The Filly

by Paul Moore

  “It’s just endorphin release,” Sarah had laughed. “Some girls call it escape velocity.”

  Morgan and Button’s entrance to the arena had been less grand than Lady G’s. Soupcan had harnessed them in the barn and rolled them out without fanfare. Morgan had been more concerned with making sure that she and Button were properly warmed up and stretched out. The morning was chilly, and she didn’t want them to be hampered by stiffness.

  Soupcan had been uncharacteristically taciturn, almost indifferent, and had buckled on the harnesses with an absent minded carelessness. When he wasn’t looking, Morgan had readjusted her waist belt to give herself more freedom of movement, and noticed Button doing the same. She had already made sure that her sandals were properly laced. She had no intention of losing the race because of a loose shoe. She double bowed Button’s laces for her, while Button jiggled her foot like a fretful child.

  “Dress me Mommy,” she giggled. “I want to go out and play.” It had been gallows humor, of course, meant to relieve tension. She was as serious about winning as Morgan was.

  There had been other girls around them in the stable, preparing for events of their own. The show ponies were fussing over their make-up and adjusting ornate head plumes. The girls in the pulling events were queued at the squat rack, warming up. They had less at stake than Morgan. For them, losing would only mean a loss of privileges or harder training. They weren’t betting their future.

  There was a delay for the starting ceremonies, which involved a lot of trumpet fanfare and some sort of precision marching by the show ponies. The audience loved it. Morgan and Button stamped and fretted on the sidelines until the races began.

  So many people! thought Morgan, as they trotted to the starting line at last. The bleachers were filled with spectators, and a roar went up as the team appeared. High above, pennants flapped in the breeze, and Morgan noticed with some comfort that the wind would be at their backs on the final turn. She had expected to feel stage fright, appearing naked and tailed before a crowd of strangers, a figure worthy of ridicule, but their enthusiasm was heartening. They were as diligent and devoted as any sports fans could be. Apparently her reputation had preceded her. Morgan heard some of the fans shouting her name. She wanted to give them her best.

  She took her place, set her left heel against the starting block, and waited patiently for Lady G’s silly parade to end. If points were awarded for showmanship, Dusk and Tinka would already be ahead.

  At last, the teams were in place, and a man in a striped shirt approached with a starter’s pistol in his hand. Morgan felt a sudden clutch of fear, glancing toward Dusk and seeing her powerful opponent glaring back at her. She swallowed it and concentrated on her breathing, filling her lungs to prepare for the exertion to come.

  “Whoa, Buck.”

  Lady G reined in her stallion beside the fence. He squatted low to allow her a graceful dismount and stood at attention while Lady G looped his reins around the fence rail. She leaned over the fence and spoke to Morgan in a low purr.

  “I promised Dusk that she could have you to play with after she wins.”

  The report of the pistol surprised Morgan, making her flinch. She had been expecting some preliminary countdown, and felt cheated by her inexperience. Dusk and Tinka were already well ahead when she leaped forward. A quick glance toward Button assured her that they were properly in step, and she remembered their strategy. It didn’t matter that they were starting out from behind. It was better to let Dusk and Tinka get cocky, or better still worry that Morgan and Button might be gaining. They might turn their heads to look back and lose momentum.

  She matched her breathing to the steady slap of their soles on the paved track, and concentrated on maintaining a position just behind the other team.

  She could sense Button’s impatience beside her. They were capable of going much faster, and were both discovering that together. The hard training they had done all week, straining to pull the cart through deep sand, made the load seem trifling now. This was going to be too easy. It was almost disappointing. Morgan curbed Button’s agitation with a warning frown.

  Not yet.

  Morgan felt weightless, as though she wore seven league boots and only needed to touch the earth occasionally between interminable bounds.

  At the halfway mark, Morgan began to watch Dusk carefully. Her stolid striding seemed a trifle more labored now. She wasn’t exactly stumbling, the spectators would have sworn that she was maintaining a strong lead, but there was a heaviness in her gait that had not been there at the start.

  Morgan shot a glance toward Button. She was still eager, just waiting for the signal.

  Now!

  Morgan’s head bobbed and they surged forward as one. The friction of the cart wheels on the track buzzed a counterpoint to the drumbeat of their soles. Now it sang a rising note.

  Here we come bitches! Morgan exulted.

  It was working better than they could have hoped. Morgan saw Dusk turn her shocked face toward them, an error that put a hitch in her stride and cost her even more of their lead.

  The gap was closing… closing

  Suddenly, the shafts in Morgan’s hands jerked as the cart behind her began to lurch crazily. She heard a horrible grinding shriek, and the weight of the cart seemed to double, as though some huge creature had seized hold of it from behind, and was voicing his victory cry as he wrestled it away.

  In the periphery of her vision, Morgan saw one of the cart wheels wobble into the grass beyond the shoulder and fall.

  Still she ran, though she felt tethered to a boulder now. Even Button was abandoning the effort and releasing her half of the crossbar.

  COME ON! WE CAN’T STOP NOW!

  Unable to speak, Morgan could only give voice to her impotent fury with an inarticulate cry. Dusk and Tinka were already receding in the distance, and would reach the finish line unopposed within seconds.

  She twisted around to look behind her.

  Soupcan had already bailed out of the cart, and was surveying the damage and scratching his head in an exaggerated way that would have been comic in any other circumstances. A long, crooked white trail had been etched into the pavement behind them, marking the point where the axle had broken.

  A track official jogged over to assess the situation, his steps slowing as he realized that there were no injuries.

  Soupcan shrugged philosophically. “Can’t understand it,” he said loudly. “I greased this damn thing myself this mornin’ and everything looked fine. I guess you just never know with metal fatigue.”

  Morgan looked frantically toward the bleachers. Surely there would be angry protests from the fans, a call for a rematch. Instead she saw the fickle crowd surging forward to the winner’s circle, where Dusk and Tinka were thrusting their fists into the air to declare their victory. The losers had already been forgotten.

  “Rules say we have to cross the finish line with two runners and a two wheeled cart,” drawled Soupcan. “Guess this is just damned bad luck.” He put an arm around the track official’s shoulder and steered him away from the scene of the accident. Morgan was amazed that he was actually heading toward the track office without bothering to unharness his ponies first.

  The official glanced back toward the ruined cart and abandoned girls once before following him. He hesitated, then apparently decided that they could wait as they were for a few more minutes.

  Morgan had the same premonition that she had felt when Dusk attacked her in the shower, a suspicion that she had been set up in ways she could not yet identify. She remembered what Sarah told her about little dogs getting chewed up when big dogs fight. Had Sarah known all along that something like this would happen? Would she stand by again and allow it?

  Up in the stands, the door to Mr. Frisk’s private box burst open and Sarah emerged, looking distraught. She struggled to make her way down the risers toward Morgan, but was soon swallowed by the billowing crowd.

  On the other side of the chain link fence
, a white van slid to a halt. An ambulance, thought Morgan, dismissing it as no more than one more unnecessary distraction. At least no one was hurt.

  Too late, she realized that the three men who rushed out of the ambulance looked all wrong, and seemed to be in too much of a hurry to go where they were clearly not needed. She struggled with the traces frantically, trying to free herself of the cart that had suddenly become an anchor.

  Hampered by her tethers, Button was aiming ineffectual kicks and sputtered protests toward the men who swarmed over the fence. They avoided her easily and quickly surrounded Morgan. One man began to unlock her wrists and waist from the cart. The second produced a pair of handcuffs. She couldn’t see the third man, but she felt something prick into her right ass cheek.

  “Waid!” she garbled around her bit, as her wrists were gathered behind her and the handcuffs clicked shut around them. “Pleath!”

  She was already losing consciousness by the time one of the men threw her over his shoulder.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The sudden light hurt Morgan’s eyes and made her headache worse. She squinted and blinked, trying to understand where she was and how she came to be here. Then a heavy door boomed open, startling her into full wakefulness and she remembered bits and pieces of the long and uncomfortable journey that brought her to this place.

  Morgan found herself in a damp windowless cell of concrete block. A chain rattled when she sat up, and she felt the heavy downward pull on her iron collar immediately. Other discomforts clamored for attention. Her thirst was terrible, and the damp chill of the place caused a shivering that she could not control. She had been sleeping with her hands shackled behind her. That had left her wrists chafed and her shoulders aching. Cold steel encircled her ankles as well. She needed to pee.

  She took in her surroundings at a glance. This had to be Lady G’s dungeon, or one of them. It was well equipped with all of the terrifying toys that would appeal to a cruel imagination like hers. There were pins, pincers, branding irons, pillories and racks. The brazier in the corner had no fire in it, but was too scorched and soot stained to be a mere prop.

  There were other furnishing of a less medieval nature. A chair with a split seat and high knee stirrups, enema equipment, a suction pump, electrical devices, a whipping post, and a deep glass aquarium tank topped with wire mesh. Rusty chains dangled from the high ceiling and flush rings had been set into the floor and walls.

  Dusk stood framed in the doorway with her hands on her hips. All she wore was a pair of boots and an evil smile. Lady G stood over Morgan wearing a red bathrobe and a pair of fuzzy slippers and holding a cup of coffee.

  “Rise and shine, sweetie. You have a busy day ahead of you.”

  It was time for Morgan to grovel and beg for mercy, or at least plead innocence where Tinka’s affections were concerned. She was fairly certain that Lady G had counted on Dusk’s quick temper and jealousy when she hatched her scheme, just as she had relied on Morgan’s competitive spirit. The bitch had used them both. Pointing that fact out to Dusk in Lady G’s presence wouldn’t be a wise move.

  Morgan was feeling too much pain and resentment to mount a proper defense, and she wasn’t about to apologize.

  “Fuck you very much,” she growled wearily.

  Lady G laughed. “I was hoping that you would be difficult. It’s a lot more fun that way. I’ll be handing you over to Dusk presently, and I really don’t care too much about what she does with you for awhile. Her job is to break you. It will be a long time before this pony girl gets to prance down the road again. First you must learn to respect me. Before that, you have to learn fear. You don’t get to be my girl until you beg for it. You will beg me. I will hear you beg for many things before long.”

  “You have no right to do this!” Morgan snapped

  Lady G laughed. “Apparently you didn’t read all of the fine print in your contract, slave. I have every right. Your contract transferred to me the moment that you lost the race. Oh there may have been some dispute about the circumstances, that was why I took possession immediately, before anyone could lodge a protest. Legal challenges can be so tiresome, and pointless. Frisk isn’t going to lose any sleep over the loss of one pony girl, and Sarah is wise enough to hold her tongue. She is a realist, and knows where the real power comes from in this world. Her little fiefdom is too important to her to risk losing it over you, no matter how fond she may have become. It’s time for you to face facts. You are no more than a lost wager. They will sigh sadly, forget you, and move on.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” snapped Morgan. “You think that everyone is as cold and calculating as you are.”

  Lady G set her coffee cup carefully on a nearby table, then spun about to slap Morgan hard across the face.

  Morgan’s tried to roll with it, but she stars danced before her eyes. A second slap rocked her head the other way. Tears burned in her eyes. She spat on Lady G’s slippers.

  Lady G placed the sole of her foot against Morgan’s chest and pushed her over backwards. Morgan landed on her cuffed hands, crying out involuntarily as the cuffs bit into her wrists.

  “I’m late for breakfast,” said Lady G. “See if you can take some of the fight out of her for me, Dusk.”

  Dusk levered herself away from the doorway and rubbed her palms together. “It will be a pleasure Ma’am.”

  Lady G paused in the doorway.

  “Call me when you’re ready for the branding. I don’t want to miss it.”

  As her footsteps receded up the stairs, Dusk looked down at the girl sprawled at her feet and grinned.

  “Now you get to find out what happens to the sluts that mess with my little Tinka.”

  “If you think that I ever had any interest in your girl, then you are an even bigger fool than I thought,” said Morgan.

  “We’ll see who the fool is!” Dusk clapped her hands twice. “Feisty gal like you, though. She won’t learn too quick. So I brought me some help.”

  Two men had been waiting outside of the door. They strode into the room in response to Dusk’s signal.

  Morgan had seen one of the men before. It was Buck, the giant who had carried Lady G on his back at the races. He still wore a leather body harness that presented and emphasized his huge cock, but this one lacked the saddle and bridle. It was a simple arrangement of wide straps that crossed over his shoulders and intersected between his pecs before joining the waist belt and crotch strap. Other than that and a pair of boots, he was naked. The black man beside him was just as big, just as naked, and just as well endowed. They strode across the cell without a word and took hold of Morgan’s arms from either side.

  Resisting them was futile, but Morgan was too proud to let them take her without putting up a fight. Now more than ever she was convinced that she had been tricked and betrayed. The contract she had signed in good faith had become void as far as she was concerned. This was nothing less than a kidnapping.

  Shackled as she was, she could do no more than squirm in their grasp, thrust her elbows into their ribs, and try to bite their hands as they unlocked her collar from its chain and stood her up. Her arms were raised behind her until she was forced to bend over to relieve the strain on her shoulders and one of the chains that dangled from the ceiling was clipped to her wrist shackles. With her ankles still joined, she couldn’t spread her legs for balance. When the men stepped away from her she teetered a bit and her heart skipped a beat as she considered the injuries she might suffer if she fell.

  The danger was quickly resolved. Although Morgan wasn’t sure that having her legs spread wide and chained to the floor was really an improvement. She faced a choice between offering her hindquarters to the men behind or dislocating her own shoulders.

  Dusk stood back and savored Morgan’s predicament for a moment. “I expect you could use a pee about now. There’s a drain under you. Go ahead and let it fly. We’ll wait.”

  Morgan’s stay on the Bar-S had taught her to be indifferent t
o shame. The two men stepped back away from her to avoid being splashed as the urine spurted out of her. When she was finished, one of them uncoiled a garden hose from the wall and used it to rinse her between the legs. The water was icy and made her gasp.

  He held the hose up to her mouth as well and she drank from it greedily, unmindful of the overflow dribbling off her chin. She silently thanked him with her eyes. She was hungry too, but not hungry enough to beg for food. It would mean admitting just how dependent she had become. Her simplest needs had become a weapon that might be used to break her.

  “If you boys are feeling horny and need to take the edge off,” Dusk suggested helpfully, “This would be a good time to do it.”

  She didn’t wait to see if the men would take her up on her generous offer. Instead she strolled over to the brazier and examined it for a moment.

  “You need to flip a coin first or something?” Dusk said irritably. “Fuck that bitch—now!”

  Morgan watched her carefully, sensing that Dusk was the greatest threat in this place.fs The two studs who assisted her were no more than slaves themselves. They would rape Morgan. She was sure of that, but she had already learned that rape was one of the less unpleasant things that could be done to a helpless woman. They would treat her as nothing but a masturbatory aid. So Morgan regarded the thick fingers invading her to be no more than an irritation and a distraction.

  It was Dusk who needed to be feared. She had a personal interest in seeing Morgan suffer.

  “She’s dry,” commented a deep voice behind Morgan.

  “What the fuck did you expect, Brutus?” snorted Dusk. “The bitch is scared shitless, and she ought to be. Grease her up if you got to. I want to see that slut gettin’ fucked hard.”