Once her new owner had mounted his horse, Sheena was lifted onto the back of the man’s horse by the smiling slave owner. She clung tightly round the rider’s waist as he spurred his horse forward across the sand toward the blue sea.
She was surprised to see him ride into the shallow waves and wondered if he was giving the horse a chance to cool its hooves. But then he dismounted and carried her in his strong arms into the deeper water, where he washed the dirt and sweat from her naked body. The water was up to his waist but he didn’t seem to care.
When she was clean, he launched her onto the sun kissed, dazzling surface of the water and made gestures with his arms, inviting her to swim. Sheena was amazed at his kindness and rejoiced at her good luck in being sold to such a man. There really did seem to be a chance that her fortunes were about to take a turn for the better.
She swam breast stroke in the clear cool water and he watched her intently. The salty water felt good on her skin and, treading water, she smiled at him out of sheer gratitude.
It was probably stupid to show her feelings but she couldn’t help herself. He smiled back rather shyly. She’d been forced to fellate him but she didn’t resent him; she was feeling a sense of freedom for the first time since landing on the other island. She knew she was a slave but swimming naked made her body feel liberated. And she felt she might be able to establish a bond with this man that would transcend the master and slave relationship.
Even before she got back on his horse, Sheena’s body had dried; such was the power of the sun’s rays. She knew it wouldn’t be long before she was sweating again but it was blissful to feel the filth that had caked her body was washed away, and she smelt clean.
She grasped her master round his slim waist as he quickened into a gallop.
They came to a small township with flat-roofed, whitewashed houses, more substantial and sophisticated than the dwellings she’d seen on the other island. Her master rode through the closely clustered houses and brought her to a sumptuous palace with palm trees and exotic gardens which shimmered in the heat like a mirage. Sheena could never have guessed that such a place actually existed in such a remote spot.
Her master rode into a stable block and dismounted; he reached up for Sheena and set her down on the cobbles.
He took her by the hand and led her to one of the stalls where there was clean straw and a bucket of water, just as if it had been mucked out ready for the return of its occupant.
Staring out of the half stable door Sheena was amazed by what she saw.
A procession entered the yard; a string of girls down on all fours. Each girl had a native groom at her side dressed in full riding habit, and each girl was naked except for a harness. From each arse there swished a tail, and each head was adorned with a tall red or white plume. She remembered the girl she’d seen on the other island, the one with horse hair grafted or sewn into her flesh. These girls had manes of different length and colour but their heads were shaved. Even from her position Sheena could see that although all the girls were slim and nubile, their features were equine.
She dreaded to think how these effects would be achieved, imagining the extreme pain involved in such gruesome body modification.
They lined up as if awaiting inspection and suddenly a tall white man strode into the yard holding a coiled bull whip. He too wore riding habit and high black boots.
With a shock of recognition that made her feel faint, Sheena saw who the man was: none other than Ralph Mottram, her once-loyal cameraman - until he misused her on their last expedition. Memories of what he’d done to her flooded back into her mind.
It was clear he was in charge, rather than the man who’d bought her at the beach slave market.
‘Bring out our new pony,’ he ordered.
The man she’d thought was her master entered her stall and gestured to her to drop onto her knees. She came out of the shadows into the blazing sun and joined the end of the line, lifting her arse high as the others did.
‘We meet again, Sheena. Are you pleased to see me?’
‘Yes, master,’ she said, averting her eyes.
He turned to the grooms. ‘This is the girl I wanted to complete our stable. She still has the perfect arse and now she’s had it decorated- even cuter.’
Sheena knew she would have to behave exactly as he wanted and say the things he wanted to hear. She would need to humiliate and belittle herself to keep on the right side of him.
He walked over to her and placed his booted foot on her up-turned arse. ‘This time I can train you properly, teach you true obedience, take away all your vanity and conceit, make you my creature. There is no-one here to save you.’
‘No, master.’
‘I see your hair has grown back. That will come in handy.’
She guessed he meant her head would be shaved and the hair used to create a mane.
Sheena was adjusting to the shock of these revelations when she saw another line of human equines approaching the stables. This time a dozen or so men entered the yard, naked as the girls and with similar harness. Sheena saw some of the pony boys were intact with their balls swinging between their legs as they crawled along, but others had been gelded. A few had suffered the indignity of having all their cocks removed as well as their balls. Two of the horses were saddled up with women riding on their backs, using crops extravagantly on their mounts’ backsides. Another sweating young man carried one of the native women on his shoulders.
‘What sort of regime for Sheena, master?’ asked the man who’d purchased her.
‘The harshest, Mendis,’ said Mottram.
‘Show pony or carting?’
‘Both. Carting will strengthen her leg muscles still more.’
‘Shaved?’
‘Shaved head and pussy.’
‘Full body modification?’
‘Of course.’
‘Branded?’
‘Certainly.’
‘Do you want me to train her, master?’
‘We’ll share her training. I want to keep an eye on this one.’
‘Yes, master.’
‘And liberal use of the whip.’
‘Yes, master.’
Sheena had not realised the man who’d bought her – Mendis - could speak English. For some reason he’d concealed this from her; she remembered he hadn’t attempted to speak to her in any language. As a fuller picture of how she was to be treated gradually emerged, Sheena shook with terror. She’d seen how the pony boys and girls had hooves, which meant their feet must have been cruelly tortured. Their facial features had been altered to resemble those of a horse, which must have required extreme measures involving excruciating pain.
Mendis took Sheena from the yard into a room with a sunken bath and ordered her to get in. When she’d dunked her head in the water several times, he produced scissors, cut-throat razor, and shaving soap.
He cut her hair as close as possible to her scalp and neck before rubbing in the soap and applying the razor to the stubble; he also shaved off her eyebrows, leaving her bald and sleek looking. Sheena shed tears at the total removal of her beautiful auburn hair, watching Mendis collect it up and set it carefully to one side.
Mendis soaped her bush and shaved it clean before using the razor to remove the hairs that fringed her pink pussy. He shaved her thighs and her legs, then told her to turn her back to him and touch her toes. Mendis did not treat her roughly but she was humiliated nevertheless. He shouted to one of the grooms who came instantly to open her cheeks; Mendis soaped between them and shaved her anus, though there were not many hairs there.
He told her to raise her right arm and he shaved her armpit, doing the same with her left.
Sheena was smooth and shiny everywhere like the girls she’d seen in the yard after their exercise.
Next Mendis pushed a butt plug into her arse; Sheena knew there was a tail attached because she felt the long hairs brush against her legs. When she saw her tail later she discovered it was a blonde colour; there was no sign she’d once been a red head. It was another part of stripping her of her identity as well as her clothes.
Mendis took her arm and led her across the yard, up a flight of stone steps, to a surprisingly well-equipped medical room. Sheena was told to sit in a black padded dentist’s chair with a battery of lights above it.
A white robed and white masked figure appeared.
Sheena could tell her sex only because of her long, dark lashes.
The dentist explained that she was going to break Sheena’s jaw (under local anaesthetic) to make it easier to alter the shape of her face to the ‘desired equine look.’ She showed Sheena a frame shaped like a horse’s head which would be inserted through her mouth to elongate the face; she explained that all Sheena’s teeth would be removed and actual horse’s teeth transplanted.
Her red hair had been carefully preserved and it would be grafted onto her lower neck to make a mane.
Her neck would be stretched and she would have surgery to reduce the size of her breasts, leaving no more than nipples like a mare’s.
Sheena’s feet would be amputated and plastic hooves attached to the stumps.
The female dentist said her colleagues were looking forward to working on Sheena because she had the potential to make a beautiful pony.
Elle was missing Sheena and was masturbating a great deal to relieve her sexual frustration. There was no other comfort for her because she was subjected to rape and continual abuse. The men who made her shit to order continued to abuse her in this manner and in other ways that occurred to their warped and evil imaginations.
They came to her cell with predictable regularity, sometimes three times a day, to use her body.
Elle had become used to holding back and only emptying her bowels when they demanded. They seemed to take great delight in having this power over her. She never ceased to feel defiled by having to perform such a private act in front of two or more men purely at their whim. It made her feel sub-human, which was obviously their intent. They were contemptuous of her, inspecting her faeces as if she was a bitch who’d dirtied an expensive carpet. And sometimes when she strained to shit, she pissed as well, and they laughed at her embarrassment and her shame.
After a long period of incarceration, Elle was allowed to leave her cell for exercise, always under the supervision of the two men who’d made it their business to watch over her.
Elle was glad of the exercise in the fresh air, but being away from the prison and the scrutiny of other guards the two men felt even less inhibited about what they did to defile her.
She was completely at their mercy. No one took any interest in her so no-one saw the scars and bruises on her body or the fact that her ribs were showing; she looked unhealthy and exhausted.
On these trips out the two men amused themselves by forcing Elle to act as a retriever bitch, making her find and return birds and animals they shot in a wood not far from the prison. Charging through the tangled undergrowth on all fours caused her soft skin to become scratched and torn; taken along with the beatings she received, she was unrecognisable as the pretty young strawberry blonde she had once been. Now she resembled a feral creature with tangled hair, who inhabited the forest and loped about on all fours.
One day Elle and her captors were witnesses to a strange sight.
Coming to a clearing with Elle walking to heel they heard a series of loud cracking sounds like pistol shots, followed by screams as though an animal was caught in a trap. Elle’s first thought was that the sound was made by hunters like themselves, probably firing at birds. But the screaming sound was disturbing, disconcerting…
As they crept closer they saw a naked black woman hanging from the branch of a tree by her wrists, enduring a merciless flogging from a bull whip administered by a tall native with rippling muscles and tight, almost square shaped buttocks shining with sweat. The loud noises they’d heard were the sounds of the whip striking the flesh of the suspended woman and the scream of pain that accompanied each lash.
Keeping behind the trees as far as they could they came closer.
Elle realised she recognised the black woman.
It was the woman she’d seen from her cell who so much resembled a horse that it was uncanny.
And there close by was a cart turned over on its side.
Her back and arse were bleeding from the onslaught and Elle wanted to cry out in protest. The whip being used was totally unsuitable for chastising a human being; it threatened to strip her skin. The long lash curled round her body and struck her boobs as well as her back.
The woman’s screams were enough to curdle Elle’s blood.
She rushed forward, crying, ‘No, stop! You’ll kill the poor girl.’
The man was so startled he stopped flogging the woman while Elle’s captors grabbed her and knocked her to the ground. The flogger angrily put his foot on the back of Elle’s neck and held her down. By this time, Elle recognised a smattering of the language and knew her masters were apologising for the behaviour of their white slave.
It appeared the girl being punished had been pulling her master in the cart when she tripped on a tree root and pitched him into the undergrowth.
The upshot of their discussion was a decision that Elle would be whipped along with the girl she’d tried to save.
The black girl was cut down and the men made her face Elle while they bound the two women tightly together, ending up with a creature appearing to have two backs, one white and the other black.
When they were suspended from the branch once again they presented a perfect two-in-one target for the man who held the bullwhip. Elle’s masters deferred to the stranger since he’d be offended by her interruption; he took his whip a long way back before cracking it down on his new victim’s arse with perfect technique, leaving an instant purple wheal across both Elle’s cheeks.
There was a delay of what seemed like a minute while Elle struggled to fill her lungs with breath before she gave vent to a high-pitched scream that seemed to fill the wood and drown out the bird song. The black girl sobbed in sympathy. The force of the lash set the two bodies swinging; the vines that bound their wrists creaked against the bark of the branch that bore their weight.
This time the flogger positioned himself in such a way that when he drew back the bullwhip and delivered a second lash the whip circled them as if providing more binding to hold them together; even so they convulsed sufficiently to set them swinging again like a heavy pendulum.
One of Elle’s masters took the whip offered by the stranger and measured his distance carefully before lashing the girls’ legs which were bound so tightly together the pain would be equal for both of them.
Their scream of agony was also a macabre duet.
‘Aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!’
All three men took turns to bullwhip the girls. Despite her paroxysms of pain Elle glanced at their tormentors. As they strutted around it was obvious they were in their element; each man had an enormous erection, testimony to the sadist pleasure they obtained from whipping defenceless girls.
When at last they untied the vines and gave their victims respite, the two women slumped forward and collapsed full length on the ground. Elle’s back and arse were as tattered and torn as the native girl’s, purple and black in places, and smeared with blood. Elle was overwhelmed with nausea and dizziness and finally slipped into unconsciousness, but not before she had a wonderful sense of release.
When Elle regained consciousness she heard the three men discussing training her as a pony girl as a replacement for the black girl. They appeared to like the idea of schooling a white woman, and looked forward to putting her through her paces.
The cart was lifted back onto its two wheels and Elle backed into position between the shafts despite her weak state. The black girl’s bridle, bit and reins had been tossed aside when she was tied to the tree to be punished; now they were retrieved and fitted on Elle. She gripped the bit firmly between her teeth and tried to make it comfortable in her mouth.
The broad belt that attached her to the carriage was tightened round her waist.
The stranger climbed into the cart, picked up his light horsewhip, took the reins in both hands and made a clicking sound with his tongue which Elle interpreted as the signal to move off. She had to strain to take the combined weight of the passenger and the cart, and she didn’t feel very strong or energetic after being bullwhipped to unconsciousness. When her two masters hitched a lift by standing either side of the driver, she felt she would not be able to pull them. With a superhuman effort, and feeling pain in her back and legs, she succeeded in getting the wheels moving. It was fortunate she was on level ground, because she knew a gradient would have presented too much of a challenge before she had established momentum.
Suddenly Elle felt the need to relieve both bladder and bowels and she had no alternative but to perform in true equine fashion as she trotted along between the shafts. The men behind her had full view from their vantage point in the cart as she let go, her piss splashing on her legs and her stools plopping down one after the other.
The driver’s response was to whip her across her bottom and make remarks about how filthy and disgusting she was.
‘Get your knees up higher,’ he commanded and lashed her again. The horsewhip was not as brutal as the bullwhip but its caresses stung sharply especially when the snaking tip caught her in the cleft between her cheeks as she ran forward.
The following morning Elle was roused from her cell in the early hours and taken back to the woods to begin her training. The men had decided she had some of the qualities necessary in a good pony girl; athletic body, stamina, and so on, but it remained to be seen just how competitive she was by nature.
They decided to keep their activities secret.
If she turned out to be accomplished enough to compete they would be able to offer her for sale ready trained and compliant, which would add greatly to her value.
The man her masters had met the day before clearly had some experience of training pony girls, so her masters were keen to learn from him.
He held out a long stick and told Elle she must touch it with her knees as she ran round and round with him.
He demanded she keep her back straight with her arms limp and close to her chest.
When she failed with these tasks her trainer caned her hard around her arse and thighs; she made rapid progress because of her desire to escape these punishments and because of her good natural balance and athleticism.
Her trainer erected fences for Elle to jump and kept raising the bar. Through constant practice she was able to jump prodigious heights. Gradually her fitness returned to something like the level she had enjoyed when she embarked on the expedition with Sheena. Her trainer seemed to realise she would need to be well nourished if she was going to succeed, and between them the three men smuggled meat to her.
However, each training session tended to end in the same manner, with Elle being required to please the trio sexually. Despite her lesbian leanings, Elle found herself becoming horny during the sessions because all three men went around naked and all were spectacularly well hung.
It wasn’t often Elle felt hungry for cock but it happened during these long, gruelling sessions. Elle would be made to sit on one cock, suck another and wank a third, thereby keeping them all happy.
On Queens Island Sheena Starkey’s surgery had healed well and Ralph Mottram was more than pleased with the result. She was the best of all his ponies, as he’d expected.
Now she was fit enough to be filmed and photographed.
Her pony image would be reproduced thousands of times and would appear on DVDs, videos and magazines the world over.
He would call her Sheena and write about her tragic fall from TV stardom to porn actress. Even though she now had equine looks, her body, especially her arse, was probably still recognisable.
He laughed to himself at the thought that she might become a fashion icon all over again, with western women wanting scarification on their pretty little derrières.
Ralph Mottram had found it impossible to get another job when they returned to England after their last expedition.
Sheena had obviously put the poison down, ruined his reputation, as she’d threatened to. She had enough clout in the business at that time to make sure anyone who offended her paid the price.
Now it was time for his revenge.
Unable to earn his living by deploying his talents in legitimate television, Ralph had turned to the lucrative porno industry to keep the wolf from the door.
His talent with a camera coupled with a turn for the better in his luck had established Ralph as one of the top makers of erotic films in the world. He’d earned so much money so quickly that he was able to buy Queens Island; this provided a beautiful place to live and a wonderful location for film making, sunshine, surf, palm trees, perfect light, and naked girls. Subsequently Mottram had some of the top white models shipped over to the island to supplement the native talent, and then he had all he needed.
He’d bribed the producer of Intrepid Explorer to bring the programme to the islands.
Now he had his prize. He owned Sheena Starkey.
Mottram was also looking to the future with a breeding programme, developing what he called in his own mind a stud farm. Although he allowed some of the pony boys and girls to have children, in truth Mottram himself impregnated most of the ‘mares’; regarding himself as a stallion flattered his ego.
In due time he would mate with Sheena and produce beautiful girls. Any boys he fathered would work on the estate in one capacity or another.
When Mottram first arrived on Queens Island, he discovered the notion of human equines was already established. All that was missing was the sophisticated cosmetic surgery he was able to provide by bringing over a top practitioner from America.
It had been the custom on the island for young men to haul logs around for the purpose of building their homes and public buildings, pulling them sometimes long distances by attaching vines and creepers.
Log hauling developed into a sporting activity whereby the young men competed with each other to drag heavier and heavier pieces of wood. It was a way for a young buck to display his strength and endurance and to impress the girls.
Rivalry between the two main islands stretched back into history, and the current conflict was by no means the first war in which they’d been engaged.
When Queens Island natives captured men from Silver Sands, they set them to work hauling logs and tree trunks. It was not long before the prisoners were used to pull the simple carts used by the indigenous population as the main form of transport; at first they were so basic as to be little more than axles with two wheels and a wooden platform. These men, little more than beasts of burden, came to be called ponies.
Further evolution in the practice came when women from the rival tribe were put between the shafts of the carts and were even made to join in the heavy work. The custom developed that the prettier girls pulled the carts and carriages (because they were on show) and the less attractive women hauled the logs alongside the men.
Mottram was not even the first to attempt to alter the appearance of the human ponies. The natives fashioned rudimentary bridles and bits, the latter being made from bone.
Tails were attached by the simple expedient of inserting a plug into the anus with long strands of animal hair or even human hair attached, much as is done today.
But Dr. Stewart, the plastic surgeon employed by Ralph Mottram, brought a whole new dimension to the idea of transforming humans into equines. At great expense, equipment was shipped to the island, and some of the girls were trained to assist him as nurses. He was given anything he asked for.
When he discovered he was being funded by the proceeds of pornography he showed no concern. On the contrary he liked to wander into Ralph’s shoots and watch the antics of the porn stars; he had the pick of the girls for his own enjoyment when the sessions were over.
There was another incentive for him to remain on the island in addition to the life style. He was able to experiment with procedures in ways that would be forbidden in the more developed countries of the world. The island was his laboratory; there were no restrictions on any research he wanted to undertake, however whimsical or however bizarre.
By breaking and resetting bones and using clamps and weights he was able to reshape the skeleton, as well as augmenting areas like the buttocks and reducing areas like the female breasts. His first attempts to graft horse hide and horse hair onto human flesh were unsuccessful because of rejection, but he persevered until he was able to make his patients hairy in the places ponies are hairy.
It was relatively easy to enlarge the sexual organs of the males to make them more like stallions or to create geldings where that was the desire.
By making females flat chested and deepening the cleft between their nates he was able to get closer to the profile of a horse when the woman was on all fours. He worked on lengthening the neck and elongating the face which, taken along with difficult dental surgery, created a distinctly equine look. He was beginning preliminary work on removing human ears and grafting on horse’s long ears, which he thought would add a lot to achieving the hybrid creature he was seeking to perfect.
There were many offshoots from his work, including studying pain thresholds and pain management, and experimenting with different types and doses of anaesthetic. There was always interesting and ground breaking work to be done. His study of people’s responses to pain was not carried out exclusively in his own surgery, however. Mottram had his own laboratory, so to speak, where males and females were punished (sometimes the punishments seemed deserved) or tortured to make them impart information, or, sometimes, purely for Ralph Mottram’s sexual pleasure.
Mottram’s array of implements set out on his table sometimes reminded Stewart of his own surgical instruments. There were features of Mottram’s place of work that resembled Stewart’s, like the overhead lighting systems and the beds, but there were also conspicuous differences, such as Mottram’s furnace and his pulleys and trapezes and rope systems - which he used to truss up victims and suspend them.
Stewart teased Mottram by referring to his place as ‘the dungeon’ though it was not subterranean. He sometimes assisted Mottram with these activities because there was (he recognised) a streak of sadism in his own nature.
He got into conflict with Mottram on occasions.
Sometimes Mottram wanted to abuse bodies Stewart had just worked on, with the risk of opening stitches and ruining his time-consuming and painstaking work. Stewart noticed Mottram’s impatience to take the girl Sheena to the dungeon, but he managed to hold him at bay until her body had healed.
Stewart had to concede she was the most beautiful woman he’d worked on since he had come to the island; tall, slim, with a cute little arse (he didn’t mind the pattern of scars) and shapely long legs. She looked coltish before he even made a start on her metamorphosis. There was something about tall elegant women and the way they walked that always put Stewart in mind of a thoroughbred filly.
The fact that her head was shaved did not detract from her beauty one jot. Her features were small and regular, her skull was smooth and well shaped, and her green eyes were large with long auburn lashes. There was no doubt she was female, even without hair or breasts.
So Stewart admitted to himself he’d started with everything in his favour when he’d begun work on Sheena.
But he was very proud of the results of his own interventions. He’d brought finesse and artistry to the task of re-shaping her. In a strange way she was even more beautiful with her long smooth lines; a real thoroughbred. When she was on all fours there was the long curve from her head to her tail to admire and there were no breasts hanging down to spoil the flow of the line of her underside. She was sleek and streamlined.
He’d enhanced her best feature.
Now her bottom cheeks (he didn’t really like the word ‘buttocks’ for a woman) were even more protruding with a longer, deeper valley between the twin globes, which were raised higher, firmer and rounded to perfection. Despite the changes he’d made to their shape the symmetry of the design made by the scarring was preserved.
He felt like a sculptor who’d chiselled and polished a classical statue with the perfect female bottom.