin and washing powder in the kitchen, along with an iron and ironing board. Woe betide you if I find fault" She raised her palm in a threatening manner. "Do you understand me, girl."

"Yes, yes Miss Primrose, please I understand, I do I do."

Miss Primrose slowly and reluctantly lowered her hand from where it had been poised to strike again. "I hope so, yes I do hope so for your sake Girl. Every third evening you will be allowed a one-hour holiday before your homework, and you will spend it doing your laundry. One full hour which I feel is more than generous of me. Thirty minutes ought to be enough for any competent girl, but I will allow you an hour. Doubtless, everything will improve after a few domestic science classes. It had better do! Your days of idly laying around flashing your tits and cunt to all

"Thank you Miss Primrose" she relied automatically then shied away as the hand rose threateningly again, hesitated and then grudgingly descended.

"Yes, you are right to thank me" the cold voice hissed. "Nasty little girls like you must learn to be polite to your betters, very polite. The evening after tomorrow you will report to Miss Agnes immediately after tea and request the second of your day uniforms and your second dormy nightie." She sniggered. "You will find girl that you won't need duplicates of your 'fluff' outfits; they tend to get less wear when girls like you are doing their homework!"

"Puth thith one on now" Agnes commanded holding up a long plain shapeless pink flannelette nightdress and a pair of awful pink pom pom standard slippers. "Thith ith for going thleepy bye-byes in the dormy, then thith one for homework in mummy's bed or mine inthead".

The woman now known as Gertrude looked from the ugly long pink flannelette garment to the short frothy transparent garment and accompanying pair of heeled sandals and then at her two hideous tormentors.

Suddenly the simple term 'homework' took on a new and loathsome meaning. Not with these two gross...., no, not with them....! The gloating faces disappeared as she suddenly doubled up and abruptly vented the contents of her stomach all over the floor and her new black patent stilettos. She continued to heave oblivious to the angry shrill shrieks from two enraged voices!


Chapter 16 (added: 2019/10/13)

Eva looked down thoughtfully at the expensive chunky watch on her slim tanned wrist. Plenty of time. Her mother wasn't expected back till late afternoon at the earliest and Alice was away meeting with that stupid bitch who would have been far better off spending her holiday in Majorca or Tenerife along with the rest of the common herd rather than poking her silly nose into things around here. Well, she'd soon be paying a very high price for her curiosity, and it would be Eva herself chiefly that would be handing her that particular bill, and she fully intended that it would cost the inquisitive bitch big time! A pound of flesh would be cheap in comparison to the price she would extract!

A particularly large stone on the path caught her eye, and she absently swung a pink trainer at it without really noticing the act, her mind was preoccupied with ticking off a list of security details as it wasn't often that she was the one left in 'sole charge' of their little 'empire'. The pebble shot off at a tangent, landing well away from where she'd intended, but she never noticed. Another sign she supposed that she was growing older and that people were trusting the 'baby' of the family with much more responsibility.

The alarms were all set. Everything A-OK with lights winking green. Alice had fed the dogs and ponies earlier, and they were all secured in their respective stalls. She'd just paid a brief visit to the kennels and now headed toward the stable building to make sure and to add a touch of extra devilry to the occupants' miserable existence. Also, in part to acclimatise herself now that she anticipated spending a lot more time in the stable building. OK, so it stank, but like her mother and sister she was now learning to appreciate that distinct smell and the thrill that went with it. The pungent aroma of helpless captive human animals, debased, degraded and de-humanised animals. Two-legged equines, once free human beings reduced to the level of dumb, helpless beasts, condemned by fate to live amidst the stench and squalor partly produced from their own bodies.

Shit, sweat, piss and sawdust. Stale air, leather tack and over by the wet area, pungent disinfectant mingled with a particular odour of stale blocked drain and yet more shit! Quite a contrast to the pink-hued over scented boudoir come live-in wardrobe that sissified bitch Girlie lived in back in the house or the spartan runs occupied by the hounds over in the kennels. The latter were at least free of animal crap because those dogs were trained to only go in certain areas and then only at certain times of the day.

She'd left Girlie back in the kitchen not quite chained to the kitchen sink but hobbled and securely attached via a length of chain to a substantial nearby water pipe. That would keep the little cocksucker secure and out of trouble along with the massive pile of ironing she still had to finish. Actually, she'd already done most of it over the past few days, but Eva had had maliciously selected several pieces at random so she could point out a lot of non-existent faults, slapped her around the face a couple of times for being so damn useless and ordered her to do it all again. Once she'd collected it off the floor and from all the nearby places her young Mistress had thrown and kicked things into. So, what if she had to wash some of it again, the machines were ready to hand weren't they? That would keep her busy till the evening when no doubt her returning lord and master would immediately drag her upstairs where he would use her male pussy to relieve him of the stresses of the journey!

Once in the stables, she concentrated her attention on the male ponies. A few more days and she fully anticipated having her personal filly to play with, and that promised to be a whole new and life-enriching experience; for her anyway! The male ponies were alright in their own way, but she knew that owning a big strong young filly would be so much more fun. Fun and pleasure for her and so degrading and demeaning for her chosen animal.

Looking around the old stable, she tried to imagine how she would feel if the situations were reversed. God, it was unthinkable, no unimaginable, hideous. To be one of those wretched tamed beasts standing there silently waiting on the pleasure of its owner. Standing in straw, dirt and sawdust soiled by your own damn shit, rendered dumb and helpless with only a nose bag or trough of yucky mush to look forward to and the possibility of feeling the intense pain of cane, crop or whip at any time.

Sheesh, the boredom, the mindless monotony, the lack of any form of intellectual stimulus, the.....sheesh! They must go crazy. How long she wondered? She'd have to ask her mother or maybe her mother's friend Margret. She had a heck of a lot more in her stable apparently so she should know.

A thought occurred to her, causing a momentary frown to crease her pretty innocent face for a second. Hell, if life were that bad, that tedious, then wouldn't the beasts welcome even the slightest diversion, even those that meant more pain and humiliation? It was an interesting thought and one to ponder on. Her animal was not going to receive one iota of pleasure if she could arrange it so. How then to make an unpleasant change of routine even more uncomfortable for the animal so that the effect of the change was not neutralised, an interesting conundrum?

Well, she'd have plenty of time to experiment, and from what she'd glimpsed confined under a tight pair of jeans, just the right type of meaty animal rump to experiment upon, she thought as she walked over to the row of stalls and flipped open the door to Midnight's narrow enclosure and entered.

"Hi, there big boy" she giggled, staring up at the huge man. She smiled sweetly at him, tossed her long blond hair a couple of times then hitched her expensive brief cut down denim shorts up another inch or so and ran her hands slowly down the front of her tight skimpy pink ribbed crop top. Her small braless breasts were still developing, but her nipples were already grown woman size, and they were already rock hard and pushing against the tight thin pink material.

"Bet you're pleased to see me, eh boy? Must be so frustrating being shut up in here on your lonesome all day long just waiting on your owners' pleasure. Nothing to do but think about how things might have been if you hadn't been such a randy dumb fucker. Long-time since your Mistress let you shoot your load into that tight little filly next door isn't it?

A thought occurred to her. Uh oh! She'd forgotten the prime rule, hadn't she? It wasn't all that often she came over here, so there was perhaps some excuse, but she'd need to be more careful in future once her visits became a regular occurrence. 'Never, repeat never her mother had once told her, 'get within range of one of these animals without first checking that it was safe to do so!'

Idiot, she told herself and backed up to the open doorway. Yes, a careful glance confirmed that the big brute was suitably restrained. Apart from all the standard harness paraphernalia, a heavy loose-fitting iron collar was around his neck with steel chain running to a substantial lock and eyebolt set in the wall. Also, the usual hobble chain was fastened between his legs. Try as he might the big animal had yet to break free from a single one of its many bindings and restraints let alone the entire lot.

Still, it was excellent advice she reflected. Given her thoughts of a few moments ago and knowing just how callously these creatures were treated, they'd probably kill her on the spot without a second thought, especially this glowering primitive brute. That thought caused a slight shiver to run through her, she wouldn't be by height, build or weight provide the slightest challenge for even the most lightweight pony stabbed there. Even that pretty little filly in the next stall could probably summon up the strength to quickly overpower her, fat swollen belly notwithstanding!

That thought disappeared as quickly as it had occurred. A significant part of the fun for her in coming over here was to enjoy that delicious feeling of power she could exercise over these animals. She with her diminutive size relished the absolute authority and control she could wield over these wretched creatures. Oh, how she looked forward to being able to do the same on a regular basis to that big bitch soon to be saddled and helpless between her thighs and feeling the relentless touch of her riding crop.

Safe to approach the big beast she did so teasingly smoothing down her top again and running her tongue lasciviously over her glossed lips. "Mmmm Midnight, so like I said, long time no see. How's that big pecker of yours my sisters got locked up? Bet its hungry for some nice sweet pussy eh boy?" She smirked up at him and then down to the substantial black organ bent and shrunk, securely locked into its stainless-steel cage.

Mute growls sounded from his tightly bitted mouth, and his large frame shook with the usual rage he showed his tormentors. He glared down at her his red-rimmed eyes flashing anger, hate and worse but doubly impotent there was nought he could do but mutely growl and shake his body in frustration at his petite young tormentor. Even so, he couldn't help himself twitching as primal nature kicked in she was a very attractive sexy young miss.

The brief movement didn't escape her. Eva laughed delightedly. "Ooooh, so who's a naughty boy then? This was why she loved the male ponies so much. Her own sexuality was developing very rapidly now, and her repertoire of personal entertainment had moved on from merely enjoying the spectacle of those that screamed and suffered under her mother's punishing 'stick' to using it herself and thence onto the infinitely more enjoyable and satisfying use of fingers, vibrator or better by far, unwilling tongue. Hapless tongues that had no choice but to seek out and lap upon that super-sensitive spot buried deep beneath the patch of downy crotch hair between her legs. Almost as enjoyable was the knowledge that such pleasure was entirely one way and the power to tease titillate and deny so added to her orgasmic delights.

Such simple sensual pleasure was not for any of these animals. Her mother's old slags might occasionally be permitted to 'get off' as the bitches writhed beneath her pumping strapon like helpless fluttering butterflies pinned down by a ruthless collector, but such pleasure was rare. No male cock was ever freed from confinement to relish such pleasures nor enjoy that final brief moment of extasy as it shed its foul slimy load before shrinking back to a less proud stance. Nor had any female pony ever cum insofar as she knew while being shafted by her sister, Alice was far too cruel and careful to allow that pleasure to any of them.

The only exceptions had been Midnight and Moonglow, and they'd both paid the price for their climaxes. Alice had let the huge brute rape, no that wasn't the right term, was it. Well it was technically correct Eva supposed given that the girl had no choice as they'd all watched her sister skilfully steer that huge, desperate, eager twitching black shaft into the little filly's helpless cunt. She remembered watching with fascination as it slid slowly into that tight hole as the little bitch shrieked to high heaven!

God that had made her randy. She'd spent the next couple of nights experimenting with ever-larger dildos on herself as she thought back upon how that huge cock must have felt slowly pushing into that tight hole. Covered. That was the right word for it wasn't it. Alice had allowed her prize stallion to 'cover' the filly. Five times she'd been shafted. Three times that first night and then again twice a week later before Alice called a halt. That second time the little filly had changed her tune a bit so that she was screaming with pleasure for part of the ordeal as that big cock both punished and pleasured.

She briefly wondered how Midnight felt about it. Alice had, of course, flogged the hide off him on the days following. No pleasure without pain! The beatings had been brutal even by her sisters' standards, and the filly hadn't been spared either. Would Midnight be prepared to go through that again she wondered just for the pleasure of 'getting his rocks off' for a few precious moments? She suspected that the randy beast would jump at the chance. Filthy primitive animal!

Dicks, pricks, cocks, call them what you will? It wasn't as though she was a stranger to them or their uses nor had been from a young age. Bedroom doors were never locked and frequently not even closed nor was such activity exclusively confined to bedrooms in her house. Inhibition never bothered her seniors with the exception of her sister none could be described as being prudish. How many times had she seen that randy bastard who shared her mother's bed bend one of his little sissy bitches over a chair and plunge his huge cock into a tight squirming asshole she wondered? Her mother was hardly any better with the old bags she seemed to favour, at least Alice preferred to amuse herself in private a trait that she was also following for the moment. Maybe she'd be less inhibited when she was older, or perhaps not?

"Pleased to see me then big boy?" She giggled, pointing down at the man's groin.

Checking once more that he was totally secured she moved forward and reached down with a small hand to cup the immense freely black dangling ball sac. Her little hand wasn't nearly big enough, and they overlapped her palm, delighting her with the heavyweight and velvety feel. He jumped slightly and backed away as best he could growling with anger through his bitted mouth.

"Stand, stand still you brute" she shouted at him in sudden resentment and anger. How dare the animal back away at her touch? How dare it! It should know by now that such actions were not permitted in this household if she or anyone else wanted to touch, feel, fondle, squeeze then they could and would with impunity. It was not the place of any animal or slave to object; indeed, they should offer themselves so that their owners could enjoy the absolute mastery they exercised over the creatures!

"If I want to touch your fucking useless dick and balls I will" she screamed at him "so stand fucking still animal!" She glared up at the big man who towered so loftily over her, so tall, so muscled, so angry and yet so totally helpless. Who needed a bloody dick anyway when you could virtually orgasm just by exercising your power over these fucking animals? She might experiment in the future, but for now she had not the slightest interest nor desire to allow some sweaty male beast to lay on top of her and shove his cock up her vagina.

"It's not the size of the boat that counts" Her best friend had told her once. "It's the motion in the ocean" They'd both laughed at that. Well her friend had sampled a couple of boats and confided that she'd not been overly impressed by the voyages. Eva had to-date declined all offers of going boating, but her fingers, vibrator and more recently a couple of submissive tongues had provided plenty of motion in her very private soft little ocean.

Sometimes she wondered if that made her a lesbian, but then she'd never fancied girls either had she? Well, other than that crush upon that cute gym and netball teacher trainee they'd had two terms ago. Maybe she'd get one of her mother's old bitches to go down on her one day for the fun of it, just like she'd started experimenting in the kennels and with Girlie. It was as much about having that power over someone else to make them debase themselves at her command and for her sexual satisfaction as in the act itself. Both were equally enjoyable and complemented each other to ensure that she enjoyed such massive and satiating climaxes. Bacon and egg she thought, no, more like strawberries and cream, a much better metaphor. In this exclusive little private hedonistic universe created by her mother, the mathematics of sheer pleasure ensured that one and one did add up to a very enjoyable three!

She put her hands on her hips, looked up and stared the hostile creature confidently in the eyes without flinching, loving the hate and loathing she saw there and was there something else, lust perhaps? No. Well there damn well ought to be she was a cute sexy, good-looking little package wasn't she. Shit, she'd even gone to the trouble of adding a light dusting of makeup and several generous dabs of her favourite perfume. Her whole purpose in coming to the stable in the first place was to goad and stimulate the hapless male ponies held captive and constantly frustrated. Eunuchs in all but name but yet not so. Actually, far better than eunuchs she mused, no point in teasing and titillating if there was nothing left to react to the teasing and titillation!

That thought brought her back to her prospective ponygirl for a moment. Would she utilise the animals' tongue in the same pleasurable way that she had so recently started indulging in with Fido and now Girlie? No, she decided immediately. Too intimate, too...too much a human-like activity. No, she would keep her distance and her regal authority. Maybe she'd join Alice in her rutting pleasures; she'd promised her sister regular access anyway. Yes. She'd watch the first few times; she'd never seen Alice in action as she always kept such things private. Too bad, it would be with her pony so her rules so she'd have to accept an audience for this one. Yes, her and perhaps Fido so that he could put that energetic tongue of his to work entertaining her while his long-legged cousin got herself thoroughly acquainted with the deep touch of Alice's collection of 'stallions'.

Another wicked thought crossed her perverted little mind. Perhaps she could practise first so that she would be more accomplished when she gave her pony a touch of her stallion. Use the bitching bench in the kennel block maybe? Strap Fido down tight and fuck him good and hard. She grinned. Maybe give the useless mutt a choice, either her or one of the enormous guard dogs? She laughed aloud; she knew for sure which he would choose. But afterwards? She laughed again.

A couple of good sessions and then onto that lanky legged bitch. The mental image caused a shudder to run through her petite frame. That was what she wanted and had dreamed about. A nice big strong, healthy filly just a few years older then she was and not just any old nag. No, she wanted a good looking one with plenty of stamina not some ugly clapped out old carthorse mare! Oh, the sheer thrill of turning her step by step into an obedient fearful ponygirl ever ready (if unwilling) to submit to the demands of her young owner. How would that ponygirl feel to know she was now destined to spend her life as an animal, an animal owned, trained and ridden whenever her young mistress felt like it.

Mmmm. She smiled at the evil thought. That was why she was so set on having a filly rather than a male pony. It was something she'd thought about for a long time. Perhaps one day she'd have a male pony, maybe even a huge stallion like this brute. She could imagine the satisfaction her sister must feel in having captured, restrained and partly trained the helpless colossus before her. Well, that entertainment could be saved for the future. For now, just visiting and getting a 'twitch' from the incarcerated dumb beasts dicks was fun and then you could....

"You really should have learned to control your primitive animal instincts by now" She snapped and shook her head sadly. "No respect for your owners' cute little sister. None at all. I take the trouble to come in here to say hello and what do you do?" Her voice rose to a shriek of simulated rage. "You try and get a filthy fucking hardon you stupid useless dumb oversexed animal"

Alice had already left on her errand and so...well what she didn't know about wouldn't hurt, would it? Well probably not her any way she mused. She might get a rollicking but nothing physical whereas Midnight? Alice might want to take her inevitable temper out on something! Alice would be sure to notice a fresh set of weal's on his rump but elsewhere....somewhere that she rarely bothered with. Why not? Why not indeed make the punishment fit the crime!

Midnight eyed her warily and shuffled backwards a foot or so using all the leeway his stout bindings allowed. He knew what would come next. In weather forecast terms, a sunny day was out. The immediate forecast in his vicinity was not likely to be even sunshine and showers, but perhaps a very short light sprinkle and not a heavy thunderstorm, but he was not hopeful. This little bitch didn't have the strong tireless 'tennis arm' of her sister, but he knew from bitter experience that it was as much about the chosen implement anyway as sheer muscle power - that and years of practice. His eyes widened, and he gave a silent moan against his bit. Eva had smiled sweetly at him then reached up and unhooked a short thin whippy whalebone rod with a leather-covered handgrip from its place on the wall. She briefly sniffed at the implement - the delicious smell of leather, leather and a sudden aroma of fear. Her eyes sparkled with malicious glee.

"Now then animal" She purred. "I think Mr Dick Dick down there so sweetly curled up in his little iron cage will be feeling quite so...quite so frisky when he feels this across his exposed head a few times" She smiled briefly then snarled. "Maybe after I've set your dick and balls on fire animal you will show me a little more respect next time, eh boy?"

She aimed thinking again of her sisters' probable ire. "You really ought to be grateful to me boy for concealing this itty bit of much-needed correction from her view. Think positive. Twitch like that a bit too much when she's around, and she might cut the damn things off!".

The thin rod slashed down and bit into soft, very soft flesh. Midnight hadn't understood what she meant and couldn't have cared less at that moment as he leapt in his bonds or tried to in his agony, screaming mutedly against the hard bit in his mouth as the ferocious pain deprived him of thought and reason.

"Did you enjoy yourself last night dear, playing bum fucky-fucky all night long with that cute 'my little pony boy' Margret was kind enough to lend you?

The first part of their journey home had been conducted in silence, but they were now back in the car having stopped for breakfast at a slightly sleazy transport café. A very early start had meant skipping breakfast bar a hasty coffee over their goodbyes, and despite the somewhat rundown slovenly interior of the establishment the green local authority sign on the door had reassuringly given it four out of five stars for hygiene, and the platters of food had certainly been generous content-wise.

He was still in a sour mood from the rude awakening at the break of dawn to be informed of a change of plans. He grunted assent and absently scratched at his crotch then chuckled. "He was adequate, well maybe better than that, those dammed tails you lot use makes em far too loose for my taste. Anyway, I'll bet that's the first time he's been laid flat on his back in yonks although I don't think he appreciated it all that much! The first time he's been ridden by a guy Margret said"

"Mmmm" Patricia agreed. "Well, that's something these animals have to get used to. Margret tends to be a lot more ridged with that than I am. I use standing 24/7 as a punishment, whereas she only lets the beasts lie down as a reward."

"Some reward!"

"Maybe I should put you in harness for a few days and let you stand on your hoofs all the time and then you can judge for yourself if it's a reward?" Patricia laughed.

He shivered. 'God,' he thought to himself, he wouldn't put that past the bitch if he ever truly pissed her off. Jeez, yes she scared him at times, and he knew only too well how casually cruel she could be. Plus, that bitch of a daughter of hers, Alice, she would be only too happy to assist and see him incarcerated in one of the stalls he suspected. Time, he decided for an abrupt change of subject.

"So," he asked, "You and Alice fully intend going through with what you told me earlier, no second thoughts?"

Patricia pursed her lips for a moment then slammed her palm down hard on the horn button as a large truck flashed past that she thought was too near the centre line. Actually, it wasn't, but she was. She shook her head.

"None whatsoever. You know I need a new bitch and from what I saw auntie will do quite nicely plus Eva has got her heart set on that filly. You may have enjoyed yourself last night, but my little playmate was a bit too young for my tastes plus there was no spark left, Margret must have beaten every last bit of resistance out of the bitch. Way too tame and compliant!"

"Well, can't say I'm surprised. That dwarf-sized pal of yours scares the shit out of me just with one glance in my direction so for those that are in her 'tender' care 24/7, sheesh!"

"Don't be nasty. Anyway, she's not that bad....well ok, maybe she is" Patricia admitted after a moments reflection.

He kept silent on that point. He remembered the last time Margret had visited them for a few days. He'd said something one evening that she hadn't found amusing, not all that hard as she seemed to have little or no sense of humour. She had merely looked at him coldly for a second or two, then turned to Patricia.

"You know darling I have a business acquaintance, a young Arab Prince into the pony racing scene of course. In the bedroom, he prefers well-endowed mature men for his pleasure. He has a couple of sexy but rather vicious transsexual bodyguards, very well developed in all areas. He likes to watch them slowly beat some poor soul to a pulp, repeatedly rape the victim and then have the broken wretch crawl to his feet and beg to suck his new masters' cock. I hear that he keeps anything up to a dozen on hand so that there is at least one creature who's sufficiently recovered enough to provide fresh entertainment and amusement for him when the mood takes him."

She'd turned back to look at him with that chilling glint in her eyes. "I promised that I'd keep an eye out for suitable toys and of course he's mega-rich....all that oil, so if you ever wanted to.....?" Her voice trailed off as she left the question hanging, but they all knew to whom she was referring.

Patricia had just laughed wickedly. "Umm, maybe one day I might just ask you for his phone number" She'd laughed again and winked at him.

He hadn't liked that wink. Not then and not now. "Anyway, on the subject to hand, your proposing to go for two birds with one stone so to speak. I still think it's a bit risky, more than a bit maybe we should wait a while."

His wife shook her head. "No can do. Things are falling nicely into place, and they aren't likely to do that again, not with this particular pair. Alice was quite right; she immediately recognised the opportunity and has already set the wheels in motion. Last time you took five birds with one stone as I recall"

"Yeah" he agreed, "but the circumstances were a lot different."

"How so?"

"Well, for one thing, it was an unexpected, unique opportunity, and we did it in one quick hit. Grabbed the entire family in one go. Clean. Poof, they disappeared into thin air. This time is less unique; two people from the same family also just disappear as well, too much of a coincidence, way too much. The authorities are gonna take note big time not to mention the media; those blood-sucking nosey vampires will be sniffing all over the damn area for months!"

"Maybe".

He snorted. "Maybe nothing. I know how those media motherfuckers operate".

"Well then sweetie, as soon as we get back I suggest you double-check all of our security systems then. Make sure all the batteries are ok, and everything is one hundred per cent online, tickety-boo and A-OK. That way we will get no sudden nasty surprises will we" She told him sweetly.

"Oh, I'll do that, alright. Not even a fucking mouse will get through our net"

"Hmmm. Forget mice dear, concentrate on making damn sure that we can see Dracula and his fellow bloodsucking minions visible in the mirrors or in our case, the monitors should they get too interested in our little part of the world!

"Trust me".

"Good" she turned to smile at him. "It would be so inconvenient to have to put plan B into action".

"Plan B?"

The smile disappeared. "The one where we all have to do a hasty exit stage left and start afresh somewhere else....and of course Alice, Eva and myself would need somebody to keep us amused" she paused. "Somebody close to hand to play our nasty little games with till we acquired suitable replacements. Maybe we could even all stay at Margret's place; I'm sure she would love to join in!"

He caught the look in her eye and swallowed hard.

She switched her gaze back to the road. "So, I wouldn't fuck anything up if I were you, sweetie-pie!"

Like taking candy from a baby, Alice thought as she confidently steered the small hatchback along the narrow country lanes. Dumb expression, why would you give a baby candy anyway she briefly wondered. Yes, she would have preferred it to have been dark, but you couldn't have everything, and the rest had gone so swimmingly smoothly. Anyway, she'd be home in ten minutes, and since leaving town she'd passed precisely three cars, one van, two elderly cyclists and a tractor. She very much doubted if anyone in a few weeks would ever remember seeing the small non-descript car anyway. Goodness there was a zillion like it on the roads anyway weren't there?

A phone call to set up the meeting. Gosh, the stupid bitch had been so eager that she'd abandoned her original idea of doing what her mother had suggested of just carrying out what the military would have probably called 'a reconnaissance in-depth' or something similar and gone prepared to go straight in for the kill instead.

A few hours earlier she'd hit the red phone symbol on her mobile to end the call, then remained deep in thought for a few minutes absently watching Girlie clearing away the breakfast dishes as her devious mind churned things over. The idea had come to her halfway through the conversation. Would it work? Why not? She could leave her own car in the seafront car park for the day couldn't she and walk from there. Come back with someone else later to collect it? What would her mother say? Loose ends....no she couldn't see any not from what had been said. Maybe some would become apparent later on when they met, and she got a better feel for things but for now? Nothing to stop her being prepared was there, and she would have time to run over things in her mind on the drive to town, she made her mind up. She could always back out couldn't she, say there had to be a change of plan, something else come up?

Indecision was something that Alice rarely experienced. "You, bitch!" she suddenly snapped at the startled Girlie who regarded the finger-pointing at her with genuine fear in his heavily made-up eyes'. "As soon as you have finished here girl go and find Madam Eva and tell her that you are reporting for punishment. Your stocking seams are all to hell slut. One I will allow as an accident but the back of both legs look like the blueprint for a damn switchback!"

Girlie curtsied obediently and nodded acquiescently "Yes Madam Alice. I will report immediately the moment after I dry and put away the last dish".

Alice sneered. "Of course, you will you slovenly slut and tell my sister I expect to see the results of her corrective treatment on your fat lazy rump when I return, and they had better be prominent and obvious. You understand bitch?"

Girlie swallowed hard and curtsied again. "Yes, Madam Alice, prominent and obvious".

She regarded the broken cowering youth for a moment savouring the power she held over the miserable cringing sissified creature, a cruel half-smile on her face. "Yeah" she added after a moment. "I'd put some emphasis on that last part if I were you bitch, you wouldn't want me to add a second dose when I get back if I feel little sis was a bit too lenient would you?"

Girlie shuddered with genuine terror. "No, madam Alice".

Alice regarded him for another extended period. The little bit of cock fodder was actually shaking with fear literally shaking. Her stepdad had got this useless little bit of man fluff spot on. He/she wasn't even worth a place in her stable or kennel No doubt when her dad got bored with him, or her mother decided his time was up he'd get sold to another 'real man'. She sniggered. Heck, with his youthful looks and figure the pathetic little cocksucker probably had at least twenty years of swallowing sperm to look forward to!

She snapped her fingers and pointed to the remaining dishes on the table smiling again as he instantly responded. 'Mmmm' she reminded herself. Must stop thinking of the frothy little bitch as he then she immediately forgot about the little faggot and turned back to the main item on the days' agenda.

The bitch had taken milk with her coffee she recalled from that brief earlier visit she'd paid to the house. Useful. She opened a nearby cupboard to find what she needed. Next, she emptied the contents of a small pill phial into an envelope being careful to write on the exterior what the contents were. Alice was a careful girl, unlike her overly impulsive sister. Then added a little of the powder her mother used when suitable opportunities to acquire 'new stock' presented themselves to the small container along with a little milk and given it a very good shake. Bingo. Sleepy, sleepy sleep juice all prepped, and it would ensure that the lanky legged filly's next visit would be for a whole lot longer. Well she'd been desperate to find her family, so she'd find them but would not be happy with the finding. Too bad!

"I can't do a refund, not for half a week" the receptionist said immediately but also somewhat hesitantly as if expecting a protest. She was well accustomed to dissatisfied customers and would have changed her job long since had the opportunity arose. Sadly, it hadn't, and jobs were hard to come by in this backward isolated rundown little seaside town that she had somehow ended up in along with her prematurely aged widowed mother. Nor could she leave not while she was chief carer to her mother and getting a job elsewhere might expose them to questions from an increasingly hostile and inquisitive immigration department that would take little account of her mother's debilitating illness.

Jenny smiled. She guessed the women's dilemma, or part of it anyway. The caravan holiday park was...well was pretty crap. Cheap but absolute crap! Those photos on its website while the location and exterior shots were correct she doubted if a single one of the accommodation interiors belonged to anything on site. The sites swimming pool 'closed for urgent maintenance' had clearly been closed for such for several seasons. The bar/café/shop complex had not opened since she'd been there and the 'kiddies amusement corner' had a big sign in red letters saying, 'danger keep out'! They hadn't shown the discarded syringes, bottles and used contraceptives littering the rubbish compounds either nor the numerous scruffy deadbeats presumably living off social security who seemed the establishments principle clients!

"It's alright," she told the woman. "I wasn't expecting anything back anyway. I don't know one hundred per cent for sure if I will be leaving today, but I just received a phone call from a friend offering to put me up for a few days, she said she has some more information for me to help with my research. I'm meeting her in town for a coffee, and I'll take it from there. I've already cleared my stuff out and here's the key. You are open till five aren't you?"

The receptionist nodded relieved that it wasn't yet another complaint from what she considered a 'rare genuine' customer. Nor did she know that in a couple of weeks she would see a photo in the local newspaper one Sunday morning that looked like, well it did look like and the dates? She would then turn to look at her mother, the walking frame, the pile of pill packages they did not have to pay for in this country. The wretched caravan wasn't much, but it was rent-free as was the electricity and water. It didn't leak, and the heaters worked quite well in the winter. She would sigh, fold the paper and go check that her mothers' bed was free from the damp that sometimes crept in. No, not her problem.

"Ok, so if I do change my mind, I'll make sure that I am back before five then and its no big deal to put my stuff back. Not much with me anyway" Jenny laughed. "I'm a rare creature, a girl that always like to travel light". She'd laughed again and headed out to her car. She'd been on the verge of checking out anyway and finding something a little more upmarket. Well given the state of the place it wouldn't take much to find something a lot more upmarket she thought turning the key.

That same car slowed, took a quick right and then immediately left onto what was virtually a single-track road. Nearly there Alice thought to herself as she accelerated and then....she glanced sideways at the figure slumped unconscious in the passenger seat next to her. Have to think where to put this package securely until it would be required. Stable, kennel? Maybe not, she was reasonably sure that her sister and mother would prefer the bitch in a relatively virgin mental state insofar as awareness of what her ultimate fate would be. Half the fun was watching that awful realisation dawn on the hapless creatures.

Her eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror then forward again via another glance at her comatose travelling companion. Nice she thought to herself, very nice indeed. Better looking than she remembered, tall, muscled, toned and shapely. Yes, definitely shapely. Her left hand had already strayed from the wheel a couple of times to do some initial exploring.

Eva would want the bitch in as pristine a condition as possible of course; she would be the same if the situation were reversed. Those first few hours with a new animal could be so deliciously entertaining. Entertaining for the beasts new owner anyway. The opposite of course for the animal but then that was the whole point of the exercise. She'd thought about it more than once and realised that she could not even begin to comprehend what it would be like to emerge from a deep unconscious slumber to the frightening reality of a whole new world of pain and humiliation and endless mind-numbing tedium!

She stole another brief sideways glance. What about you filly, she wondered. You seemed quite intelligent, will you welcome the savage cutting bite of your owners' crop, relish the cruel touch of her spurs on your flanks, the burdensome weight on your saddled back as she rides you like the beast you will become? Will it be something you hate and loath or will it become the highlight of your monotonous day? Maybe a combination of both she giggled and reached out a hand again.

I was slow; she scolded herself. I should have been a bit faster on the draw or maybe should have exercised big sisters' senior priority with this one. Her exploring fingers left that big firm rump and lightly traced over the fawn skinny low-cut top. Yes, very nice indeed. On the big side but firm very firm. Firm but also warmly soft with generous nipples as a bonus. A very erotic spectacle to behold when this filly trotted along naked but for her harness leather not to mention being something to get a cruel hold of when vigorously shafting the animal from behind.

Anyway, she consoled herself with the thought that she had frequent 'visiting privileges' and in her, not inconsiderable experience her toys could be a lot crueller than any whip and far more demeaning to the victims writhing on the end of them! This creature was going to give her an awful lot of pleasure, and she suspected would do so for a long time to come. Mmmm, better make sure Eva doesn't go overboard with this one and limits her growing predilection to be overtly sadistic simply for the sake of it. This one I'm sure will have plenty of spirt, plenty of fight in her so let's keep it like that for as long as possible.

Reluctantly she withdraw the rapacious hand and used it to work the gear lever as she slowed and turned into the lightly overgrown gravelled area before the old wooden gate that led up to the house. She pulled on the handbrake and took a moment to rock the unconscious girls head back and forth and lift one eyelid. Out for a few hours yet she thought as she jumped out to open the double gate. She glared in the direction of a cleverly concealed high tech and costly security camera. Sheesh, why the fuck can't we have an automatic gate and a bloody electronic push-button instead of this climbing in and out of the fucking car every time shit?

Talking about shit that stuff of her mothers was good, and she wondered where it came from and what it was. That had been the trickiest part of the whole operation. She'd met the bitch as her car pulled up just down the road from the café she'd nominated and immediately suggested they get a couple of coffees to go as there was someone waiting nearby her mother thought she would want to meet. No, she didn't know why but her mother had said to go see this friend of hers who lived not far out of town. Stupid over-eager bitch fell for it and obediently waited in her car while she fetched the drinks, and it hadn't been difficult to add extra milk to her medium latte.

Five minutes later they'd pulled into that remote layby she'd pointed out because the driver was starting to feel 'a little queer'. No one around so a couple of minutes later Alice stood by the open passenger door and not without difficulty hauled the unconscious figure over the centre console and half out of the car then managed to manoeuvre those oh so long legs into the seat well then thrust the rest of her victim into the place she'd just vacated. Breathing heavily from the exertion she found her little backpack and quickly added a ball gag, handcuffs, strapped her ankles together, pulled the seatbelt tight and finished with a very wide-brimmed floppy hat that was far too big but effectively covered her victims face without looking all that odd.

Alice gave her passenger another glance as she regained her seat before driving the last very short stretch. A quiet grunt had attracted her attention. It came again. A soft satisfied little rumble as the latest addition to their stable slept soundly with a curious contented expression on its face. She wondered idly what it was dreaming about? Well dream on pony, enjoy it while you can because your dream will soon turn into your worst nightmare!

A moment later the small vehicle had passed through the now-closed again, innocuous moss clad wooden gate and the car quickly vanished from sight around the first tight bend between two high hedgerows. The last chance any passing casual observer had one been present would have had, for it was destined to vanish now for real along with one of its two occupants! Alas for that unconscious occupant there was no casual observer to witness her passing.

Revenge, so they always say is a dish best served cold. That might very well be true 'Gertrude' reflected, but porridge was certainly not a dish best served cold. In fact, in her opinion, a dish better not served at all never mind cold or hot, and something she'd never given her family or even considered doing.

Revenge? Oh, if only? Revenge, well she could think of quite a few people now that she would love to see feed from that particular dish regardless of whether it was hot or cold. Love to shove their nasty evil sadistic faces right to the bottom of the dish, just like...

"Begin, girl!" The dreaded cold voice snarled from behind her. "Eat your gruel, Gertrude. Eat every last delicious morsel and then get that lazy tongue of yours busy cleaning out the bowl. Lord knows after your pathetically weak efforts last night doing your homework it needs some substantial exercise".

"Sheeth tho lathy" the other horrid voice agreed.

A delicious smell of fried bacon wafted had wafted into the room along with that first cold voice. The sound of a plate being placed on the table and the attendant aroma was too much, so her eyes raised momentarily to flicker to the place setting on her right. A plate piled with bacon, sausages, one no two fried eggs, hash browns, beans and mushrooms had been placed in front of Miss Agnes.

Her chief tormentor daintily lifted her jet-black skirt and then took her seat sitting opposite her hideous daughter, snapped her fingers and the weedy man known only as Wanker who placed a similar if smaller portioned breakfast down before her. He waited a moment should any reprimand be forthcoming, then took the fourth place at the table place perching himself on a hard stool similar to the one she sat on. He immediately picked up a spoon, waited for a nod from his harsh mistress then devoted his full attention to attacking his gruel with apparent gusto.

"Thalt" Agnes reached for the appropriate condiment container and sprinkled the white mineral liberally over her breakfast, then stretched out to shake an even more substantial amount over the bland tasteless lumpy contents in the bowls either side of her. "Thalt makth gruel tathte better an ith good for you!"

"Quite right" her mother added approvingly. "It is good for the blood, and we wouldn't want either of them going all anaemic on us, would we?"

"Yeth, eat it all up or I will puth your nathty ugly ungrateful face in it again girl like yethterday morning!" Agnes smirked adding insult to injury by waving a plump half-eaten sausage on the end of a fork in her victims face emphasising her words. Even worse, little bits of semi-chewed sausage meat sprayed out onto the table and some into her bowl making her want to retch.

It was unfair, so damn unfair. That bitch that big lisping horrible bitch had done just that very thing the morning before because she'd pulled a face and said she wasn't hungry when the bowl was set before her. There wasn't anything remotely appealing about it. Porridge? Surely it should be hot and made with milk and sugar. Not just sort of bland oats mixed with cold water and not mixed that well by the look of it. She'd seen wallpaper paste that had looked more appetising!

It had been awful, and the heavyweight lisping harridan had immediately jumped out of her chair, grabbed her by the hair and ground her face hard down right into the wide wooden bowl so that the wretched stuff had got everywhere, hair, eyes, eyebrows, up her nose, all over her face. She'd thought for one terrifying moment that she was going to drown in the wretched muck and tried to protest aloud.

A mistake, she'd immediately swallowed some and choked severely. Then she'd been pulled up and thrown bodily over the back of a chair face down still choking, gasping and spitting out bits of yuk. Strong arms had grabbed her wrists holding her there while she recovered herself and then her senior tormentor delivered a little homily on the virtues of simple everyday food and how good it was for 'fat and lazy slags' such as she would soon learn to appreciate it. Also, it was coldly pointed out, 'speaking with your mouth full' was the height of bad manners and bad manners of any description would not be tolerated for an instant.

"Thix" the eager voice of the person holding her arms had hissed. "Give her thix from Mithter Bamboo for not eating her nith gruel and another thix for talking with her nathty mouth full. Thee's tho naughty!".

It was unfair, so unfair. That gross slovenly bitch could spit her breakfast all over the table as she spoke without the slightest fear of recrimination yet if she even gave that lumpy grey shit in front of her the slightest disparaging glance she'd almost certainly get her poor tender bottom flogged yet again. She bent her head over the bowl and set her spoon to work conscious of two pairs of eyes upon her.

Miss Agnes suddenly chortled spraying the table with her breakfast once again. "Make her thpell Herbacouth Hyacinth Hibernate Hebdomadally again. That was tho funny yethterday. Can I hit her thith time though and twice for every wrong letter coth thee thould have learnt it now?"

Cold, bleak pitiless eyes watched her consume the first few foul mouthfuls. "No dear, I think we will devote today exclusively to studying Domestic Science" the foul squat hag announced thoughtfully to the table at large. "That after all is the prime focus of our curriculum for this particular term, and we have only a set number of days to accomplish our task. A couple of hours scrubbing first to learn that cleanliness is next to godliness, and the condition of this house is certainly nearer to hell than heaven. Your days of idle indolence are at an end, Gertrude. From now on girl you will work for your keep, your future duties here will involve a lot of domestic tasks (among other things), so we start today, this place is disgusting. Then later some basic cooking I think."

She turned to the weedy man opposite her. "That lasagne you made last night Wanker was nigh on inedible. My congratulations, by the way, I wouldn't have expected you to sit on your stool quite so comfortably today after enduring my displeasure last evening! Well tonight you can have a break. We will see what this new girl is capable of. My expectations are naturally not high, but perhaps we will all be pleasantly surprised with her efforts? I hope so...for her sake anyway. My mood upon awakening earlier was by no means congenial, so I will countenance neither incompetence nor insolence today whatsoever!"

Those awful glittering scorpion-like eyes which had flickered momentarily toward Wanker resumed their chilling gaze full on her. She shuddered and hastily gulped down a glutinous spoonful and then another and another. Oh god why did that wretched man opposite make so much of the disgusting muck it was heaped high in the plain wooden bowl. Her eyes flicked up to a wall clock. Only eight-fifteen am. The day had hardly begun, and she knew that it was going to be a long long time till bedtime and even then...even then there might be, no would be 'homework' again! The bile rose in her throat, but she swallowed it along with the tasteless stodgy lumps of what passed for her breakfast.


Chapter 17 (added: 2020/01/06)

"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.


Chapter 18 (added: 2020/04/13)

Heather was a strange one and no mistake at least that's what Margret had told Eva and best not to get on the wrong side of her. Despite her youth, she was the best trainer of two-legged equines Margret had ever encountered anywhere. Quite how and where the young girl had acquired such unusual skills, Margret had no idea and Heather had never volunteered any information despite some discrete and occasionally some less discrete questioning from her curious employer. She had turned up at the entrance lane to the remote stable complex a couple of years previously driving a battered old saloon car with a small but tall trailer hitched behind it and politely enquired about stabling her pony via the gate video intercom.

Margret looking at the unexpected caller from a monitor in her office had coldly but politely informed the unexpected visitor that her stable was full and that she didn't accept private liveries anyway. The girl did not seem put off by the rather curt and unwelcoming response. She simply gave the camera a broad smile revealing an excellent set of gleaming white teeth which a pink tongue briefly flicked over. She was a smallish pretty freckled-faced smiling girl topped by a fiery mass of tousled spiral curls. Her tan revealed not a trace of the usual milky white complexion many redheads have.

Margret informed her that there was another establishment, a riding school some twenty-five miles away that might have a vacancy for her horse. The girl had merely laughed gently but not impolitely and then winked impishly at the camera saying how sorry she was to hear they were full, but she didn't think that the other place would be at all suitable. Could Margret recommend an alternative stable similar to her own rather unique establishment, she had very recently acquired a rather special two-legged wild female mare and as a matter of urgency needed to find a suitable and highly secure stable in which to keep and train it. The girl had placed a subtle but distinct emphasis on the words 'two-legged, wild and secure' a fact that didn't escape Margaret's attention and certainly piqued her curiosity.

'Two-legged and Wild'? She had asked questioningly.

The girl had grinned cheekily at the camera. 'Oh yes ma'am, wild and still very fresh, I've only just recently cut it out from the herd and about as wild a mare as you could ever get! The girl had then laughed. 'Somehow ma'am I don't think that other establishment would find her very compatible with their other stock, I truly don't!'

Heather had never said how or where or who from when asked as to where she'd heard about Margret facilities. A fact that both annoyed and worried her employer even after several years. Was her security weakened or compromised somehow, she sometimes wondered? Maybe not as Heather herself never seemed to concern herself about it and had assured her on more than one occasion that she need have no anxiety on that score.

That first afternoon she'd driven through the gate and pulled up outside the old house waved her hand and flashed that cheerful impish smile at Margret seemingly not in the least put off by the less than welcoming suspicious look on the face of the waiting older woman. She had climbed out of her battered car and walked to the trailer, released the door ramp and beckoned to Margret to come take a look.

Inside the cramped, narrow compartment standing on the straw strewn floor was a ponygirl. A tall tightly harnessed, bridled, booted, arm bound and bitted ponygirl with a high ponytailed mane of cascading shining brunette hair. An excellent strong, well-rounded mare of perhaps thirty or so summers Margret surmised as she cast her expert appraising eye over the occupant. Nice sized firm udders, probably very attractive from what parts she could see of the face, slim-waisted although that was perhaps from the way that harness corset ruthlessly strangled her midriff, long strong shapely legs too above the knee-high hoof boots.

The harness tack binding her certainly wasn't new, but she instantly recognised the quality, not the cheap rubbish that people purchased merely for bedroom play nor even that which might feature in a professional dominatrix's dungeon. This girl or whoever had harnessed and tacked up the hapless mare knew precisely what they were doing. There was no way any of that kit would come off till it was taken off. She looked over to the smiling girl and at the self-satisfied sparkle in her eyes. No, there was no doubt as to who had fitted that harness and tightened the cruel corset, nor she immediately sensed would it be coming off anytime soon. She had stepped nearer for a closer look.

She didn't need to hear the softly voiced caution the girl gave her. The mare was secured by two steel chains running from either side of the box to her high leather posture collar. The booted legs were free though so that she could maintain her balance, but Margret was an old hand and easily avoided the clumsy kicks the creature foolishly aimed at her. Yes, this was indeed a wild one Margret instinctively knew that with, but a single glance hadn't she handled enough wild stock in her time. That enraged shocked look in the beast's eyes; the strange unusual gurgle sounds it tried to make as it attempted to plead for its release, it's very body language. Wild and certainly not yet accustomed to its new life. Her practised eye took in the numerous fresh livid whip marks on udder and haunches and grasping a tight hold of the mare's bridle she forced it to turn until she could see its big firm rump. Two plump well fleshed white orbs also bearing the signs of more than one recent savage beating.

She maintained a firm grip on the pony's bridle while her other hand roamed expertly over bruised rump and udder flesh all the while watching the hatred and helpless frustration in the creature's moist frantic eyes. She made her mind up and exited the trailer. 'This one has spirit, and I fear it will take some time to break and train, I imagine you may need some help.' The girl had laughed and shaken her head pointing to a row of hooks on the inside of her trailer near the door ramp opening. Three items dangled in full sight of the captive pony, a single-tailed whip, a slim riding crop and a meaty looking bamboo cane. 'Four to six weeks tops ma'am I expect, and those three beauties are about all the help I will need'.

Later over a coffee, Heather had said quite firmly that she had no intention of selling her pony nor had she offered then nor at any time since further information as to the mares original identity or as to how or why Heather had acquired her much to her inquisitors' annoyance nor proffered any other meaningful information. I could remove her bit and just ask you know Margret had smugly told her young visitor. Normally I rarely ever allow them to speak but one occasionally may make an exception.

The girl's eyebrows momentarily lifted then she had taken a swig from her mug and calmly answered. "I never make such exceptions with these animals ma'am, never. In any case, Jezebel has no tongue so I doubt you would understand her answers. Nor could she communicate in any other form. The arm-binder fastenings are welded so removing that is almost impossible should anyone want to give my dumb animal pen and paper."

Margret had blinked. Not shocked for nothing pony owners did to their stock could ever do that, she had seen too much and done so much herself. This savage response coming from the sweet looking young girl in such a calm indifferent answer though had surprised her. How do you propose then to trim her fingernails for grooming, Margret had enquired? The girl had merely smiled again and raised her eyebrows once more, what fingernails would those be ma'am?

Margret though despite her irritation at the girl's stubborn refusal to provide the slightest piece of information, was also intrigued and highly impressed by her unexpected visitor and her casual yet utterly ruthless attitude. No wonder that mare was so wild! One thing led to another and as a result, she allocated the mare, Jezebel, an empty stall.

It just so happened that she was very shorthanded at the time. A friend had recently poached her best stable girl so apart from being shorthanded; she was smarting from a sense of betrayal. To make matters worse her other girl, Astrid, had given her a couple of months' notice having decided to spend a year backpacking. Bloody backpacking of all things!

Heather lived and worked locally, but the girl was unwilling to abandon her present employer completely at short notice Loyalty was a trait Margret thoroughly approved of, and they soon struck a mutual pact with Heather coming in three days a week to help in the stables as well as mercilessly training her own pony and impressing Margret as she did it.

That was another puzzling thing about the girl. She lived in the nearest big town quite happily with her hunky boyfriend, who was a carpenter with his own small local building business. Apparently, the fellow was totally unaware as to just how his vivacious young partner earned the generous salary Margret paid her. The girl now came in five and sometimes more days a week, performed her duties to perfection yet strangely showed not the slightest sexual interest in her charges which again was rather unusual.

The two other stable girls she employed were a butch looking lesbian couple in their early thirties, ex-military who'd later joined and quickly been dismissed from the prison service due to the unpleasant way they'd frequently treated the inmates. Bullying, significant physical abuse and unsavoury, immoral practices were some of the words that had accompanied their dismissal report. An interest in the more extreme BDSM scene and a friend of a friend recommendation had brought them to Margret's establishment and the realisation that they'd found a job that exceeded their wildest dreams.

The sadistic twosome occupied the sizeable apartment converted from the stables upper floor. Convenient for site security and even more suitable for the pair as they were free to resume their interest in significant abuse and unsavoury, immoral practices during their off-duty time and to do so to a degree that would have been unthinkable previously! Just about every 'free' animal in the stable 'enjoyed' a brief reprieve from the monotony of its stall from time to time. They were taken upstairs to serve intimately if female or to provide noisy entertainment while secured upon their private bedroom whipping and pegging bench if male!

Underneath in the stalls, there were several 'hands-off' exceptions of course. Naturally, Jezebel was one; she belonged to Heather, who regarded her as a pure animal so the last thing she would ever allow was any form of intimate human sexual contact to contradict that. On the one hand Heather was a charming, witty, vivacious, amusing girl with a zest for life and from some of the things she occasionally slyly let out, obviously quite a sensual little handful in bed. She would giggle girlishly and confided to her colleagues over coffee about the latest sexy outfit she'd purchased and her expectations of some very satisfying fun that evening with her hunky virile partner when she sprang it on him.

Yet, on the other hand, she was a ruthless and efficient human equine trainer who never showed the slightest hint of emotion towards her charges in respect of their previous lives and human identity. Not an ounce of sympathy did she seem to have. Neither was she an out and out sadist. Never was she cruel for the sake of it and yet, of course, every single thing she did to her charges due to the very nature of her work was about as cruel as one could get. She could and did punish severely for the smallest infraction or misdemeanour, but it was always done clinically and directed towards her end goal, that of transforming a reluctant intelligent human being into a dumb mindless obedient animalised one. Never once had Margret seen her waiver in that aim.

Whereas just about everyone Margret had ever met in the scene derived some form of erotic sexual pleasure from what they did and inflicted, Heather seemed in some way divorced from that. Odd! To everyone else including herself that perverse sexual thrill was the main reason for what they did. Her motivation Margret had concluded must come purely from her apparent satisfaction and undoubted ability in training the beasts to the highest standards. Then again maybe she just hid it very well so that that big hunk of hers was screwing a very hot horny bunny once she got home!

Heather was an exception, an enigma Margret had long since decided. She was such a cheerful good-humoured, warm, friendly girl yet went about her work with a chilling ruthlessness that brooked no failure. She could show compassion and a degree of gentleness if a pony injured itself in the course of its work, yet two days later she'd unemotionally flog the same animal raw just for what in her eyes was a minor misdemeanour!

Margret had stood back and watched her train Jezebel her personal mare almost in awe. That tall wild, angry eyed dumb woman had been eating out of her merciless young trainers' hand within a month of her arrival with hardly a trace of her initial truculent attitude remaining. Another fortnight and she'd broken her to the saddle. That was another puzzling thing? Margret mounted on one of her stallions had accompanied Heather mounted on her pony on several trips across her estate. The girl rode as though she'd been doing it all her life and seemed to know every trick when it came to coaxing the last ounce of effort from her exhausted mount. Where had she learned all this? Margret was soon convinced of Heather's worth to her business and a lucrative offer of full-time employment swiftly followed.

A good deal of her income came from training and selling highly tractable and obedient two-legged equines or taking in those belonging to others and doing the same on their behalf. The quicker they were broken, docile and trained then the higher the turnover, the greater the profit and the greater the kudos her customers, prospective customers and fellow enthusiasts gave her. Plus, the greater the fun as new stock was always so entertaining for everyone!

Ironically the substantial income wasn't really of any great importance anyway, merely a useful way of keeping score and assessing her success as she was an exceptionally wealthy woman. Who wasn't if you indulged in the 'human-animal ownership scene?' The money was far less important to her than the admiration and respect of her fellow owners and so Heather's professional abilities were a great asset for her. As an additional irony, the money was not that important to her staff either. All of them would probably have paid her to let them do what they did irrespective of the handsome salaries she paid.

Margret recalled all of this as she stood quietly watching Heather utilising her seemingly natural expertise on the latest additions to the stable and although neither was destined to be added to the private collection stalled nearby the girl, as usual, would except nothing short of perfection. That wasn't quite so important or relevant in the case of the filly her friend Patricia had sent down; a few rough edges would be welcome in that one when young Eva took her back. Unlike her head girl, she did occasionally feel, well perhaps not sympathy but a touch responsible toward some of the animals she produced, and she didn't envy the life that particular pony was likely to have serving her friends youngest daughter.

'Patootie' so named Eva had told her because it was slang for an attractive girl or a set of buttocks on either an animal or human! My cute 'butt beauty' Eva had giggled then added 'not that her butt will look cute for very long once I take full control of her!' Patootie was to be, what was it Patricia had laughingly told her over the phone, 'well and truly bent' but preferably not terribly broken was how she'd put it. They wanted her acclimatised to harness, stall, saddle and whip but with plenty of wild spirits left in her for Eva to tame. Oh well, Trisha knew what she was about as did her eldest daughter Alice. Heather though hadn't been overly impressed with the brief but then the girl was a perfectionist after all. Wild spirit wasn't something Heather would generally tolerate in her ponies.

It was a beautiful day and the girl was using the big outside walker, it's tall strong central aluminium post supporting the four long lighter horizontal arms. Three of those arms at the moment had a pony tethered beneath it as Heather relentlessly walked them around in endless circles. First came Jezebel her ponygirl now a mere shadow of what she'd been a couple of years back when she'd first come through the entrance gate confined in her narrow horsebox. Not a trace of any rebellious inclinations now remained. Her rump, thighs, breasts and bare shoulders bore the hundreds of scars and wheals Heathers merciless whips had imprinted upon her helpless hide as she ruthlessly moulded the woman into the perfect ultra-obedient ponygirl. Margret doubted that there was a more obedient or perfect one anywhere in the world and as usual wondered who and why but also knew that her head girl would never tell, and Jezebel certainly couldn't! In any case, the creature was more animal than woman now.

It was as though Heather carried the image of the perfect two-legged equine in her head and had then created her Jezebel in that same image and she often used her as a role model for her newer charges just as she was doing now. Jezebel walked in that stately knee-high walk at a precisely measured pace raising each leg so thigh to knee was perfectly horizontal at every single step. The effect was at once both erotic and pleasing to the eye as the pony strutted along in that proud high stepping stance. Jezebel would be well aware of the intense pain Heather would inflict upon her should she fail in so much as a single step regardless of the speed her owner had switched the walker at.

Margret had once jokingly remarked that her movements were so precise you could have almost set your watch by her doing a given number of turns in a specific time, almost give or take a few minutes? Heather ever the perfectionist had taken that 'almost and few minutes' a shade too personally as if a challenge to her professional skills. They'd thus then agreed to the circular distance she had to high step and the time it ought to take her to do it during a half-hour period.

The unfortunate animal had been just twenty seconds out after plodding so prettily round and round in circles knees raised correctly with every step for thirty minutes on a sweltering summer afternoon while her betters watched from shaded loungers cool drinks to hand plus Heather's stopwatch. A mere twenty seconds yet more than enough to irk her pedantic young owner. The poor sweaty beast had promptly been marched to the stables flogging bench and received two strokes from the fearsome stable cane for every second she'd lagged! Once again Margret had been left wondering if Jezebel was a chance capture from the wild or was there some other more personal vindictive motive behind Heather's pitiless ownership?

Stiletto plodded along behind her with considerably less skill and grace which was hardly surprising given it was only six days or so since those expert's his owner had commissioned to obtain him had delivered the youth to her stable. Six days of hell and many hundreds even thousands perhaps to come for the stocky pale slim skinned youth had hardly yet had time to come to terms with his fate. He struggled along after Jezebel already desperate though to avoid the expertly delivered and frequent painful kisses of that long whip Heather so negligently held yet wielded with such deadly merciless accuracy.

The ponyboys struggles were not helped by the unaccustomed footwear the stable girls had locked upon his strong muscular legs. He'd been a promising young footballer but now wore boots of an entirely different type. Long thigh boots made from thick rubber with four-inch stiletto heels now graced his legs locked upon his lower limbs via steel reinforced rubber straps about his upper thighs. His owner spurned traditional hoofed boots due to a fetish for exotic high heeled footwear and was more than wealthy enough to ensure that his growing collection of high stepping pretty young pony-boys fulfilled that particular little peccadillo.

Hence the name more than a touch lacking in imagination Margret thought, but then she'd already had 'Bootsie, Peepytoe and Neighhigh' pass through her establishment en-route to his stable. The boots and Heathers biting whip hadn't been the only abrupt shock to the young man's rapidly diminishing machismo either. Sir Randolph although getting on now in years still prided himself on both the size of his manhood and continued virility, the latter as he once confided to Margret was entirely down to the special diet he ate every day and also ensured his pretty pony boys also enjoyed although of course size and virility was completely irrelevant in their case. Personally, Margret having had the bland, boring diet explained to her in detail upon one occasion very much doubted if his ponies enjoyed such food any more than anything else they experienced in his stable.

Then again perhaps they did, after all the wretches had nothing much else in their miserable lives, not that it mattered to her in the least being merely dumb animals and male ones at that. Young Stiletto might look pretty darn sad right now, but it would ultimately get a whole heap worse for him. Kylie and Susie had already gleefully dragged him upstairs twice and strapped him down on their padded pegging bench to rape his virgin ponyboy cunt. The second time they'd also received permission from Heather to cane his rump till he broke down and begged them to take him. Sir Randolph preferred them well broken in and highly docile in all aspects prior to taking delivery nor was that all. The knight of the realm kept only geldings in his stalls to trot before his cart by day and accommodate his rampant manhood by night!

Heather usually delegated such removal jobs to the two lesbians who were only too delighted to do it. It wasn't that she was squeamish, Jezebel's dumbness was testimony to that, or bothered by the task, merely that she was a good enough staff manager to know how important assigning those little extra perks to the appropriate people could be towards maintaining a happy team.

Margaret's turned her attention to the third pony as it let out a bit stifled squeal as Heather's whip flickered out and expertly cracked across its right thigh. That was one of the training conditions she'd reluctantly had to impose on Heather at her best friends behest. The beasts sensitive rump and udders were to be off-limits, saved in pristine condition's for her youthful owners sole future use. Heather's eyebrows had shot up at that, but she'd refrained from grumbling thought she hadn't looked happy about it either.

Margret smiled to herself as the whip flicked out again, resulting in another muffled squeak from Eva's pony. Heather was a professional after all and a perfect one when it came to training wild recalcitrant beasts like these and she didn't lack for imagination. There were other sensitive parts of the human anatomy after all weren't there, two very sensitive ones for instance much lower down.

No one had said anything about feet, had they. Heather had been most unhappy with Patootie's first full day of training. Naturally, she had felt no need to ask but merely strapped the filly securely to the flogging bench and slowly and methodically caned the sole of her right hoof while the new pony screamed the place down! Eva watching the other stable girls at work outside had wanted to go and see what was happening, but Margret told her no, leave it to Heather.

Next day, of course, Eva had immediately gone across to the stable first thing and scrutinised her pony casting suspicions side glances towards Heather. The latter though, had been smart enough to have the filly sitting down on a hard-wooden stool, so she wasn't putting any pressure on her tortured foot. They can't take standing 24/7 in the early days she'd lied unabashedly you know. She'd stood there with her arms crossed and a sly smile on her lips enjoying Eva's expression of puzzled frustration as she carefully examined two pristine udders and unmarked rump cheeks on her enraged helpless pony in vain.

Equally, the horrified anger, outrage and humiliation on Patootie's face as she was subjected to the examination by the young girl amused her. Well, that was no big deal, all ponies had to get used to being handled like that and it would frequently be much more intimate. These creatures had to realise that their bodies no longer belonged to them and modesty, in any case, was an irrelevant concept so far as these animals went. More amusing was the fact that the bitted pony was incapable of telling her young owner just what the youthful stable mistress had done to her.

In her inexperience and being preoccupied with learning to ride the other ponies Eva hadn't spotted that her pony limped for the next couple of days then it didn't matter because the stupid animal had a hissy fit and refused point-blank to do as Heather commanded while attached to outside the walker. Eva was out riding with her hostess, so she'd missed hearing her bit less pony singing loudly for a second time as the stable cane methodically kissed the bottom of its left hoof.

'Your pony is new to all this and getting a bit tired, so we are doing things today in slow time' Heather had said nonchalantly the following day as Eva observed her animal walking delicately and carefully as it 'high stepped' under Heather's ever-present whip. Margret had walked away stifling a laugh. She'd give Patricia a call later to say that Patootie was coming along nicely and so far nor a single mark to mar the main bodywork parts that were reserved solely for Eva to imprint her authority eventually.

Margret watched for a few more minutes then left them to it and sauntered back up the gentle slope towards her massive old house originally built out of the local grey stone. Three hundred years plus on the outside but considerably newer and more comfortable throughout the interior bar certain parts of the basement where she kept her private harem strictly confined. Watching Heather train ponies invariably made her randy so which one should she choose today or maybe more than one perhaps.

Behind her there sounded three similar whip cracks in quick succession and two different muted squeals making her smile. Poor dumb Jezebel tended to get it as well sometimes just out of habit when the other two made a mistake but lacked the same verbal ability to respond. Now she wondered for the umpteenth time, what was that creatures story?


Chapter 19 (added: 2020/07/09)

Rubber or latex, whatever? It certainly possessed an erotic aura. He'd decided to have the little bitch fitted out in rubber for the rest of the day, or at least till bedtime. He didn't exactly have a fetish for the garb, but it was undeniably sexy and found himself wondering why he hadn't had her wear it more often. Tight shocking pink latex would now grip that sexy bitch boi body. Pink or black were both available in her wardrobe and on the only other occasion he had gone with black but on reflection, maybe a trifle too butch he'd decided for this tasty little cock sucking bitch of his!

Pink, yes bright pink was a far more appropriate colour for his submissive fuck bunny, and so he'd sent her upstairs to change once she'd finished performing her post-lunch chores. Now he was mentally ogling her in an anticipatory manner even going so far as to lick his lips he realised with a slight feeling of foolishness. Anyway, what the hell, it wasn't as if he should worry himself about what the pathetic creature thought of him, she would have more than enough to occupy her soon the way big Mr Dick Dick down below was stirring himself!

Arising much later than usual he hadn't realised how randy he was till now, how deprived, a rare feeling for him in this exotic household. True Girlie had attentively sucked him off last night and the nights before but almost more out of habit than a real desire on his part. A little release of the days' tensions to relax him before sleep, a seventy-two-hour bug had deprived him of his natural vitality. Still, he was over that now and keenly aware of a need to vigorously exercise his full masculinity once again.

Blow jobs were ok, but nothing like as good as a hard deep energetic fuck and as his wife was preoccupied with her latest toy then his pink fuck bunny was going to be squealing her pretty head off before many more hours passed. Nor need she think her day was done early either cos he'd be ready for seconds and more come evening.

He frowned, come to think of it the little bitch hadn't been as responsive of late as she used to be. Maybe little bunny was getting a tad too used to having her bitch boi pussy shafted good and hard. Hell, the cunt might even have started enjoying it. Then again, maybe not he reflected. Still, It wouldn't do any harm to liven her up a bit....well it wouldn't harm him anyway and wouldn't damage her either, not with what he had in mind. One thing was certain, though; she would not enjoy it one little bit! His wife had a sure-fire way of stimulating her bitches if they didn't respond adequately to her strap on and he knew just where she kept it. Nor did it involve the sweat and hassle of beating some screaming wretches butt to jelly either.

Sometimes he hankered after a bitch with a bit more fighting spirit in her like that big 'girl' Bambi, those lesbian friends of his wife had been training up. Helen and Reenie, shit those dykes were another terrifying pair he'd hate to get on the wrong side of! Did they even have a right side?

Anyway, that had been a fun-filled evening. That big butch bitch they had recently acquired

had been pretty damn feral despite some training and the makeup and the sexy outfit they'd dressed her in. Not too bad looking either in all the warpaint! Poor bitch got even wilder when they told her it was time for a treat, a real cock instead of the dildo's they been using on her sassy bitch boi pussy.

Refusal, of course, was never an option for the poor devils at the wrong end of the numerous whips and canes these she-devils loved to use. Big as the bitch was, Bambi still only held out for ten minutes on the flogging bench as his wife's paddle and two bamboo canes methodically ensured that a more enthusiastic attitude was forthcoming from the bitch in terms of offering her 'bitch boi cunt' to a real man, a man who's cock wasn't caged for life! Assuming that pair of lesbian hell cats even let the poor bitch keep it!

He had watched them strap her down on to the 'bitching' bench, slowly stripped himself and then sat naked and in comfort just a foot or so away from her silly red-painted mouth. A mouth that was initially giving all three women a ton of verbal shit. (In between the screaming). Every so often she broke off to throw some his way, but all that served to do was help raise his personal 'flagpole' a little higher and boy oh boy, the look in that big bitch's eyes soon changed.

Changed with every horrified glance, eyes that became more and more panic-stricken as big boy reached for the sky. Foolish behaviour anyway considering the state her back and backside was in before they even started this session on her. Helen and Reenie had not been sparing the rod in the couple of weeks since the fool big had accepted a suggestive invitation for a 'bit of fun' back at their place.

Singles bars! Not the safest of places. Anyway, you'd have thought she'd have learned something by then after three weeks with that formidable twosome. Then again, maybe it was the sight of his cock getting ever bigger right in front of her eyes that panicked her into forgetting.

Ten minutes or so was all it took them to change the silly sluts negative attitude; then she was begging for cock, begging to lick, begging to suck, begging to be fucked in her pussy boi cunt. He'd moved a little closer so that her hesitant outstretched tongue could get its first taste of real man meat, but that was all. No way he was putting Mr Dick anywhere near the bitch's teeth, not till she was well and truly broken to the saddle.

He'd made his contribution to that alright. Thoroughly done his part and enjoyed it. No mere ten cents worth, he'd given the big whore a good ten dollars worth once she'd crawled obediently to the bed as Helen ordered and then spread her legs at Renee's command as she tied her down. Three times he'd fucked the bitch while the three women sat watching, chatting and sipping champagne while his rampant manhood ravished and emasculated the helpless writhing body beneath him.

God, yes how she'd wriggled as his cock, cruel hands and mouth raped and mauled her. She wasn't as tight as he'd expected, those two dykes must have already used some serious toys opening her up, but what she lacked there was more than made up for by the way she squirmed so frantically under him. Sheesh, the look in her eyes too, but she had no choice not when Helen ordered her to look at her new lover, and so she did under the threat of a menacing cane hovering never quite out of sight.

He kinda missed that attempted resistance not that it had made any difference to Girlie, not for her anyway. Even in her pink four-inch stilettos, the top of her blonde head was barely up to his chin, and she'd never had the strength to prevent him doing what he wished with her whenever he wanted and for as long as he wanted. Her futile attempts to resist the inevitable hadn't lasted past the first few days once she realised that his big thick cock would end up pumping a bucket load of hot seaman into her 'bitch boi cunt' every time he felt like it.

Unfortunately for her, he felt like it every day and some times more than just once so her slender body had had to accommodate his rampant throbbing manhood many many times. In the early days, it had been real rape and how he'd relished feeling her squirm in pain and shocked humiliation as he took her. Now she no longer fought but had not only to accept his masculinity but physically and verbally acknowledge her compliant 'delight in serving and satisfying her Masters' lust. Big Bambi had been fun though, uncooperative but fun and he wouldn't mind sampling something similar on a regular basis.

He heard the tip tap of stiletto heels approaching. Good, the little bitch had been quick to change and just as well, this wasn't a house where you kept your betters waiting! Food for thought, though, wasn't his wife now thinking of keeping more than one woman around to satisfy her voracious appetites. Why not a second for him, why not indeed. Maybe something wild and fresh, something his wife painful toys hadn't broken for once, something that would fight back every time before the inevitable happened as Mr Dick Dick erupted in his victory salute!

Wild and fresh and a virgin, of course, the latter went with-out saying. A virgin insofar as his shit chute went but then maybe better still if his cock had tasted the delights of real pussy a few times. All the more amusing to make him realise that those days were permanently over once his dick got locked away. Better still if unlike Girlie, nature had generously equipped him with something worth putting a straight jacket on.

Something pink in the doorway distracted him, and his fingers automatically snapped and pointed, making a motion to stay. Not just yet, his mind was busy savouring this new erotic chain of thought for the moment. A process that was making something else stir even more but not a problem, not with that delightful pink rubber-clad object readily available to 'soothe the savage monster once 'roused' so to speak.

He walked over to the big bay window and contemplated the view without seeing anything. No, not another feminised bitch, a change, something...but no, he was not gay was he, he was a masculine married man with a gorgeous sexy wife. True he was somewhat rationed in that direction, and other women were a definite no-no if he wanted to stay intact! All true, but then his overactive sexual interests also encompassed such as Girlie, even better now such sweet flesh was readily available twenty-four-seven, though perhaps willing would be stretching the point rather too much. Vastly more entertain for him though.

He'd never previously fantasised about bedding another man, but then he wouldn't be would he? There was only room for one man in this fucking household, one real man with a massive rampant free cock, and that was him. The rest, what where they, a feminised bitch boi, dogs, ponies, cock locked eunuchs all, and now....now what? He caught sight of himself smiling in the reflection from the window, his hand already absently massaging his groin.

Yeah, he'd go fifty-fifty or maybe call it eighty twenty, either way, the new bitch was gonna be well fucked. He would get some cute guy, no, better a good looking fit young hunk with a few muscles, biggish maybe, big enough to be dangerous but no fucking gorilla. He'd get some of those polished stainless steel manacles and shackles, keep him permanently bound, enough slack for him to be useful but not enough to be dangerous.

The bastard would have his head shaved, shaved and kept smooth. Girlie could do that daily, scrape his scalp and then oil and polish it. His wife had told him about a girl she'd owned back when she was a teen, a class rival apparently but Patrica being Patricia had taken steps to not only remove her beautiful rival but also make good personal use of her. Apparently, one of the poor girls significant advantages over Patricia had been near waist-length beautiful straight blonde hair.

'Had' his wife emphasised with a wicked laugh. 'That silky mane she was so damn proud of went first of all even before she received the first beating from me. I think she cried more when I used the shears on her than when I put my cane to work the first time!'. Patrica had then waxed lyrical about the sensual joys of fondling a smooth shaved head while its tongue was busily at work between your legs. That, of course, was after the first and numerous subsequent beatings she'd added. The subject had come upon more than one occasion since and only the other night Patricia had said she might shave her next bitch the same way because it just felt so damn sexy running your hand over a smooth submissive bald head.

Yeah, a bald bitch with his big cock sealed up and sturdy but lightweight chains to keep him in his appropriate place. If he were the type he envisaged, it would probably be a long time before his mouth could safely be utilised but no matter. He'd name him Bitch, that's what they'd all call him, and he'd soon find out why, good as a long slow blow job was, there was nothing like a full-on deep hard fuck. Not if you were the one doing it anyway!

The fucker would be a bitch boy not a bitch boi like Girlie was. He wouldn't be fucking a man, no, he'd bitch the boy. However, he wouldn't full-on femme him like sweet submissive little Girlie. He'd be no fluffy doll but a savage captive beast, but he'd still get the silken touch to titillate his Master. Girlie would dress him every day and every night ready for his new owner to take his pleasure.

Dressed to please, dressed to excite, dressed to amuse, dressed to arouse. How humiliating for him to know that every flimsy item of clothing helped stimulate and grow the monster that would defile and enjoy him whenever his Master felt like it. Stockings, suspenders, a tight corset, high heels locked permanently to his feet. The man-bitch would serve as a real man's toy, alright!

He caught sight of Girlie reflected in the glass and beckoned her over. "Has my sweet sexy little butterfly missed being pinned to her masters' bed then?" He grinned and pulled her closer, enjoying the feeling of soft, warm flesh under a layer of thin clinging latex. There was a time when Girlie would have resisted, would have held back, would have fought against him albeit passively even after his wife's painful toys had broken her spirit and that hadn't taken very long. That time was now long past.

Yeah, he was right, a little more variety in the resistance line would be a nice change. Variety, yes that was the right word. Did he want something weak and compliant albeit reluctant in his bed for the night or did he want a wild ride with a feral untamed bitch? His sizeable hairy hand went immediately around the high pink latex waspie and moved up to possessively caress one of her cute little man tits peeking out over the top. Four suspenders straps to each pink stocking and long pink shoulder gloves completed the latex outfit. His fingers closed on the nipple, squeezing hard.

"I just asked you a question, girl. Did you miss my monster pin? Did you feel deprived, honey buns?"

Girlie yelped. "Yes Master, Yes, Yes I missed being pinned."

He released the little bud and let his hand roam downwards till it found and grasped a firm buttock cheek to fondle. He turned her around and thrust his groin into her bottom while bending slightly to allow his hand to slide around and find the small penis locked away in its plastic and steel straight jacket.

"I'm sure you did bitch, I know what a randy little fuck bunny you are! Now that this unimportant tiny little thing is serving a life sentence without parole, I bet you're desperate to feel your masters magnificent manly cock massaging your prostrate, eh."

"Yes, master."

He grinned. Silence wasn't an option when he asked a question. "Now we both know that you are lying through you teeth bitch, but actions speak louder than words, so they say. I shall expect a whole heap of enthusiasm from you today, I better also hear plenty of passion and that sexy body better work damn hard wriggling seductively for me. Now open your mouth wide honeybuns and welcome daddies tongue."

He grabbed a handful of long blonde curls and pulled her head closer and twisted it upwards. "Tongue out, baby. Out I said, out, further. Papa wants to give you a big wet one". He grinned as he bent lower wrestling his tongue with hers, forcing it back into her mouth and clamping his

lips down hard as his tongue raped her mouth. The fucking little weed couldn't even stop him doing that could she/he or whatever sex it was now after months of satisfying his lust

There was another thing he noted. Back when he'd first used the bitch, half the time she'd thrown up or as good as when he Frenched her. It had amused him at the time. Boy, how the bitch seemed to hate that almost as having his cock up her arse or down her throat. His groping hands became more animated as his body responded to his growing lust.

He withdrew from her and whispered. "Change of plan honeybuns, I think the little trip I had planned over to see what my wife's doing with you auntie and brother just got postponed for an hour or two, something big just came up" he chuckled and added "no prizes for guessing what it is, eh?"

He released his hold and snapped his fingers, pointing to the door. "Get yourself upstairs bitch, you know where. In the top right-hand drawer of the dressing table, you'll find a box with a selection of condoms, get one of the monster black heavy ribbed rough rider ones out. Also, in the draw on the bedside table on my wife's side, you will find a jar full of a reddish jelly, got that?"

"Yes, master" Girlie whispered.

He grinned. "Don't get your knickers in a twist girl, not that you're allowed any are you? It's not the condom you need to worry about, a little extra roughage up your bitch cunt won't hurt too much" his grin widened. "Once those luscious lips have got your true Master big and hard you can roll the rubber down its length then you can smear some of that red jelly all over it. Know what it does?

"No master."

He reached out and grabbed a handful of blonde hair again, twisting till he squealed. "Petroleum jelly, hot pepper, ginger and other good stuff honey, a little concoction my wife likes to smear on her strapon toys when she feels one of her bitches isn't being responsive enough when getting fucked. That evil bitch friend of hers uses it to fig her ponies when she wants a wild ride. I have seen how they react hence the need for a condom to protect me, you, on the other hand,.... red hot botty time bItch and for once not on the outside..."

He gave a cruel laugh and propelled Girlie in the direction of the doorway to the hall sending the youth staggering along in his high heels a terrified expression on his face at the prospect of a brand new horror.

"I wouldn't advise licking your fingers either honeybuns " he shouted after her with another laugh!

Then he stopped dead as a thought hit him. God, could he, could they, what had Patricia done with her new toys stuff he wondered?

"Ok, so what was the secret formula then?"

Alice laughed at the question. "Oh, nothing like that mother dear, no pills or calming potions, no complicated chemical concoctions to soothe the savage beast. No hypnotics, enchantments, witchcraft or black magic either, I resorted to simpler meth..." she broke off and lashed downwards with a long slim riding crop at her mounts flank. "Stand still you wretched beast, still!" A second vicious stroke followed the command.

Patrica took a pace backwards eyeing the pair warily and with more than a little concern. "That's a bit risky, don't you think, dear. I know you've been itching to ride him for months but are you sure you can handle him, I mean that wild beast is not the most tractable of animals is it, far from it even when safely secured in its stall!"

Patricia was amazed the not only had Alice managed to get a saddle on Midnight by herself but also that she was already mounted and sitting not only comfortable but also looking supremely confident atop the huge half bent animal. A first for her stable. Although by no means a heavyweight, she was just too big to do what Alice was doing on any of her ponies. However, she was no stranger to riding two-legged equine stallions and large mares having done so at her friend Margaret's stable, but she'd never owned one herself of a size sufficient to carry her to any useful extent.

The wide padded saddle harness was hooked over Midnight's massive shoulders which took a significant part of the weight of the rider, a broad waist belt anchored and supported the rear of the lightweight saddle which nestled against his captive arms. The unique equipment forced his upper torso to lean forward at an angle while his lower body and legs remained upright.

Alice was sitting high up, and at ease with her shapely legs either side of her mount, her booted feet in the long stirrups that dangled from the saddle. In her left hand, she held the short reins from Midnights bit and in her right the long thin, flexible steel cored riding switch. A cruel implement that she had already used several times judging by the marks it had left those spurs likewise on her boots responsible for the thin rivulets of blood that trickled down his thighs.

"Easy boy" Alice cautioned as she leaned to one side of her fiery steed and stretched till she could lightly tap the bulbous tip of his captive penis with her crop. "Remember the movie boy, you lose your head, and you'll lose something else pretty darn quick! That I promise. I can ride a gelding just as easy as a stallion. Up to you boy, you can have your five seconds of fun throwing me off but remember you're going nowhere with all the tack and restraints I have bound you in. Not now, not ever. Just think about that, and what your furious owner will do to you and I mean furious boy! That was me you saw in the video, don't forget!"

Midnight unleashed a series of muted growls behind the cruel bit in his mouth; his head tossed back and forth while his body quivered with rage for a few seconds till he mastered his raging but impotent emotions. The reaction from her captive mount amused and delighted Alice who giggled and patted him on the head as she bent to whisper in his right ear.

"That's ok boy, easy there, easy now, I'd be disappointed if my big strong stallion had lost its fighting spirit."

The crop lifted fractionally then with a practised flick of her wrist the leather flap at the tip lightly stung the exposed end of his shrunken manhood. He screamed into his bit and hopped in agony for a moment. Alice pulled on the reins and flicked the crop hard against his rump.

"Still, stand still Midnight, still". She commanded and hauled viciously on the reins pulling his head back and delivering another hard slash to his rear."Still, I said wretched animal".

"Careful' Patricia cautioned in alarm as she caught sight of the savage rage and pain in Midnight's eyes. Her oldest daughter had worked wonders with the brute yet it was still nowhere near wholly broken. Those eyes, broken, no the creature was still feral and dangerously so if he ever got loose.

"Oh, he's ok, aren't you boy, he knows perfectly well who's in charge" Alice patted her mounts head again "He's just a bit frisky, getting all excited and worked up at the thought of our first ride, eh boy? Well, our first vertical ride like this anyway. She laughed and rubbed his head with a gloved hand. "Tell you what Midnight, I expect that by the time we get back to the stable I will be as randy as hell and no doubt my crop will have tenderised your rump. l'll do a deal. Give me a nice ride, and I'll spare you the usual horizontal ride I like to give you with that replica of your own cock I have mounted on my strapon. Be good, and one of the other ponies can amuse me, hows that sound then?" She giggled.

"I still think you are very foolish and what's this movie business you mentioned about?"

"Settle down now, boy, or you'll feel leather again. That's better." Alice patted him again. "Oh, just something I brought back the last time I was down at Magrets place. Heather filmed it and gave me a copy as a souvenir since it was my first time. I showed it to Midnight last night when I had him strapped securely to the fucking frame. Gave him something to think about in between bouts of me shafting him. Watching It always makes me so randy but I think he found it very educational because he was unusually passive the second time I reamed his ponyboy cunt".

"Educational, in what way?"

"Margret had been training a couple of young colts, special order for some mega-rich brat with a taste for lean muscle bound colts. A pair of nineteen-year-old rowers found themselves swapping a double scull for a double harness on the bitches twin sulky. A real top-notch pair, I wouldn't have minded owning them, but someone went to a lot of trouble acquiring that pair. No way I could have afforded them without paying out serious money, and I mean serious, even taking into account that we are not without substantial means ourselves!"

"So" Patricia snapped irritably, "What has that got to go with this big evil tempered brute?"

"Oh, don't be so impatient mother. One of the little madams' specifications was that once they'd been broken and trained, she wanted them both castrated before accepting delivery. That just happened toward the end of my visit; I got to help Kylie and Susie when they did it. I gather their new owner wanted videos made of their entire training progression, so Heather filmed the three of us at work and gave me a copy. Interesting experience"

Patricia laughed. "I see, and you showed it to the big boy here last night?"

"Yup, on my iPad, twice and again this morning. It's very graphic, loud too, those two ladies don't do easy, and they like to take their time over some things. Midnight here seemed very....well let's not say impressed, say...."

"Thoughtful?" Patrica offered with a smile and walked towards the big stallion who regarded her with a wary baleful stare."Maybe not quite a strong enough term eh Midnight? She reached down and grasped his impressive captive genitals. "You know animal, I have suggested to my daughter on more than one occasion that if we took this lot away you'd be a lot calmer and much more manageable. She emphasised her words by giving a squeeze making him wince and buck.

That action earned him a quick, hard stroke from his riders crop and he jumped again. Patricia laughed and released him. "Food for thought animal, not that a dumb beast like you should get over-fond of doing that. Obey boy; instant obedience is the only rule here as well you know. Try anything on with my daughter and what you saw in that video will be mild compared to what will happen to you!"

"Oh, I think the dumb fucker realises that mother. Stop talking to him, as well. Jeez, I haven't spent all these months beating and fucking the humanity out of the beast only to have you holding a dam tête-à-tête with the fucking animal!"

"Sorry, dear, my mistake, I should know better."

"Yup, well time to get some of the flab off this fucker. Hup boy, walk-on" the crop whistled and struck flesh again. "That means move, dumbo!".

Midnight yelled mutely into his bit, a cry of hopeless rage and humiliation and vainly tried to straighten upright, realised he couldn't and briefly shook from side to side in frustration. He attempted to roar again as the crop bit savagely into his rump once more, this time accompanied by sharp spurs raking down his legs. His head swung from side to side, and he braced himself, ready to explode in anger when he caught sight of Patricia. She said nothing but simply stared him in the eyes and raised her hand to make a snipping scissor-like motion with two fingers. A shudder ran through him, and he finally bowed to the inevitable.

Alice hadn't noticed her mother's gesture being too busy bracing herself in the saddle and hauled his head round to one side with the reins directing him towards the open stable door. A light flick with her crop added further encouragement for him to quicken his pace.

Well, the animal wasn't stupid; she thought as he obediently turned to the right in response to the reins and headed down the grassy path to the fields and old orchard area. She wasn't stupid either; she had no intention of going too far from the house and stable not until she felt confident that the massive beast between her legs was a good deal more docile and saddle broken. Her first journey on his back would be a short one. His full journey under her whip though was barely at the halfway point, and that long, painful trip had a good way to go before she would be satisfied.

She let him walk at his own pace refraining from utilising crop or spurs, allowing him to adjust to the new sensation of being ridden, to being guided by her hand, to feeling the burden on his back and shoulders. No, the beast wasn't stupid, and at some point, he would rebel, so she needed to remain alert, but somehow she knew It wouldn't be today. No, the silly animal would behave himself on this outing, it wasn't just the thought of the terrible consequences she'd promised, but his feeble brain would be looking for weaknesses in this new environment and experience. Vulnerability that he could perhaps exploit at a later date.

Stupid pathetic creature, it should know by now that there was no way out, no escape, the past was irrelevant, the future didn't exist, only the reality of the present. The sooner it realised that then, the more 'tolerable' it would find it's miserable life becoming. What had Margret once told her, it was only a matter of time before constant pain, humiliation, training, degradation and the total hopelessness of their predicament invariably made them 'switch off'. At some point they crossed over, becoming the animals their owners intended them to be. Oh, it was never a complete change, and each beast was invariably different.

Fair enough thought Alice and tugged on the reins and at the same time lightly dug the spurs of her left boot into her mounts leg. As they turned, her nostrils caught the pleasing aroma of new leather from the saddle and its attendant tack. Pristine leather but that would change over the months to come. This time next year it would have absorbed the sweat and stench of the beast strapped beneath it just as the leather harness she'd bound it in was now saturated with its animal reek. There was one significant difference, though. The saddle would come off and only be used as and when required whereas the harness was permanent, it was as much a part of the animal now as the rest of its hide and would ensure that no matter what stupid ideas it harboured it would never regain its freedom. That thought alone was making her feel randy, so what would the motion do when she upped the pace.

"Up boy", the crop flashed downwards and the spurs rolled back and forth. "Hup boy, let us see how well you trot, hup, hup!"

Patrica had followed them to the door and watched as Alice steered her huge mount along the path. Her mind wasn't entirely at ease, but she was impressed with her daughters' confident handling of the truculent animal. Like Alice, she sensed that Midnight's apparent docile acceptance of this most recent humiliation would not last for long. Indeed her own long experience with captive human equines told her it wouldn't, but for today at least she need not worry.

I must borrow that video clip she reminded herself crossing to an empty stall to check all was ready for the return of her youngest daughter and her pony. It would be fun to have a new pony in the stable and she was keen to see how her daughter got on with it. Margret had called her again last night with an update plus all the latest gossip about other owners with whom they were both acquainted.

Eva had proved a satisfactory if lazy pupil, inclined to be way too sadistic towards her mounts, something she suggested her friend would need to keep an eye on unless she wanted to be continually replacing ponies! Absolutely useless though when it came to stable chores, a right lazy little shyster, you should have heard what Heather said about her. That'll change Patricia had promised her friend, and I will thank Heather for her patience.

Heather, by all accounts, had done an excellent job with, Patootie, her youngest daughters brand new ponygirl. Naturally, Eva had wanted to train the animal herself, but she was way too inexperienced for that having been mostly barred from the stable without adult supervision until recently. Two-legged captive equines even when harnessed and harshly restrained were not the safest of creatures for the inexperienced to be around. Both Patrica and Alice carried the scars left from flailing hoof boots, and Alice had once been knocked unconscious after an angry pony had head-butted her when she wasn't much older than Eva. A stupid act for which that particular pony lived to regret on the flogging bench once Alice had recovered.

According to her friend Margret, Patootie had shown considerably more resilience than had her mother to the dramatic change in circumstances, a hell of a lot more given how quickly that bitch had capitulated. Then again Patrica mused the woman was rather petite, quite the smallest most dainty bitch she'd ever owned, and she was a very proficient bitch trainer! Indeed, she'd never failed, every bitch she'd got her hands on had crawled up the bed and put her mouth to work where it pleased her new Mistress most. Unless of course, they wanted to spend more 'quality' time with some of their owners' painful toys!

Eva would be home tomorrow along with the stables latest addition. Heather, Margaret's head girl, was driving her up towing the horsebox and staying on for a couple of days, she and Alice were good friends. Ah, yes, of course, that was the explanation. That was why Alice had suddenly decided to throw a saddle on Midnight, no doubt she had told Heather all about the colossal beast she'd captured and would be keen to show him off to her friend. Heather, after all, was something of an expert when it came to both appraising two-legged equines and riding them.

Nothing amiss, all was ready for that long-legged filly who'd been stupid enough to poke her nose into something that she would have been wiser to stay well away from. That piece of inquisitive foolishness had not only landed her in a stall but also condemned her mother to become the sexual plaything of her young owners' sadistic mother.

Credit to them, Alice and Eva had handled that potentially dangerous situation exceptionally well, a classic case of turning a looming negative into a significant positive. Two positives, in fact, a long-legged twenty-two-year-old who'd just spent the last three weeks under the tutorage of a ruthlessly efficient equine trainer and a real cute forty-three-year-old living doll whose obedient tongue was growing more talented by the day.

The stall was ready to receive it's new if unwilling occupant not that it should be a new experience given that the animal would have been housed under similar conditions for the past few weeks. Three highly unpleasant and undoubtedly frightening weeks, but weeks that it might look back upon with a certain nostalgia once her younger daughter took full control of it.

Alice had also prepared the adjacent empty stall earlier ready to receive Heather's personal mare if she brought her up, Margret hadn't been too sure last night but suggested they might like to be prepared just in case. Jezebel was a fine animal, Margret had once told that she was one of the best riding mares she'd ever come across. Patricia had admired her on several occasions when visiting.

An elegant well build mare of what, thirty-five summers or more? Tall, strong, shapely, long muscled legs, a beautiful mane of auburn hair, plus decent udders and a firm rump. Almost a waste she'd thought that first time for somewhere under bridle, bit, tack and harness was a fine looking woman, or had been one once. A bitch she might well have fancied to intimately entertain her in a setting far softer than that harsh stinking stable stall where she was permanently housed.

Perhaps not now though judging from what she'd briefly seen of her a few weeks previously. Her life under Heather's whip had not been easy for the creature. Margret said she was one of the best if not the best mare she'd ever stabled, trained to absolute perfection by her young owner. Training Margret told her that was as relentless and merciless as when she'd first arrived. Heather rode her most days or tied her to the circular walker, nor was she ever spared whip or cane. The most minor mistake cost her dear, and that showed on every visible inch of her body.

It wasn't an easy life for any of the captive animals in terms of adjusting or adapting to their new lives, but her own ponies had a comparatively leisurely existence when compared to those owned by her good friend. Margret and her three stable girls worked them daily whereas hers were fed and mucked out but never used or exercised to the extent that Margret's extensive stock was. Perhaps Alice was right when she'd said they were more like pampered "zoo animals" than working livestock! Maybe a little more physical stimulant would be a good thing, would they appreciate it? Stupid question, what did it matter what those dumb animals thought!

Heads with sad eyes were watching her over the tops of their stalls, but she paid them no heed. They'd all been fed and watered, checked over and hosed down, three days filth had been shovelled out of the stalls. All their butt plugged tail tubes were open, so they could start shitting in the fresh sawdust all over again and start the never-ending cycle anew. That reminded her, now that Eva had agreed to Baby's redeployment they might as well get that useless lump started. Alice could see to it; as it was her idea in the first place. Perhaps the fucker would enjoy the change? Then again with Alice in charge that was highly unlikely!

As she exited the stable, she paused as her eye caught movement along the path near the trees, Alice returning at a stately swaying walk, so she raised her hand to wave. Her daughter acknowledged the hand by raising her riding crop above her head for a moment then brought it down sharply once, twice and even at a distance Patrica could hear it smack against flesh see, and her boots move as sharp spurs raked down Midnight's flanks.

It wasn't precisely a trot and certainly not a gallop, much more like an ungainly stagger as Alice cruelty coaxed greater effort from the sweat-covered beast to cover the final approach to the stable at a faster pace. The sound of its labouring breath struggling to drag air through nostrils and past the bit in its mouth sounding unnaturally loud against the late afternoon stillness. The belligerent look had gone entirely Patrica noted with a certain degree of amusement. If anything there was now a look of horror in those wide rolling eyes and maybe, no, yes, perhaps finally a dawning of how hopeless its situation was and would forever be!

"Whoah there, Boy" Alice yanked hard on the reins cruelly stretching her exhausted mounts gasping mouth with the evil bit and gave him yet another flick with her crop by the way off additional emphasis. "Steady now, steady" she patted him on the head with a leather-gloved hand then massaged his scalp with a circular motion finishing with a sharp tap from her fingers.

"Hold just a second honey". Patricia quickly reached for her cell phone and took a couple of photos. Her daughter looked fantastic she thought in her riding gear, the hard hat, skin-tight fashionable dark blue jodhpurs, the sleeveless ribbed white top, boots and gloves and perched so confidently atop that beast.

"I trust you are getting my best profile?" Alice laughed as she theatrically raised the crop to pose for the shot.

"One for the family album dear, capturing the moment for you. The day you proved to that sweaty monster just who his true Mistress is and the absolute mastery you exercise over him!"

That was entirely true she thought, looking down at the image. Her daughter had rarely looked better, never looked so deliciously sexy as she did atop that harnessed near-naked creature, confident, supreme, elegant, gorgeous: beauty and the beast to perfection. She looked up and directly at the beast meeting its gaze and holding it as securely as the leather straps of the cruel harness that bound it.

Yes animal, yes this is what it is all about. I can see something in your eyes now that was never there before no matter how many beatings or fuckings you received. Yesterday and for the long months before you were still a man regardless of what she did to you weren't you. A helpless captive little better than a bound eunuch but still a man, a raging, angry man with vain hopes of release or escape. Now, look at you!

Midnight flinched and was the first to break contact. Patrica smiled; that was the only escape he would ever have. Her daughter had captured him, bound him, beaten and raped him, dehumanised him and today ridden him like the animal he was destined to become. How did he feel she wondered? Beaten, no longer a man, tamed by the bit of fluff he had once wanted to bed and no doubt quickly discard!

"Looks like you've given him a good run."

"Hardly, he seems to carry me quite well, adequately anyway and of course he will get better the more time I spend in the saddle. His stamina is appalling though, blown before we'd even got past the trees, the bastard may look like King Kong, but he's no king of the jungle! Those impressive-looking muscles are not what they seem, but they will be in time and time is the one thing we have in abundance, eh boy?"

Midnight emitted a sort of loud wheezing snort much to their amusement and shook his head, but more in bewilderment than anger it seemed. Alice giggled then leant forward and took deliberate aim at the plastic and steel tube between her mounts legs, paused, then swatted the bulbous purple head of its captive penis with the leather flap at the tip of her crop using far more force than she had earlier!.

Patrica hastily jumped backwards as the Beast momentarily went absolutely wild while Alice swayed back and forth alarmingly in her saddle but was in no danger. Her feet were firmly rooted in the stirrups, and she'd anticipated the reaction keeping her seat with practised ease as she braced herself and rolled with the flow. A year ago she'd spent a month helping Heather break an entire herd to the saddle.

A mini herd that's what Margret had jokingly called them when she'd requested Alices assistance for a few weeks. The authorities eventually assumed that the visiting Ugandan amateur rugby team had followed the example of others before them and simply added to the number off illegal immigrants en masse. A couple of hired self-drive minibuses, two half-inflated rugby balls and a hamper full of dirty sports kit were all they ever found. Twenty-one people and their luggage presumably overstaying their visas and disappearing into some inner-city ghetto in search of a better life.

Twelve fit beefy young men had ended up occupying stalls in Margret stable, the rest....well as Heather said, better not to ask so she hadn't. That had been an intense six weeks, fun of course but also hard work turning them into suitable animals for their new owners. Her right arm and wrist had started to ache and then hurt from the sheer number of floggings it had been necessary to administer!

It hadn't only been arm muscles; indeed those aches soon proved minor compared to the bumps and bruises gained after being frequently thrown from the saddle of a bucking near wild African pony. The other two stable girls dealt with the six destined to pull racing carts leaving Heather and Alice to break the six Margret had deemed most suitable as riding ponies. Naturally, that also meant that they were allocated the biggest, the strongest and the least tractable beasts to break and tame!

Heather seemed to relish that, so had Alice initially but after picking her self up off the ground for the umpteenth time and tenderly feeling the latest bruises, she hadn't been quite as sure. Riding docile animals that had been well 'domesticated' by the ruthlessly efficient Heather was one thing, being violently ejected off the beast you were taming was quite another.

A few days though and she'd adapted to their increasingly pathetic attempts to unseat her. They could do their worst, foolish creatures that they were and soon learned that their handicapped worst was minimal compared to the unfettered free rein havoc she could apply to their helpless bodies. Could and did apply with sadistic relish! No, she was not in the least concerned about Midnight's dick swatted dance of agony. He'd dance a lot more for her in the days to come, and a sore dickhead would be the least of his worries!

"For heavens sake don't do that again dear, are you trying to give me a heart attack!"

Alice laughed and gracefully jumped down from the saddle, she caught hold of Midnight's bride and tapped him with her crop. "Walk boy, let's get you hosed down and then I think you can cool off with a couple of hours on the walker. You've spent way too long cooped up in that stall; we need to rebuild those leg muscles and teach up how to step high as the pretty ponyboys and girls do".

Patrica started to walk back to the kennels where she'd left her latest pet then remembered something else. "Alice".

"What?" the voice floated out of the stable door.

"Baby, full steam ahead now, it was your idea, so I am making her, him, it whatever, your project. Eva said she was bored with him anyway but to keep the nursery as is. I think there is someone at school she's got her eye on, a boy from the year above or something!"

"Ok...I'll get this big bastard sorted then attend to it pronto. Time we got some use out of that idle fucker!".

"I know Heather' said. "I expect madam will need a bathroom break at some point. There is a convenient stop about halfway with a drive-through where we can pick up some burgers and a drink, one that can easily take the horsebox. Don't worry; I won't leave it unattended even if she insists on stretching her little legs".

Margret looked at her watch then the house. "I said nine thirty...no damn idea, none what so ever!"

Heather laughed and rechecked the sat nav. "Well, at least we can all relax a bit now without worrying what the little idiot will do next. Getting lost in the fog and riding Buttercup right out of the grounds and along the main public road, sheesh! Lucky Susie was driving back and spotted her".

"Mmmmm, I did let Patrica know about that. The silly girl went way too far in those weather conditions and the state that wretched pony was in, well I warned her mother to keep an eye on her and the way she treats the animals."

"Yeah", Heather jerked her head backwards, "I think Patootie is in for a rough ride, pun very much intended. If that creature thought I was bad..."

Margret looked at her watch again. "Not bad dear, merely your usual, highly efficient self. You were also handicapped to a certain extent by those precise instructions, but I think you have done an excellent job with the beast given the time limit and other constraints."

"Yeah", Heather repeated and added a little wistfully. "That leggy fIlly truly is a magnificent animal; I would have loved to put my saddle on her".

There was a flash of movement in the open house doorway, a wave of a palm, two steps forward and then another wave of the hand and the small figure promptly disappeared back inside. Margaret's breath expelled in an exasperated hiss. "Dear as that girl is to me...."

Heather laughed. "Maybe I should go fry up a couple of burgers now, at this rate it will be time for lunch before we get to the main gate!"

Margret cast another exasperated look toward her sizeable old house then turned back to open window of the Range Rover as a thought occurred to her and she made a quick gesture to the horsebox.

"So are you thinking about replacing Jezebel then. She's not looking anything like as good as she used to you know?"

Heather's eyes automatically flicked up to the rearview mirror, not that she could see her personal mare in the windowless box. How long ago was it now, more than three years since she had driven almost to this very spot in her old saloon towing that battered trailer containing Jezebel? True she was ageing fast now, but then all captive ponies did the same didn't they. Captivity, harness, boredom, diet, the necessary harsh treatment and relentless training all took its inevitable toll. In Jezebel case, that training was relentless for she had never relaxed the standards she imposed on her nor spared her the whip as her body showed.

"She's good for another couple of years; I might need to up the encouragement a little to get the best out of her, then maybe I will relegate her to buggy work or even manual work. I'll start keeping an eye out though for a replacement I reckon."

Not a great deal surprised Margate, but her eyebrows did raise a fraction at the words 'up the encouragement', she'd seen the level of 'encouragement' Heather had applied over the years to her captive mount, more? It wasn't that Heather was a sadist, well not in the way that a lot of people she knew were, but she was a ruthless perfectionist. Did Jezebel have anything left to give her merciless young owner she wondered?

"From the same place, a relative or something similar, perhaps? Why not sell Jezebel, you could still get a reasonable price for her?"

Heather grinned at her employer. "Stop fishing boss you know you won't catch anything and no I will never sell Jezebel. I own her and I will till death us do part....under my whip perhaps. I don't care how old she gets nor will my whip!"

Margret let out a long sigh. One day, one day she told herself she'd get the full story. Who was or what had Jezebel been and why had this ruthless young head trainer of hers acquired her. That mare she guessed had been no random chance capture from the wild. Where had Heather learnt and honed her considerable skills as a trainer of human equines? Had Jezebel been her tutor? Her eyes widened at this new chain of thought, but she was quickly distracted.

"So sorrrrrry people Eva drawled as she walked down to them. "Forgot my cell phone, left it charging then, of course, there were like a ton of text messages."

"Which of course you just had to answer" it was Heather's turn to sigh.

"Naturally, What else!" Eva looked genuinely puzzled.

"Never mind dear, have a safe journey and don't forget to give my love to your mother. Tell her to come and visit us soon, Alice too" Margret gave her a hug and a kiss and then firmly propelled her young guest through the open the passenger door.

"Will do auntie M; we got everything, Heather?

"We have now, bye Boss, see you in a couple of days."

The car moved smoothly away with the horsebox containing it's two secured occupants following on behind. Heather pointed to the sat nav. "About six hours, including a break."

"Really, surely we can get there quicker these great big things are not that slow!" Eva exclaimed.

"Nope, this great big expensive top of the range luxury thing is not slow" Heather replied then jerked a thumb backwards, "but that other cheaper thing bouncing about behind is, and even if we could tow it faster it would not be a good idea."

"Wouldn't hurt them, just shake them up a bit I expect?" Eva said sulkily.

"It's a horsebox Eva" Heather replied patiently. "Do we want the boys in blue switching on a siren and pulling us over. Who the hell burns rubber towing a horsebox? Official curiosity is something we can do without!l"

"Good point" Eva acknowledged and promptly pulled out her cell phone, tapped a couple of times then a thought occurred to her, and she jerked a thumb backwards. "Jezebel".

"Uh-huh, what about her and don't you start prying girl, had way too much of that off my boss lady, never gives up!"

Eva laughed. "Yeah, she told me, even asked me to sweet talk you girl to girl as it were, she's dead curious" she giggled,

"So why didn't you ask then?"

"I forgot, anyway that not my question" Eva found her self blushing a little which was odd given her family, there was probably very little if anything that could shock her young as she was.

"Shoot"

"It's about sex....."

"Only with my big hunky, gorgeous boyfriend honey, no one else and certainly not with that animal back there."

Eva shook her head. "No, not that. I mean your pony, your mare, do you ever let her cum, have an orgasm, any sexual pleasure I mean?"

Heather laughed. "Nope, never, never, never, never, ever, not never, period. Why do you ask?"

Eva settled deeper into the luxurious leather seat and returned her attention to the phone in her lap. "Just curious that's all, making plans and things in my head you know".

Heather glanced sideways, but Eva was busily tapping away her attention now entirely focused on the screen in her hands utterly indifferent to her drivers questioning look.