East Coast Slaver Organization Story - IV

Chapter 08 – A Grueling Workout (or Treats for a Ponygirl)

Cliff Burns once again blessed his luck in finding the best job on earth. As Chief Trainer, he had only one task on the morning's calendar and he fully intended to enjoy it in privacy. During their daily wrap-up conference the day before, Joseph had agreed with Cliff's recommendation that both sets of the East Coast Slavers Organization Ponygirls were long overdue for progressing to the regulation Ponygirl bits. Their traveling dentist would come on his first available day to install the special bridges he had cast that would lock the Ponygirl bits in place. Cliff was now exceptionally happy with this decision because it meant he could proceed with butt plug fitting.

Even though it was barely eight in the morning, Cliff thought the sight before him warranted an icy cold bottle of beer from the six-pack cooler beside his seat. He flipped off the cap and studied the dripping bottle of Negro Modelo before he took a long, satisfying pull. He looked up and his already throbbing dick twitched hard enough to move his tight denim jeans as if a puppy were crawling loose in his pants. Given that his favorite sexual position was with his dick buried in a hot hole of a helpless Ponygirl thrown over a hitching post, the sight before him evoked a more visceral response that anything seen in his life. Arrayed before him were all four of the East Coast Slaver Organization Ponygirls, naked save for their training collars and the ropes that held then tightly in place. The captive women were spaced out along a twenty-foot section of what looked like three-board oak fencing topped by a wide, padded rail at waist height. Each had her ankles tied wider than shoulder-width to the bottom rail. Their knees and hips were free to rotate forward and back away from the padded rail except that all eight wrists were secured to chains overhead that tugged their upper bodies forward at a forty-five degree angle. The women were ungagged, their training collars in the voice-less ‘On' position.

The real bonus to Cliff was carefully arrayed on a table beside the Ponygirls. The reworked hair originally shorn from them when they first received their permanent Mohawks had been artfully fashioned around a thin fiberglass rod that ended in a lockable screw. A mound of inflatable butt plugs surrounded two blonde and two black manes of hair. “I get the entire morning to fit these cunts with the perfect inflatable plug for their asses. Plus, I conduct my personal test to ensure the plug is tight enough.” He took another deep swig of the refreshing beer and though about yanking each tight pussy up onto his dick using only a grossly expanded butt plug for a handle. “Ahhh, yessss,” he sighed, “this is the best. There is nothing like a pussy squeezed by the bottle-thick inflated plug trapped under their ass grommet.”

He shook himself free of his admiration for the four sets of glistening cunts and assholes and walked up to the table. He swung a stool out from under the table, swiped a thick gob of sex lube onto a randomly selected butt plug, and turned to choose his first victim. “Enee, menee, mineee, mo, …”

Even at a blonde and mouthwatering thirty-seven, Becky Sawyer knew that she was old to be considered a sex object and definitely too old to compete in her forced profession of Ponygirl. However, early on she decided that anything the slavers did to her was infinitely preferable to what she realized was the very real threat of being downgraded for other uses. She whimpered in remembrance of what her first captor told her. “Cunt!” the man had commanded, “Keep in mind that you are a commodity now; not too unlike farm-raised stock. Failure to meet rigid, unbending goals will result in re-classification. I've already decided your fate; to fail leads to a known downward spiral. You might next become a full-time bondage slut on display as furniture; … or a pain slut for rich clients to take out their frustration upon; … or whore in a specialty club where you're chained under a seat as a permanent toilet slave; … or the only white prostitute in a foreign mining town in a remote location, fucking for the equivalent of fifteen cents a load of sperm; … or possibly the onetime featured lead actress in a torture and snuff film; … or maybe roasting meat on a spit over hot coals in your last feast – yes, these are all alternatives in a downward spiral caused by an inability to measure up. You have a small chance to succeed in what I've chosen for you.” Then he'd squeezed her nipple painfully to get her attention. “Succeed!” he'd demanded, “or you will look back on this as a pleasant experience.”

Becky flushed in horrible remembrance of the awful pain that followed. It was so diabolically simple. The man had turned her shock collar on to punish her if she spoke and then jammed something deep into her cunt. The result was immediate, terrible pain, as if live coals were lining her cunt walls. Her internal muscles spasmed for hours and her cunt clenched and unclenched in automatic reaction to the unrelenting pain. She had farted as trapped air rushed out past her wet cunt lips. Unable to control her response, she'd tried to moan about the pain. The collar had instantly shocked her with each attempt to whimper or cry. It had been hours of pain and she'd felt as if she felt she were going mad from the unrelenting waves of fiery heat rippling deep in her guts. “Never again,” she'd promised herself thousands of times since. “If I can do anything to keep that from occurring again, I will.” The extra sobering part was his threat that she'd face far worse upon failure. “Never, again,” she reminded herself as she rested across the padded rail in the ranch barn that morning months later. “Never again!”

She never quivered when the counting selection behind her ended with a light touch on the small of her back. “So, I'm first,” she thought with casual acceptance that whatever was to come, she would not have escaped her turn. The hand on her upper ass remained in place while the other spread something cold across her lower sex holes. One, and then a second finger, slowly worked its slick way into her rectum. She felt her ass tugged around in small circles when the hand pushing the fingers into her began to rotate about, stretching and opening her ass. The fingers pulled out, instantly stopping the cramping sensations that had been building in her intestines. Becky took a deep breath and then it all whooshed out as her hips were pushed forward from the fat cock that had drilled deep into her cunt. She felt her enhanced breasts jiggle from a rapid forward and back fucking motion into her always eager snatch and then a set of hands bruisingly gripped her hips. The cock abruptly pulled out and with barely a pause, bottomed out in her slickly lubricated rear in one long lunge. The hands on her hips held the raping cock fully buried as the man's hips began the same circular motions used by the slippery fingers in a move to loosen up her rectum with the slowly twirling dick.

Just as Becky's asshole was loosened enough to begin to feel stimulation from the slippery assrape, the man abruptly pulled out. Her sensitized ass felt the knobby bumps of a dildo slipping easily up her expanded ass chute. “This dildo isn't too fat,” she noticed in bewilderment. “That was easy; this ‘cock' is pretty flexible and thin. I'd have thought this was about raping something big up my butt.” She reflexively tightened her ass and also realized that whatever the fake ‘cock' was for, it didn't expand her ass grommet. “Weird,” she thought.

Becky's head popped upright as she heard a mechanical noise and a hissing sound. She felt the dildo in her ass thicken and stiffen in response to the mechanical sounds. “A pump,” she wondered, “what is a pump doing to a dildo?” The expansion continued in hissing increments, cramping her intestinal muscles until the sounds abruptly stopped. Becky once again flexed her asshole as well as her abdominal muscles in an attempt to ease the cramping waves running through her. Her butt was suddenly yanked strongly backward, tugging strongly upon her arms and moving her hips back from the padded rail. The yanking stopped and Becky realized that the strong pulling hadn't hurt her asshole at all. “Is this a butt plug?” she wondered. The Ponygirl beside her jerked and wriggled. She spared a quick glance and confirmed only that it was one of the newer arrivals, one of the black-haired cunts, with Cliff sitting behind her, fingering her asshole. Disinterested in her fate, Becky looked over at Anna and from her wide-eyed look decided that her sister had seen exactly what had been done. Becky wriggled her ass about, deciding that the cramping had subsided enough to be bearable. Soon it was her sister's turn and Becky got a glimpse of the knobby butt-plug and the attached air bladder.

Cliff's hands once again rested on her ass, and then her hips. Becky felt his cock's fat head nudging about her pussy and begin to pressure its way inside her. The slowly penetrating dickhead rubbed against the expanded knobby sections of the dildo separated only by a thin layer of vaginal way from her intestines. “Ughhh,” she moaned to herself, “my cunt is so tight I can feel everything vibrating as the head goes by the dildo. Eiiii, … oh fuck!” The hands continued to push her back onto and forward off of the raping cock. The vaginal stimulation felt good, but she couldn't get her clit stimulated in this fucking position. She pushed back strongly and rotated her ass back and up. “Ahhh, that's better,” she sighed to herself. “Yes, … that's the way. Don't do it unless you really wantta fuck.” Soon the pulsating cock was easily felt pumping its creamy jism into her cunt. “Ahhhh,” she sighed, satisfied as well as Cliff. After a moment's respite, she felt more fumbling about her ass and then it felt as if something hung from her asshole. It seemed to move about as if it swayed when her hips moved.

Becky's hands were unchained one at a time and clipped back to her waist belt. Then her feet were untied and she was led away from the rail by a short lead attached to her nose ring. Despite the many surprises of her last months, what she saw dangling from her fellow Ponygirl's asses was shocking. Anna had a bright yellow flag about a foot square dangling from a two-foot long rod that jutted up into the air from where it was attached to her ass. An equally dark bright roman numeral ‘I' adorned the center of the flag. The black-haired sluts had black flags with bright yellow numerals ‘III' and ‘IV'. With an easy certainty, Becky knew that her flag had a black numeral ‘II' on her yellow flag. Four ‘tails' sat on a table beside more butt plugs and Becky was equally certain that one was custom made from her own hair. Sobered by the tails, the four Ponygirls moved out of the horse barn back toward the main arena.

Cliff easily controlled the four Ponygirls as he led them by their noses across the ranch compound toward the large covered arena. As he went, Ponygirls dancing around him on their lead lines, he reviewed the two different size butt plugs he had set within his four girls. “Given that the blonde bitches are taller, I chose the seven-inch inflatable butt plug rather than the shorter five-inch butt plugs I inserted in the smaller, black-haired cunts,” he reviewed. He looked at his girls and their visibly altered gait as they tried to adjust to the fat plugs inflated in their rectums. “Looks as if they've been gangbanged by a bunch of anal freaks,” he thought with a happy grin.

He came under the steel roof of the 100 by 150 meter arena, not only getting instant soothing shade, but also significant relief from the unrelenting sun of the Arizona day. He gave four harsh and simple commands of, “Stay!” as he spaced each girl about five feet apart at one end of the arena, leaving each nose lead to hang down to the sandy arena floor. He pulled a remote control unit from a clip on his belt and held it up for each woman to see. “You each know what this is,” he said, “it's the collar controller programmed uniquely with each of your voice control and training collar settings. Upon receiving the signal from your collar, drop immediately to your knees and wait for my instructions.”

Warned, each girl tensed momentarily and then relaxed to ready themselves to comply with his order. Cliff began with the Roman numeral ‘I' and Anna Sawyer quivered as a short electric shock attacked her nervous system. She plunked down on her knees with a gasp. Becky Sawyer, Lisa Heath, and Lori Heath followed in quick succession as he tapped the ‘II', ‘III', and ‘IV' buttons.

Cliff Burns approached each Ponygirl and removed her nose chain, unclipped her wrist cuffs, and pulled off the two-inch waist belts cinched so tightly below her black bustiers. He stood back, arms full of tack, and spoke. “Stay, … move and you know how extreme the punishment will be. This is a controlled exercise and I want absolute obedience. Your voice controllers are off so you can pant and breath deeply during the exercises; otherwise, I want complete silence.” With that said, he moved aside to place the tack on an empty table already in place behind the kneeling Ponygirls. He walked back to their fronts and spoke again. “You have a four-hour exercise block ahead of you. I will be keeping score on each performance.” He pulled a Granny Smith and a Red Delicious apple out of a thigh pocket and declared, “The winner today gets to eat two apples like these only crisp and cold, straight out of the snack refrigerator behind us. As an extra bonus, the lucky Ponygirl gets to enjoy her snacks and two bottles of water with her hands completely free.”

The startled look that raced across their faces told him it was a tempting reward. He knew full well that none of these women had using their hands for any activity, other than grasping at a surrey drawbar, since their arrival at Ponygirl Heaven Ranch. Their strictly controlled diets were all liquid foods with supplements and consumed one tiny spurt at a time from hollow rubbery cocks. He spoke again, “The next two performers will get a single apple, diced up, and placed in a feed bucket for eating in their stalls tonight.” He held up a box of over-the-counter medicine from another trouser pocket and announced that, “The overall loser will also be quickly restrained as normal and have to eat five of these laxative pills, chug a liter and a half of water, and then spend the night tightly bound on the straw in her stall without a sleeping pad.” He took a deep breath and looked for their response.

This time the look of disgust on their faces let him know that his Ponygirls were fully aware of what an overdose of laxative would be like when tied unable to direct the uncontrolled bowel spasms and liquid squirts that would result. “I think you understand the basics,” he said with a grin, enjoying the setup for their long and grueling afternoon. “Lastly,” he said with a raised voice, “each of the non-top performers will receive a whipping, increasing in severity to their lack of performance. If the winner's performance is noticeably superior, I have one extra, hidden reward that I can assign.”

With his rewards and punishments explained, Cliff left the Ponygirls in place so that he could drag over four color-coded steel poles welded onto steel tire rims. Next, he brought over four steel pails full of tennis balls that he hung, one on each pole at about waist height. Lastly, he hung a flag on each pole, the colors and Roman numerals on the flags matched what the Ponygirls had for butt flags. Far across the arena, Cliff had already set four identical poles, flags, and buckets. He faced his four Ponygirls again and declared, “You are here for four hours of sprints and distance running practice. Move forward and stand beside your pole.” He waited with a grin while his girls moved with some alacrity to their designated spots. “Good,” he declared, “Your first set of sprints will be down to your designated pole 150 meters away where you will each grab a tennis ball bearing your Roman numeral from your own bucket and then you will sprint back to me. The first Ponygirl back to set her ball in my outstretched hand is the winner. The last place runner will set her ball back into her own bucket by her pole. I'll announce the winner for each race and assign your next set of sprints or the competition. The number two and three place finishers will place their balls out of play in the large bucket on the table behind us. Understand?”

Becky took several deep cleansing breaths as she nodded her understanding of the rules and the race event. “He's given us a 300-meter sprint,” she thought coolly as she once again flexed her stomach muscles to further relax the long butt plug in her ass. She didn't look to her Trainer, instead she focused on her distant pole and readied herself for the signal to start. An air horn honked loudly behind her and she was off, using every bit of her strength and balance to attain the best sprinting speed she could attain. “Never again!” she panted aloud as she slipped into a slightly longer leg extension. “Never again,” she repeated with even more anger. Becky was a little distracted by what felt to be the football-sized object shoved up her ass, impeding her strides. The added distraction of the fiberglass rod with her flag waving gaily about as she moved her hips was almost sexual as the log up her ass moved about a little with each stride.

She had decided to ignore her competition's pace and focus solely upon giving her best effort. “At least the flooring hasn't been harrowed for a while,” she thought with some happiness, “my feet aren't sinking as bad as they could if the surface were softer.” She was approaching her bucket at a full gallop and carefully reviewed her moves to not lose a single fraction of a second's time at the turnaround. Her scooping of a tennis ball marked with a black ‘II' from her bucket and her return pirouette were flawless and she was quickly racing back, stretching out her legs to her fastest pace. She easily won the first race, placing her ball in Cliff's waiting hand and then immediately settling down into a circling walk to catch her breath and remain as loose as possible. She heard the reassuring announcement she was hoping to hear, “Two wins this event, Three is last – place your ball in your own bucket. One and Four set your balls in the large bucket.”

Becky continued her gasping attempts to regain her breath while Cliff tucked her winning ball into a sack at his waist. She took the time now to examine the other three Ponygirls she had beaten in the first race. She had to control her giggling laughter as she caught her first sight of the wriggling flags waving behind the Ponygirls. She smiled and forced herself to remember that her biggest worries remained the youngest two black-haired bitches. Becky was glad that they were slightly smaller and not as slim as she herself was. She discounted her own younger sister as serious competition. “After all,” she grimaced to herself, “I am much more driven than she and her youth will work against her.” To her slight dismay, none of the girls seemed too affected by the 300-meter sprint.

Cliff loudly announced, “You've probably figured out my scoring system; the more balls remaining in your personal buckets helps to indicate the number of losing events you've done today and helps to calculate the number of punishing slashes I give at the end. The balls in my sack represent only the winning runner of each event and the most balls will belong to the overall winner.”

“Pay attention Ponysluts,” Cliff said with happy energy showing in his voice, “Now that you have stretched out your legs out a little, your next event will be more challenging. This race will be four 150-meter circuits with you picking up a ball as you complete each leg of the race. At the end, you will each be carrying four tennis balls as you approach me at the finish in the center of the arena. Get your hot little pussies set.”

The early morning became mid-morning as the long, grueling workout continued. After four rapid sequences of 300-meter sprints, Becky bent over and dry retched. She had not yet lost a single race and felt she was beginning to pay the price. A quick sideways glance showed both the black-haired cunts and her own sister on their knees, covered in gritty sand from the arena floor. Becky took another deep breath and winched at the very-real pain under her right ribcage. She forced herself to lean way back and walk about in a circle with slow, long strides. “Gotta focus,” she told herself. Ignoring everyone else, she halted at the starting line and stared grimly down the arena to the distant poles set 150 meters away. The beginnings of a plan were just crystallizing in her pain-wracked mind when her training collar exploded with a highly painful burst of electricity.

Cliff looked at the convulsing woman writhing before him and admonished the other Ponygirls to stay in place with a simple wave of his hand. He knelt down and stuck a finger into a ring on her training / control collar. “Four!” he hissed into the ear that he had dragged up to the level of his bent-over mouth. “You've not lost a single race yet. If I think you are sandbagging a few in order to build back up your strength, I'll spend my next twenty-four hours making your life such a painful hell that you've never imagined.” While his anger had been apparent, Cliff was actually somewhat concerned; after all, he had just activated a very close to maximum punishment jolt through her training collar. Satisfied that she'd heard his statement, and that her breathing passages were clear and that she'd not swallowed her tongue, he roughly threw her back onto the ground.

Realizing that this was a good time for the first break of the day, Cliff herded his bedraggled Ponygirls over to the washstand located midway down the outside of the covered arena. Even with their hands still free, the Trainer clipped hanging lead lines to their nose rings. He stepped behind each woman and removed their leather cross-trainer shoes and stinky white socks. Like all tasks that he undertook with his luscious Ponygirls, Cliff managed to cop a feel here and there as he arranged the helpless woman as he pleased in order to remove the shoes. Finished, and now achingly hard from the musky scent he smelled coming from each ripe pussy, he stepped back and swept a stinging spray of cleansing water across the four women's dirty-streaked forms.

Becky, still in shock that the Trainer had known what she was considering for the next race, shivered as the soothing water sluiced off the sweaty grime covering her. She stamped her feet to allow the spray to sweep away any sand that might have dripped to the concrete below her and opened her mouth greedily to slack her thirst and wet her bone-dry mouth. “Guess I have to win the next race no matter what,” she thought with a little despair. “I don't know when my endurance will fail and the younger bitches might begin to win. And, … have they been holding back to win all the final races themselves?” In her exhausted state, Becky realized that her self-doubts might wear her down further, “But, … how do I motivate myself enough now to continue winning?” The sobering challenges ahead of her kept the break from being enjoyable, instead her mind was whirling with ideas for staying limber, building her wind, and above all promising to succeed no matter what the resulting physical pain. “The shock level he used was the highest I've ever felt,” she complained. “I actually thought my head had exploded.” She was so busy considering all these events that she barely noticed when Cliff wrapped a scratchy towel around her and began to briskly pat her dry. The plastic sports bottle shoved in her mouth did trigger long swallows of wonderfully refreshing water. Becky the Ponygirl was so used to men handling her naked body that she never noticed that Cliff had possessively cupped her right ass as he held the sports bottle to her mouth. If she had looked as she'd finished swallowing the last of the water, she'd have seen Cliff's glistening fingers. He had rubbed two fingers shallowly across her inner labia, exposing how copiously lubricated her cunt was and how randy she was for a hard fucking.

Cliff Burns grinned as he ran the aromatic fingers appreciatively under his nose and thought, “I wonder if the little slut even realizes how much she has changed during the last few months?” The other sluts were just as juicy and Cliff once again blessed the events that had moved him to decide to accept the job at Ponygirl Heaven Ranch. After rinsing off his Ponygirls, Cliff put clean ankle socks and sports shoes on each one. He stingingly slapped one of the black-haired bitches on the ass and hollered, “Let's go, bitches! Time for more exercise and competition.”

Becky, ‘Two', continued to win each race right up to the point at which Cliff ended the morning-long workout session. Finally exhausted beyond any point at which she could control it, Becky collapsed the instant he announced the end of the workout. She was hardly aware of the activity about her as Cliff secured her three Ponygirl companions for their punishment. The first thing she was aware of was the forced extension of her bone-weary leg. She blearily saw that Cliff was buckling a heavy red plastic cuff above her ankle. A small padlock held each of the three buckles locked in place.

“Do you know what this is?” Cliff demanded of her.

Becky shook her head in the negative; she'd never seen a cuff remotely like this one. “No, Master,” she whispered in a voice long unused to human speech.

Cliff explained, “This is a device rarely used on the ranch. Each senior employee at Ponygirl Heaven Ranch has one. It‘s the same ‘house-arrest' cuff used by law enforcement. This is my personal one, and it can only be used when management agrees with my assessment that one of the cunts here on the ranch deserves a special reward.”

Becky's heart had started racing as her Head Trainer started his explanation. “God!” she prayed, “I hope this is something good and not more punishing humiliation.” She listened attentively as he continued.

Minutes later, Becky staggered alone through the compound. Still exhausted, and barely able to think after Cliff's shocking explanation, she moved as quickly as she could. Becky was fully naked and unbound, except for a loose and untied pair of running shoes, her ever-present collar, and the shiny red ankle cuff. Her very real fear was that a worker would stop her and accuse her of running away. “Or worse,” she thought, “stop and tell me this is a joke.” She glanced furtively around, feeling her hefty breasts sway as she moved, and spied her goal. Becky climbed up the set of steps and hesitated outside the closed rough-hewn cabin door. Clenched tightly in one fist was a key. “Five minutes,” she thought trembling, “he said I only had five minutes to get safely inside.” She sighed in relief when the key fit the door and she could step inside. The filthy Ponygirl ignored the cabin interior and moved swiftly toward her immediate goal, the modern bathroom that was waiting for her. She turned the water on in the shower to full blast and looked about for a towel. Shoes still on, she stepped into the shower stall and stood under the pulsating flow of the water. Becky's hands swept some of the grime away from her skin and she reached for the soap.

The experience of her first real shower in months was both humiliating and deeply sexual in nature. Becky Sawyer had undergone much in the last months and hadn't been given the chance to fully evaluate all the changes in her drastically altered body. Her knees had almost buckled in humiliated reminder of her lost hair when her shampoo-slick hands washed across her denuded scalp and thoroughly soaped up her long blonde Mohawk. The shampoo had a difficult time cutting through the heavy wax used to stiffen her soft hair into a vertically upright and elegant blonde Ponygirl plume. However, the warm and rinsing water had felt wonderful as the suds washed off her face and hair. As her hands washed her torso, Becky couldn't help but circle her outthrust breasts with covetous caresses. They were one modification of which she was almost arrogantly proud. She pulled on her own ring-clad nipples and felt responsive nerves tingle all the way to her pussy in sexual anticipation. Becky shivered and felt her abdomen next with her soapy fingers. The thick, rippling abdominal muscles under her thin skin felt catlike in strength and she realized the lithe grace possessed by her new body. The showering Ponygirl couldn't hold back a panting quiver of lust as she visualized her trim stomach under her fat and luscious swaying breasts.

Becky Sawyer, previously reserved and proper when it came to sex, collapsed onto her knees when her washing hands encountered her pubic mound. “Oh, God!” she moaned aloud. “I've become more of a slut than my sister Anna ever was.” The fact that she hadn't even touched her sex yet made her blush in the knowledge of what might happen when she fingered herself. Becky's head thrust back, catching the full impact of the stinging show spray, when a long middle finger snaked its way across her ring-topped clit and took possession of the top of her cunt box. She opened her mouth widely and screamed silently as a finger on each side of her middle one clamped onto a meaty pussy lip and searched roughly for her labia rings. Unable to wait any longer, she thrust all three middle fingers deep into her hungry twat and used her thumb to pinch and pull on her clit. The instant orgasm made her lose all muscle control and she fell over, panting and convulsing on the shower floor. As intense as her first orgasm was, she almost passed out the instant her deeply questing middle finger found her ‘G' spot.

The act of drying and grooming herself after the shower was almost more humiliating and sexual than the shower. Becky briskly wiped the vanity mirror to get the foggy condensation cleared off enough to see her reflection. An “Ohhh!” of surprise slipped out of her mouth at the first sight of her own face in months. “It's not the hair loss that surprised me,” she thought as she carefully examined herself. “It's that my cheekbones and chin are so prominent and angular now.” Her eyes followed mesmerized as she tilted and turned her skull. “Holy, shit!” she thought with much self-admiration, “I look at least ten years younger now, … and as good as a supermodel.” Then, after a moments thought she added, “No, … I look ageless now. I can't even begin to guess my age.” Then she blushed as she realized that she was indeed the mirror of her slutty twin Anna that she had worked beside these many long weeks at Ponygirl Heaven Ranch. At thirty-seven, the thought of having the body of a supermodel and the tits of a porn star was daunting. Sexual heat flushed through her body, bringing a visible flush to her face, neck, and breasts.

The blush brought Becky's attention to her prominent breasts above her washboard tight stomach. A reflexive tightening of her belly brought a set of six-pack abs clearly into view. For the first time Becky realized that her body had lost nearly every ounce of fat. She turned sideways to look at her ass, “Never my best feature,” she thought, and instantly noted that her ass no longer jutted out. The perfection of her ass silhouette now blended smoothly into her lithe runners' legs. Her dripping feet were no longer fettered with running shoes and she flexed her clean feet in appreciation. Unable to resist, she stepped away from the mirror and stretched to get a look at her entire body. Her eyes locked on the wide gap between her thighs and focused on the sight of the bare sex so blatantly exposed there.

Hurrying now, Becky picked up a hairbrush and thought about what to do with her mane of hair. Uncertain of what was expected of her, she parted the foot-long hair down the middle of her Mohawk and swept it back along her skull and above her ears. “No makeup in sight,” she thought with exasperation and then mumbled something about how that response hadn't yet been trained away. Not sure how much time she had yet, she hurried away toward the kitchen, her mouth already watering at her promised treat.

Sitting on a refrigerator shelf, on clear display, were the Red Delicious apple and the Granny Smith apple as promised. Beside them, on the same shelf were two full plastic bottles of water and a single slender bottle of Coronita Beer. A placard declared in tiny letters:

Ponyslut,

The apples are your promised reward. The water is free; however, the beer is yours only if you pay the price. Drink it, and I'll expect to find only the mouth of the empty bottle sticking out of your slutty cunt when I fuck that incredibly tight ass of yours.

Lube yourself up before you fall asleep, ass held up high by a pile of pillows, cause my prick sliding into your rectum will be your wakeup call.

Becky knew that the placard wasn't actually addressed to her as a person. “No,” she thought, “whoever won the match today was probably destined to get this reward.” The seven-ounce bottle of beer beckoned her as she snatched up the apples and the water bottles. She was half-way back to the bedroom when she turned abruptly and with a look of determination, scurried back to get the Coronita Beer.

In the bedroom, she found the long, glistening chain coiled on the floor beside the bed as promised. Quickly, before any stupid thoughts of escape solidified in her brain, she crouched down and wrapped the chain around her free ankle and secured it with the waiting padlock. The act of chaining herself made Becky grunt as if a physical blow struck her. She shook herself free of any feelings about the matter and brought her hard-earned treasures up to the middle of the bed. She bit into the Red Delicious apple first, so eager for the treat that a dripping drool of sweet apple juice ran from the corner of her mouth to her chin. The grin that captured her face bespoke of the wonder of the taste sensations. “My first solid food in weeks and weeks,” she wondered in amazement.

Becky's only moment of confusion came a half hour later when the apples and water were finally gone. She'd just taken her first wonderful sip of the miniature Corona Beer when she realized something that the Trainer had not considered when he wrote her note. “How can I have forgotten,” she thought with confusion. She set down the beer and rolled over on her side. Her questing fingers easily found the empty screw socket in the butt plug that had held her racing flag during her sprinting sessions. She felt the stretched flesh around her asshole and tried to gauge how big the plug up her ass was. “I can't lube my ass with that thing up there, … and how can even my small bottle of beer fit into my cunny with this football still up my ass?” she cried. “Too late,” she thought, “it's too late to change my mind now.”

Cliff Burns trudged wearily back to his cabin. Getting the three Ponygirls put away without any Grooms or ranch labor to help had been a royal pain in the ass. He cursed Paula Laturno his previous Head Groom and Ponygirl Mistress for her stupid jealously. “The stupid bimbo loved her job and enjoyed topping these gorgeous Ponygirls,” he thought sadly. “If only she hadn't wanted my job, she'd be here helping out with the workload. Last I saw her; she was on her way this morning on the twelve-mile workout circuit.” Cliff also shook his head in disagreement with his boss' priorities in that today the entire ranch staff had spent the day clearing fencelines and hauling Mesquite logs and brush to a stockpile by the covered arena. “It's a mystery,” he thought, “a fucking mystery that makes more work for me and makes no frigging sense anyway.”

While Becky was showering, Cliff had taken Anna, ‘One', and Lori, ‘Four', back to their stables. There, he had efficiently showered the two exhausted women, dried them off with big fluffy towels, and led them back to their individual stalls. After Cliff led them into their respective stalls, each knelt expectantly atop their single sleeping pads, wrists locked to their waist belts and stall anchoring chains clipped to their nose rings,. Eager for a nap, but desperate for the promised apple pieces, each bound woman fell eagerly across the shallow grain pan that Cliff set in their stalls. As promised, each Ponygirl got half a Red Delicious apple and half a Granny Smith apple. Cliff had to stop and enjoy the spectacle of the beautiful women rooting like pigs in their pans, eagerly chasing after any tiny morsels, all without the use of hands.

Lisa, ‘Three' had been easier to deal with. Deciding that a shower was a waste of time for her, Cliff led her directly to her stall. He whisked away her sleeping pad and clipped her nose ring into the padlock at the end of her anchor chain. As promised, he pulled the box of over-the-counter medicine his pocket and punched out five laxative pills from their foil-covered pockets. He set them into another shallow feed pan and turned to pick up a handy riding crop from a hanger outside her tiny stall. “Three! You have performed poorly today, rarely coming in second and mostly coming in dead last. This is not acceptable performance and you qualify for a night of pain and discomfort.” He swung the riding crop smoothly through the air, barely missing one of the already crying woman's ears. “Start eating your pills,” he said gruffly, “any delay and I'll beat you.” He'd watched the groveling woman with full appreciation of his position of power, laughing softly when she immediately fell forward and moved her tongue forward to lap up the first of the five laxative pills.

As soon as Lisa was finished dooming herself to a night of pain by eating her laxative pills, Cliff unbuckled her wrists from her waist belt and drew the belt off her grimy frame. Next, he threw down two 750 ml plastic bottles of water. “Start guzzling, slut! You get one swing of the crop each ten seconds until the water is gone.” Without giving her a chance to comprehend what he'd directed, Cliff swung the crop in a blistering arc that terminated alongside one of the bitches excellent breasts. For now, he counted aloud as Lisa frantically picked up a bottle and started to slurp it as quick as possible. Ten seconds later, Cliff swung the crop once again and connected solidly with her cunt. With a shrieking wail, Lisa started to suckle with abandon on the sport bottle's nipple. A liter and a half of water is a lot for a tiny little Ponygirl with a fat butt plug up her ass. Cliff struck her several more times before she set the second bottle down with a belch.

Cliff shortened Lisa's anchor chain so that she could only move in a small circle about her deeply buried anchor pipe in the middle of the stall and then he chained her wrists to a point midway between her nose and the anchor pile. He mounded up the cedar shavings in the stall and with a soft, whistling whoosh, let the air out of the butt plug fitted deeply up her ass. As he stepped away to leave, she was already moaning in anguish from the cramping waves of pain that flowed through her intestines. Unable to stop herself, the first of many quarts of watery shit started to drool out of her widely-stretched ass, covering a tempting ass cheek with a foul coating. The heavy scent of sewer smell followed Cliff Burns out of the Ponygirl's stall as Cliff slammed the stall door. Lisa was in for a rough night. In the morning, the unlucky Filipino groom who drew the task of washing her and replacing her cedar shavings would likely take his anger out on her shit-covered form.

Cliff Burns stopped first at his refrigerator to get himself two beers. His twelve-ounce Corona Beers came from the coldest section of the refrigerator, the meat box at the bottom. He couldn't help grinning a nasty smile of lust at the empty shelf where the Coronita, a small bottle of Corona Beer had been. Ignoring his softly snoring bed partner, he stepped straight into the bathroom to shower off the filth he had accumulated in a long day working on Ponygirl Heaven Ranch.

Interestingly, Becky Sawyer was dreamily reliving one of her Ponygirl sexings at the Arizona ranch. Drifting in and out of sleep for hours while awaiting the return of her Trainer, she had snuggled down into the crisp sheets and begun to relive the feeling of a warm desert boulder on her sensitive belly the day that Cliff Burns walked up behind her and stuck his cock straight into her hot, steamy cunt. Becky still remembered the feel of the rough rocky surface bruising her breasts and belly as the strong ranch hand fucked deep into her pussy. Becky moaned in her dream and relived the mindless orgasm that followed. Even the weeks-old memory of her Trainer's rough hands brushing across her ass after the fuck and his simple, “Good, Ponygirl; Good Slut,” compliment was enough to make her pussy spasm in need. She could almost sense her throbbing cunt seep creamy fuck juices around the glass beer bottle buried deep in her twat. Becky Sawyer, Ponygirl, was once again in heat, desperately needing a rough fucking.

Cliff gently pulled the white bed sheet off the Ponygirl sleeping in his bed. The luscious fuckbunny on his bed moaned and wriggled slightly, obviously dreaming while deep asleep. As commanded, her pussy and ass were raised up, already aligned for a quick fuck; all three of the king-size bed's pillows were tucked under her belly. Cliff contemplated the socket of the butt plug sticking out of her ass and the beer bottle barely sticking out of the clasping cunt below. Between her legs was a small plastic jar of Vaseline. Cliff grinned as he also realized that it would have been impossible for his Ponygirl to have lubed up her ass with the big butt plug still jammed up inside her. He moved up between her legs and fumbled around for a moment while trying to find the tiny release valve on the butt plug. Air finally began to hiss out and the seven-inch plug inside her guts started to shrivel to a limper, one-inch diameter.

Cliff set his left hand against the woman's asshole and stabilized the brown star-shaped ass grommet while he gently tugged on the butt plug. At first it resisted moving, then it slipped out easily, bumping its way out past the bulbous knobs on the business end of the rubbery butt plug. It finally slithered free with a quiet sucking sound. Cliff then set his forefinger inside the glass neck of the Coronita and slowly exerted pressure on it. The widening neck of the bottle began to appear through her cunt lips, and Cliff pulled harder. He had decided to stick his cock into both her holes, visualizing his full nut sacks swinging under his body and slamming into her clit ring. “If a hole is not tight enough,” he thought wryly, “I'll just fill the other hole with a butt plug again and keep slamming away at her.”

He slathered the latex condom already on his throbbing cock with gobs of Vaseline and simply fell forward across the Ponygirl's back, burying himself deeply in her asshole in one fell swoop. Deciding that her nether hole was already straightened out from the seven-inch butt plug, Cliff immediately began to hammer into her asshole as fast and hard as he could, seeking sensations along the vibrating length of his fuckmeat. “Ahhh,” he sighed out and then gasped for breath at the sensations from his wildly swinging nutsacks. “Yes, whatta fuck.” He arched his back and held himself up by using one straight arm holding on the back of her neck so that his hips could keep up their jackhammer thrusts. Far too soon, he felt himself losing control and he reluctantly pulled out of the clasping asshole.

Cliff flung his greasy condom toward the bathroom where it landed with a wet smack. The Ponygirl was still grunting like a pig from his hard use of her stretched asshole. He slapped his bedmate on a lithe ass cheek and rolled her over onto her back. Her wide-eyed look of lust and her strained panting made his cock itch for her. Without a condom this time, he grabbed her slim ankles and folded the blonde whore in half, bringing up her cunt for his use. Cliff wondered at the fantastic sensation brought to his cock by her vaginal sheath as it swallowed him in one lunge. This time, Cliff balanced himself with all his weight concentrated above his cock and he rotated his hips eagerly, stirring her hot cunt with his tingling cockstick.

Although the fabulous sensations lasted for long minutes of hard thrusting and pussy stirring, Cliff felt his ability to hold back his jism once again beginning to slip away. He rolled off Becky with an exasperated groan and grabbed the base of his cock with a hard squeeze in order to cut off his orgasm. He turned toward the sweaty-faced bitch next to him and growled, “Get on top of me! It's time for you to use those muscles and ride me like the fuckhound you are!”

Becky Sawyer felt the power of sex positively glowing through her muscular form. She bounded effortlessly atop the red-faced Trainer and centered her fuck hole above his cock. Her guiding fingers encountered a single fat pearl of pre-cum mounded up atop his piss hole. His fat knob felt so good against her pussy that she sighed in happiness while bringing the drop of pearly jism up to her lips. Her tongue tip flickered out and grabbed the cum at the same time she set all her weight down hard, skewering herself on his needy cock. “Slave or not,” she whispered, “I'm in charge of you now, I've got you by the balls.” She wriggled her hips to fully seat the man's already pulsating cock and added, “I won't tell anyone that you're my pussyslave if you keep fucking me long enough to cum myself. I'm desperate, Master, … please keep it hard, … please fuck meee.”

Cliff took the challenge as if his manhood was truly at stake. With a deep groan, he wiped thoughts of the gorgeous creature and her full titties out of his mind and concentrated on rotating his hips up. Again and again, he fought against her weight to fuck up and around with his hips. His cock burned with need and he clamped hard on his spinchter to overcome the almost triggered cum. Finally, with a deep groan, he lost the ability to hold it in and his cock exploded. The buckbunny riding him sensed the flood coming and increased her fuck pace to a blurring, humping, and gasping speed. Her spasming pussy sucked and pulled at his pulsating snake. Finally overcome from the sex, Cliff pushed the woman off him where they collapsed side-by-side, gasping like fish out of water. Fighting to remain conscious, Cliff reached under the mattress beside him for a set of handcuffs. He cuffed his right wrist to her same wrist and stuck his sticky cock against her rump. His cuffed hand found a plump breast and he possessively grasped it as he drifted asleep.

Satiated, each had the same thought running through their minds, “Yessss, whatta fucking life.”

--- To Be Continued ---