by Paul Blades
Finally, all of the five dancers had received liberation from the overwhelmed American. They were back on the stage rotating their hips, stroking the gap between their freed nether lips, peering back at the honored guest with languid, lascivious looks.
The music changed again and the women began to slowly circle the stage. The blond who had first presented her loins to Bertman, after the second pass, fell to her knees and then let her body melt to the floor. On the next pass, one of the brunettes, a saucy looking girl, fell gracefully down nest to her and placed her face between the outstretched legs of the blonde. She rolled onto her side, her lips drinking at the fountain of the blond girl's cunt, while the next girl joined her on the floor and pressed her lips to the brunette's quim. When all of the girls had descended to the floor, they formed a ring around the stage, all connected pussy to mouth.
The music lowered and the light dimmed. While the barely audible notes floated through the room, the females continued their oral ministrations to each other's hot, moist cunts. A large mirror was slowly lowered from the ceiling and fixed at an angle that the diners could see from above, the circle of young, beautiful women energetically supping at each other's distended holes. On the floor of the stage, outlined by the writhing bodies of the lovely women was an imprint of the rose tattoo that graced their bellies.
The moans of the excited women soon threatened to drown out the lowly playing music. Fakery by slaves was severely punished and the passionate moans of the women were quite authentic. Their nipples grew hard, their chests became flush. Their hips ground into the lips that caressed them. Demonstrating an exquisite control over their passions, they all started to moan with incipient orgasm at the same time. The blonde was the first to begin to shudder and groan, her lust having overflowed into an explosive orgasm. The brunette whose tongue lay deep inside her was next, and she writhed and jerked as her cunt's spasms tore through her. The young woman between her thighs was next and so on, until the cup of passion had been passed along the orgasmic circle.
When the women's bodies came to rest, their passions having played their course, the light on the stage slowly dimmed until the room was cast in darkness. Jake fingered the nine millimeter inside his jacket, tensing at his boss's vulnerability. When the lights arose, the women were all kneeling on the stage, their foreheads touching the floor, their wrists crossed behind their backs.
The diner party broke into enthusiastic applause. This was the signal for the five women to rise from their knees and scurry to the table, insinuating their heads underneath and between the thighs of the principal diners. Bertman's eyes were wild with lust as the blonde who had led the women in their Sapphic display began to unbuckle his pants and lowered his fly. When Bertman's eyes floated back and his face relaxed, Jake took it as his signal to temporarily exit the room and go for a smoke. The grizzled man at the other end followed suit.
Two hours later Jake and Bertman were returning to their safehouse. They were sitting in the back of the Lincoln and Tucker was driving.
"I don't get it Jake," Bertman said.
"What don't you get?" Jake replied.
I mean we met for four hours, ate like pigs, drank a shitload of vodka, watched those dancing girls fuck themselves wild and we got nothing done! I thought that we were going to talk business!"
"Things don't work that way here, Mr. Bertman," Jake told him.
"Then how do they work, Jake," the irritated tycoon asked him.
"Well, you know the very dark guy that sat on the other end of the table from me?"
"Yeah," Bertman replied.
"He's the, lets say, 'spokesman', for the 'Commission'.
"And so?" Bertman asked impatiently.
"So, he and I went out for a smoke. You may not remember it. You had the blonde dancer in your lap and I believe your cock was in her quim."
"Never mind where my cock was, Jake, get to the point."
"The point is that you can have just about everything you wanted. It'll cost you $3 million up front, 5% of the contract price you get on the pipeline project and some stepped up operations in the States."
"What?" Bertman asked, incredulous. "How do you know all of this?"
"I told you, I talked to the guy."
"He told you all that?" Bertman inquired impatiently, his voice peaking, near to shrillness.
"Yes," Jake replied quietly. "And he told me that you can have the villa you wanted, it's all picked out. It's about 250 miles northwest of here. The prior resident was selected for a Kalikastan 'reduction in force'."
"You mean he was laid off? How can that be?"
"Do I have to spell it out for you, Mr. Bertman? He's wearing cement galoshes, sleeping with the fishes, taking a long dirt nap. Get my drift?"
Bertman paled a little. "Okay, and…?" he asked, a little taken back.
"So his estate was forfeit. Lock, stock and barrel. You'll get the house and the fields, his house slaves, the workers who are under contract, the mansion and, what's more important, his ponygirl facilities."
"Christ, Jake, you did it!" Bertman exclaimed, happily patting the slight, reserved 'fixer' on the shoulder.
"They said that you can have the helicopter, but just to fly to and from the airport along a designated corridor. The cash has to be paid right away. You'll be awarded the construction contract in about a week. Import and export issues regarding 'supplementary' products, meaning the technology transfers they're looking for and the moving of other local products into the West will be done separately."
"Sounds good, Jake. You did a great job."
"Are you sure, Mr. Bertman? Frankly, when I proposed this plan I thought that we would be sort of in and out. But these commitments are long term. And welshing would be a major problem."
"I'm not going to welsh on anything, Jake," Bertman remonstrated. "I always keep my promises."
"Just don't let your self get carried away with all the pussy, that's all. I was willing to get into this business with the girls to get the job done. But I'm not staying on as your security after that, and as far as I'm concerned, when we get your niece back, the operations in the States shut down. I'm not going an inch further with that than I have to."
"Don't worry, Jake," Bertman told him. "It'll all be taken care of."
"But what about the expansion of our operations in the States? How do we pull that off?" Jake asked.
"We'll just have to increase efforts, that's all," Bertman replied curtly. "I've talked to your business manager, Felix something. I'm opening a branch in Cincinnati. That'll expand our reach almost all the way to the coast. Pickups in places west can overnight there."
"What?" Jake asked incredulously.
"You heard me. This thing is going to work."
"And what do you think that your niece will say when she knows that you enslaved hundreds of innocent girls just to get her free? Do you think that's what she would want?"
Bertman looked at Jake coldly, as the Lincoln swung through the gate of their pied a terre. "She'll be happy to be free, Jake. And I'll be happy that she's free."
"And all the other girls?" Jake asked. "And what happened to that girl at the farm in Georgia? The girl Maureen? My man Irving has called me twenty times looking for an answer. He's an important part of my team and we may need his help here yet. What did you do with her, Mr. Bertman? What am I supposed to tell Irving who I gave my word that she would be taken care of? Is she dead, or was she sold to some whorehouse somewhere to offset your expenses?"
"Now who's acting naïve, Jake? This was your plan. Are you having moral qualms now? You've already sent over thirty or so girls to be enslaved here. What about them? Is it the number of girls that bothers you Jake? Let me tell you that as long as you're willing to go along with selling even one of them to these bastards, you're in. So it doesn't make a difference whether it's one or one thousand. The principle's the same. You're in Jake, and you're in with both feet."
Jake realized the truth of what the multimillionaire wa
s saying. He was in for a penny, in for a pound. Was he losing his soul or had he lost it already?
* * * *
The night before her first race, Maddy couldn't sleep. She and Persephone were lying on thick cotton pallets in a compartment in the rear of Vadym's trailer. They were allowed to sleep next to each other and Maddy was comforted by the presence of her partner near her. She could hear Persephone's regular breathing and tried to match her own to it to bring on drowsiness. But she was just too nervous to sleep.
She had been shocked at the crowd of people who come to see the pageantry of the pony parade. She could not imagine what it would be like on the actual race day. The eyes of hundreds of people would be on her naked form. She would be performing for their amusement like some kind of animal. Their roars of delight as the ponies passed by the grand stand earlier that night had curdled her blood. It was as if she had been transported back into ancient Roman times, when only the wealthy and powerful had rights and slaves were treated as a species less than human. She imagined what the people who had been fed to the lions must have felt like, a piteous spectacle for the amusement of the masses. And while she did not expect to be eaten tomorrow, she did fear the consequences of losing.
It had been an almost idyllic time during her training with her new driver. She had learned his name, Vadym, more than she had ever known of her original trainer. He had whipped them only once, and that was when they had failed miserably to learn proper starting technique. Other than that, he had been kindly to them, stroking them affectionately, giving them twice daily oral release.
And the slave girl, her tender hands and loving glances made Maddy feel warm and cared for. Vadym seemed to have affection for the diminutive blonde, since she never saw him treating her cruelly, and every night she could hear the sounds of them copulating in the room next to her in the trailer. While Maddy had never seen the slave girl's full face or heard her talk, she had heard her moan and cry out in pleasure almost nightly.
There was so little that she knew of what went on around her. Was tomorrow's race the point of all of her training, or would there be other races? How long would she be able to have the blond pony by her side? How soon would she be returned to the mercies of her master, the one who trained her? When would the cruel owner of her flesh take his due? Would they be punished if they lost tomorrow?
The ponygirl tried to imagine what she and her sister ponies had looked like as they pranced in honor of their lords and masters. She saw in her mind their naked flesh, their breasts bobbing and shaking, their nether lips wide open for all to see. And their hoods, what was it like to see a stream of human females, all melded into one identical set of facial features, a bump for a nose, lips spread in a fierce grimace as they accommodated the devilish bits in their mouths?
And what about the ponies she would run against? How long had they been ponies? Were they more experienced? Faster? Better trained?
Maddy heard the slave girl through the wall give a prolonged moan of pleasure. Her own pussy longed to be filled by her driver's prick. On those nights when it was her turn to suck him off, she would imagine the thick instrument that was in her mouth plowing her hot, moist slit. But her crevasse would lay open and empty like a chasm, and she would need to wait for the delicate fingers of the slave girl to give her release.
She did not know how long she had lain there awake, but she ultimately found herself waking to the gentle nudges of the slave girl. The girl pulled up the flaps on her hood, freeing Maddy's eyes, and unshackled her ankles and collar from the rings on the floor. She and Persephone had a quick breakfast and took their turns being groomed by the petit blond. When done, they were tethered to the back of the trailer by the rings in their noses and they waited.
Vadym came down from the big house about a half hour later. He was walking with a small group of drivers and chuckling at some joke that had been made. His face seemed cheery and relaxed. When he approached the trailer, he stopped to caress the hindquarters of his racing ponies. He slipped his hands between their legs from behind and began to stroke their sexes. Maddy spread her legs dutifully to receive her driver's caress. It was not long before her breath started to shorten and her cunt began to dilate and warm. Vadym stopped when he sensed that their arousal had started to peak, and the ponies whined as his hands were withdrawn. The driver went in to don his informal riding clothes. The ponies would be taken out for a spin on the track, to keep them warm and reduce their tension. It would also help them get the 'feel' of the track that day, whether soft and difficult to gain traction in, or hard and compact, a dream for the fleet of foot.
Maddy did find it relaxing to be jogging around the track. The other ponies were doing the same and it was almost like a promenade. Each time as the team leisurely coasted through the home turn, she could catch a glance at the grandstands filling up. She wondered if the young Russian whore from the night before was there. Was she laughing and pointing Maddy out to her companions? Did she spread her legs last night for the handsome man who had accompanied her or whom she was accompanying? Did she sleep in a warm, comfortable bed last night and put on her own makeup this morning looking at her own face in the mirror?
At about eleven, she and Persephone were driven back to the trailer. The slave girl got them lunch and then cleaned and repolished their shiny pony cart. Vadym gave them both rubdowns, but instead of bringing them to climax with his skilled tongue and lips, he stopped a little past midway, leaving the moaning ponies to their unresolved passion.
About 12:30, Maddy began to see from her vantage point behind Vadym's trailer the various other pony teams being harnessed up. About twenty minutes later the first pony team, a four in hand phaeton, came loping along the pathway to the track. Soon afterwards, she could hear the crowd cheer as the first ponies of the day began to warm up. And, about twenty minutes after that, she heard the flourish of trumpets, announcing the imminence of the first race. There was a shot and a large roar from the crowd. She could hear a man's voice calling the race over the loudspeaker. The voice's intensity grew as she imagined the ponies rounding the turns. In her mind's eye she saw them dashing down the home stretch. There was a momentary increase of decibels in the crowd noise and then silence. About fifteen minutes later, the four pony cart was pulled over the small hill that separated the campground from the track. The ponies were all wearing garlands around their necks and they were stepping proud and lively. She heard a round of applause run through the campsite.
Maddy listened to the races progress, standing tethered by her nose to the rear of the trailer. Twice, the slave girl had come around and teased her nether lips until she felt dilated and moist. Each time she stopped when she sensed that Maddy was ready to peak. Maddy whined with disappointment and the tension of unfulfilled lust was beginning to make her skittish. She watched as her partner suffered the same fate. After the third race, the slave girl began to put on their harnesses. Maddy's stomach was in a knot as the straps were pulled tight. Vadym emerged in his racing finery and began to massage her thighs and shoulders. He did the same for Persephone and the two ponies were hitched to the gleaming cart. The team pulled the cart to the top of the rise. Maddy could see the giant landau coaches being pulled around the track by their nine pony teams. The crowd was cheering them on as the announcer called the play. As she watched, the slave girl, who had come up to the rise with them, began to stroke her pussy lips once again. Maddy closed her eyes as her lust began to grow. She yearned for climax as the fingers tormented her. Her breath became deep and labored. All of a sudden, the hands were withdrawn. She felt a snap of her reigns and she automatically started forwards.
Now she understood the tantalizing treatment she had been receiving. Her blood was up and her whole body tingled. Her legs felt electric as she trotted beside her equally stimulated partner towards the track. They reached it just as the red team did and they pulled out on the track together. Vadym had to hold their reigns back to keep a restraint on their excitement.
&n
bsp; The yearling races are considered by many a novelty item. The ponies really don't have that much training, and since they are teamed with another pony, the casual observer really can't see how much individual strength or stamina they have. But the cognoscenti can tell a lot by how a pony pulls at her reigns, how steady and firm her posture is, how graceful and strong are her legs. More than one student of the sport noted Maddy's almost feverish struggle to restrain herself. Her team had been going off at three to one because of Maddy's limited training, but the smart money soon reduced it to 2 to 1.
Vadym led his team around the track twice at a medium pace. He wanted their legs nice and loose for the 1500 meter sprint. His ponies had never run an actual race, although he had paired them off a few times with some of the other teams just for the experience. He knew that they were anxious and he called out their names soothingly as they slowed down to address the starting line.
The starting line was a line of yellow chalk drawn across the track. The race would start in the back stretch and go one and a half times around, ending in front of the reviewing box. The crowd would twice get to see the graceful, naked yearlings straining mightily to maintain a torrid pace.
Maddy tried to put away her consciousness of her nakedness in front of all of these people. It was the first time that she was glad that she was hooded. Somehow having her face protected from view moderated her humiliation. Vadym kept the ponies' reigns tight so that they would not be spooked by looking into the raucous crowd. The two teams stood next to each other ready to pounce at the sound of the gun. Maddy worried anxiously that somehow her lack of experience would hurt them in the race. It might have been better to tell Maddy and her teammate that the other ponies were new too, and that they were also engaged in their first actual contest, but oral communications to ponies is frowned upon.
The reds had the inside pole. This meant that Vadym's team would have just that much longer of a race. But the trick was to fight for the lead and make the other team take the long route around.
