by Paul Blades
Just then there was a frantic knock on Khalid's door.
"Pasha Rashini! You must come! Please, please!"
It was Achmed, his sister's cousin. "He's lucky he didn't come a minute earlier," Khalid thought. Why he had to employ these mealy mouthed relatives was beyond him. What could be so serious?
Khalid took a moment to hogtie Luciana and to restore her gag. "I'll be back to fuck you in a while," he told her. "And then the whip for you!"
Luciana gave out a mournful moan.
Khalid followed the man across the courtyard to the building where the slaves were released from their canisters. They were usually allowed to sit closed for a while so that the young female prisoners inside could begin to emerge from their drugged fogs. They had apparently just been opened. "What can be wrong?" Khalid asked himself, worried now. "Are they all dead?"
As he entered the room, he saw the canisters lying next to each other, lined up down the hallway. He looked at the first four. They were filled with sandbags, simulating the weight of a woman's body. But was the fifth through ninth that really caught his eye. In each one of the last five canisters lay a male body. That they had died of gunshot wounds was clear. Each one lay in a pool of his own dried blood. He recognized the last one, Feeney. He had a little hole in the middle of his forehead.
Khalid went into an unmitigated rage. He stomped and cursed, his face turning beet red. He grabbed a whip from the wall and started belaying the messenger. Achmed trembled as he absorbed the blows. Finally, Khalid's anger had run its course. He looked up to see his major domo and right hand man, Sergi, looking back at him. He was tall and muscular. He had his hands folded across his broad chest. He had eyes that could bore a hole in steel. Suddenly, Khalid burst into laughter. His belly shook and his eyes began to tear. It was if he'd gone mad. After a minute, he was able to get a hold on himself. Smiling, his mirth just below the surface, he said, "Sergi, it looks like we have a new partner. Get on a plane to New York right away."
* * *
CHAPTER THREE
Maddy lay awake lying on her thin, cotton pallet for a long time that night after her master's assault on her rear passage. Her collar and ankles were anchored to the floor and thick straps had been fixed around her thighs and lower legs. She could still feel her anal ring extended, slowly contracting to its normal size. She was dismally unhappy that her trainer had made her impale herself on his cock and that he had been able to force her to climax by fucking her there. She knew that he would do it again and again, until her ass became another source of sexual pleasure for her. Perhaps even a preferred one.
The unhappy ponygirl knew that these men had taken control of her body from her. But now she realized that they had possession of her mind as well. They were making her into something else, something strange, half woman, half beast. She was frightened that she would lose all that she ever had, that this reality would replace the old one, and that soon her memories of her past life would seem as strange to her as her reality did now.
Already she was having trouble picturing the people in her former life. Her father, her boyfriend, her girlfriends. Their faces seemed like the stars that you can see at night only if you look away at them. There, but not there. Not subject to scrutiny.
And there was the sex. Could she really call it rape when each time a man plunged a hard cock into her she creamed? Was her body even real? She could not see it, she could hardly move it. She shook her shoulders slightly just to feel the sway of her breasts. But were they hers if she could never touch them? They existed for the enjoyment of others, and the pleasure that she received when hot lips pulled at her nipples, or heavy hands caressed her buoyant orbs, was only to a purpose not her own. She knew that men enjoyed handling breasts, were somehow mesmerized by their softness, their malleability. And so she brought these men pleasure when they placed their mouths and hands on her globes. But she also knew that the men were using her own body to reshape her mind. That the pleasure she received from the gentle tug of lips on her teats, the hands on her sex, the lips on her tender pleasure bud, was designed to drive out all else. All thoughts, all wants, all needs. All that was to be left was the physical experience of the moment. Like a beast, she would have no thought for the future or the past. She would only be. And what she would be was what they wanted her to be.
To her utter shame, her body still yearned to be possessed. It was as if once alone, she ceased to exist. She could not move on her own, she could not eat or drink on her own. She could not even perform her most intimate bodily functions alone. So without the men, the others, she was nothing, a shell, a toy waiting for a hand to set it in motion.
But she pledged not to give in, not to surrender. She would hold on to a kernel of hate. Since her past was gone and, seemingly, never to be recovered, she could not hold on to love. The persons who had been loved and who had loved her were gone forever. But there was hate. She would hate them all forever, all of her tormentors. She would never give in to them, never allow her kernel of self to wither away.
Maddy didn't know it, but she was experiencing the same emotions that had been felt by each of the young women who had been turned into ponies. But the battle could only end one way.
The unhappy pony finally fell asleep, and when she awoke the barn was already full of activity. A man came into her stall and removed the flaps covering her eyes. It was one of the stable boys. Since it was no longer raining, after disposing of her bodily wastes, she would be taken out for her morning run. She determined that she would not be last today.
The bevy of ponies was led up to the track by the trainers and their helpers. Maddy joined the others as they stretched their legs in anticipation. The small gathering of naked, blue helmeted, faceless females looked like a flock of pigeons as they jerked their heads this way and that in order to see out of their tiny eye holes. Although the track was generally dry, there were large puddles that had not yet evaporated or drained away. By mid afternoon they would be gone. Maddy made note of the puddles, resolving not to step in them.
All of a sudden they were off. Maddy tried to keep up with the pack, leaning her shoulders forward, pumping her thighs as high and as fast as they would go. It was difficult to learn to run fast with your hands bound behind you, but Maddy had had a lot of practice over the last ten days. After she had been out running on the track a couple of times, she had learned to keep her head down and her shoulders still. In doing this, she realized why the collars were tilted up in the front. When the chin rested on the raised edge of the front of the collar, and she leaned forwards to pick up speed, her face was in precisely the right place, her eyes poised to view her narrow goal: to be first.
As they rounded the far turn, Maddy started falling behind. Just ahead of her was one of the huge carriage ponies, used for hauling the larger carriages in a team, or a small trap all by themselves. Her long, brown pony tail flitted back and forth as she ran. Maddy could see the strong muscles working in her haunches as she dug her toes into the track to propel her bulk forward. Suddenly, the pony ahead of her seemed to slip sideways. She had placed her boot on the edge of a puddle and it had slid out from under her on the mud. The pony crashed to the ground not three yards ahead of Maddy. She did not have time to avoid her and she tied to jump over. Her boot caught the other pony's arm and she fell, face forwards, her body fully extended. She slid right through a large puddle. But rather than stopping to assess the damage, she quickly rolled over and pushed herself back onto her feet by sheer will. She was covered from head to foot in dripping brown water and oozing mud. She hit her feet running.
The trainers who had been watching gave out a great cheer. Others drifted over to the track to see what the commotion was. Maddy had a forty yard lead on the pony that had tripped her. She dug into the track with her toes as hard as she could. Her chest felt near to bursting as she drove herself forward. She could only see directly ahead of her through the small holes in her hood and she kept the center of the track in sharp focus.
As she entered the home stretch, the other pony was right behind her. Ten or twenty of the staff were gathered at the finish line. They were hooting and hollering, urging her on. There were a hundred meters left, then fifty, then thirty. The big brown haired pony was just at her shoulder. Maddy seized all of the energy left in her body and expended it in one last desperate burst of speed. She crossed the finish line half a step in front of the other pony.
There was a tumult of celebration. She had given the men great sport. Men slapped her on her mud covered shoulders and rubbed the top of her head. She was close to collapsing from her efforts and she felt herself held up by a strong pair of hands. She looked up. At first she could see only part of a face through the tiny holes, but then, by shuddering her head around like a stop action film, she saw that it was her trainer and he was grinning widely.
As the men broke away from her, laughing and recounting for themselves Maddy's heroic race, she saw the other pony being led over to the rail where, for many days running, she had leaned over and taken the penalty for being last. Maddy felt a clip being attached to her collar and she was pulled away from the scene of her triumph, as small as it was. But it was a start.
To Drabik, it was a sign of heart. All great athletes, even horses and ponygirls, needed heart. It was something that drove you to exceed the possible. And he saw that, as he had suspected, Maddy had it.
He led the still recovering pony down the pathway to the training area. Drabik stopped and turned around. He gave Maddy the hand signal for kneeling, the snap of the fingers down at the level of his waist. Maddy responded as if by instinct. Drabik looked at her. She was a glorious mess. And now for her reward.
Drabik unbuttoned his fly and removed his cock from his pants. Maddy watched in anticipation. He leaned over and unfastened her gag from behind her head. He removed her gag and tossed it to the ground. He gave the curt, verbal command that signified for Maddy to open her lips and receive him.
For the past seven days but one, the day it rained, every morning, after her dismal performance on the track, he had led Maddy to this very same spot. Each of those mornings he had fastened her collar to a post and given her ten sharp blows from a whip. But today there was no whip. Today was special. Maddy would get to please her master.
And that was exactly what Maddy was feeling when the head of his cock passed over her lips. In her exhilaration, she wanted nothing more than to please this man who was forming her, perfecting her. She knew that the strength that she had found to burst forward at the last second had been built under his supervision in her daily circuits around the training wheel.
Maddy closed her eyes as she inhaled Drabik's manhood. She felt a thrill in her loins as she twirled her tongue around it. Her featureless, blue clad head churned slowly back and forth, her useless hands, clenched tightly in their confinements behind her. Usually, Drabik placed his hands on her head, guiding her movements up and down. But today his hands were on his hips. The only contact between them was between lips and prick. It was Maddy's day, she could suck him for as long as and in any way she pleased.
Maddy's mind clouded over with a feeling of fulfillment as she worked her lips and tongue up and down the length of Drabik's shaft. His cock was hot and delicious. She pressed her face forward as far as it would go, taking his length into her throat, and then, slowly, almost lovingly pulled back, exciting every square inch of his skin. She placed her lips on the fat, round head and sucked on it, running her tongue over the little crevice on the underside.
Drabik moaned with pleasure. He realized that this was a turning point in Maddy's conversion to a servile beast. From here on in it was just a matter of time. He looked at the mud covered pony. She would yearn to please him and she would race, race like her life depended on it, race for him, her master.
The young pony continued to massage her lips over her master's manhood. She had a vision of herself kneeling there, supine and abject, faceless, anonymous, naked to the world, but at total harmony with herself. She could actually picture her blue lined jaw working as she took in her master's swollen prick.
Suddenly, she began to yearn for the taste of his sperm. It was hers to draw out, to savor, to enjoy. She pressed her lips down hard on Drabik's cock, moaning her pleasure. She pumped her head back and forth, gaining momentum as she went. Drabik felt his seed being drawn from his sac, felt the impending crescendo. When he came, he gave a shout. He placed his hands on Maddy's shoulders and pumped back madly at her mouth. As for Maddy, when she heard her master groan and felt his cock begin to throb, her own pussy began to pulse and contract with pleasure.
After drawing out every drop of her master's seed, Maddy finally surrendered his softening tool back to him.
Before bringing Maddy out to the training track, after washing, feeding and grooming her, Drabik produced a thin leather belt. He attached it around her waist, locking it in place. Maddy had never seen any of the other ponies wearing one and so she wondered what it was for. Drabik then pulled from his pocket a small, white, narrow, triangular cup. It had thin chains affixed to each of its corners and its surface was made of a thin screen. He clipped one of the chains to the center of the belt in front. He then lowered the cup and placed it over Maddy's hairless mound. He placed the two golden disks that hung there inside of it. The other two chains he drew up over her rear flanks. He fastened them tightly in place so that the cup pressed up hard against Maddy's groin. When he was satisfied that her cunt was completely covered and that nothing could be slipped between the cup and her skin, he placed little padlocks on the chains. He then stood up and placed the same little locks on her bridle.
He pulled Maddy over to the mirror on the back of her stall. As she looked at the cup in place, contemplated the locks there and on her bridle, she came to the realization of what he had done. Last night he had used her rear opening to drive her to physical pleasure. From now, until he released her chains and locks, anyone who wanted to use her would need to plow that path. Her mouth and her sex would be locked away, available only at her master's whim.
Drabik worked her hard that day. Three times during the morning and twice in the afternoon, other trainers stopped by to make use of her. Drabik would release her from the training wheel and lead her over to the grass. A snap of his fingers and she lowered herself to her knees. Another snap and she placed her forehead on the ground, spreading her legs.
When the first man mounted her that morning, she felt the same revulsion and dismay at this perverse use of her body as she always had. Her tiny ring stretched painfully as he entered her. He sawed away at her ass, seeking only his own pleasure. When he was done, his seed splashed deep in her bowels, Drabik snapped his fingers again, this time up by his shoulders. She rose to her knees and then, on the second snap, to her feet.
But on each use her anal ring seemed to become more and more sensitized. By the end of the day, as she knelt, her backside proffered to the anonymous male, she moaned when the hot prick pierced her. Her fires started to burn as the thick rod dragged across the tight circle of tactile flesh. When he came, her lusts were still rising. Her pussy tingled with yearning, her blood was hot.
The next day, she lost the race again, and the day after that, too. On the third day, when she had fallen three lengths behind the hindmost pony, after she had taken her five at the rail, Drabik, instead of taking her to the training area, brought her back to the barn. He left her standing there, her nose ring tied to a post until all of the ponies and trainers had left. He untied the ring and dragged her over to the center of the barn. He stepped to the wall that divided the central area from the stalls and released a chain from a hook. One end of the chain came tumbling down from the ceiling and landed at Maddy's feet.
Maddy's heart froze over with fear. She had been whipped at this chain the day of her arrival. She had writhed in agonized pain as he tormented her cruelly, her screams of pain muffled by her gag. She had been whipped since, daily, really. But never again like that. She l
ooked at her master and saw the cold determination in his eyes. She started to tremble. As he released her arms from behind her back, she lost control of her bladder.
Drabik attached the chain to the bracelets on Maddy's wrists. It was ironic that her arms were of no use to her as a ponygirl with the sole exception of preparing her for a tortuous whipping. Maddy felt her hands pulled over her head until she was lifted to her toes. She immediately felt the strain on her muscle depleted arms. She was crying.
Drabik fastened a belt around Maddy's ankles and then tied it to a ring in the floor. She would be unable to move her feet or sway to avoid the impact of the whip. He selected a six foot long lash. It had been soaked in vinegar and it had grown hard and twisted. He reared his arm back and slashed the whip against Maddy's skin.
The first blow was received across her upper thighs. It was like someone had drawn a ragged knife across them. Maddy's screamed in pain. Her gagged mouth worked in a futile attempt to form words, to beg for mercy. When the second lash was laid across her breasts, Maddy howled in pain. As he had on the first day, Drabik slowly circled the distended pony. He struck out randomly, without warning. Maddy tried to keep her eyes glued to him as he strolled about her and every 20 seconds or so unleashed a world of pain on her body. He was relentless in his efficiency, marking every part of her with long, angry, red welts. Her breasts were criss-crossed with red lines. Three times he reversed direction so that he could reach parts of her body inaccessible from the other.
