The Filly

by Paul Moore

  Jenny was about to ask Button to explain, but the girl was already moving in for a kiss, and Jenny could only open her mouth and close her eyes. It was more pleasant than she might have imagined. Button’s mouth was softly insistent, her tongue questing between Jenny’s lips and arousing her in spite of herself.

  Jenny deliberately relaxed, repressing her desire for sex had become a habit when she had a duty to her family. For the first time, she realized that she was finally free to shed those inhibitions. In this place, it was expected of her. Tentatively at first, she raised her hands and sought Button’s soft little breasts, fingering the ringed nipples gingerly, as though afraid that the wounds would still be fresh. Button leaned into the touch to encourage her, moaning into her mouth. Her skin was smooth, and the flesh warm and firm beneath. Jenny felt herself quicken.

  Whimpering with the sudden discovery of a need too long denied, Jenny abandoned Button’s lips and sought the tender lobe of the girl’s ear, the hollow of her neck.

  Button dropped to her knees and buried her face against Jenny’s belly, kissing her way down, pausing to tease her navel with an impertinent tongue that hinted of joys to come.

  Jenny sagged against the wall, feeling her legs open to invite the descending kisses. Her hands began to glide over Button’s smooth skull, winding their way up to grasp the tufts of her mane. Jenny cried out softly at the first flicker of that dainty tongue against her labia, a cry that became a desperate wail as the busy little worm separated the lips and burrowed deeper, seeking the swelling nub of her clit. Button’s hands were busy as well, reaching around Jenny to clench her ass cheeks, awakening a pins and needles sensation in the welted skin that evoked memories surprisingly charged with a new erotic force.

  The climax that shook her was unexpectedly sudden, coming up out of a deep emotional well and shocking her with its power.

  She dropped to her knees beside Button, raising the girl’s face to thank her with a kiss, tasting herself on Button’s lips. Button grinned back at her, blinking and squinting in the cascade of water that still poured over them.

  Jenny realized abruptly that it would only be fair to return the favor, and was summoning the nerve to take the initiative, when she looked over Button’s shoulder and saw Soupcan leaning against the doorway.

  “I do love my job,” he said.

  Chapter Six

  “You had your fun, ladies,” said Soupcan gruffly. “Now it’s time to get busy with the soap and water.”

  Jenny was embarrassed, not by her nudity, she was already becoming accustomed to being naked in front of others, and it helped that she wasn’t the only one, but she had been caught in an intimate act by a stranger. The contract had made it clear that she was giving up her right to privacy, but she hadn’t expected to become the star performer in a sex show.

  Get used to it, honey she admonished herself. Soon she would be running naked for a cheering crowd.

  Button took it in stride, picking up the soap with a cheerful greeting for Soupcan and a wink for Jenny. She lathered up a washrag and went to work.

  “Turn around,” she said. “I’ll do your back.”

  Jenny turned her face to the shower wall to shut out the sight of Soupcan’s leer. As Button’s soapy fingers traveled over her back, then between her cheeks, she tried to pretend that they were still alone.

  “Don’t forget her hair,” said Soupcan, spoiling that illusion.

  He was still very much there when the girls stepped out of the shower and toweled dry, but he had tired of the show by that time and was laying out a set of barber tools on a steel cart. There was a plastic chair beside him. He pointed to it with a meaningful look at Jenny. She sat in the chair and gripped the arms hard to discharge nervous tension.

  It’s only hair, she told herself.

  It was button who did most of the work, however. She carefully snipped away the hair from the sides of Jenny’s head, cutting close to the scalp, running her fingers through the locks to remove any tangles, and laying them carefully aside on the cart in straight windrows. Jenny remembered that the other girls she had seen wore tails that matched the color of their hair exactly, and realized that she was providing the raw material for a tail of her own.

  Button treated it as a routine task, chatting gaily as she snipped, lathered, and shaved. Jenny couldn’t keep her eyes off the pile of hair accumulating on the cart, another part of her identity casually tossed away. It will grow back she reminded herself. Yet she mourned the loss.

  “You won’t look so much like a baby robin after your sun tan evens out,” Button said. “You have brunette skin like mine, so you ought to brown up just fine. Don’t worry about burning. We use sun block by the gallon here, and we generally take a siesta during the heat of the day.”

  She used a safety razor to clear away the stubble, apologizing for the way it scraped Jenny’s scalp. “Your skin will toughen up after awhile,” she reassured. “I usually do mine in the shower every morning. It takes less time than shampooing and conditioning. You need to hook your knees over the arms of the chair and scootch forward now so I can get your pussy.”

  Jenny’s face must have betrayed her shock at this request, yet she should have expected it. Button’s smooth mound provided enough of a clue.

  Button just laughed. “It’s easier if we do each other. Otherwise you need to prop up a mirror between your legs to keep from missing spots. Don’t worry, I haven’t nicked anybody yet. Anyway, you’ll probably have to do mine for me later, and I’ll want you to be just as careful with me.”

  Jenny spread herself as she had been told. She held herself very still and looked up at the ceiling as a buzzing pair of clippers sheared her pubic hair to a stubble. The clippers tickled her, re-igniting the fire that Button’s tongue had kindled earlier. Even Jenny’s trepidation failed to dampen it. Button switched the clippers off and set them aside, then brushed away the cut hair and lathered the area. Jenny whimpered as a cold razor scraped at her tender places, but Button was well practiced and pulled the folds of her labia gently to one side and the other to keep the skin taught and avoid accidents.

  “You might get a little rash down there at first,” Button said apologetically. “Powder helps with that”

  Finished, she wiped the remains of the lather away with a towel and held up a hand mirror for Jenny to see. The creature staring back at Jenny was startling and barbaric. The razor had left her scalp red and irritated, and the skin was indecently pale, yet she could see that her well shaped head made her new look weirdly flattering. The hair that remained had been clipped to a length of about three inches, long enough to curl a bit. She had a mane now, just like Button.

  Soupcan’s face appeared in her mirror as well, like a moon rising over her shoulder. She detected something pent up and dangerous in his expression. A rough hand rubbed across the side of her head.

  “You missed a spot.” His voice was very soft.

  Button knew him better than Jenny did, and evidently sensed danger as well. “Where, Sir?” she asked meekly.

  “Give me the razor, I’ll take care of it.”

  Jenny held very still as he steadied her with a finger under her chin and the razor scraped slowly over her scalp. “That’s better,” he said huskily.

  Jenny was following his hand with her eyes as he handed the razor back to Button. He had lowered his zipper earlier, apparently, when the girls had their attention elsewhere. So the thick cock that suddenly poked at Jenny’s face was a complete surprise.

  “Blech!” She turned her head away, reacting without thinking.

  It was exactly the response Soupcan had planned for. His hand tightened on the back of her neck. The chair scraped across the floor as he toppled her out of it and down to her knees on the cold tile. She had to slap the floor with the palms of her hands to protect her face from injury as the pressure of his hand forced her low and still lower until she was kissing the toe of his boot.

  “Sarah warned me that you was a stubbor
n one,” he snarled. “Jenny the mule!”

  It was another deliberate ambush, she realized, part of the plan. They would keep her constantly alert and obedient with the threat of sudden random punishment. Understanding their system didn’t make it any easier to bear.

  “Get that ass up.”

  Becoming an accomplice to her own punishments, groveling and humiliating herself, that was part of the plan as well. She drew her knees against her chest and waited.

  Soupcan’s silly little whip had a surprising bite. She yelped with shock at the first hot stroke across her bottom, and she resolved to endure the rest more stoically, preparing for the worst with closed eyes and clenched fists. It was over quickly, only a correction after all, a brief lesson for the new girl. He left just a dozen lines of fire blazing across her naked ass, but they came rapidly, and her control swiftly dissolved until she was writhing on the floor. He planted a foot in the center of her back to pin her down. The lash followed her contortions, always finding one cheek or the other.

  “Up now, filly.”

  Trembling, she levered herself slowly up to her knees, knowing the task that would await her, the customary tribute of conquered women. She had been mentally preparing herself for this when she first laid eyes on Soupcan and took his measure. She knew his type. He would consider fellatio an art form and cunnilingus a perversion.

  She opened wide. She had to. His cock was of normal length, but unusually thick. A soup can she realized, feeling his cold hands against her scalp. He wanted her to take it deep. She knew he would. Bullies are the same everywhere. For them, sex is just another way of stealing power. He wanted to hear her retch as she choked him past her gag reflex. He wanted her to gaze up at him, acknowledging her Lord and Master as he took his pleasure. He was clean at least. The pubic hair tickling her nose still smelled faintly of soap.

  “That’s right,” he sighed. “Make it big and hard. Button, sweet thing, fetch me the grease.”

  He made it sound like a polite request, but he was speaking very softly again. Jenny was already learning that this was not a good sign where he was concerned.

  Button scurried to obey. Jenny wasn’t sure if fear or lust fed her haste. Perhaps for her they were the same thing.

  Soupcan put a hand on Jenny’s forehead to keep her in place as he backed away from her. She wiped spittle from her chin with the back of her hand, mildly surprised that he hadn’t finished in her mouth. She had already been steeling herself for the bitter taste of his slimy discharge. There would have been no question about swallowing.

  “Bend over this way, darlin’. Put your hands on Jenny’s shoulders so’s she can look at your face while I tail you.”

  “Yes, Sir,” said Button respectfully, handing him a small jar. When she was in position, and only Jenny could see the expression on her face, she smirked and winked, making it clear that this proposition wasn’t entirely unwelcome. It was an oddly intimate position, Button leaning down with her fingers gently curled over Jenny’s shoulders like a mother speaking earnestly to a child.

  Jenny could see between Button’s widespread legs, where Soupcan was taking his stance and enjoying the view. In Button’s eyes, Jenny read an eagerness, seasoned with apprehension. Her smile went tight and her brow furrowed slightly as Soupcan dipped two fingers into the jar and thrust them roughly into her. He twisted the fingers around, working her a little to make her relax. He worked himself harder with his fist, until his cock was flushed with blood and twitching slightly with the rhythm of his pulse.

  “Keep your eyes open now, both of you. Nobody turns away. You watch this now, Jenny.”

  He moved into position, spreading Button’s cheeks and grinding in slowly. Button whimpered, but she was experienced, and held her position.

  “Think about how it’s going to feel when it’s your turn.”

  Button bumped her forehead against Jenny’s as he forced his way deep. “Sorry,“ she whispered with a pained, apologetic smile.

  Jenny smiled back sympathetically as Button began to rock. Soupcan’s greasy fingers curled around her collar bones as he steadied her and drew her back against his thrusts. His tightening grip on Button was transmitted through her fingertips. Jenny winced as Button involuntarily clawed her shoulders. She reached up tentatively and cradled Button’s face in her hands. Button tilted her head and opened her mouth slightly, anticipating the comforting kiss.

  Much later, Soupcan pulled Button away by taking a handful of her mane.

  “Save it for lights out,” he growled. Reaching around her, he dipped a hand between her legs and plunged two stiff fingers into her. His thumb rolled gently over her clit.

  “Yes, Sir,” she said contritely. Her eyes were glazed and distant. “Permission to come, Sir?”

  “Oh yeah, I think that’s a good idea. Come for us, show Jenny how a good little filly takes it in the ass and loves it.”

  He began to use her hard then, with deep, pounding thrusts, pushing her to the brink and over. Even in the extremity of sensation, Button’s concern seemed to be focused on keeping her weight from burdening Jenny, and she only steadied herself against Jenny’s shoulders as she absorbed the ramming.

  When she climaxed, she muted her cries within pursed lips out of consideration for Jenny, and actually giggled when she realized how silly she must look, red faced and grimacing, a ravaged female animal in heat, but to Jenny it seemed Button had attained a sort of primitive beauty.

  Soupcan paused and mopped his brow with a forearm. “You keep your head up and your eyes open now. I want Jenny to see how good ole Soupy’s dick can make a gal feel.”

  Button met Jenny’s eyes. Her smile was weary, yet genuine. It was the comic smirk of a kitty full of cream, satisfied and drowsy.

  He reached down and cradled her chin in his hand. “Was that a good one?”

  She kissed the fingers that had just pleasured her. “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

  It was a rare tender moment at the Bar -S , and a brief one. He wasn’t finished with her yet.

  He extended his fingers for her to suck clean as he settled himself in for the rest of what turned out to be a very long, hard ride.

  Chapter Seven

  The black girl was sitting naked on the edge of her bunk. Her left hand was resting lightly on her left knee. Her right elbow was braced against the inside of her right knee, and she was slowly curling a heavy dumbbell. Bent over as she was, her latisimus dorsi flared like a cobra’s hood, and her biceps rolled up into a hard ball with each contraction. On the bed beside her, a stunning blonde, also naked, was lying on her belly with her chin in her hands reading a Hollywood gossip magazine. Neither one of them looked up when Button and Jenny entered the bunkhouse.

  “The bed at the end is vacant, and mine is right next door” said Button. “The view sucks, but you will find that all you do in here most of the time is sleep anyway.”

  There was no view, Jenny noticed. The wood framed walls were unfinished inside. Batts of fiberglass insulation kept out the night chill. Someone had thumb tacked a calendar to one of the studs. The calendar boy wore a cowboy hat, boots, and a smile. The days had been crossed off up to the present one. The only windows in the room were too high for anyone look out of. It was a simple barracks, a warehouse for girls.

  “It’s fine,” said Jenny, testing the mattress with her palm. “I was beginning to think that we might be expected to sleep in open stalls on a bed of straw.” She noted that there were no bureaus or closets, and realized that she hadn’t seen her clothing or luggage since she had stripped for Sarah the cowgirl hours ago. It felt odd to have no personal possessions to put away.

  “I’m sure Sarah considered it,” Button giggled and lowered her voice with a glance toward the black girl and the blonde. “I think the theory is to keep us thinking like obedient beasts during training sessions. They don’t want us talking when we’re in harness, you know, or doing anything else that humans usually do. On our own time, though, we get plenty of lati
tude, and they take good care of us; three squares, decent beds, plenty of hot water. We wouldn’t be any good to them if we got sick. Who wants to watch a bunch of run down old nags staggering around the track?”

  Jenny realized that their humane treatment wasn’t entirely a matter of kindness. The pony girls represented an investment that had to be maintained. She looked across the room, where the black girl was shaking out her arm as she transferred the weight to her other hand. Had the dumbbell been provided for her as a special favor, or was it personal property that she had been allowed to keep? Jenny remembered how Button had lowered her voice when she talked about Sarah. There were things going on at the Bar-S that Jenny didn’t understand. She smelled petty politics and conspiracy in the air.

  “There is plenty of sex to be had here too—apparently,” she said dryly, dropping wearily on to the bed.

  Button grinned, recalling recent events. “Remember the old rumor about saltpeter in the food at summer camp?” She snuggled beside Jenny without waiting for an invitation.

  Jenny shrugged. “Sure, it was supposed to suppress our sexual urges.” She put an arm around Button, wondering if the gesture presumed too much. Button reassured her by taking Jenny’s hand and cupping it over her breast.

  “Well if there is an opposite of saltpeter, I think they use it here. I dunno, maybe it’s just being naked and handled so much. Of course, we have to let the grooms use us, but I haven’t met a gal yet that really minds. Most of us are horny all of the time.”

  The black girl was resting between sets now. Her corded arms were pumped with increased blood flow and looked swollen. She stared at the wall with a sullen expression. The ice in the room was a bit too thick for Jenny’s comfort. Impulsively, she tried to break it.